Rock the Cradle

As we anticipate the arrival of Kitchstar, we keep busy by putting the finishing touches on the nursery. We are so thrilled of the arrival of little Kitch. Shane has been very helpful by putting all the baby gear together, but when it comes to talking to my belly he's as interested as a dog pissing on a log. My ever growing belly is not tangible enough. Freak. I am at the 35 week mark. Eek! Occasionally, more frequently, as I relax in a hot shower, my knees weaken and my heart races at the thought of pushing Kitchstar out of my v-canal. Shit! I close my eyes and hope my meditated magic, a repetitive "Ohm," will diffuse my anxiety.

Other than that, everything is tip top. I've succumbed to co-exist with my gestational diabetes. I mean I could whine, sob, and play my pity soliloquy, but why? I've acclimated to the pre-meal insulin that enters my blood system by injection via the stomach. Don't worry, I'll take it out on Kitchstar in the future giggle. In addition, I'm undergoing stress tests to make sure Kitchstar is actively moving and ultra sound to gauge the fluid around the baby twice a week. I'm in great hands.

Shellie’s Proverb: A candle with no wick is pure wax.

Besides, I've been pampering myself weekly with visits to the acupuncturist and prenatal massage. The constant daily advice is to practice squatting. Yes, squat...this allows the baby's head to drop and it allows my pelvic floor to stretch and strengthen. A little graphic, but you get the gist. It's been predicted that the baby may come early. If not, the doctors will induce on my due date. Starting my 36th week, I will start a gradual dose of primrose and herbs to start the ripening of my cervix. Ripening? Ripening. Believe me, nobody wants to induce, if the cervix is not ripened. An unripened cervix is like sawing through a slab concrete with a plastic knife. Painful.

Lastly, we need to coordinate a birth plan, a specific schematic of preference during labor. Back in the day, women just squirted babies out. This day and age, there’s so many choices and alternatives to consider that it could make an old man sterile. A birth plan consists of instructions and preferences for the doctors and midwives to follow ranging from labor positions to pain relief to cord cutting to unexpected labor events. Do you know how many selective cesarean incisions there are? Exactly, knowledge, knowledge, knowledge.

May is immediately around the corner and we’re ecstatic! As the last days of our anti-parenting moments come to a close, we thrive in the threshold. A new chapter. The Kitchens will soon embark on the shores of parenthood. We can’t wait for the arrival of Kitchstar so let the lack of sleep, logic, sex, and consciousness begin!

Lesson: A wise grasshopper must have all the ingredients to make chop suey.

Space the Final Frontier

Shane left for the Baja coast of Cabo San Lucas this morning with his cronies. A weekend to myself. Ah, what a relaxing feeling. Obviously, it's boys weekend in girls gone wild country in the spring break region. This wild girl will take a break this weekend and wallow in the sunshine of spring with my fellow chicas. I'm having dinner with Angela and Jill tonight at my favorite restaurant Salt House. Yum mee! I can't wait. Although my endurance for sitting in one spot has become a slight burden, I always manage to make it through without whining. Ouch.

My two sisters are sleeping over on Friday and Saturday night without their kids! Yippee! Do you have any idea what a big favor I've done them? No kids? I don't think they know what to do with themselves. What will they do with all the silence and the non-bickering? They're big plan is to bring over a bunch of filipino food on friday and plop on that couch and feast. I, of course, am unable to indulge in the filipino food fiesta, due to my gestational diabetes.

Shellie's Proverb: A rotund person will never go hungry.

The weather's looking spectacular this weekend so maybe I'll drag my sisters to Chrissy Fields early Saturday for a short brisk walk than to brunch. Although Laurie, my middle sis, is absolutely addicted to shopping and is trying her best to coerce us into shopping for the baby. Honestly, I'm not sure how much more stuff baby needs. We went through the baby's clothes and between socks, hats, onesies, pants, shirts, towels, and blankets, Kitchstar's wardrobe is growing faster than a bacteria in a petri dish. There's only room for one in the clothes department in this household...um that would be me.

As the chatter broke the barrier of the goings on in Cabo, something about Borat and swimsuit, ahem...cough...I can only imagine what fun my husband is having. Smile. Enjoy it, because this baby is coming faster than a tortoise on roller skates.

Lesson: A wise Grasshopper must not attempt an axe kick with a limp foot.

Update

The nursery is coming cozy. Since there will be many visitors, we decided to keep the second room as the guest room. Besides, the narrow flight of stairs simply gives me anxiety attacks. I've slipped down those stairs in the middle of the night and I was not going to chance it with Kitchstar. Look at me, I'm already fussy with circumspect. Ill. The nursery will be in the front section of the downstairs equipped with bay windows. We divided the downstairs with a wall of sheer white curtains. We removed the monstrous obstruction of the dining table for we don't foresee any lavish dinner parties anytime in the near future. I think the show Top Design has become a menace to our perspective.

The Kitchen household has been really productive. After the closing of a work day and preparing dinner, we proceed to put the finishing touches on Kitchstar's room. In the past few days, Shane's been focused, assembling the dresser, the glider, ottoman, and the crib. It took him the same time to put together the crib as it took me to assemble a six piece hamper with the annoying assistance of an allan wrench. Frightening I know. That's why he builds houses and I keep my nose of it.

As we'll probably have to move in the next few months, we are attempting to make the room as comfortable as sanely possible. As I am not a fan of frill, color schemes, ruffles, bows, and doodads can just catch the next train ticket to Mars. I am leaning towards a zen shui feel like the tranquil sound of running water, bamboo, clean lines, and flowing curtains. Since I'll be spending most my time with the baby, between the crying, puking, pooping, peeing and lack of sleep, it might as well be harmoniously serene.

We were up past eleven last night organizing the front room, buzzing with focus, we were both sick of being procrastinators. Since Shane's gone this weekend, we wanted to get a head start as you never know when the baby comes. If Kitchstar arrives early, than we're in heavy and deep poo. As fate wears many masks, I just prefer to be one step ahead.

Shellie's Proverb: A brick will strengthen a house, but a brick can not make you strong.

Speaking of fate, Kitchstar's definitely growing! Evidently, the movements are stronger. It's so cool! I love the mommy and baby Morse code. It punches when it's starving. It kicks when I'm eating. I've been gaining a pound a week in the past two weeks and growing. I keep trying to slow it down to prevent the slightest development of stretch marks, plus I have seven more weeks to go. Yes, I'm superficially vain, say a prayer for me you religious fanatics. I don't understand as I've been working out everyday. You think that my fat loss would equivocate to the baby's weight gain. Well, that's my logic it doesn't have to make sense.

The Kitchen household is slowly coming together. The babies room is very cool! It's comfortable, inviting, and cozy. We're very proud of the hard work and late nights we've invested, because the outcome is fabulous! Meanwhile, Shane will be boozing it up in Mexico this Thursday, I will attempt to put together our birthing plan and read up further on the alternatives, expectations of birthing. As I am regularly hounded to read Ina May's Guide to Child birthing, because of my shear terror of giving birth I just might complete the task this weekend. As both my sisters are spending the weekend at the house, I'm sure I'll find some alone time.

Lesson: A wise grasshopper must practice in order to become the master of his art.

Serenity Now!

St. Patricks Day and Birthday Festivities for Tracy Massillon's, doula extraordinaire aka proficient in the masterful ways of the vagina, birthday ensued from a barbecue to drinking at Brunos. By the time, we hit Brunos the entire posse was in a mood. I, on the other hand, was sober. The DJ was bumping, but so was the headache that progressed in my head. I moved and grooved until I couldn't take it anymore. I decided to head home before I turn into a pumpkin. Shane was free to stay under uno important condition and that is to be at the top of his game at 1000 hours tomorrow. I may be full of girlish foolish promises, but I trusted Shane to do his woman right.

Shellie's Proverb: Never trust a drunk to keep a promise.

As the gods would have it, Shane rolled in the realms of 3 o'clock in the morning. The raucous of his presence was apparent from the door slam downstairs. I was slightly perturbed not because he was drunk, but because he would be mush tomorrow. A tragedy. He sluggishly flopped into bed gurgling boisterously in gibberish and wreaking of alcohol. I was not a happy wife. I was hijacked from sleep, because my husband was being an absolute snoring slob in bed. At sunrise, I watched him bobbing in the depths of his R.E.M. Brewing in frustrating and irrational thoughts. I was not going to allow him to ruin my Sunday. I bounced out of bed. I ate my breakfast and headed to the gym. If and when, I return and he is unresponsive, than I shall take the world into my hands. Until than, the elliptical, heart rate, sweat, free weights, and exertion was immediate.

There's something about exercising that pushes me through the threshold of any conflict. A baptismal. A cleansing. A reflection. I drove home after an hour and half of working out with a different outlook. A brighter one. If Shane was just mentally bruised, than I would pursue today's errands a la solo. Done. No arguments. No lectures. I walked into the house and my husband greeted me with a cheerful, "Good morning honey! Where'd you go? To the gym?" I followed the voice to the bedroom. "I'm sorry I was such a jerk last night." He confessed. I shed a tear as that was all that I was looking for a simple apology without the tooth pulling. How can I be livid with someone so sweet? He further proceeded, "I will do whatever you want today. Baby will have a nursery!" As a part of me would've made him lick the bottom of my cross trainers, my heart oozed forgiveness.

Lesson: A wise grasshopper must not allow emotions to restrict free thought.

Prepare for Storkville

Shane and I finished our morning work out at the gym. I felt resilient! I was Master of the Universe. It was 9:45 o'clock on St. Patrick's Day as I made way to visit my acupuncturist. I wallowed in the great head start to my Saturday. I couldn't wait to feel physically and mentally in syc; rested, a true luxury. As we are not finding out the gender, everyone's been trying their hand at the guessing game. Christine, the acupuncturist, attempted to figured out the sex by deciphering the babies pulse. She said it was a girl, but my intuition always told me from the start that it was a boy. I could be wrong. In any case, the baby is faced down and head down which in pregnant world is ideal. She did her magic and I felt brand new. I scheduled her weekly in my last four weeks to ensure the health and safety of baby and me.

On my way home, I was entangled in the circus of the St. Patrick's parade. A wave of drunken green barricaded the roads. By this time, I was famished. I regularly pack my snack with me to avoid irritable pregnant syndrome, but not today. Frown. Shane and I had a schedule to keep. We had some essential shopping to tackle like diapers, butt butter, and butt wipes. As of yet, nursery is just a figment of our imagination. Since Shane's been playing hookey during my pregnancy, it was time I put the screech on the emergency brakes. If you compare him to other victimized father's to be, he's got it lush. He is to be present at Cabo San Lucas this Thursday for four or five days to celebrate a bachelor that doesn't have a set wedding date yet...ironic. Anyway, that's a different story. Smile.

Shellie's Proverb: A horse that gallops never gets tired.

At home, husband is enthralled in what we women like to refer to as March Sadness. Shane, finally motivated to utilize the computer not to mention the internet, glued to the NCAA college bracket tournament. He tried to delay our errands so he can catch the last five minutes of a game which could mean anything...like a double overtime and an hour later. Not today mister.

Shopping was like two people having a brain meltdown. Since we were clueless as to the gender, I thought it would be fun to have one gender specific outfit for the hospital. Shane as usual did not want any hand in my game, in reality I think he called it stupid. I quickly nabbed a knitted pink hat, pink shoes, and pink shirt. All of this overdose of pink was causing an allergic reaction, an outbreak of nausea and light headedness. He, on the other hand, was more selective, nervously picking through his choices, resulting in blue shoes and blue giraffe shirt.

We than browsed the aisle of milk bottles, nipples, and pacifiers. The marketing strategy was amazing words like avoid gas, colic, natural nipples was apparent. Milk bottles were as various as the hues in the color spectrum. We were baffled! A victim of marketing, I grabbed the bottles that avoided colic and gas. How ineffective could it be? We further perused the breast feeding section as Shane giggled like an adolescent at the odds and ends of breast pump accessories. Diapers, we needed diapers. It seemed like everyone had a newborn, because every brand was out of newborn diapers. Strange in a twilight zone kind of way. As I would have loved to have perused more, we were scheduled for a birthday barbecue at 3 o'clock and it was almost 4 o'clock. Where was our priority? We were always sucked into the abyss of celebration. It was St. Patrick's Day and March Sadness and I could feel that Shane was feverishly going through withdrawals. Besides, we had a hot date tomorrow to finish up our errands. So I gave in. Big mistake.

Lesson: A wise Grasshopper must stay on the green path to avoid ninja attack.

Baby Shower

As Shane saw it fit to celebrate my baby shower by rounding all of his buddies for golf and than afternoon cocktails into the wee hours of the noon day, I was subject to tradition and a golden tradition at that. On Saturday, girlfriends Angela, Sofia, Aussy hosted a baby shower for yours truly. I must admit that I was touched by the kindness and generosity displayed. Sniffle. It was the perfect sunny and warm day. I couldn't ask for anything more. I was showered with love, laughter, and happiness.

At thirty weeks, about seven months, my buoyant body made way to the baby shower. It was heart touching to be surrounded by my girlfriends and family. Further amazing, were the company of girlfriends that had the opportunity to bond. There's nothing more lovely than a bunch of girls gabbing, eating, and being merry. I am so fortunate to have such lovely friends and family. My two neices were present trying to snatch the clothes pins at the drop of the word "baby!" Of course, they were games and prizes. I enjoyed a memorable flute of mimosa and boy did it go down swell! Champagne, the liquid of my loins. The food spread was amazing! No holds barred on my carb intake. I'm sure I soared off the charts, but I was not going to register it into my glucose journal. My girlfriends were considerate enough to provide sugar free cookies. Aren't they just the sweetest? How I devoured these cookies like it was oxygen. Did I mention the miniature cupcakes from whole foods! Yum in my tum.

Down to the nitty gritty. Presents! My, the pile of gifts. Each gift wrapped meticulously with care, I felt terrible having to dispense the paper. Each clothing item were so adorably tiny, like socks! I could cry! Generosity overflowed from the handmade knit blanket and snug hat (umbilical cord) made by super Mom Kitchen to the stuffed animals, books, and other essentials. Although the mother of all gifts, drum roll please, the bugaboo! I know! Fancy pee in my pantsee! Kitchstar is not worthy, but Uncle John, Aunt Nyra, Jill and Greg seem to think so. This is all new to me? I took it all the positivity in like a field of spring flowers, because I knew in a few months I would be confined to the needs of Kitchstar.

Shellie's Proverb: A smile is contagious.

Essentially, I would like to take a moment to thank the girls for putting on such an elegant and memorable baby shower. Sofia for investing the time to haggle everyone together and for such a beautiful invitation! Angela for spear heading the games department and for providing your ever so delectable deviled eggs. Aussy for hosting the celebration at your humble...cough...mansion...I mean humble abode. I am ever so lucky to have females like you in my life! Of course, the absence of Mom, Mom Kitchen, Chris, Meaghan, Minniti, and Erin was apparent. Well, I had dinner with Meaghan and Stella that evening, but it would have been bomb, if she was present at the shower. Smile. But, such is life! I look forward to returning the favor when the pregnant fairy beckons you.

At the closing of the day, it wasn't about the gifts. It was about the gathering and celebrating. It meant a lot. It was significantly special. The baby shower has come and gone and now the big day is on the horizon. We have yet to put together the make shift nursery. There's a lot to do in the next few weeks. My husband has one last hurrah in Cabo for his best friend's, TC, bachelor party. Than it's time to kick him into husband mode. I can easily say that I've allowed him a lot of slack, since my pregnancy. Now it's time to reel that big fish in. Sorry boys, the husband needs to tend to the homestead. Smile.

Lesson: A happy Grasshopper is a content grasshopper.

Almost there...

As I'm heading towards the finish line of pregnantville, my doctors appointments fills my calendar. St. Luke's have been proactive at monitoring my gestational diabetes. I meet with my OBGYN or midwive once a week alongwith my diabetes counselor. To ensure proper development, I am scheduled for an ultrasound monitoring twice a week. They need to make sure that the baby is coming along nicely. It's nice to know that Kitchstar is in good hands. Phew! Thank the lord for co-payments and such an understanding employer.

I have managed to keep my blood glucose down through diet, insulin, and exercise, instead of enjoying my pregnancy with absolute decadence and sloth like behavior like the other lucky preggers. Besides yoga and pilates, I've incorporated 45 minute cardio and 20 minutes of free weights to my workout. Yes, I'm finally making use of my gym membership that I've had for a decade now. All of this has contributed to keeping my blood glucose down. I'm more healthy now than ever. One thing is for certain, I won't be gaining as much weight. How ironic. The best work out on the planet was the boxing gym, but what good is a pregnant women at a boxing gym. Ridiculous. Swimming is ideal, although there's something about swimming in the same water as obese people, no offense seriously, that makes the chlorine null. This coming from a woman that has orca features.

Shellie's Proverb: A beached whale does not enjoy the sunshine.
My belly has transformed beautifuly into a very tight and rotund sphere. I haven't seen the southern sector of my belly for months now, well unless I look in a mirror, but that would be cheating. I'm a wibble wobble that won't fall down. I've embraced my pregnancy. I'm blessed and I am lucky. No acid reflux. No constipation. Whee. No lower back pain. No nausea. No emotional hijacking. Phew! I count my lucky stars. Sure, I can't delve into a bowl of ice cream caramel sundae, but my situation could be dire. I am thankful and I am happy. I am crossing my fingers and knocking on wood in hopes that the remaining pregnancy will be just as smooth.

Lesson: A wise Grasshopper must master his appetite to control his waistline.