So I Still Haven’t Made It To Target.

Last I wrote, I mentioned that I was really looking forward to going to Target after not having been in two months. Well, that trip to Home Depot that my husband took lasted about three hours, so the Target trip had to be cancelled. And still, I have not been. On the plus side, bed rest is truly officially over. I went for a walk that day, then out to dinner at Tommy’s, where I proceeded to have contractions every three to five minutes. And so, after dinner, the whole family drove out to the hospital.

My folks came and took the boys home, then returned the next morning, since I was still there. Because, as you may or may not know, the baby was born.

Two days later, the same day that I left the hospital with my newborn, I went to a wedding. Many people wondered how I could do it, but really, I didn’t have a choice. When two of your closest friends get married, you have to attend. Besides, I had actually gotten a decent amount of rest the night before. Had the wedding been the following day, after having to get up in the middle of the night and handle diaper changes and everything else (instead of the nurses who kept my son in the nursery), I couldn’t have managed; I was barely functional the following day.

As I think back to that day, between coming home and going to this wedding, I have but one regret. I am fairly certain that I did not, in fact, eat any potatoes that day. I, a huge fan of the potato, failed to celebrate National Potato Day. In fact, after much regaling about the occasion, I completely forgot about it. For shame. I mean, sure, you could excuse the oversight because I had other, more "important" things to consider, but haven't you ever seen "Sixteen Candles"?

I suppose I could celebrate it in greater style next year, having potatoes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, especially when I will once again be responsible for preparing my own meals. In the meantime, let me console myself by saying I honored the magnificent food by refraining from eating it, much as a vegetarian respects animals by not eating them. Yes, for that one day, I was a pure potatoan.

Why yes, I have been rather sleep deprived for the past week. Why do you ask?

Bed Rest Chronicles, the end

I’m at 36 1/2 weeks now. Yep, I’ve completed 8 months, and the kid will officially be born at term. Given that news, I’ve taken myself off bed rest. Saturday, when I reached 36 weeks, I celebrated by going shopping. We went to an engagement, then after going back to my in-laws’ house, we had to go buy dress shoes for both boys (which, incidentally, you cannot find at either Kmart or TJMaxx). But, I got to walk through two stores. Then we went to a party in the evening, and I walked around a lot. And still, no baby.

Sunday, I took a walk. Still nothing. Somehow, the slightest bit of activity a few weeks ago would send this baby racing to the birth canal, but now that it’s okay for him to come out, he’s content to squat. I know, the longer he’s in, the better off he’ll be. But I’m ready. Monday I again took the dog for a walk. And I went to the grocery store (well, I pretty much just bought a loaf of bread, but still). After eight weeks of bed rest, it’s nice to enjoy being pregnant, not feeling like I’m trapped. I’m trying to time this so I still go to my friends’ wedding this weekend (although with my luck I’d probably go into labor Friday afternoon and have to miss the whole thing!)

What am I talking about? “With my luck” - how unfair of me to malign my luck so. I’m pretty darn lucky, if I do say so myself.

Yesterday I went for a nice hike. Plus I prepared batter for two loaves of zucchini bread, which I baked today. Today I did a little cleaning, including changing the sheets in the boys’ room. Plus I made lunch. I’m back. I feel like I’m really back, and being as active as I can. Oh, and last night we went to Stone Oven for dessert. Maybe it’s total superstition, or maybe the secret ingredient in their food is Petosin. Either way, I ate food from Stone Oven the day before both my other boys were born. Ergo…

Of course, now that I am up and around, my ankles are getting swollen and my back is aching, two issues I never faced while on bed rest (because reclining doesn’t allow for many problems other than sore bottoms). I know, I know. I need to enjoy this time, because soon enough, I’m going to be overwhelmed by three kids. I’ll be getting up again and again in the middle of the night, changing more diapers than I can count, and feeling generally miserable. But really, since that’s going to happen anyhow, why not let it be sooner?

I’m just no good at being in limbo. We can’t really make any plans, because they may get disrupted. Whenever my husband leaves the house, there’s the possibility (and associated bit of nervousness) that I’ll go into labor while he’s gone. But then he returns, and I’m still not in labor, and I’m a little let down.

Yesterday, while I was cooking, everyone else was out in the back yard. So I turned on some music so we could all enjoy it. Looking through our collection, I picked out Jimmie’s Chicken Shack, a CD I got from a friend six or so years ago. It’s not something we listen to often, so I thought what the heck. Well, since then, I’ve had one of their songs stuck in my head:

I’m a lazy boy, there’s no doubt about it
Might take a miracle to get things started

Son, you better get out
You better get out while you can

Is this song about my kid? The one who refuses to leave my womb? Maybe he’s just really well-behaved, and after eight weeks of bed rest, he’s gotten the message that he’s supposed to stay inside. And that no matter how much I try to convince him otherwise, he’s not buying it.

When he keeps kicking and moving around, I try to tell him that he’s welcome to move around – much more comfortably, in fact – once he comes out.

So, this afternoon, it’s off to Target to do some school shopping (well, mostly dress shoe shopping, but while we’re there, we may as well get some school shopping done). It’s been so long since I’ve been to Target, I really miss it. Two months without Target, I think I’m suffering from withdrawal! I’m used to going at least once a week.

So anyhow, the Bed Rest Chronicles are officially over (since I’m no longer on bed rest). All in all, I’d say it went pretty well. Eight weeks is a long time, but fortunately it was over summer break. I think the kids didn’t suffer too badly for it, nor did it cause any irreparable harm to any relationships. I’d say I learned some lessons for next time, but there won’t be a next time, so it really doesn’t matter if I handled it all wrong. I didn’t read as many books as I expected, nor did I do as much writing as I had hoped. But that’s because I tried to be more interactive with the kids and to do more errands that I could handle while sitting, so this was more like a temporary disability than a vacation. I would write when the kids were not around, which fit right in with how my life had been before bed rest. And that’s the key, right? Keep life as normal as possible, working around any obstacles, so that I don’t feel like a total burden and the kids don’t worry that something is seriously wrong with their Mommy.

I Have A Feeling

I have a feeling that I’m going to be having the baby tonight. Of course, I’ve had the same feeling for the past three days, and, clearly, it hasn’t happened yet. You see, I had proven, mathematically, that the baby would be born on 8/8. It was a flawless mathematical equation, based on the birthdates of my first two children. The problem with my math, it turns out, is that the baby doesn’t know math. So now, I’ll have to just wait until the baby is born and figure out the appropriate mathematical equation retrospectively.

As for my feelings, well, they haven’t exactly proven themselves too well over time. From the time my second kid was rather young, every time he would cry without cause, I would attribute it to the fact that he was teething. A few days would pass, and still there would be no teeth. Again and again I blamed teething, and again and again no teeth came. It was kind of a running joke after a while. Of course, after a few months, it became a sense of pride, and I found that I HAD to suggest teething, because sooner or later it would be the cause, and if I didn’t call it, well, you know where this is heading.

So what this tells me is this. I am not clairvoyant. I am not psychic. I recently watched a rather amusing episode of South Park in which Stan tried to prove to people that psychics were frauds, by pointing out the tricks they tended to use, but found that the people instead believed that he was psychic.

Unfortunately, reading “How To Be a Psychic” will not help me be a better parent. It may be amusing at parties, and may help me as a writer. Maybe later in life it will help me as a parent. Hmmm.

But for now, here I sit watching the Browns’ first pre-season game, still pregnant. I have a feeling we might lose.

Marketing to Kids

A friend of mine forwarded me this article about a story on NPR earlier this week about how marketing affects kids, even commercials not aimed at them. It discusses just how susceptible kids are to the messages all around them and how difficult it is for parents.

My two-year-old asks for McDonalds. My five-year-old sings "I'm loving it" when we drive by McDonalds. I am thoroughly immersed in the world of marketing aimed at kids.

Before I start my rant against the evils of marketing, I’d like to mention one example of good marketing: Kix cereal has Little Einsteins on it. Little Einsteins is a great show that introduces classical music and world history/geography to kids, and Kix is a healthy cereal. I will happily buy that for them.

But here's the thing that the article failed to mention. Sure, marketing is catchy. Kids do pick up on a lot of things that they needn't. But I've talked to my 5 year old about the fact that all these commercials are made by companies that want to make money, whether you need the product or not. And it's a lesson I repeat at the store. I will buy things if we need them or if it's reasonable (i.e. if I was going to buy some sort of snack fruits for the kids, then I'll let them choose the character), but I do often say no.

Oh, and from early on I've made my five-year-old distinguish between whether he "needs" something or he "wants" it.

So the comment that ‘telling parents to "just say no" to every marketing-related request that they feel is unsafe, unaffordable, unreasonable, or contrary to family values is about as simplistic as telling a drug addict to "just say no" to drugs’ is, in itself pretty simplistic, if not insulting.

Now, teaching the grandparents to occasionally say no to the grandkids (at least when it comes to feeding them McDonald's for the third time in a week) is more challenging...

(Then again, my five-year-old won't eat their French fries because there's too much oil, so he prefers the apple slices, and he barely eats anything else because there's too many chemicals).

The point is, if you notice that your kids are susceptible to brainwashing, counteract it with your own.

Bed Rest Chronicles: Week 6 1/2

Wednesday was a fun day. Really. Everything about it was a pleasure. 96 degrees out, we decided to go out to the air-conditioned car dealership and test drive the Toyota Sienna. My husband ended up doing the driving, and he then re-drove the Odyssey, while I hung out at the dealership sitting by the kids while they played with legos.

On our way back, we stopped off for gelato. Yummy. Air conditioned.

After we came back, we sat out back and let the kids play in the pool while my husband got dinner ready.

After getting the boys to bed, during which I hung out downstairs contracting way too often, we relaxed and watched television.

And then, calling the neighbor over to hang out until my mother-in-law showed up to stay the night with the boys, we went into the hospital.

I stayed overnight hooked to an IV while my husband and parents (who insisted on not waiting for the follow-up status call) slept all night on uncomfortable chairs, waking up every time I had to use the bathroom (which was quite often considering how much IV fluid was being pumped into me) to help me out of bed and maneuver the IV pole around the crowded room into the bathroom.

Finally, in the morning, finding that the contractions had cut down considerably and weren't productive, they sent me home. So we went home, ate breakfast, and then I slept. My husband took the dog and boys for a walk before coming up and napping for a shorter time than he'd have liked, considering he then had to drive me to my doctor's appointment in the afternoon.

So there was my false alarm at 34 1/2 weeks. It was definitely earlier than we wanted the baby to come out, but in the end, it wasn't all bad. For one thing, after spending the night strapped to the monitor checking the contractions and baby's heartrate, sleeping in an uncomfortable bed wearing a hospital gown, with a needle stuck in my arm, my pregnancy is much less uncomfortable. I feel pretty small and spritely (okay, maybe not quite spritely, but how often does one get to use that word?).

My husband and I are realizing that the pregnancy is coming to an end soon - no idea just how soon - so we're making decisions that need to be made. We're moving forward on the car decision (Toyota Sienna - cheaper, smoother ride, great lease deal), going to finally order the new cell phones (ours have needed replacement for a while), and we're close to deciding a name. We've managed to sell the guest bed (they'll be picking it up tomorrow morning), and the dressers should be coming in soon. We still have a wedding gift to buy, as well as a couple of other gifts, but I'll get right on that. I'd like to "decorate" the boys' room - I have the alphabet in applique that I want to put back up on the walls - but that, I suppose can wait until I'm not pregnant anymore and can safely mount them.

Well, that's the latest. I'm still on bed rest, and I'll have to get writing to complete at least another chapter of my novel before the boys come home from the pediatrician.