Gone to the Dogs

Did you have a good Christmas? Wil and I had fun cooking our first holiday meal together. We kept it small and manageable but nonetheless still ended up with a short week's worth of leftover. Good thing, too, since we both caught a bad cold and were in no mood to make or consume anything nutritious if it weren't already prepared and waiting in the fridge. We can laugh about it now, but it was rough for about 5 days. The couch became our headquarters. We ate, napped, watched a lot of football and CSI, and rarely got out of our pjs. In the midst of a dream of fully functional nostrils, Wil got a call about his confirmed surgery date, February 12th. We toasted the long awaited occasion with shots of decongestant and went back to sleep. Everybody around us seem to be sick as well. One of our good friends is recovering from pneumonia and I can't walk through the PX without getting snot sprayed on by those who think that covering their noses and mouths are too taxing on their germ incubating bodies. But let me tell you that there's no one else with whom I'd rather be sharing the couch, a big roll of toilet paper, and the cold virus. Both of us being sick at the same time was really hard on our boys, but it was a lot of fun for us. It was like a never ending slumber party. With killer sinus pain and pounding headaches, but that's all behind us now. Those who are sick together, stick together. Our new motto.

My brother Non came to stay with us for a couple of days during Christmas. I'm not exaggerating when I say Brutus hates his uncle. I told my mom on the phone that it was probably a sign that Brutus was an excellent judge of character and she laughed heartily. From the moment he stepped inside the apartment, Brutus went into a panic mode. He refused to go anywhere near Non and would bark non-stop if he even heard his voice. One day Non took Paddy, a true lab who LOVES anyone who would cuddle with him, out jogging. Brutus'eyes got real big when he saw his little brother walking out of the door with that mean man and kept pacing and hyperventilating until they came back almost an hour later. Paddy got a thorough sniff, lick, and complete check up from his big brother before passing out from exhaustion. It was cute to see that Bru really loved and worried about Paddy even though he tried to never show it. I would have taken a picture but my camera suddenly gave out after taking years of abuse. Rest in peace, PowerShot A70. You have made your Canon family proud. My clumsy digits are not a big fan of tiny pocket-sized camera, so I'm hoping to find a new model of the same line. We'll see.

This cold and damp weather we're experiencing is really for the dogs. Bless my husband, the dedicated father that he is. He's been taking the pups to the park pretty much everyday even though there's standing water on the field. Brutus and Paddy apparently have developed impressive slip-n-slide techniques, which require them to receive a quick shower after every park visit. I think Brutus already works out in his head that the degree of fun and accumulated mess on his body are a fair trade to a nice warm bath, so he just hops into the tub when we open the bathroom door. Paddy, on the other hand, probably thinks that the bathroom is a gas chamber and just goes limp. It's like trying to pick up a 90-lb pile of muddy silly putty off the floor. It would have really been comical if there were someone else giving him a bath.

Tibetan Incantations

I have a sudden urge to share the incredible love I have for my adorable Mom. My brother, Non, got in last evening from Koblenz, and he came baring my mom's care package. Non was just home in Thailand a minute ago, so mom sent stuff with him. Along with clothes that would definitely fit me when I'm skinny again (knock on wood...) and loads of food I was missing from home, she also sent me 3 different CDs of relaxing and soothing type of music. I told her that I hadn't been able to sleep well since getting pregnant and she thought meditation and music might help. My mom is just too cute for words. Anyway, after an enormous meal of bar-b-q baby back ribs, baked beans, corn bread, and some Yankee coleslaw, I found myself still wide awake at the wee hours of the morning and decided to give one of mom's CDs, titled "Tibetan Incantations, a try. Since it's almost 5 a.m., you know it didn't work as a sleep aid, although I must say that I am uber relaxed. However, the monk's chants have had an utmost surprising effect on other unintended targets. Namely:
1. Brutus, who was sleeping at my feet and grudgingly stormed off to seek refuge in the bedroom with snoring Papa and Paddy.
2. The Seed, who decided to adapt his Dance Dance Revolution routine to the mellow sounds of the Tibetan mountains.
3. My bowel movement. I really spent 5 minutes thinking about a more polite term for this but I don't think there is one. I haven't been this happy to go to the bathroom since getting knocked up.
4. Since we already went in the TMI territory, another drop in the bucket wouldn't hurt. Lemme just say colostrum LOVES the monk's chants. Am thinking about bagging and freezing it for future use.

I'm sure this is not the kind of post you expect on this fine Christmas morning. Never can say I keep stuff from ya. I plan on on over feasting on my husband's fabulous cooking, laughing a whole lot, and hugging my family a little tighter, even my ugly little brother. Christmas doesn't hold religious significance for Non and I, but we've always enjoyed the time spend with those closest and dearest to our hearts. I hope you get to celebrate the day with those you love in the way that brings you peace.

21 1/2 Weeks, Etc.

Behold the bulge:
The Seed was enjoying a quiet couple of weeks but now appeared to be hitting a rapid growth spurt. Again. I feel like I've doubled in size every morning I wake up. Here's a comparison from the 18th week:

Well, it's either the baby growing or a result of feasting on this on a regular basis:
I love having Make Your Own Pizza Night. The leftover toppings are just perfect for making super omelet. It's so chunky I have to eat it with a spoon. And I'm certain that washing it all down with holiday baked goods is the way to share the Christmas spirit with the Seed. Yes, I'm only doing this out of my love for the kid.

We had the last consult with Wil's neurosurgeon this past Friday. By next Friday we should have his surgery date. Things are finally moving in the right direction. Also in the good news department: it appears that he won't be needing a disc replacement surgery right at this very moment. All the tests led his surgeon to recommend cutting away a portion of his bulging disc that was pinching several nerve endings instead. With Wil's degenerative discs, he will probably need a replacement surgery down the road, however. But for now, this should eliminate most of the pain in his back and legs, if not all, and allow him to have a normal and healthy life. Let's just hope that he heals before the baby comes.

We're having a pretty low key holiday season this year, mainly because I would rather be napping than slaving myself away in the kitchen. We've gone to parties and eaten our fair share of the bounty (see pictures above). Just when I thought we would sleep through the actual Christmas day and only wake up long enough to have a bowl of cereal, Wil decided that he was going to cook dinner for us. I've been put in charge of desserts and maybe a veggie side dish but that is it. The Man is going to whip us up a scrumptious meal. The last I peaked in the pantry, there were lots of canned green beans and a jar of molasses. And my stupid little brother is coming to join in the fun tomorrow. I didn't realize that it had been 2 years since I saw him last. I'm sure he's still ugly and mean. He.. Really, Mom, I'm just kidding. Sort of. Will post more pics of the smack down, er, family dinner. Hope yours are as wonderful and entertaining, if not as sugary sweet, as ours. Merry Christmas!

Tired

I have to clarify something Wil posted. Even though we didn't find out the sex, it was a blessing to know that the baby was perfectly healthy. All fetal measurements came back to be within about 65th-75th percentile--that's what my husband meant when he said the baby was about 70%. Cute when boys try to explain baby measurements, huh? The seed now weights about a whole pound. We have a good picture of his profile, which I'll upload shortly. I haven't been able to sleep these past couple of nights for no apparently reason and am exhausted. Gonna try to take the boys out for a walk to make myself really tired. Will update when I'm finally able to finish my own sentences. Peace!

AND THE SEX IS....

Bet you wish you knew huh! Yeah well so do we. It seems our child gets his/her stubborn attitude from my wonderful wife. He was sleeping in the breach position and would not move to save our lives. Uma showed up with a hugely full bladder she was in so much pain sitting around waiting for the Dr. to come get us and the baby kept kicking for position. Once we got into the room and the Dr. started the ultrasound she marvelled at how full her bladder was. She said it looked painful. I can attest to that cause Uma kept hitting me to take out the pain. Anyways she said it was stupid to keep her bladder full with the baby this big and she couldnt see anything else. So she went to the bathroom and we started again. This time the baby was asleep in the breach with his or her legs together and would not spread them for anything. The Dr. kept pushing and we were thumping the belly and Uma was squirming but to no avail. I actually think I saw the baby give us the finger at one point. Now the good news is that the baby, whatever it is, is completely healthy and somewhere around the 70% body size. We have a really nice profile photo of the baby's face. Uma swears he has my nose and my forehead. God help this poor child if that true. Has anybody seen my forehead, I mean seriously, what a rough way to start out in this world looking like me.

20 Weeks!

Here's a picture of my growing belly at 20 weeks.

And here's the bump at 18 weeks for comparison.

I don't think I'm expanding at the speed of light as I was about 3 weeks ago anymore. Speaking of expanding, anyone cares to guess how much weight I gained from week 17th-20th? Think BIG. Like 7 lbs big. The Seed was either really growing or the glutton pig in me finally came out for a partay. I had to weigh myself twice just to be sure that the number registered on the scale was in fact mine. It's the baby. That's the kind of lie I have to tell myself from getting completely freaked out by the prospect of gaining about 40 lbs (or more!) at the finish line. But the most important thing is that all is well with The Seed. All the tests came back showing low risk, the heartbeats are strong, and the kicks are getting more potent everyday. His way of telling momma that he wants breakfast RIGHT NOW is never subtle, and apparently the Seed was STARVING yesterday morning. I was about to get up when he started throwing temper tantrum and put on quite a show for Wil. My uterus was turned into one baby mosh pit until he got some cereal to calm him down. Now if I only know how to stop him from scraping my cervix with his toenails...

We had a combined "Make Your Own Pizza" dinner party and Game Night last night. We were expecting a few more friends but fun was had by all regardless. Carol brought her friend Jordan, who was new in town and also pregnant! It was nice to not be the only one rubbing the kicks away after dinner. Our babies will only be a few months apart, so automatic playdates for the Seed! I think we all are going to be great friends. Oh, and we'll find out the sex of the baby on Tuesday!

There's not much else to update besides baby news. The weather is bitterly cold these days, which pleases Brutus but not so much the parents, especially at a very windy park. We celebrated Brutus' birthday with red velvet cupcakes that Wil made. Theirs without frosting, of course. It was the first time they had cake and it was interesting to watch. While Bru took his time to savor every morsel of scrumptious crumb, Paddy inhaled it whole as soon as the mass made a soft landing in his bowl. They both have been exceptionally good and are enjoying early Christmas presents of new fluffy beds by the window. The cuteness is turning my brain into cotton candy.

"Please, no picture before breakfast."

Happy Birthday Baby Brutus!

Brutus is turning 2 today! When Wil and I decided that it was time for Conner to have a baby sibling, we had no idea we'd be falling in love with the bratty poof that exhibited none of the good doggie behavior we had grown accustomed to with our perfect first child.
Brutus was fearless as a baby, which scared the living life out of me. He would be the first to stick his tongue in the light socket and vacuum hose to see what they felt like. He bullied all the adult dogs in the neighborhood into playing with him even though he was only about a tenth their sizes. He was mischievous to say the least and taught himself to chew his way out of collars and harnesses, eat electrical cords, climb over the puppy gate, and destroy all of Conner's perfectly manicured stuffed animal collection. He was cute and knew it. The attitude could not be contained in that tiny body.
When we lost Conner, no one grieved more loudy than Brutus. He would set out to do a room to room search for Con at all hours of the day. It got especially hard at night when he woke up and wanted to cuddle with his big brother. Trust me, nothing was more gut-wrenching that having to listen to a 4-month old puppy whinning at 3 a.m. because he couldn't understand why his Conner left him all alone in that big house.
Wil begged me to consider getting another puppy because Brutus was not coping well as the only child. We took him away from his litter and Con adopted him. Then for the first time in his life, he found himself the lone puppy. I was too sad and exhausted to protest, and Patton made us into a household of four.
Bru grudegingly accepted his role of a big brother. Though he would never intentionally show affection for our newest addition, sneaky parents witnessed Brutus lovingly clean his little brother's face and cuddle with him when it was nap time in their quiet private moments. And even though he bullied Paddy around the house, no one was allowed to be mean to his bro on the playground. We've seen Brutus going after much larger dogs to get them off little Paddy, even now that Paddy outweighs him by about 20 lbs. I think the poof gives him a false sense of security.
Brutus has grown into a sweet and loyal Steinhauer protector. On more than one occasion, he has proven that nothing was going get pass him to hurt Momma. Nothing except for black cats but that's a story for another time. He faces everyday challenge of living with severe hip dysplasia, which he never lets interfere with his fun time with Paddy and his friends at the park. We've decided against surgery for him because we know that being kept still in his kennel 3 months post-op is not for Brutus. We had unfortunately seen what hospitalization could do to his spirit. Bru only wants to sit in the wet and cold grass and keep his eyes on his charge and occasionally gets up to show Paddy who's the boss. Wil and I have made a conscious effort to not take our time with Brutus for granted because they could be ever so fleeting. For now he's a beautiful, happy, and healthy baby, and we can not be more grateful to have him with us. Don't tell him that I actually love having him climb in bed with us in the morning and sit on my chest to let me know that he was ready for us to be up. Our morning cuddle time is easily one of my favorite times of the day. Trying to have a "me" time and hiding from Paddy. They both served as witnesses at our wedding, which was a day after this picture was taken. Forced picture time with Momma.

Imitation Chinese

After the newness of living in a new country and experiencing new delicious food begining to wear off, all Wil and I could think about are our favorite restaurants stateside. We are in a really small town that has very few good restaurants. There are only so much potato dumplings one can have before craving good ole take-out Chinese or Mexican. We have found a few Chinese and Mexican restaurants around town. The problem is Mexican food is a German interpretation, and what we really want is the food from our fave Monterey in Fayetteville. And Chinese food here is, well, very Chinese. It made me ralize why my family and I didn't go out for Chinese often when I was living in Thailand. I have grown to love Americanized version of Chinese. When I order General Tso's Chicken, I want its batter to still be dripping in frying oil and heavily coated in yummy spicy syrupy goodness. I don't want veggies to intefere with my sugar coma. After I started having multiple dreams about Chinese, it was time to do something about it. So today I'm going to attempt to make General Tso's Chicken at home. I'll be sure to keep the fire department's number close by. Shall report back later.

The Seed is uber active and already keeping me up at night. Joy. He's a few days shy of 20 weeks and apparently requires vast amount of food to grow. Wil and I had to do emergency grocery shopping yesterday because we were running out of everything. I'm eating every couple of hours to satisfy the baby elephant that is growing inside of me. And by eating every couple of hours, I don't mean snacking on a small pack of crackers and some carrot sticks. I NEED a full meal every couple of hours. This is just exhausting. Preparing food, eating, not moving afterward and causing myself to get sick, thinking about what to eat next while resting, then it's time to make another meal. Here's my excuse for sporatic update. I'm eating. Really, I'm eating as I type right now. Wil baked me an apple pie last night and I'm only doing my part of diligently putting it away. I was blessed with super fast metabolism and always the last to leave the table. It appears that I'm growing a fierce competitor. I hadn't gained any weight from week 11th-17th, even though my husband was only too happy to point out that I was getting huge. We're pretty curious to see how far the scale will tip at this Wednesday appointment.

What can I say? It's been a slow week on the news front. Will think of something fun to write later.

19 Weeks Tomorrow

I'll be 19 weeks tomorrow. Finally figured out how to download pictures onto this Wintel machine, so here's my blob for your viewing pleasure. I'll upload the official 19th week picture later. I'm attaching the last couple of belly pictures for comparison so you can see how rapidly ginormous I'm getting. The Seed is kicking hard enough now that Wil can actually feel it, too. Exciting stuff.
14 weeks
17 weeks. I know my underwear is showing. The drawstring on Wil's pj bottom is giving way...
18 weeks. I grew a couple of inches in one whole week. Wow.

That's One Weird Looking Kid!

Yesterday while on our way to Landstuhl for Wil to take needles in the spine, we started talking about the possibility of a weird looking kid, with whom we might end up. Let's face it, with Wil's enormous melon, my Asian features, his baby buck teeth, my severe nearsightedness and poofy curly hair, we might have just made the oddest looking hybrid ever. Together, we imagined a small-built, tanned little boy who kept tumbling over because his little body was not strong enough to bare the weight of his overwhelming head. He was wearing really thick glasses to correct his vision, and possibly crossed eyes. Their sizable stature dwarfed his little face and made his eyes looked like they belonged behind a fish tank. He might be speaking with a lisp. While I was freaking out that this baby might never have a date and eventually give me grandbabies, Wil wisely interjected, "it could be worse. We could have a little girl. Then I really wouldn't have to worry about boys." Needless to say, we are very anxious about the next ultrasound on December 18, when we'll find out both the sex of the baby and the degree of cuteness, or the lack thereof. All kidding aside, we would be forever thankful for a healthy little person. The 21st century has greatly improved the quality of hair product, contact lenses, and orthodontics. Lord knows my growing pain would have been more manageable if they were introduced to me earlier. Like in 3rd grade. Seriously, my parents friends still tell me "you look so much BETTER!" whenver they see me. And that is meant as a compliment. Did I psychoanalize myself just now? Anyway, to borrow a line from "Steel Magnolias," I'm certainly hoping for Wil's good look and my sense of style for this baby. But then again I refused to wear anything else beside my yellow rubber rain boots for years as a toddler. Sigh. At least he would have a great sense of humor. He would need that to survive this household and school.

Wil is doing as well as one can expect after the procedure. He's very sore and can't get around very well. Yesterday's discogram, which small amount of fluid was injected into 2 of his discs to verify that they were indeed causing pain, should be the last step to multitude of tests he has had to endure before the surgery. Now we wait for his neurosurgeon to review the result and CT scan. Please let it be before I get ridiculously huge and am unable to help him move around the house. I'm also looking for a reliable and very strong dog walker. Our dear friends have volunteered to come over and walk the boys for us, but I'd hate to subject good friends to that kind of torture. To their credit, the boys are being good sports. They seem to know that Papa is not well, and Paddy resolves to sleep next to Wil on the floor, as supposed to on top of him on the bed like usual. Brutus just quietly sits in his chair keeping his eyes on us the whole time. I'm going to teach them to dial 911 just in case.

P.S. Wil's getting a cane! It's temporary to help him move about, but I'm totally painting flames on it to make it look like Dr. House's cane.

It's Alive!

I'm back! Sorry for the delayed post. We've been having problems with the internet connection on and off this past week. I shall summerize my life for you in easy-to-read bullet points:

*Thanksgiving was fun. Yes, Ralph, you were right and I didn't cook. We were invited to our dear friend Ashley's house. Ash was cooking for 30 and we gladly became a drop in her misery bucket. Ashley deserved to be put in Thanksgiving Hall of Fame for opening up her home to and feeding 30 very young and very drunk soldiers, who just came back from a month long snowy and icey field excercise. I should name a star after this brave and slightly crazy woman.

*My visit to the health clinic to see why I couldn't breathe yielded a surprising result. After a couple of hours of poking and proding, my kind doctor sat me down and gave me a Latin name for some condition I supposedly had that caused my inner ear to inflame and lightheadedness. He went on to give me the most serious and sincere look before saying, "basically, Uma, you have a cold." No, seriously. As I was trying to grasp how I could have missed the common cold symptoms of feeling like having a chunky elephant on my chest with its mean trunk around my neck choking the life out of me after practicing having a cold for nearly 30 years, my sweet dear doctor "prescribed" me a saline nasal spray. No, seriously. I'm going to keep saying that for a while. Here I was at home wheezing for air and having heart palpitation. A COLD?!? What's next? Paper cuts? The Seed is kicking my lungs around like they are soccer balls. He is also performing his own version of "Lord of the Dance" on my sciatic nerve, which causes me to wobble like I had been riding a stubborn donkey bareback. When he comes out, I'm going to have farty Paddy sleep with him in his room. Revenge is sweet.

*Have I mentioned I have the most endearing husband? One day I'm going to put out a book of his greatest, pregnancy related one-liners and caring behavior. Behold the examples:

"I'm never going to leave you, Baby, especially now that your boobs are huge." This was in response to my waking up in the middle of the night and telling him about my nightmare of his leaving a very pregnant me for a skinny supermodel. And he wasn't even fully awake when he concocted that one up.

"This is my Silverback wife, Uma."--Wil's introducing me to our prenatal group. It's not my fault I'm getting hairy.

"HOLY COW!!!"--As he walked in on me just stepping out of the shower.

"How about this one?"--Holding up a babydoll lingerie, which looked a lot like a small hand towel with satin ties and straps. He was "helping" me find something to wear to a water aerobic class after my frantic search failed to yield something that did not cut off circulation.

...etc,...

What would I do if he wasn't around to make me laugh? The Greatest Husband. Ever. Speaking of which, keep My Love in your thoughts today, please, as he will be going through discogram at about 10:00 a.m. I plan on stuffing him with chicken and dumpling and a lot of pumpkin pie to numb his pain after the procedure. Keeping Paddy from trying to cuddle with his papa will be the greatest challenge.

*I'm using Wil's WinTel machine as we no longer have free wireless connection and my gorgeous MacBook Pro just sits on the nightstand sound asleep. Don't let me start on the wonder that is Deutsche Telekom. I'm trying to figure out how to upload my pictures onto this hunk of metal. Just take my word for it for now, I am enormous.

Hard to Breathe

It's been a difficult couple of days for my lungs. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow to see what exactly is going on beside the usual pregnancy odyssey. I'm experiencing some very strange and scary episodes of being completely out of breath and heart raising non-stop. I'll update as we find out more. Hope your Thanksgiving was wonderful and you spent it with your loved ones. Ours certainly was!

Hunger Pang

Greetings, Friends! I'm back to updating before sunrise again in between deciding what to eat next. I wish I had a particular craving for something. I felt like I was totally disappointing my husband when I walked pass our pantry or fridge without grabbing tubs of ice cream or variety of pickles he rushed out to buy when we first found out. I actually can't even stand to look at pickles now. Sad. Anyhow, I made a pot of collard green today to redeem myself of some very poor eating habits that have occurred these past few days. A couple of nights ago I found myself, over the kitchen sink, eating half a "family-sized" bag of Buffalo Chicken Wing chips with hot sauce. That was bedtime snack. I felt bad enough about it that I put (frozen) kale in my ramen noodles at 3 a.m. feeding. Really, it only gets worse from here so I'll spare you the rest. The good news is Wil is coming home and I'll have a voice of conscience to nag me whenever I start to look a little too lovingly at stuff I shouldn't be feasting on. The bad news is it's Thanksgiving and I already put my name on all the pies my dear friend Ashley will be making from scratch! Hmmmm, pies. It's not too late to start eating well next week. Or the week after that. Better late than never, I say! Really Mom, I don't eat like this all the time. Just when I run out of Twinkies. Ok, put the phone down, Woman, I'm just kidding.

Speaking of Wil coming home, I should explain. My Beloved is getting moved to a medical hold company. The idea is that the move will free up a space in his company to get another soldier in before the deployment and Wil will just get to focus on meeting his appointments and getting better. Sounds excellent in theory but I shall hold my judgement until it actually happens. The plan is for him to come back from the field, go through clearing as if he was leaving this post, report to a unit at the hospital in Landstuhl, then get reassigned back to somewhere in Baumholder awaiting his surgery. Army logic for you. He...I just said Army and logic in the same sentence. I am FUNNY! Will keep you update on that front. I really hope we don't have to move...

I'll be 17 weeks tomorrow and there will be a picture coming. Rach, I will post my belly button picture as soon as I can look at it without gagging. Promise. Maybe Wil will post it when I'm asleep. Ok, I've made several trips to the kitchen between typing this short post and still haven't found anything I want to eat. Me think collard green, rice, and a nice dose of vinegar should do the trick.

The Lost Innie

It must be that piece of pumpkin pie before bed that finally did it. I woke up to go to the bathroom at 4 a.m. and saw my reflection in the mirror. The dark ring around my belly button caught my attention. Then I realized what it was. You know how a gecko can blend into its environment? Apparently certain part of my skin does that, too. Like the one that was darker because it was INSIDE of my previously normal looking belly button. After nearly 30 years of residing somewhere deep, dark, and cavernous, that the darker skin appeared to be rather confused and out of place making its debut to the world of light. But not as much as me. I thought this would happen later. I am completely freaked out by my own anatomy. The whole belly button thing kinda goes with my irrational fear of a huge pregnant belly. It's not completely out yet but I am definitely losing some prime realestate there. I now look like Pillbury's Dough Boy after getting his tummy poked. It's an indentation, which technically should not be qualified as a belly button. Apparently pumpkin is the Baby Miracle Grow. I never felt more pregnant than today (er, duh?), apart from being slightly grossed out. Maybe I was in so much pain last week because The Kid knew he was packing on extra poundage this week and needed to make some room.

Hospital Visits

Oh, what a week! Wil came home for a minute to go to his appointment at Landstuhl, but not before I had to rush to the hospital because of some sharp pain in my tummy. To make a long story short, everything is fine. The baby is well and I don't have any kind of infection the ER doctor originally thought (I had to take antibiotic shots anyway). But the best explanation they have for me is that I'm experiencing discomfort from round ligament stretching. Yeah. I've read everything I can get my hands on and haven't found anything that said that I would be in excruciating pain every time I have to empty my bladder. TMI? In addition to pain during bathroom breaks, I also had random pain round the clock. Wil came home just in time since I couldn't stand up straight for about 3 days and was in no condition to take care of the kids. It was so good to have him home even for just a few short days. We got to see the first real snow fall that actually stuck, be there to make each other laugh at the hospital, and celebrated his birthday. I had a special birthday dinner planned, but after a day in Landstuhl we settled for some ramen noodles and canned chicken noodle soup. He's doing as well as can be expected. The injection left quite a few small bruises on his back, but he is otherwise alright. Right now his appointment will still be in the pain clinic and Conner is still "studying" his pain. No news on when the surgery can be scheduled. Sigh.

Scary

We have a prowler(s). And 3 reported sexual assaults, maybe four, and break-ins. All these in less than a week and mostly a block from my street. Apparently, some people are taking full advantage of the post being empty of strong beefy men. All the MPs can tell us is that it's a white guy with a military hair cut. Very helpful considering we are living on an army post. Seeing the kind of security one needs to get through to come through the gate sure did give me a false sense of security, which Wil warned me against, and I was utterly guilty of not consistently locking my door and car. Wil's leaving for the field was a blessing in disguise because it finally made me realize that I should at least try to make it difficult for those with less than good intention toward us since I was now "It" in the home defense department. Even my boys seemed to snap into guard dog mode when he left. My children are fabulous. And they have really pointy canines. All the sexual assaults happened over the weekend and it made us band a little closer together. Carol has been coming up to the video store to hang out with me if I have to work the night shift alone. Bless the woman. It gets very spooky being there by myself. The video store rents a small space in the convention center and is the only thing opens on the weekend there. Wil has been telling me that he doesn't really want me to work there when he's not around, and I'm seriously considering that option. I am a whole lot less of a maverick now that there's another life inside of me that I need to protect.

A Movement

I've been up since 3 this morning nursing a bad heartburn. I can't believe my supply of Rolaids is just about diminished. Wil only bought those for me about a month ago. If nothing else, The Seed is definitely getting ample supply of calcium.

Carol and I went to Trier, German's oldest city, today (well, technically yesterday now). The weather was not all that bad when we decided to leave Baumholder and we were just hoping that it stayed that way 40 minutes away. It didn't. But that certainly didn't make Trier any less special for me. It was rather bitter sweet to finally make it there (I've written about us wanting to go during the summer but something either came up or I got all-day sickness), but without My Love. I couldn't have picked a better traveling partner though. Carol is such a good sport. She's been in the country for less than a month and already has been driving around sight seeing on her own, armed with a fabulous Garmin Nuvi. The highlight of the trip was hands down The Dom, which could be dated back to the 4th century and since has seen many renovations. I couldn't describe the feeling when we first entered the cathedral adequately to do it justice. The structure is magnificent and enormous. To see the stones, sculptures, and intricate carvings (even on the ceiling!) that have been there for centuries looking as majestic as the day they were built was just mind boggling. I got a little teary eye while sitting in there, trying to absorb the feeling that was so overwhelming larger than myself. That is the kind of place that makes people believe in God, or whatever name you shall call The Mighty. I desperately wanted Wil to be there with me, and I knew a apart of him was when I touched the tummy. We were allowed to walk up to the alter, where the Robe of Christ was encased and kept behind an iron gate, for a silent prayer, and mine was that He/She looked after My Love, our baby, and our beloved family and friends. I promise myself to come back with Wil and take a lot more pictures. I didn't take very many good pictures but here's what I've got:

A pregnant-looking me at Porta Nigra
Inside the gate
This is actually just right next to Porta Nigra. I couldn't resist the architecture. The picture would have looked so much cooler with blue sky...
Selling flowers in the rain and cold.
A church of which I don't remember the name


Outside of the Cathedral


I know the exposure sucks but it was pretty dark in there. At the end is the alter where the Robe of Christ is kept.


I took more pictures but many of inside the church were really too dark even with flash and exposure adjustment on iPhoto. I'll see what I can do with the next trip. It was a fantastic way to spend 4 hours of a rainy afternoon. We had a great lunch and I got the Body Shop's amazing shea body butter as a souvenir for the tummy. It seems so trivial to go from The Dom to obsessing about stretch marks, but I'm only a mere mortal. I could definitely feel the effect of lugging around the extra, even though tiny, person after spending most of the day on my feet. I was talking to Wil on the phone telling him about my day when he asked how his son was doing. I thought he meant "sons" and told him that the pups were taking their naps after dinner. He went on to ensure me that he meant "Son." Typical. I don't think the pups could have anticipated the rate at which they would be losing ranks. Anyway, I told him that I felt something different today. The only way to describe it is that it was as if I was playing a string instrument and suddenly a string broke. That popping sensation and vibration were completely new to me. When it was happening, I thought to myself "there goes another ligament," but Wil quickly reminded me that it could also be the baby's movement. Our mid wife did say that we could start feeling it around 16 weeks. I'm half way through my 15 weeks (already?!?) and I was kind of boney to start with, so the Husband might not be completely off target. I have been feeling all kinds of pressure and flutters in the stomach, most of which I contributed to gas, but now I will definitely be paying closer attention.

The sun is coming up and my skin is starting to burn. I'm going to try to get a few hours of sleep in before taking the babies out for our morning tug of war, also known as a walk to most of you with well-behaved mutts. In their defense, they are doing much better since the Black Cat incident, thanks to help from the Dog Whisperer. More on that later.

Blustery is the Word

These past few days, we have seen an ugly side to the weather in Germany. The wind this morning was the kind that probably could take you up up and away like Mary Poppins. I'd love nothing more than to lounge around in my wool socks and pjs drinking a big mug of hot chocolate, but then I see those big eyes, which belong to mutts that don't really care if it's raining and the wind chill factor is nearing freezing point. It was pure motherly love that got me to put on everything that still fit and took the boys out to play fetch in the hurricane-forced wind. I have it uber easy comparing to the guys out in the field. The weather there is much worse and their compound is just a small step up from living in tents. With any luck Wil will be able to come home next week for his appointment at Landstuhl. The plan is that he's going to get a treatment that will cause him excruciating pain and the inability to properly walk on his birthday. I know you won't forget this one any time soon, Baby!

Other than that there's not much to tell. I've been hanging out with my wonderful new friend Carol a lot. She just got here 3 weeks ago and her husband went to the field the same time Wil did. She's a little down, as you can imagine, so we're going to have girls' day out this weekend. It'll be the perfect opportunity to introduce her to some of the friends I've made here.

A Spill

As predicted, I fell while walking the dogs today. Or shall I say I fell because the dogs decided that they wanted to chase a cat on a downward slope? We were less than a block away from the house and they had been good little angels the whole way. Or at least until the black cat incident. It happened so fast. I went from yelling no to sliding down the hill on my back in a split second. When I finally got up on my feet (with mud everywhere on my clothes and in my hair plus a small slug on my sweater), the boys were still chasing the stupid cat in the street. It was dark and I was petrified they were going to get hit by a car. I was screaming their names for what seemed like an eternity before they finally came running back, tails wagging. I was relieved they were okay but then got really mad. Paddy knew immediately that he was in trouble and just kept his head down and leaning onto me. Brutus couldn't care less if I had split my head open. My immediate thought was, of course, for the baby. Luckily, I felt alright besides the fact that my left hand, which was holding the leashes, got pretty bruised up. It wasn't until I heard Wil's voice that I became really upset. He got me to calm down and assured me that the baby was more than likely fine as he was well protected. It's been a couple of hour since the fall and the only thing that hurts is still my hand. Thankfully. I might take a picture tomorrow if it gets anymore purple looking.

The Long and Short of It

Day light saving time in Germany was just over this past weekend. So now the sun doesn't really fully rise until almost 8 a.m. and it goes down just before 6 o'clock. This makes for a very short day for yours truly since the boys and I don't really get moving until about 9. It's way too cold in the morning now for our usual summer day break walk, as I value my little toes and really don't care for frostbite. I woke up this morning to witness the first winter frost of the season blanketing over our green grass. Note to self: take more pictures. The boys sat with their little wet noses pressed against the glass door, since I promised them that we could go out as soon as the sun came up high enough to warm the air. It's so amazing to actually see a drastic change in season here. Since moving to the States, I lived in Florida, Alabama, and North Carolina, where people put sweaters on when the temperature dropped below 70. I found out that I was pregnant in August, spent the next couple of months inspecting the cleanliness of the toilet, and suddenly fall was almost gone once I was able to lift my head up for some fresh air. I didn't even get one single pictures of the yellow and orange leaves. Maybe next year.

A couple of posts ago I mentioned that Wil and I had matching appointments at Landstuhl but didn't elaborate much. His neurosurgeon referred him to see a specialist at the pain clinic to do one last test before scheduling the surgery. The test is called a Discogram, and it's done at the pain clinic for a reason. Neither one of us is looking forward to the procedure but it's the last important step to Wil's getting healthy again. So we went to his 8:00 a.m. appointment together. A doctor called us in from behind a check in counter. He looked familiar. I saw that he was also trying hard to figure out why we also looked familiar to him. Then I peered at his lab coat and name. "Conner!" I excited proclaimed. "Uma!" he shouted back. Conner was my across-the-street neighbor in Fayetteville from almost 3 years ago. I knew that he worked in a medical field, since he was always in scrubs. But we never bothered talking about work or learned each other's last name. We met because one day I let my baby Conner out to use the bathroom and he refused to come in after a forever game of frisbee. So I conjured up my most stern voice when I said "CONNER!," and someone, who apparently just moved into the empty house across the street answered "yes?" Since then, his cute little family and I always got together after work, along with a few other dog-people neighbors, to let our pups play. We knew they were moving to Germany but it happened around the same time we were moving to another neighborhood and promptly lost touch. What a happy coincident! We spent a lot of time catching up and found out that Germany also brought them another baby! I'm telling you it's the fluoride-free water. So now Conner is one of Wil's doctors. One who will be torturing my husband and "studying" his pain. They really should use this guy to interrogate suspects. He KNOWS syringes and where to poke to make it really hurt. So we left in high spirit after an hour of chitchat, which was supposed to be a consult, with Conner and some localized anesthesia especially for Wil after the first set of treatment. Then we headed to our first group prenatal visit. It was everything I thought it would be, only a lot more fun. Wil got to share his suffering with other dads-to-be and there were plenty of other moms to shower them with the sympathetic laugh. It was as educational as it was enjoyable and definitely had a hippie vibe to it. I think I'm going to wait until at least the forth session to ask if anyone wants to nurse my baby for me while I go shopping.

Well, the sun set almost 4 hours ago and I just finished dinner of tortilla with hummus and bell pepper, 2 plums, a big piece of raisin bread, a cup of warm milk, a piece of chocolate, and a handful of prunes. I should go to bed before I'm hungry again.

Oh, Vanity

I woke up today with a vision of a very pregnant Salma Hayek in my head. I am petrified of a hugely pregnant belly, and it's ironic that I now find myself in this position. It's a completely irrational fear that I really can't explain. The thin, taut skin that looks like it might give out at any second. I really should show you the photograph of my goose bumps right now. Anyway, the thing about Salma Hayek is that the woman is gorgeous. But she is short and very petite before the pregnancy. And she got ENORMOUS. I know it's not nice to call any pregnant women enormous, but she really was HUGE. Not helping, I know. Naomi Watt and Isla Fisher. Gorgeous and short. And were also huge while with child (I really need to stop looking at pictures on People.com). And even though I got a few inches on these beautiful women, I see where the trend is going. I'm going to be a whale. At 5'4", there's not much room to stretch vertically and I'm going to be bigger around than I am the long way. Sigh. At least my weight gain is exactly where I'm supposed to be. The most important thing is the The Fetus is thriving and comfortable. They have scheduled for the next ultrasound just before Christmas break, around my 21st week. It's going to be done at Homburg University, about an hour and a half from Baumholder. Here's to hoping that Wil might make it back home for Christmas, because The Seed and I might end up in Poland if I were to figure out the Autobahn on my own. Ok, gotta take the pups out. I'll write more later to make up for last week.

14 Weeks!

I took this picture right after dinner, when I really felt like a big cow. I think even my boobs get bigger after dinner. They are used to store a part of my stomach and spleen now. Speaking of my new pregnancy rack, I come to realize they are like a pair of really hot heels that are not meant to be walked in. They are fun to look at, but by the end of the night I just ache for my fleece-lined house shoes. Oh, how I long to be flat-chested again. Oh, and thanks to Rachel for reminding me about the pic. Trying to take a belly picture without accidentally capturing Girls Gone Wild type of moment proved to be a welcoming distraction.

I got my USAREUR driver's license today. I was enjoying walking everywhere and not having to deal with cars and traffic, but being able to drive becomes a necessity now that My Love's not home and my tail bone is acting up. Ok, I'm gonna call it an early night and nurse this heartburn. Later!

Kicked the Dog

I kicked Paddy on his big rump this morning and have spent all morning apologizing to him. It had to be done, however. I was taking the boys out for a morning walk/gimp. For those of you who are not familiar with my youngest child's rambunctiousness, I need to tell you that normally he's an angel on a leash. He has a regal trot of a canine Clydesdale. That is until he sees 1) fat squires, 2) much-too-happy cats, 3) smug rabbits, and/or 4) other dogs who look like they might want to play. When he sees one or combination of the above, he just goes. Paddy is the strongest dog I've ever met. He's 83 pounds of sinewy muscles and 2 pounds of hair and teeth. When he gets into this drunken donkey trance, he would lurch forward, buck repeatedly, yank, pull, and run with everything he's got. I usually try to hold on to the end of the leash with my dear life, and it normally gets me dragged down the street, on my back or side. I once threw myself on top of him in hope that he might get the message. He just shrugged it off, stood up straight on all four, and carried me with him. So far, I have mangled my thumb, skinned my palms, enjoyed road rash on my side, arms, and back, and sported bruises as a result of my futile attempts. We've tried everything short of a shock collar, which Wil is lobbying for. I just can't do it. Not yet anyway. So back to today. We were walking uphill on a pavement slick with last night's rain. Then he spotted her. A pretty chocolate lab. With a wagging tail and a tennis ball in her mouth. If that's not an invitation for fun, then what is? The problem was she was about 30 feet below us on a downhill slope. With his first forward lurch, my foot hit a slick spot and I started to fall backward. Thankfully, the other foot had enough wits to step back and catch our fall. He kept jumping and yanking, and I had a vision of me, Brutus, and The Fetus being dragged downhill on our stomachs by this manic ball of fur. I had to do something big to break the trance. So I kicked him on his fleshy tush. He whipped around to look at my face faster than I could yell his name. I could have sworn those big Puss-in-Boots eyes were filled with tears. People around us were already half way done reporting animal abuse to the MPs by the time we started moving in an orderly fashion again. I gave him a bit more food when we got home to buy his love back. And it seemed to work. He's taking his morning nap right by my feet.

Thank you for your encouraging words about Wil being gone. I know I'm just one of thousands of military wives in the same boat, but that's not really the main reason why I'm super upset. I'm pissed that someone is picking on my husband and I can't do a damn thing about it. This certain person has been treating My Love as if he was a sham because of his injury. Look here, Stupid, My Soldier has served honorably for these past 9 years. He was injured 3 deployments ago during a mission in a war zone. And nobody wanted to fix him. Until now that he's beginning to lose feelings in his leg. Feelings that he won't get back. Yet, he will be the first to raise up his hand when anyone asks for a volunteer. And this is how you treat him? So much for leading by example. You are on my It-List. Mark my word, if he comes back home hurt more than he did when he left, you can kiss your sweet retirement good-bye. You don't mess with my family. Ok, I feel better now. Shall proceed with more light-hearted stories of doggie farts as a result of fat boy food. Right after I get my driver's license today. Wish me luck!

Can't Catch a Break

"We've been through worse than this, Baby. Don't cry" he said and softly kissed my forehead.
"I know" I mumbled back in the most upbeat voice I could muster between sniffles.

He had to go to the field because someone who wore higher rank said that he was not spitting up blood RIGHT NOW and therefore good enough to tough it out, even though he never even glanced at Wil's profile or spoke to any of his doctors or surgeons. So My Love left before sunrise with 3 enormous bags. Luckily, his direct supervisors were pretty understanding and already found him a boring desk job. He might even make it back to his appointments. Let's hope so. We don't need the surgery to be delayed any more, since the baby will be coming even before he heals up. I'm thankful I felt better just in time to have a couple of good days together before he had to leave. I know we've been through a lot worse than this but I'm just so upset and frustrated with his chain of command. That compounds with pregnancy hormones lead to nothing good. I know things will look up soon but right now it's just difficult to deal. I'll write more when I feel better.

A New Day

Joy to the World, I'm on the last week of the first trimester!!! I must say that things have been on the ups these past few days. I sorted through my first pile of smelly dirty laundry without wanting to churn my inside out. I haven't thrown up any nutritious things, even those that contain fiber. I heated up the contents of a few boxes and lovingly arranged them on pretty plates, and my Beloved and I sat down for our dinner. At the dinning room table! And afterward, we spent the evening being our goofy selves, walking the dogs, comparing the size of our bellies, and experiencing how easy it was to fall in love with each other in the first place, again (now, commence projectile vomiting!). Mom, you weren't kidding. Life is rosy again! Bring on the heartburn and stabbing headaches! Is that all you've got Sciatic Nerve? I've got non-sodium Rolaids, multiple bottles of Tylenol, and heating pads. And I'm here all night.

Lots of good things happened today but I'm so happy I'm gonna go vacuum something instead of writing. Pregnancy crazies 1,647, Uma 1!

P.S. Heard the heartbeat again today. Still going strong at 160!

Child Bearing Hips, Etc.

I definitely don't have one of those and was slightly concerned. But then I remembered that there were billions of people in China. Lots who suffer severe Asian-flat-ass syndrome yet seemingly having no trouble over populating the earth. My mom never really went into specific details about our birth stories (or she would never have gotten a grandchild, except for the four-legged variety). All I remembered was that she went into labor sometimes in the evening and eventually gave birth to me almost 24 hours later. 24 hours and no epidural! And then she volunteered to do it again, and again! With no drugs! The woman is obviously a masochist. My grandma was in labor with my mom for 2 days. 2 DAYS! Needless to say, she was also a masochist since she repeated the same horror 3 more times after that. Being pregnant gave me a new pair of eyes to look at these lovely women in my life and adore them even more than I thought possible. I marvel at their strength and quiet pride when they look at what they have brought into the world, all from their 5-foot-or-under frames.

It's a tradition in my family that the kids spend their summer break from school with the grandparents. I honestly don't recall spending any significant amount of time in the concrete jungle that was Bangkok during the summer. At least not until I was heading into secondary school (grade 6-12) and things became so ridiculously competitive that Bangkok kids had to spend their summer vacation in tutoring schools if they wanted a shot at getting into decent secondary schools and colleges. Even so, my parents were adamant that we spent some parts of the summer with the grandparents. My grandparents lived in the southern part of Thailand. The trips there were always magical. Sometimes mom and dad could drive us there (12 hours!), but most of the times we were sent on a train with our nanny. The things I loved most about the train were the food and our sleeping quarters. At every train stop, vendors carrying local foods would come up to the windows offering the season's finest selections. Fresh foods, veggies, and fruits. Lots of them were on sticks. It was like a Disney World of Edible Things I Had Never Seen Before. As if that wasn't enough fun already, after dinner time, 3 strong men in dark navy uniforms would come around to convert our seats into our very own sleeping cabins. With crisp white sheets, fluffy pillows, and springy rubber mattresses! I never slept so well as on those trains. And that was just getting there. I don't have enough words in my vocabulary to properly articulate the joy those summer memories bring. I have lots of grandparents. Of course, I have the usual 2 sets like everybody else but in Thailand we also call their siblings grandmas and grandpas. And why not? They all have had their hands in raising and loving us just like any other grandparents. It seemed their mission for the summer was to feed us all those things city kids were "deprived" of, and my siblings and I were only too humble to oblige. You think Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners at your house were huge? My grandmas cooked like that on most weeknights. And we were to finish EVERYTHING. Seriously, it wasn't uncommon to find me at a kitchen table around 10 o'clock, still eating. Not because I had to, but because it was so damn good I couldn't stop.

But most importantly, I learned to be a kid with my grandparents. I learned to climb trees to pick fruits or just because I wanted to climb. I saw where eggs come from when I had to retrieve them in the morning before breakfast. I learned where the Big Dipper was lying outside on the cool marble patio after dinner, holding my dessert of papaya that was shaped like a foot-long sword. I almost lost a tooth eating a yard-long stick of sugar cane that my grandpa cut for me. I played King of the Hill outside in the rain. I played with guns and horses that were made from the banana tree trunk. I swam in creeks. Ran barefoot and learned why I shouldn't do it. I learned to kick box and crochet, all in one busy summer. I saw where we came from. I learned to appreciate when my parents said "when I was your age, we didn't have anything." I saw the lands the grandparents before my grandparents farmed rice and rubber trees to put food on the table and their kids through school. I saw where their bones were kept. I met really old perfect strangers, who came up to me crying and kept telling me how much I looked like my grandparents and greatgrandparents and what great people they were. I can not teach my children this. They have to be there to learn it for themselves, just like I did. For the first time in a very long time, I heard a spark in my dad's voice when I mentioned summer vacation. He said we weren't going to get the baby back after the summer. Speaking like a true grandpa.

"Is It Hot in Here or It's Just Me?"

When Wil replies to this question of mine, he's normally under 4 layers of blankets and sheets. Even though the sound is muffled and most of his body and head are covered, I can still hear the desperation in his voice and sense the piercing death ray that shoots out of his eyes. "Honey, it's 40 degrees outside and raining, all the doors and windows are opened, and the fans are on. It is most definitely not hot in here. Your thermostat is broken!" And itdeed it is. I have no ability to control my own temperature. I used to get chills at the beginning of pregnancy. Now I have mostly hot flashes, with an occasional cold spell. It's a really sick joke, Mother Nature. Last night we went to a Mexican restaurant and I thought I was going to pass out as soon as I walked through the door. I'm sure to other people, the warmth inside was a welcoming change to the manic weather outside. The hostess seated us and I practically swiped a glass of iced water out of her hands. Wil said the wives of the people who were seated next to us weren't entirely too happy with me when I started soaking napkins with cold water and put it on my neck, face, and chest, since it seemed to distract their husbands during dinner. Trust me, if I could have dinner in the bathroom, I probably would. But since it was a rare occasion that we actually made it out of the house to have a date night, I thought I could stick it out for my poor husband, who seemed rather amused with the swollen human who was wrapped in wet paper napkins seating opposite from him. In the ultimate romantic gesture, he blew out the lone candle at our dinner table. I did seriously think about going around snubbing out other people's candles, but that might be pushing my pregnancy luck a touch too far.

We had a fun weekend, finally. Wil's unit threw a really great Halloween party for the soldiers and their families on Friday. It had to be a bit early because our guys are heading out to the field again very soon. The kids were entertained by all kinds of bouncy castles, games, food and lots of candy. They even got to use their parents as paint ball targets. The soldiers got to relax a bit before trying to kill each other during a paint ball tournament. After dark, the paint ball trail was turned into a "haunted" trail to scare the happy memories of the day out of poor little children. Wil's section was responsible for the trail, which was on a side of a muddy hill and quite a challenge to navigate through in the dark. One of Wil's young soldiers took me as his charge and practically shepherded me around. He even chased the "ghosts" away from me. It was so incredibly sweet of him. Oh, and I really do know my man. I spotted him behind a mask hanging from a tree. In the dark! Needless to say, he limped home, was incredibly sore over the weekend, but thrilled that the event turned out perfectly.

In the Steinham household, trash talking during college football season can be considered a foreplay. We both really miss our Saturday ritual of football watching, so much so that we come up with a new tradition. We "watch" football on the internet now. By watching, I mean going to espn or cnnsi websites and waiting for the live update to come up on screen. We watch little red dots move. A few moments later, a caption will come up and say something like "Wells carries 5 yards to the 45th yard line. First down." Only true fans like us do this! By Sunday morning, espn.com normally has series of short video clips from all the games from Saturday up on their website. So that's another couple of hours of breakfast and football in bed for us. Wil had courtesy patrol duty again this past Saturday and naturally I couldn't sleep, so I was watching Auburn VS LSU game waiting for him to come home. The game started at 3 a.m. our time and I fell asleep just around the time the sun was coming up and there were about 7 minutes left in the fourth quarter. Crap. I knew it was going to come down to the last minute, as it always does when Auburn plays LSU. I was generally proud of the way Auburn played. Even though the offense couldn't do much, our defense put up a good fight and didn't just hand them an easy victory. I always like how we play LSU, winning or not. It's guaranteed to be very physical and tough--the epitome of what an SEC game should look like. LSU is a respectable opponent and I wouldn't mind one bit if they represent our conference in the national title game. Of course, I never can say the same thing about 'Bama or Ole Miss (OMG, WHAT HAPPENED TO THE VOLS?!?). Wil and his beloved Ohio State are still bragging about their undefeated season (c'mon, schedule strength?). If it ends up to be SEC VS Big Ten at the end again, we're going to have to find a real tv with live broadcast. And lots of witnesses to Mr. Steinham putting his pregnant wife in a choke hold.

Even the boys got to have their play date. There were at the park for over 2 hours, playing with a bunch of fun puppies, and of course, Guinness on Saturday afternoon. I still haven't remembered to bring the camera with me. Sigh.

While You Were Sleeping

Wouldn't you know that the next update will be coming from the wee hour of the morning? Pregnancy has turned me into a full blown insomniac and it really bothers me that the only way that I can sleep through the night is with the help of drugs like Benedryl or Phenergan that knocks me out for 16 hours and leaves me incredibly groggy afterward (FYI: I had to take Phenergan after three days of bad all-day sickness. I have no idea if it actually helps with my nausea because I am normally too busy sleeping). I'm going to discuss it with my midwife, but it's apparently a common symptom. Sigh.

My friend Ariel asks me what I do at night when I'm not sleeping. Good question, Ariel! Well, as a loyal fan of Dave Letterman, I shall give you my top 10 list of "Things I Do When You People are Asleep."

10. I take care of nature call. A lot. I was 2" wide before getting knocked up, so growing room is limited. Baby 1, Bladder 0.
9. I eat. As soon as I open my eyes, my stomach demands food. I just had a bowl of warm chicken soup with rice. Normally I'd have cereal first, but ramen noodles work wonders to stop the "counter flow" action. And I have been slightly obsessed with frozen cubed mangoes lately. It's like eating ice cream without a side of guilt. Yum.
8. I watch stuff on YouTube. We don't have cable here and I can't watch my favorite shows online because of the location. Thank goodness for YouTube. So far, Gossip Girl is my current season's guilty pleasure. It's like reliving my high school experience with a lot more money, booze, boys, awesome clothes, and really long legs in short skirts. Ok, so it's nothing like my high school, but it's still way fun.
7. I dream of sleeping. Pretty self-explanatory? Good times, good times.
6. I annoy my dogs. Because they can sleep through hurricanes and I'm slightly envious. Nothing is cuter than sleeping puppies, so I sometimes wake them up to tell them. Their normal response to my smothering them at 2 a.m. is a grunt that is followed by migration to the couch. Ungrateful mutts. I just want a hug.
5. I read stuff on the internet. Lots of news, time.com, nytimes.com, baby stuff, my peep's blogs, and gossip sites, etc. I read the interesting stuff first in hope that the boring stuff at the end will put me to sleep. Has not worked out so far, since I know far more about Britney Spears' vagina than anyone really should.
4. I update my blog. At least one good thing comes out of insomnia. Now you'd better enjoy my blood, sweat, and tears!
3. I talk to Wil's sleeping head. I offered to go be awake in the living room, but Wil asked me to stay in bed with him. Supposedly, a warm body, even an awake one, in bed keeps him asleep. Thankfully, he has not found Paddy to be a fine substitute. Since I'm sitting up next to this sleeping man for 4-6 hours a night, I feel compel to talk to him. The fun thing to do is to say random things to the back of his head and see if he remembers it in the morning. So far he remembers my apologizing to him for being a bad wife and a barfer.
2. I eat again. Because eyeball muscles and fingers also get tired and need to be fed after a long night of internet surfing.

*And my #1 "Thing I Do When You People are Asleep" is...*

1. I worship at the alter of Mark Bittman. For those of you who don't know, Mark Bittman is a food journalist for NY Times. His column is called "The Minimalist" and the man knows his way around the kitchen. He's not a trained chef but obviously is someone who loves to eat. His recipes are always simple (hence "The Minimalist") and contain a few quality ingredients that don't require fancy cooking method or much time. NY Times has a very well-designed website that also offers short video clips to accompany the featured stories. I was in food porn heaven when I found his "The Minimalist" video archive. Really looking forward to his PBS series of traveling and discovering new food in Europe with Gwyneth Paltrow. How cool is he!?! Mark Bittman, I want to grow up to be just like you. Oh, and the rest of the Dining & Wine section always has cool articles.

So now you know what I do all night. It's unfortunate that it's not more exciting.

Me So Sleepy

I'm in phenergan-induced coma. Woke up long enough to take the dogs out and fed them. My brain has turned into mush and now lacks wrinkles. Will write more when I can keep my head upright. Going back to bed.

No Cartoon for You!

I've decided that we're not going to allow our kid to watch tv, much to Wil's dismay because he was really looking forward to having an excuse to watch Sponge Bob. And please understand that I'm not criticizing your parental skills if you do allow your children to do so. It is the right decision for us. I feel like I have to put out this disclaimer before going any further because nothing seems to stir up strong emotions from parents like this tv/no tv debate. Wil is a recovering cartoon addict. When we were back in the States and had access to hundreds of channels, the remote control was working overtime going back and forth between ESPN and the Cartoon Network. And he could do that all day long. So we went cold turkey when we came here. Every once in a while, Wil would come up to hang out at the video store and put a cartoon in our DVD player. You should see the crowd that start to gather around the tv. No one is taller than my husband and most still need their parents' help to get dress in the morning. But they all have this blank expression and their eyes seem so distant and far away as if hypnotized. I'm sure I'll get enough of that look once The Seed miraculously turns into a teenager, so I'd prefer him/her to be outside playing with the dogs or to earn bad eyesight the right way by reading books in the dark. Not to say that the kid would be utterly deprived of good classics or musicals. But Baby Einstein will not be the thing we reach for once things start to fray. Especially with that new study coming out (well, it was new in August). Bilingual children take a little while longer anyway to sort out the differences in each language's sound, so we know he/she might be babbling in alien code longer, which is perfectly fine. But you can be sure the kid is going to learn to speak from us and not some educational DVD programs.

I mentioned a couple of posts back that we were going to be in a group prenatal visit. It's a wonderful program that is designed to handle this baby boom and give the parents-to-be a chance to be each other's support system. 8-10 mothers are grouped together by the proximity of their due dates, so everyone is going through just about the same phase of the pregnancy. During the two hour visit, there will be guest speakers like nutritionist or psychologist to address issues new parents might be facing, along with other usual prenatal stuff, which will be covered by my awesome midwife, Lt. Col Owen. There will be discussions, answers, shared anxiety, and solutions. Dads are encouraged to attend so they can bond over their ever changing lifestyle while moms bitch about their stretch marks over refreshments. At the end everyone gets one-on-one time with the midwife to check out all the things that need to be done in private. Of course, ultrasound and extra appointments as the due date approaches will be done individually. Absolutely everything will be covered in the two hours, so we won't need to enroll in additional birthing or infant care classes. The first set of moms and dads who went through this program just had their babies and their first postpartum visit. It sounded so sweet to be in a room full of people you went through the journey with for 7 or so months and finally get to see the rewards in bundles. I'm very much looking forward to our first visit on Oct. 24.

Courtesy Patrol

Wil had courtesy patrol duty on Saturday night. He and about 10 other NCOs were assigned to patrol the bars, work with the MPs, and chauffeur the drunk soldiers and family members back on post. He was kind of dreading it because this was one of the last weekends before most of our soldiers had to go back to the field. And it was payday weekend. Have I mentioned that this post is full of very young soldiers, who are eager to take full advantage of German legal drinking age (18)? Yeah. Anyhow, he came home sometimes after 5 a.m. and was in a strangely good mood. I was rather groggy (more on that later) when he crawled in bed and started laughing. He shared with me that he saw some of Baumholder's cream of the crop getting plastered, a guy pooping in his pants while in the courtesy van, an extramarital affair in the making, and a few fights. But his favorite story seemed to be the one involving a wasted German woman, who apparently looked like an overweight 65-year-old Barbie. She was particularly upset with him because he could not give her a ride without a proper military ID and ended up punching him in the chest and knocking off his radio. He said he didn't really realize what had happened until when he saw his radio on the ground. Thank goodness she did punch like a girl. A very very drunk girl. The MPs saw the incident and asked if he wanted to press charges, but Wil was more amused with her than upset. And after she calmed down, she tried to pick him up. I think that it was her way of apologizing. I knew my husband was utterly handsome, especially in his uniform, but I didn't know that he was mighty popular with the drunk toothless crowd. And I was quite awake after he said "...and she punched me!" Oh, no. You don't touch MY man. If I were down there, he would have had to break up yet another fight, because the Baby and I would whoop her behind all the way to the MP station. We'd better not run into her at the commissary. Woman, you will stay clear of me if you know what is good for you.

Ok, I'm calmed down now. I had kind of a hellish Saturday. Remember how I said Wil's immune system just sort of ran out of steam battling that virulent cold virus after 3 weeks? Guess what happened to yours truly? The worst part was that there were no medicines that I could safely take without possibly hurting my little seed. I had to take 2 Tylenols to control the temperature before headed to work. My poor customers at the video store were the unfortunate recipients of my surly treatment last night. I think I'm going to have to bake them some cookies. I came home and had to take 1 Benadryl, so I could at least breath and rest. I have to admit that it was nice to not be fully awake at 3:00 a.m. I'm just so paranoid about taking any medicine at all during pregnancy, even though I know Tylenol and Benadryl are ok.

Bruta and Paddy has a play date with their best friend Guinness today and I'll try to remember the camera. It's so interesting to see the dynamic between the kids. Paddy, a true lab that he is, gets along splendidly with everyone. Brutus, on the other hand, is quite a snob. He knows to be cordial to other dogs but there are very few that he would actually play with. We took him down to the park last weekend and he just sat down by the gate waiting for Guinness to show up and completely ignoring other dogs there. They form their own little clique. There's an argument for nature vs nurture right in front of our eyes.

Proud Papa Anonymous

It's kind of like an AA meeting, but with ultrasound pictures instead of booze or drugs as the poison of choice. This is what I have planned for Wil. All kidding aside, nothing makes my heart go petter patter like when I see my husband pulling out an ultrasound picture that he's been carrying in his uniform pocket to conduct his very own show and tell. It's always accompanied by a little story and a jig. I'll leave it to your imagination. He's only days away from pinning down perfect strangers on the sidewalk and making them coo at this picture of perfect little black and white dots. Seriously. I adore this man.

So, It Appears I Have Something Growing in There...

We had our first ultrasound today. Exciting stuff. Didn't go exactly as planned, but it wouldn't be in keeping with the Steinham fashion if it did. We had the last appointment of the day, at 3 p.m., in Baumholder. Or so we thought. We showed up 15 minutes early like a couple of enthused first timers. Then the check-in lady told us that our doctor wasn't there. If you remember, we worked it out with the last nurse to where we would get to see the traveling OB doctors Landstuhl was sending to Baumholder. Well, our nurse was either not paying attention to the calendar or on crack, because we were informed that Dr. Jackson was seeing his patients at Landstuhl today. While I was still fuming at the check-in counter, Wil started a slow jog to our car. He was determined to see his baby today and not even high speed projectile vomiting could dampen his will. We called and explained the situation to the people at Landstuhl. They were nice enough and said they would wait even if we were a touch late. Baumholder is 30-40 minutes away from Baumholder. Don't asked me how we got there at 3:15 p.m. It wasn't pretty but we got there. Apparently we weren't the only victims of the calendargate. The past was behind us and I amused myself with the vending machines in the waiting room (they sure do know their pregnant peeps). Let me tell you, when they say 3 o'clock is the last appointment of the day, they really mean it. We got called in about 3:30 and most of their employees were just about ready to pack their bags. Naturally, our Dr. Jackson sent the tech to ask if it was okay that we were seen by a midwife instead of him. Nice approach to making a good first impression, Doc. I felt like I might have to apologize to him if our baby should decide to come at 3:50 p.m. and subsequently prolong his day. I was more happy that someone could still see us than irritated. And thank God for our mishap because it really couldn't have turned out any better. We saw a lovely midwife and she was a dream. I always have a vision of what things should look like in real life, and so far two of those actually are dead ringers. One was of my first puppy. Little round white furball with a precious face. Conner. Check. A kind professional who would melt all my worries and fears away with her warm assuring smile and usher me through a daunting pregnancy with her steady hands. Check check. I LOVVVVVE HER! She went on to spend over an hour with us, well after the busy hallway fell silent. She made Wil feel comfortable and a part of everything, even during all those necessary evil tests that involved cold and intrusive instruments. It was really nice to have him there holding my hand and give me a sympathetic wince at first sight of blood. Then came the best part. She pulled out a doppler and stressed that there was no need to worry if we couldn't hear the heartbeats right away (it happens), as she was not going to let us leave the office without knowing. And thankfully, as soon as she put the thing on my stomach, we heard fast thumping. She assured us that about 160 beats/minute were perfectly normal. No wonder why this kid is always hungry and causing The Provider to be utterly restless. On to the ultrasound now. I wish I had videotaped Wil's expression. He was ecstatic and giddy like a little boy that we all know he is as soon as something showed up on the screen. Then we saw it. A little human. In the center of the chest cavity, we could see the flutters of his(her) heart. For the first time in my life, I was, and rather still am, speechless. It was almost like watching tv, only the live broadcast was coming from my womb. For the sake of convenience, I'm going to refer to this baby as a "he," since this is how Wil calls it. His reason is "because then I'll only have to worry about one penis." But I know better. A sweet little tomboy will render him utterly powerless and he's already petrified that his answer to "Papa, I want this" would be "Don't you really NEED two?" or "Here's my bank account number, Baby." I have an incredible relationship with my father growing up and I know this baby couldn't have lucked out any more in the dad/daughter department. Back to the ultrasound, the baby appeared to be sleeping or resting ever so comfortably that he refused to move and get into a better position for measuring purposes. Not very cooperative and definitely our kid. We saw one big noggin, with two developing brain halves, a strong beating heart, two arms and fists that were held up by his face, and two long legs that were attached to two little feet. Then as if knowing that he was in the spotlight, he gave us a little jig. It was kind of like a "Twist and Shout" movement. His hips and arms were moving and he moved his little face. After a few more wiggles of his leg, he went back to sleep. A sleeper, this one. We got some cool pictures that Wil will have to scan in later. All and all, our midwife said that everything looked and measured to be just where 11 weeks of pregnancy should. One big exhale. I told her what I had been surviving on and she said the same thing my mom did, which was that for now I should eat whatever I could hold down. Even if it meant potato chips all the time. The focus was to get some calories in me, even though they weren't exactly nutritious. We'll have to focus more on good food once the nausea subsides. Have I mentioned I loveddddd this woman? Oh, and I gained 4 pounds. I just have to sit and relive all those moments of alternating eating and vomiting. How much did I have to eat to have enough surplus of 4 lbs? That is a lot of ramen noodles!

There's more to tell about our new group prenatal visits that we choose. Yes, I said group. But I'd like to try to sleep some. Wish I could bribe our Little Beatle with some Milkbones so I can sleep past 3 a.m.