Shopping delight…cut short!

We go shopping, well if you call Target and Babies r us shopping…I haven’t been out for weeks so I’m not picky.

I try to concentrate on what I really need; the problem is we need so much, at least according to me.

My mom is an expert shopper but she is more interested in things for the house (where she has been cooped up) than cute little pink baby outfits.

I still can’t believe it is real. I don’t think it will completely hit me until we get to take her home, we have a baby girl!

Finally I get to buy girl stuff, don’t get me wrong I love shopping for my son but come on, have you seen the girl stuff for babies lately?

We need some boring things as well, what we like to call “essentials” and as I walk through the aisles at Target I feel more and more tired and slightly dizzy as I’m gripping the red cart tight, leaning in to it as I’m pushing following my mom’s excited stride.

Sometimes Target has the ability to get you very tired though and I haven’t been out of bed for 4 weeks basically, so of course I feel dizzy. I decide to power through, we have Babies r us after this after all, where I’m naturally a frequent buyer with all the essential VIP and bonus cards. There is something about a store full of baby stuff (pregnant women and babies), bright colors, new beginnings and hope!

My ultimate wish growing up was always (ALWAYS) being a mom, now I get to dress real live dolls!

Suddenly I feel faint in the middle of a (I have to admit, sorry mom) home decoration (?) aisle (I think it was lamps, “we do need one for the baby’s room and one by the pool table”) and stop for a second. My mom, still talking about the wonder of being out of the house (poor woman) notices that I am not answering her and turns around, zooming in on me with her mom eyes as she exclaims “you don’t look so good”…

I’m telling her that I’m just tired and that I just gave birth a couple of days ago for crying out loud, of course I’m feeling weak in the knees and there is no way I’m cutting this outing short!!

We get the Target shopping done and I manage to hang in there. Right outside, there is as Starbucks (you can’t go many places without a Starbucks but my hospital room didn’t exactly have one close by). I am craving caffeine but since I’m worried about it getting into the milk I am pumping, I have to “settle” for the double chocolate chip frappe I got more or less addicted to during my pregnancy. Mom never says no to a coffee so we push the cart toward two available seats (it’s a very small place so space is limited) and I’ll go order our drinks.

I still look pregnant so I worry that I will have to dodge some uncomfortable questions when I feel the barista glancing curiously at my stomach (nop, kid is out, come on please don’t ask, and luckily she doesn’t…I mean who cares…well after everything I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it, I care just a tiny bit).

Soon that is the least of my problems, I suddenly feel a big gush in my underwear where I have the biggest night diaper…I mean pad ever made, and it seems like it is leaking through (sorry about the TMI here people).

I go put the drinks in front of my mother and excuse myself to run to the bathroom. Maybe this outing wasn’t such a bright idea after all, I would much rather be in the comfort of my own house than at a Target restroom.

I do have back-up pads in my purse though but I am bleeding a lot (A LOT) and I don’t remember it being this bad after my first born. A little voice whispers in my head something about soaking a pad in an hour being bad but I’m pretty sure it’s been more like two hours since we left the house and I put in a new one, besides I gave birth only three days ago…

Reassured that it is normal and cheered up by the prospect of my frappe and going to Babies r us, I leave the restroom and head back to my mom.

At babies r us though, as I stand in line a severe headache is brewing, not even the cutest baby dresses size 0-3 months can hold my attention and I start to worry that I am coming down with something…


Move in Chaos and low Fluid Fears

Week 30 started with the news that I’m already 2 centimeters open (even if that is fine for weeks- this is very early) and my cervix is already thinning. The doctors discuss a procedure that is usually considered too late after 24 weeks but these specialist are willing to find a way to keep my baby in a while longer. The window is closing rapidly though and with all the extra hormones baby and I “should” be okay…
It is really up to me if I want to do something “rather drastic” or wait and continue to see them under heavy monitoring.

Continued bed rest at home is strongly emphasized but easier said than done. This is the week I choose to move in to a new bigger house with the following, not exactly recommended, workload. Escrow closes on Friday (of my 29th week of pregnancy) and we move in on Saturday the following day (living on the edge here people!)
We love our new home and are so happy it all worked out but moving a family of four and a dog is not exactly easy…(especially not during a complicated pregnancy)
Even if family helps it’s impossible not to stress and I can feel my poor heart working overtime.

I also have the under active thyroid to deal with and will continue to eat meds for that (messing with my system as I get used to them), there is still protein in my urine suggesting preeclampsia and I now have to see the cardiologist once a week to try to figure out my heart palpitations. This week they will do an ultrasound on my heart and suggest a monitor that I will have to wear for the next three weeks.

After our niece was forced to deliver twins way too early via emergency c-section last week her and the twins are all I can think about. We go and visit the tiny miracles, walking by where our daughter had her bed, getting major flashbacks. I feel all sorts of emotions and really try to offer my support without imposing on the young couple who I know have a long road ahead. The babies will have ups and downs but are in excellent hands and will get to stay in one of the best NICUs until they are ready to come home with their loving, brand new parents who have already grown up with the responsibility and are facing this unexpected challenge like pros. The twins will be okay and we are all so very proud of both babies and parents!


Other week 30 highlights include stepping on a wasp (my foot did not need the extra swelling, trust me) when we are already late for my son’s preschool, taking care of our large goofy dog who gets stuck (head) in our new gate and hurts her paws dragging in blood all over our new floors (poor sweetie) and being forced to see my doctors every single day while figuring out childcare when my husband as well as mother in law are out of town.

The house obviously needs unpacking and we are trying to live in the midst of chaos. My son’s school is suddenly far away, I have no idea where the closest grocery store is (and hello Starbucks drive thru?) I even have to google map the hospital and doctors’ offices. Luckily I had expert help unpacking the kitchen and bedroom but it’s still difficult to get into a daily routine. Hubby’s family has been awesome but I still miss my own mom and her expert, calming advice and great organizational and “decoration-al” skills.
Even though this house and yard (loving the pool and palms) is a definite upgrade and I don’t miss our old house at all (except the memories), there are a million things to get done.
I’m starting to feel sick and tired of all the things we need to fix around here and it still feels like unfamiliar territory.

Husband leaving only days after moving in is not ideal and it feels like since I should NOT be lifting, unpacking or even walking stairs I can’t do much to make any progress in the house. I get annoyed by all the driving to school and everyday doctors appointments and while in the house all I do is directing handymen, gardeners, electricians, TV and Internet experts, pool guys and pest control people. To be honest I’m overwhelmed and worried about both my pregnancy and this move working out for the best. I know hubby stresses about all the hidden fees and payments and having him work this much to alleviate that, is not exactly easy on me.

Our dog spends her first nights whining and sad and even if the kiddos love the house, they seem frightened at night and I feel like there are hidden dangers for little kids everywhere. I drive myself crazy with all the lists I am writing of things that need to get done and am hating all the boxes everywhere. This is definitely unfamiliar territory for all of us!

I’m so glad we got this house and I know it will be our dream house after a few cleanings, fixings, screwing-s, tweaking-s changes, upgrades, (as well as getting plenty of unwelcome species to move out) but right now we are in the thick of things.


After declining the invasive procedure and resting in the fact that I made it another week and that baby looks good and my body is staying the same I feel calmer!
As week 31 progresses and we get more stuff done, unpacking the kid’s rooms and getting accustomed to our yard, the house, the gate and the neighborhood and surrounding areas I feel better and my love and certainty of this house is getting stronger. I get to take an awesome break celebrating this new baby with amazing friends at a fancy afternoon tea at the end of the week which I love!

But the next day I feel the familiar leaking sensation and freak myself out yet again…what if my water just broke…?

What if this time the baby comes right away?
It is still way too early…

Today I did get some (much deserved I might add after the week I had) “mommy me time” and what do I do, I enter the torture chamber known as the nail salon

So I have a confession to make, and before you say anything, please hear me out. I know it’s “the housewife (and working women too by all means) go-to” for “me-time”, relaxation and some “quick beauty fixes”. I know it’s supposed to be soothing and like a “mini-spa” experience (we know how well I do with those) but I don’t actually enjoy getting my nails done- like at all…never have (bordering hate to be quite frank with you). Admit you were thinking nips and tucks here or at least Botox…

Why do you then even go to a nail salon you might ask. Well, it’s almost like you forget from time to time. “Everybody” seems to be doing “mani pedis” nowadays even three year olds and men (yes, men-nothing wrong with that). Before you ask, “no I don’t get my nails done (did) because everyone is doing it” (even if that certainly has some part in it; how come everyone seems to enjoy it so?)
I also quite like the end result which is of course a big part of why I go (and keep coming back, “beauty is pain” and all of that).

Years ago I went because I was “a professional” and needed my nails to follow (pretend) that image. I had long fake nails, nicely shaped with a French manicure. I loved it because as long as we are being honest here, I had a big “biting”  issue when I was younger that left my nails fragile and brittle (and they will now pretty much break if you look at them). To have long, strong, pretty nails made me feel womanly and older and wiser somehow! And I do think it helped the “professions image” and the dating game (what guy wants boyish fingernails on the woman they are trying to romance…?)

The torture it takes to get pretty nails, eh well…

Let’s also take into consideration the extremely bad experiences I have had at nail salons. For examples, this one time when my friend got vouchers to go to some shady place in a bad part of town. We were young, (I’m not saying dumb but definitely not the smartest when it comes to staying out of “danger”… I’m not saying the nail place was dangerous except maybe for our health and our poor nails…but there were times…) and close to broke so we decided to use the huge mani pedi discount. Let’s just say there was blood involved and nobody made it to the “pedi”.

Anyways after having kids, the fancy “fake nail” had to go. Reluctantly at first, I tried a few times after my son’s first birthday (before then? I don’t care who you are, if you don’t have other people taking care of your little one(s) 24/7; bad idea…you need an example of why? Really? Fine, even though I have plenty, I’ll give you a good one; changing diapers…, enough said). I gave that up pretty fast but switched to the hype of gel manis for a while (my nails ended up cracked and even more brittle) and am now back to simple manicures and pedicures (those are even worse).

Let me tell you about pedicures since manicures have gotten significantly better since the whole switching to nails salons in “respectable areas” and the no more acrylic thing (and I am no wuss, I have given birth before…). Ah, the relaxing pedi! NOT

My feet are sensitive (I don’t know if they are more sensitive than other’s people’s feet or not…) and I don’t like other people touching them. Nothing weird like a phobia or anything but the nail ladies (or men) are so rough, why do they have to be so rough. Is it part of their schooling? Is it really necessary for great results (hmm, maybe…)

My sister hates when people touch her feet yet she enjoys a good (and long…read through an entire three hour movie) foot massages (or as she calls it “tickle sessions) by family members and I guess now her boyfriend has qualified (we are the lucky few). So why the foot rubs if she hates her feet being touched you ask? Your guess is as good as mine, my  friend! So, anyways, its nothing like that for me. I guess I should have worded it differently. I’m fine with people touching my feet (not complete weirdoes but you know…professionals…eh, nail professionals…certified beauticians) if they are GENTLE.

The manic filing drives me nuts, I can literally not keep from moving around in agony and am closing to screaming STOP!!! every single time, and yet I start EACH and EVERY appointment by telling them about my very (read extremely for emphasis) sensitive feet. Maybe they don’t understand me, maybe its the language barrier? But I’m pretty sure they do.

There is another thing that makes me so uncomfortable and my experience with nail salons…not a great one. The communication between me and the nail professionals (I’m sure they might like a different title? but I’m not sure which one). The communication…or the lack thereof. I understand not speaking the language, I understand language barriers, accents and not being understood. TRUST YOU ME!!!

It is not that, its the constant whispering in a different language, and that’s fine but the giggling, the whispering and the giggling together makes it impossible for me not to think they are talking about me. They look at me, look away and giggle. This is true and I’m not trying to stereotype here, be insensitive a jerk or paranoid…every single nail place that I have ever been to, I’ve had the same experience.

So that alone is fine, it is the pairing of the constant curiosity of guessing what they are talking about, what is so funny or if I have poop on my forehead or left over baby food (or worse milk) on my chest or something? With the roughness of the “relaxing spa treatments”. The cutting of the skin around the nails (what is that about?), the filing my heels raw, the stinging of that clear liquid, the brutal massage chair (I’m sorry, but that thing hurts-I always have to muster up the courage to tell them to turn it off “yes, I’m sure, completely off…sorry”…usually somewhere in the middle of the appointment after enduring some tough punches to my back for over half an hour), the water that is too hot and the time that moves painfully slow.

My mom loves nail salons and begs me to take her ever time she is here, so see there, its defiantly not a Swedish “thing”.

When I tell people, I’m going to do my nails I get responses like “lucky you”, “enjoy yourself”, and “if only I had the time…(for that luxury)” and from some slightly nicer friends “you deserve it”. But do I? Deserve it I mean? I don’t think so, is it even worth it? Doubtful…

Sure, I like how my feet and finger nails turn out, how clean and smooth they feel and how manageable they get (for about 5 minutes until someone poops, pukes or pretends mommy is a horse…trust me on that one).

Today I did get some (much deserved I might add after the week I had) “mommy me time” and what do I do? I enter the torture chamber known as the nail salon…it isn’t all that bad, they are true professionals after all, how do they learn how to do all that stuff? And you know what? My toenails and fingernails have never looked better!!!

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