What's in a name?

At 18 weeks pregnant, I'm just waiting. First you wait to find out if the babe has lady parts or boy parts. Then you wait to take your stupid glucose taste. Then you wait for the results. Then you wait to take your strep B whatever test thing. Then you wait for those results. Then you wait for super awesome summer adventures you have planned and you wait for the baby to finish coming and you wait for labor and you wait for delivery and you wait for the baby to start sleeping for more than 3 minutes at a time and you wait for your short term memory to come back... I'm still waiting on that one.

Mr. Adventure and I were talking the other day about how grandparent names are totally in right now. I suggested we could name a little girl after my granny, Margery. He didn't veto it, which is a good sign, but he did say we should probably start talking about names.  I said, "I figured we would wait to see what kind of penis it has.  You know, whether it's an innie or an outie."  Because that's how a lot of our conversations go.

Last night while we were lying in bed, I suggested we could always go for a good unisex name.
"Like Cthulhu."
MA: Cthulhu is a boy's name.
Me: Spencer, Ashley, Madison, Carol, Vivian... those were all boy's name.  We should auction off baby naming rights to make some extra money.
MA: Would we name our baby something like Chalupa Batman?
Me: Obviously.

I'm pretty sure he's not really open to naming our baby Cthulhu.  I mean, this is the same man that vetoed naming Hamburglar Clyde, Rufus and Genghis Khan.

Speaking of Hamburglar, he's been super clingy with an upset stomach for days.  He has hardly eaten since Friday or Saturday, which has to be one of the most frustrating things as a parent. Louie C.K. has a bit on kids not eating.

First he was constipated, then I gave him a fruit and veggie smoothie on Sunday.  Since then, his innards have been all watery and gross.  I had the baby monitor on last night and he woke up around 1:30a.  Mr. Adventure went in to check on and change him, and there was poop.  It leaked out of his diaper and on to his pajamas and bedding a little bit, and I could here the Mister gagging as he was changing Chumbercules.  He's always been sensitive to gross things.  But hopefully he can adapt because we may have another boy, and many boys find amusement in the gross. 

Baby boy is still drinking milk and water and he's not dehydrated.  I'm assuming this is some sort of viral diarrhea and it will pass with time. He doesn't have a fever or anything.

Other than that, he's doing great.  I told him to get his water the other day and he said, "No water."  And all day yesterday he was telling people to "Go away."  Which is something his dad says to him and the dogs.

I don't mind that Chumby needs extra love and cuddles, but it seems like he only really wants to be held when I'm making dinner.  Particularly when I need to take something out of the oven or chop something up.  He's getting good at helping make dinner, though.  He's a champ at tearing lettuce leaves for salads and he makes sure to taste every ingredient before I put it in anything.  Including raw garlic.  He didn't seem to like it, but he went back for more, so who knows?  He also enjoys helping me unload the dishwasher, whether the dishes are clean or dirty.  Mostly he hands the dishes to me, but he's started putting pots and pans away on his own.  I'm totally going to turn him into one of those creepy 6-year-old body builders.  Like the boy version of Toddlers in Tiaras.

And I think that's about it.  Long live Cthulhu!

Oh!  I almost forgot!  This week, Sean Connery is the size of a pickle or a sweet potato.  So, pickle yourself some sweet potatoes!  Maybe they will be good.  Have you ever had a pickled sweet potato?  Me neither.

Things to come

Mr. Adventure was watching a friend's four-month-old yesterday.  Every time he held the baby, Hamburglar would say, "No, me!" and try to climb in his lap.  We didn't know he knew the word "me."

Chumbercules had his 18 month check-up on Friday.  Dr. Soulpatch gave me the option of an early MMR vaccine, so we went for it.  And he received his regularly scheduled Hep A.  His next visit is at 2 and there are no shots involved at all!

I had to fill out development paperwork that asked questions like, "Can the child identify two or more body parts." And "Does the child have at least 8 words?" And, "Does the child try to hand objects to his/her reflection?"

Mr. Adventure was worried because he's the worrier, and because Chumby didn't have all the skills in each category. He had at least 5 out of 6 in all of them so whatever.  And the doc said he's doing great. He knows the names for almost his entire body. And he doesn't hand objects to his reflection because maybe he knows it's a reflection?

At 17 weeks pregnant, the crazy dreams have started. I've had two dreams about women I think are horrible mothers and in each dream, my car was stolen. And I had a weird dream last night about being able to see my belly move from baby movement, which was fine until Sean Connery (meaning the baby) pressed his/her face against my belly.  It looked kind of like this, if the head were smaller and there was an additional layer of skin draped across this whole head.

 Photo credit: gabrielchiang.com/

So, there's that. We find out what kind of junk baby number two is packing on Earth Day!

Other than that, Pregnant Chicken says the baby is the size of an iPhone this week. According to my Ultimate Guide to Faux Infant Cannibalism, Sean Connery is the size of an onion, a pear or a baked potato. If you feel like talking on your iPhone while making something delicious for week 17, this potato latke with caramelized pears recipe looks really good. It isn't rated and it looks like a lot of work, but if you love latkes as much as I do... I bet it's super good. So you should make it.  And mail me some. Or just bring them by my house.

And the Ugly Volvo has a new post up!  I love her. I kind of want to move to New Jersey, just so I can make her be my friend.

And I'm thinking about Easter. Particularly what I am going to put in the Easter eggs for my mom's group Easter potluck and party, what I'm going to put in Chumby's Easter basket, and whether or not we are going to color eggs. And, most importantly, should I traumatize wee little Hamburglar by making his sit on the Easter bunny's lap again?

All I know for sure is we are going to the hot springs again for Easter. 

And that's all.

First trip away from baby

I went to San Jose last week for work.  I was worried that Mr. Adventure and Chumbercules would miss me too much.  That bedtime wouldn't happen.  That Chumby would feel abandoned (I think I have not been home for bed time once in the last year and a half, until last week) and I worried that I would miss him way too much.

But, I want to go back.  I loved San Jose and sleeping in the middle of the bed and not being woken up at night.  Also, it rehydrated the weird, desert, lizard skin I've developed.  And Mr. Adventure and Hamburglar were great.  I talked to them both on the phone each day (I left Monday night and was back Thursday night).  One of my conversations with Chumby went like this:

Me: How are you?
Chumb: Yeah
Me: Did you have a good day?
Chumb: Yeah
Me: Are you and dad having fun?
Chumb: Yeah
Me: Is that all you can say?
Chumb: Cat

This, coming from the kid who calls our friend's cat a dog. 

Also, I forgot to update you all on how my visit to the birthing center went.  It was pretty terrible.  The midwife I was hoping to meet (and thought I was going to meet) wasn't there.  This is what I posted to my local mom group page, "Argh. I went to X Birth Center and met with Shaundra. I really want to find a place that isn't a hospital, where the midwife doesn't look stoned, where they don't burn nag champa... I spent my late teens and early twenties going to rainbow gatherings and I went to The Evergreen State College for my undergrad degree. I'm all hippied out. I have tons of time, but I'm just going to give birth in a parking lot or something. Boohoohoo, poor me, etc etc"

And, it turns out I'm not the only one who feels that way about Shaundra.  It was so over the top hippy.  Or, she was.   So, I guess we are hospital birthing again.  Or Mr. A is delivering the baby in a parking lot near the hospital.

Um... 15 and a half weeks pregnant and now I'm having the first trimester symptoms.  I've been super nauseated and have aversions to pretty much all food.  All I want to eat is smoked salmon and Captain Crunch.  With Crunchberries.

But seriously.  Everything sounds terrible.

That's all for now.