The state of Kenny, the sequel

As of late, everybody asks me how Kenny is doing. I think he should get some weekly pictures too perhaps. This is Kenny two weeks after having been let go:

He has a tendency to do this when he's unemployed. And by this, I mean grow facial hair and cut back on showering. See exhibit A. I am not a fan of facial hair on him. It hurts to kiss him and he's just so pretty clean shaven. Luckily, a day or two after this picture was taken he got an interview with a design temp agency.

Couldn't you just eat him up? He looks just like Darren from Bewitched only cuter. He's been very busy networking and applying and signing up with agencies and working on his self-promotion campaign--not to mention all of the work involved in taking care of me. I am a handful.

Speaking of me, this is 31 weeks--I call it the bumblebee picture.

We're in the single-digit-week countdown now. The baby has shut down all normal operation of my stomach. I can now eat bland food in small quantities dispersed throughout the day. It's like the first trimester is back only with less vomitting and more pain and difficulty sleeping.

This whole birth thing is coming so soon and there is still so much reading and preparing yet to do. I have entire books on infant sleep and breastfeeding to read not to mention another one on birth. Oh, and we need to start weening affection from the dogs. We'll start that any day now I'm sure. At least we have a place for the baby to sleep and way to bring the baby home. I'm sure we'll work the other details out.

The theme is..Swedish

In other words, the nursery is about 75% from Ikea. We finished putting together the nursery last night. The room just makes me smile when I'm in it.

In this picture you'll see our previously featured crib. I contacted the designer, retailer, and manufacturer of said crib to find a mattress that was not too small and thus hazardous (as the first one we got was). I finally got a voicemail last night from the manufacturer who said that the (Target) crib is designed to be upscale and therefore needs and upscale mattress. She suggested I try Babies R Us to find said upscale mattress. Oddly, we went to Babies R Us two days ago and brought home what we determined to be the largest mattress there after taking each one out and comparing them to each other. We bought the fattest mattress pad we could find and voila! A crib that will hopefully not kill our baby.

Also featured in this picture are a set of blocks glued together by Megan to read Kodner Bun in the Oven and baby's first piece of Packer propaganda--a Packer piggy bank courtesy of his/her grandparents of course. The white dresser will be a changing table once we get a changing pad to put on it.


In the picture below, you will see curtains that feature frogs, elephants, and I think mice dressed in clothes. Also, we've installed a picture ledge which is temporarily housing artwork abandoned by our ex (deadbeat) tenant.

And me at 30 weeks in a festive red scarf since we're having a holiday party at work today. I'm not sure I can really tell a difference from week to week now. I think once the belly is a certain size it just keeps being big.

Mish mosh

I would like to be assembling furniture and hanging things up in the baby's room right now (or at least hovering over Kenny's shoulder while he does so), but I have been banished and told to go blog. So here I am. It's mostly Kenny's fault that I didn't get to write last week. I've become accustomed to him uploading the pictures and sending them to me, but he didn't do that this week. Apparently he was busy trying to find a job or something silly like that.

We spent most of Saturday at baby class. The class was just like they are on TV. We got to bring in pillows and blankets, we watched graphic videos, and we practiced saying "hee hee hee." My favorite part of the class was this one woman who kept asking questions about the placenta and how she could go about taking it home with her.

When we got home Kenny knew something was up when he spotted a wrapper for a dog treat on the floor. You see, we keep a bunch of treats in a jar on the window sill in the kitchen. The lid to said jar was on the floor in the kitchen. The jar itself? Was in the living room, empty, sitting on the couch.

This means that not only had Leroy gotten the lid off the jar, he had also carried it somewhere else more comfortable to gorge himself. He'd eaten about 20 days worth of treats in one afternoon. His belly was huge. After careful questioning and examining of the stomach, it was determined that Jack played no part in the heist and refused to partake in devouring the spoils.

When we were little my brother and I used to put up the Christmas tree on November 1 (as that was safely after Halloween and we never had Thanksgiving decorations). Since sharing a home with somebody not quite so into Christmas, I now hold off all the way until after Thanksgiving. My tree is about 4 feet tall. Putting the lights on required a moving squatting position. After I tried and fell over twice, Kenny kindly took over. For a Jewish boy, he's amazingly good at decorating a tree.


And, as always, the belly picture. This is me at 29 weeks in what must be an embiggening shirt. I frightened many people the day I wore it.

Green

As an anniversary present to us last Wednesday, Kenny’s company decided they’d take away his job. I must say, I have gotten better anniversary presents. As crappy as the timing is, I do think this will all be for the best though, and he’ll get a job he loves. Let us know if you hear of anybody who needs a fabulous graphic designer...

Because of the unfortunateness, Kenny was home on Friday to help my mom paint the nursery. I was terrified that the color was going to end up being too neon, but I think it turned out lovely. It may even appear neon-ish in these pictures, but that’s just the camera’s fault.

On Saturday, we hung these fun lights which provide the only overhead lighting in the room. The grown-up bed will have to stay for a year or so because we'll continue to need a place for guests to sleep. Afterall, somebody is going to need to take care of that baby.

Last night we assembled the crib. Kenny and I did it together and I don't think anybody called anybody names or got up and stormed off. It was quite the success. The quilt was made for me by my grandma when I was a wee one. Of course we had to test out the sturdiness of the bed with a series of puppy tests. We tried to put Jack in the bed. That lasted .5 seconds. He jumped out with terror almost breaking himself the moment his feet touched the mattress. Leroy, on the other hand, was quite content and might have stayed all night if we had let him.

And whoops. Looks like I'm wearing this shirt again for the 3rd or 4th time in these pictures. Apparently it is a very Tuesday shirt. This is what 28 weeks (definitely 3rd trimester) looks like on Emo. I can still see my feet and don't quite understand how one gets to the point where they can't. So many things to still look forward to. Baby has become quite movey lately. As I am writing this it feels like somebody is running on an eliptical inside my belly. I also continue to confuse the kicking with tummy growling causing me to think I'm hungry. Hmm.

5-point Friday

Laziness has gotten the better of me this week. For that reason, you get a hastily written 5 point post.

1) Jack turned 5 years old on Sunday. To celebrate, Kenny gave him a Leroy portion of food and we got a new sweater for him out of the dollar bin at Target. People can tell me that dogs don’t need clothes all they want, but my little guy gets cold and appreciates a little something. He shivers and helps put his legs through arm holes like a pro.

2) Leroy got an expensive yet clean bill of health on Tuesday. A week before he was diagnosed with an intestinal infection--the kind of infection you get when you treat the neighborhood sidewalks like a buffet table.

3) On Wednesday, Kenny and I celebrated 3 years of wedded bliss. He gave me coupons for 10 minute back massages, dog walkings, and clean ____. I've given these to people before and they haven't used them. That will not be me. I will use every coupon and I will probably use them too quickly and then be sad I didn't spread them out.

4) I am 27 weeks as of Tuesday and this picture. According to 2 out of 4 sites I looked at, I am now in my third trimester. Ahhh! I finally got my hair cut but have not figured out how to style it yet.




5) My mother and stepfather, Jack, arrived for a visit last night. This is to be a visit-Kenny-and-Emo-and-help-nest visit more than a site seeing visit. By the end of the weekend we shall have a disturbingly green nursery with an assembled crib and everything. We've pretty much decided to not look at the contents of The Envelope and are thus committed to a gender neutral room. Do you think there's anything wrong with putting bright pink stars in what might be a boy's room? I, more than most people, think pink can go either way. For some reason, I really feel like some big pink stars will tie the room together though. We'll see.

Our lives in the new condo, quantitatively speaking

Every now and then I like to go through my Google calendar and count up things that have happened. This is probably only interesting to me and maybe Kenny, but this blog is where I record stuff so it gets posted. These counts are pretty similar to the ones here I did last year.

We have lived in our new home for 203 days or 29 weeks.

During that time...

We have had 12 visits from
15 unique people (3 have come twice)

They have spent
29 nights and
36 days with us

I have spent 13 nights and 17 days out of town on 5 trips
2 to St. Louis
1 to St. Louis, Hermann, and Kansas City
1 to DC
1 to Seattle and San Juan Island

Kenny has spent 15 nights and 20 days out of town on 7 trips
3 to St. Louis and
1 to St. Louis, Herman, and Kansas City
1 to DC
1 to Seattle and San Juan Island
1 to Green Bay

Meaning that about 27% of our days have been spent with visitors or visiting others

We have painted 6 rooms (one of those rooms we painted twice)

We have purchased 10 pieces of new furniture of which 4 were only new to us

We have treated 8 puppy eye infections (all 4 puppy eyes have gotten infected twice)

And I have posted to this blog 23 times.

She promises they don't just boil water.

I am suddenly feeling very behind. I have just 1 or 2 weeks left of the 2nd trimester depending on who you ask and we have not selected a pediatrician, signed up for birthing classes, found a daycare, or created the nursery. Ahhh! I tried signing up for some classes yesterday only to find that they were already full. Fail.

We did cross one important thing off the list and that is finally getting the nerve to break up with my doctors and switch to a midwife practice. The doctors had been either patronizing or defensive with every question I had asked about the birth. I’m fairly confident that I could have maybe succeeded at having the birth I wanted with them, but it would have been a lot more stressful and non-automatic.

Several weeks ago Kenny told me he would end my bagel in bed service until I finally made a decision about all of this. He followed through with his threat, and I’ve had the hardship of making my own bagel for several weeks now. We did some research (i.e. read several online reviews) and found a midwife practice within a hospital (see Dad? It’s in a hospital!). I had a consultation with the director of the practice last week and it was amazing. I had a mental list of questions for her, but by the time she finished describing their prenatal and birth philosophy and process I was in love. Every “silly” thing I had asked my doctors about is just how they do things at this practice. It was as if I had written down a description of my ideal environment and care ahead of time and given it to her to read. She said she would do the breaking up with my current doctors for me, so I even got to skip that awkward step.

And finally, me at 26 weeks still in need of a haircut and this time with a really weird smile. That giant thing in front there? Makes my back hurt lots.

Adventures in Medical Land

I feel like the only thing I ever do anymore is go to doctors. I go to the allergist, the dermatologist, the dentist, and the baby doctor. My boss probably thinks I am making up appointments. I had a baby doctor appointment on Friday. I first had to convince the nurse that I was 24.5 weeks, not 23 weeks. This was the first time I met her and she was rather indignant when I countered her claim that I was 23 weeks. She asked me where I had come up with 24.5 weeks. Had a doctor told me that? Yes, a doctor had told me, that but come on. I am also constantly aware of what week I’m at. I post a weekly picture. I read no fewer than 90 pregnancy week-by-week thingies each week. It’s on my Google calendar. I don’t know what her source was, but she refused to believe me until I told her my due date and she got out her little slide chart thing and told me that yes, I was in fact 24.5 weeks. She then realized that I should have been scheduled for a glucose screening at this appointment but it was too late in the day. She went on to scold me about how I better pass the test when I did take it or I would be punished by having to come back in for a 3-hour test. I asked her how I go about passing it (I’m thinking..maybe by not having gestational diabetes?). She said I better not come in with a Starbucks full of sugar, and I better stay seated during the test and not try to sneak out and go shopping or something.

Things only got better when the doctor came in and told me that he was sorry, but he was going to have to rush me. He had a patient who was 9.5 centimeters dialated. Now, the office is not in the hospital and is at least 10 minutes away. He congratulated me and Kenny on being pregnant. I couldn’t remember any questions I had for him and forgot to even update him on how I had been failing to breath a few weeks ago and how my allergist had changed my medication around. I was too concerned about that woman who was about to give birth and maybe wanting her doctor to be there. He listened to the baby’s heartbeat and commented that I was definitely pregnant (whew!). He didn’t argue with me or try to do any procedures twice though, so I will give him that.

I went back Monday morning for my glucose screening. They gave me about 10 oz of a very sweet Kool-Aid like drink and told me to tell them to take my blood an hour later. Much like telling us we can’t have cold deli meat, I’m pretty sure this is just one of those things they do to screw with pregnant women. I was in a nauseous, sleepy sugar coma until after lunch time.

And of course, the belly. 25 weeks. 15 more weeks? Where? How? My head will return to photos when I get a haircut. If I like it.

My last two weeks, the Cliff's Notes version

I spent a good many hours enjoying this view last weekend. This is the view from Kenny’s sister Robin’s cabin in San Juan Island (near Seattle). The island was just full of beautiful—hills, moss, Puget Sound, lots of trees, a view of Canada. If you walk down the hill from where this picture was taken you come to a cliff overlooking the water and where there are sometimes whales swimming by. Sunday morning we went to a pumpkin carving brunch at an equally beautiful wooded area near an adorable cabin.



My pumpkin is the one on the left that says BOO. It also has a sadly misshapen witch's hat on the left side out of view. Robin carved the next two. Our friend Carri who lives in Seattle and joined us for the island adventure made the cyclops. Kenny made the roboty one, and Robin's boyfriend, Jason, made the horned fellow on the right. I love Halloween, but this will probably be the extent of our Halloween celebrating for the year. Lame.

We spent the last two days of our trip in Seattle. We were going to stay with Carri and her husband Derek, but Derek had to go and get the flu or some such illness. Apparently asthmatic pregnany ladies should avoid getting the flu and other such illnesses, so we stayed at Robin's Seattle studio for one night and a hotel for the last.



This is of course the belly at 24 weeks + the Public Market + Puget Sound. Apparently I am just going to keep getting bigger. Our hotel was hilarious. It had black hallways and giant black and white pictures of rockstars on the doors. It also had a pillow menu. I dialed zero and requested a body pillow. Will now have to buy a body pillow for home use and hope there is still room for Kenny in the bed in addition to me, my belly, the pillow, and two dogs who sleep attached to me.

And last, but not least or even chronologically last, a report on the 2009 3Ms conference:
We all enjoyed milkshakes when they arrived last Friday night. Saturday we bravely headed to Ikea. Something like 5 hours later, we emerged. Megan bought herself a nursery (pictured below in the 4 big boxes at the right. The cart is also hers. Did I mention she flew to Chicago? Molly wins the Ikea restraint contest. She is holding her one purchase. Kenny and I are responsible for the cart on the right. We (read Kenny) somehow fit all of this and 4 people (plus 2 half people) into our Corolla.

When we got back from Seattle, etc. there was a large box waiting for us in the foyer. The crib we ordered from Target a few days earlier (the one that said it would take several weeks to be delivered) had arrived. I am now pretty convinced we are having a baby because there is now a bed in our house just for it. Feels kind of like it did when we bought a crate before we got a puppy. The boxed up crib is living for now along side Megan's boxed up nursery furniture in our guest room. Sorry Kenny's parents who are coming to stay in that room this weekend!

I guess I never finished discussing the rest of the 3M weekend, but now that I've already come back to present tense, it seems confusing to do so. Have a good Halloween!

I break dresses

All the fun was indeed had last weekend, but I’ve been trapped under something heavy all week and unable to tell you about it. Yesterday was the last of day of our giant 3-day all member annual conference. Our wonderful bosses gave us today off, which is great because I need today to clean the house and get ready for our trip to Seattle. We leave tomorrow morning and some friends come to stay with the puppies. In other words, I will also fail to tell you about last weekend today.

Because of the conference I had the challenge of dressing in business dress for three days. I do not own 3 suits that can fit around the belly, so I had to get a bit creative. For two of the days I ended up wearing two non-maternity dresses that happened to have belly space. Everything was going swimmingly until the third day. I was sitting in a session and the, um, upper part of the dress (actually it was a jumper) was a bit snug and inhibiting my breathing. I was at the back of the room so I decided I could unzip my breath and have a little reprieve. The session was ending so I went to zip back up. I couldn’t reach so asked my friend/coworker, Lisa, for help. The zipper got stuck. She tried for a few minutes with no success. Another coworker suggested that standing up might help. Meanwhile, around 400 members are sitting in the rows in front of us learning about investment risk. Standing up did not help. A managing director saw what was happening, and he came over to help as well. Zipper. Would. Not. Budge. Lisa and others tried to convince me that it looked like a style feature of the dress. I went to the bathroom to survey the damage. From far away it did conceivably look like an intentional feature. Really though, it looked like I was walking around with my dress unzipped. I took the jumper off completely to see if I could fix it. Nope. Zipper looked tired and angry I had forced it to close earlier.

I ended up borrowing a suit jacket from a coworker to hide for the rest of the day. When I got home I handed the jumper to Kenny who promptly zipped it up in about 15 seconds.

And now, the poor belly, pictured here at 23 weeks trapped under two layers of spandex. Not its best look. I blame Kenny's photography.

All the fun is about to happen!

Fridays almost feel better than Saturdays. There’s just so much hope and promise in a Friday. And there’s the jeans at work. It’s just a recipe for wonderful.

The second annual 3M conference is to be held in Chicago this weekend. The 3M conference has nothing to do with the people that make adhesives and such but everything to do with my Molly and Megan coming to Chicago where there's an eMoly. I’m almost too giddy to work today.

This year’s cast features two pregnant ladies with sciatica and muscle aches and one who is running a marathon next weekend. I’m pretty sure Molly usually snores and Megan wrote ahead to make sure she could have 5 pillows to sleep with—so they will most certainly have a great time sharing a bed. The last trip involved lots of wine drinking. Kenny said he'd make milkshakes for Megan and me while he and Molly took care of the wine drinking this year.

Regardless, it's certain there will be much estrogen, shopping and pizza had by all. I think Kenny is planning to immerse himself in projects involving power tools.

The weekend's accomplishments

While we were looking for a home to buy, we considered several severe fixer uppers (i.e. they needed new roofs, walls, electricity and plumbing). After 5 months of moving into a place that really had no problems, I now understand that we are not the sort of people who can do that.

Exhibit A: We found this mid-century dresser at a second-hand store to use as a TV stand. It was what I believe my grandma would have called baby-shit yellow in color and had the world's ugliest hardware. Kenny has been slowly, and I mean slowly, refinishing this on our porch for more than the last 3 months. I of course would have helped had I not been in my delicate condition. I do think he did a wonderful job.

Exhbit B: We got on this big mid-century kick (our parents love that term since it also applies to them) and bought these lovely chairs off of craigslist. They had the original cushions on them. Apparently foam is not meant to last 50 years. I would find powder of said foam below both these chairs and our dining room chairs. My mother had offered to buy me a cruise ticket for my birthday last year. We ran out of times when we could go, so I asked her to make me new cushions instead. I think she should quit teaching and take up cushion making full time.

And Exhibit C: Our still not complete dining room. It is mostly complete. Kenny finished recovering all of the chairs this weekend. I would have helped, but I lack the patience and perfection threshold that Kenny has. I somehow managed to not capture the chandelier in this photo, but you've seen it. All that we have left is for Kenny to make me a pretty picture for the wall.

I was in charge of switching out winter/summer/too small clothes and emptying out the future baby's room this weekend. There just really aren't any pictures to go along with that. Also, I have been working on one other rather taxing project:

A picture with a head for once because my mommy asked for one. I can now see it is time for a haircut. Today I am 22 weeks. Because I don't quite understand how 40 weeks fit into 9 months, I looked it up online today and was shocked to discover that I am now in my 6th month. When did that happen and when did my belly get so horizontal? I also read that my belly button might pop out any day now. Am terrified.

Fish baby

There's not a lot of story here, but I felt this should be documented and such. I just realized I’ve never discussed the kicking and poking that’s being going on for quite some time. Before any official kicks or pokes, I could feel motion when I put my hand on my belly and sat quietly and still. It felt like there was something swimming in there. I put my hand on Kenny's belly to make sure that I wasn't just feeling normal organ stuff. Kenny thought I was making stuff up and imagining things or at least that's what his facial expression said he thought whenever I mentioned this phenomenon.

September 2nd, Fetus gave its first real tap, tap, tap that I noticed/felt. It sort of felt like somebody flicking me with their thumb and pointer finger—but in a pretty light way. It happened a couple of more times that day and then I didn’t feel it very much for the next several days. That was just cruel really. I was telling Kenny every time I felt the baby kick but stopped because I decided he wasn't acting excited enough. I did tell our friend Kyle who requested that I tell him and reacted as if he were being given candy every time I told him.

In the past couple weeks the movements have become more and more pronounced (as one would predict what with it growing bigger and all). Kenny finnnalllly felt one from the outside the other night. He’s been very eager to feel it but impatient. Fetus would usually kick a few seconds after he removed his hand. I feel things the most when I am sitting at my desk at work, particularly if I am smushing him/her by sitting too close to my desk. I like to think of the kicks as my reward for sitting still--not that I really needed any additional encouragement on that front. Fetus also seems to be most active around meal time. Clearly this baby is a Kodner.

HGKenny&Emo

About a month before this whole pregnancy thing started, we bought a condo. Between our travels and having visitors in town over the summer, we've been trying to sneak in bits of home improving/nesting. Our first step was to buy furniture. I've shown you our dining room table before. My coworker's antique dealing boyfriend found these lovely chairs for us on Ebay.

The seats were last covered during Thanksgiving weekend in 1983. I know this because the people that did it dated and signed their work. The frabric isn't really our style. After at least 6 trips to fabric stores and several hours of looking for fabric online, I was sitting in the car with Kenny before going into Jo-Ann this weekend. I told him, "Let's pretend this is the only fabric store left on earth and we have to pick something out here." I needed to move on with my life. We picked out a fabric that is marketed for outerwear. Kenny is in charge of the recovering process because he is better at this sort of detail, patience-requiring work than I am. The first chair only took him about an hour:

Because he's taking over my TV to watch the Cardinals in the playoffs this week, he has promised to simultaneously complete the other 5 chairs.

While some friends were visiting a few weeks ago, I asked Kenny to hold up this light fixture in the dining room (where there used to be a recessed light) so we could see if it would work. He started installing it, and though I feared it was a bit rude to install light fixtures while you have friends over, I did not stop him for fear it would otherwise never get done. A good six or so years ago, Megan, Molly and I took a trip to Chicago at the beginning of winter break in college. We made the pilgrimage to Ikea and bought everything in site. I thought my mom might like this lovely light fixture. I was wrong.

It makes our dining room much more dining room like and cozy I think. I'm hoping we will finish up some major projects this weekend ahead of our next wave of visitors/travels, and I'll try to do a before and after thing for all of the rooms.

And for the sake of consistency, here is this week's (21) belly picture. I never know what to do with my hands.

20 weeks and our return to DC

I do think the headless belly picture are a little creepy, but there are reasons. We usually take these in the morning for it is otherwise nearly impossible to catch me before I change into pajamas when I get home from work. They're headless because the time when Kenny can take my picture before going to work is the time when my hair is still wet and I have no makeup on. In other news, this shirt is from my mother-in-law. I can't explain why, but it makes me feel like a beautiful catepillar.

This has been the week of the being run down—hence, my failing to post until today. Belly continues to grow. I think my body is just wimping out about moving the extra blood through the system and carrying the extra belly in front. I’ve been going to bed at 9 or 9:30---getting a hefty 9 to 9.5 hours of sleep—and still stumbling around like I was up all night. I dropped a mug of hot cocoa the other day because I think I fell asleep while filling it up.

Enough complaining though. I am officially at the stage where strangers on the street comment on my belly. It’s amazing how much your belly can grow without people thinking you look pregnant. I guess we all give each other lots of allowances to just be fat.

While we were in DC 3 strangers, in one day, commented on the belly. One older guy who had just finished playing tennis asked me if it was my first and urged us to wait and be surprised about the baby’s sex. One cocktail waitress looked at me and assured me that they had non-alcoholic drinks too. One bouncer scolded Kenny for his role in the matter and what he had gotten himself into. Hmm, funny how two of those exchanges happened at bars.

Speaking of DC, I never did a lovely post I had planned to do about it. Being in DC was great. It’s very strange to go on vacation to a place that feels more like home than where you live. I’m still working on bonding with Chicago and am sure I will one day feel the same for it that I feel for DC. DC is just so easy to love because it’s small in size but big in city-ness. In DC, I was never lost. I knew where places where and had favorite places. I took a nap in Dupont Circle. I could walk between neighborhoods in no time. We stayed with our friends Kate and Kyle. They threw us a BBQ so that we could get together with all of our people at once. It felt so normal to be with all of them and so sad that it wasn’t really normal anymore.

This is Kyle and Kate on our trip to see the rebuilt Eastern Market. We lived in the Eastern Market neighborhood when the market burnt down. It's now rebuilt and a surprising nice shade of pink.

My friends Lindsey and Molly threw me a baby shower. It was nice to have girl time and get all sorts of adorable things for baby. Below see baby’s first piece of DC propaganda.

Little Fetus, Inside and Out

I should have posted a bajillion times this week, but I’ve been trying to jam about 6 days of work into 3.5 days of work. I think I’ll just start with the most recent. We had THE appointment today. I’m rotating through the other doctors in the practice because I might have any one of the three of them for the delivery. I must say today’s doctor was quite interesting. He argued with me about my bagel as a means of nausea prevention strategy until he learned that said bagel was topped with cream cheese. I love that the cream cheese made it okay.

I also asked him a few questions about his birthing philosophy. He got rather defensive when I asked him what the c-section rate was for the practice. He also tried to tell me that no doctor ever performs an unnecessary c-section because they are all kinds of more work—oh, except for this one guy he knew—he hated that guy. Also, that the increase in c-sections in the last few years is just because babies are bigger than they used to be but pelvises aren’t bigger and yeah. I guess what worried me most was that after being defensive and then apologizing for being defensive for about 40 minutes he tried to do the exam again. He forgot that he had already done it and didn’t believe me until I told him what the heart rate was and it was the same number he had written in the chart. I think I caught him on an off day.

After this lively discussion, we proceeded onto our ultrasound appointment for which I was now 15 minutes late. A nurse told me to go in the room and disrobe. She then came back 5 minutes later and told me that I had to put my clothes back on because it was somebody else’s turn first. That made me really, really happy.

The magical fun part of the visit was of course when we finally got to get the ultrasound for real. It was much different from the first ultrasound I got at 8 weeks. At 8 weeks the lady took a bunch of measurements real quick, showed us the little baby outline with the cute little beating heart for about two minutes and it was over. This time there were minutes spent on each little anatomical feature. We looked at the heart, the brain, the legs, feet, hands, face. Fetus has at least 10 fingers and 10 toes and an upper lip and I think my nose.

And now you’re all wondering about the sex. You pervs. It’s all you think about. People ask me when I’m due and then if we know. At this moment, there is one person who knows—the technician who did the ultrasound. In typical Emo fashion, we decided to further procrastinate on making a decision. Two strangers we’ve spoken to on the street think we should wait. I think I’m leaning that direction right now. We had the technician write it down on a piece of paper, which is now in a sealed envelope. Kenny has hidden that envelope and we’re just going to wait and see how we feel. I leave you with pictures of Fetus (or was it Embryo then?) at 8 weeks and the picture from today at 19.

18 Weeks

The famous 3-point post in which I discuss 3 separate items without having to transition between them or have an overarching theme.

1. My belly looks considerably bigger today than it did yesterday. I credit the Chinese food we ate last night. I need new clothes

2. We are heading out to DC this weekend. We are trying to pack in lots of traveling now because I understand it can be more difficult to travel with babies once their on the outside. Leroy is going to camp where he is allowed to chase and be chased by other dogs for a good 10-12 hours a day. Jack is going to stay with cats where he will finally be understood. We took Jack for a trial meeting the other day since I seem to remember that cats and dogs are not supposed to get along. Jack occasionally whimpered when he felt like one of the cats was looking at him too harshly. Other than that, they mostly sat in similar poses and were equally entertained by the magical moving laser dot.

3. Next week is the big ultrasound. The one where we hopefully see a fetus who looks rather baby-like. Also, the one where we might have the opportunity to find out the sex. We change our minds every day on whether or not we want to find out. There are just so many options. Please vote* in the comments section.
-We find out at the ultrasound and tell everybody. This option seems to involve lots of pink and blue.
-We find out at the ultrasound and don’t tell anybody else because we are mean, mean people.
-We don’t find out and also don’t tell anybody since we don’t know. We are all surprised but also have a hard time thinking of Fetus as anything other than a little fishy or froggy or it.
-We have the technician write it down and put it in a sealed envelope to open over a dinner date days later thus spreading out the excitement.
-We have the technician write it down on a piece of paper and plan to never look at it but do because we can’t handle it just being there and not knowing.

*Note: The vote will have no bearing on the actual outcome :-).

17 weeks

This week's picture feature's my bathroom as a backdrop as Kenny thought he'd catch the belly as I was brushing my teeth.

You might recognize the back of Jack's head from such other pictures as the one above from our journey to Chicago.

If I am getting dumber, is fetus getting smarter?

Kenny can never find anything, ever. He usually spends 10 minutes looking for something, I finally ask him what he is looking for and go straight to it when he tells me. I’ve lost that ability completely in recent weeks. Basically, anything requiring a charger can no longer be used in our home. There might have been pictures to go with this post today, but that would mean somebody in our house was capable of remembering where we left the cord to connect it to the computer.

A couple of weeks ago I texted my friend, Melissa, to let her know I was running late for our brunch date. Kenny and I had tried to sneak in a trip to the paint store before the brunch and I left him at the curb with 4 cans of paint and raced over to the restaurant. I didn’t see Melissa anywhere when I got there. I sat down in the waiting area and wondered if I was a half hour off in my time or something. While waiting I realized that it was the 9th which meant that the day before had been the 8th and I had completely forgotten to call my friend Lindsey to wish her a happy birthday. Lindsey is a mutual friend of Melissa’s and mine and she thought it weird that I had a date with Melissa since she was pretty sure she was in Maine. I called Kenny and had him look it up in my Google Calendar. Not only did I have the wrong time, I also had the wrong week. I went home and vomited since I’d messed up my eating time so badly with the imaginary brunch date I had created for the day.

My coworker asked me to schedule 6 calls for her with some people on the West coast. I did that and was careful to be mindful of the time difference as I did so. I even looked things up to make sure I was right about it being a 2 hour time difference. I kept making sure that the times would not require my coworker to be here too early. They would suggest 10:00 and I would try to move it so as to not require her to be here at 8:00. Did this through SIX phone calls. I realized the error today when somebody called her to confirm and the time I had set was, oh—4 hours off since I had gone 2 hours in the wrong direction.

I miss my brain.

The telling

Lindsey
Shortly after the second positive pregnancy test, I bargained with Kenny to tell one person. I NEEDED to tell one person. NeeNeeNeeeeeeeded to tell somebody. I didn’t want to tell Megan (for reasons that will be explained later) and couldn’t tell Molly and not Megan. We agreed on Lindsey. Also, she was coming to visit the next week and Kenny is not capable of double drinking enough to pull that one off. Lindsey is like an additional coworker for me. We gchat every day and know most mundane details of each other’s lives. For the hour I tried it, it was killing me to talk to her without telling her about IT . As you might have noticed from the several week gap in Blog posting, it’s really hard to talk about anything else once you know. The first recorded response to the news of our coming child was a series of exclamation points.
me: i peed on a stick this morning and it was a plus sign
Lindsey: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Zack and Mike
My brother Zack and his partner Mike came into town about a week after we found out. I picked them up from the airport and on the way Zack mentioned that his ex had asked him if I was pregnant. He asked me if I was and I dodged the question and asked why she thought that. When we got back to our house I told him that I was a little bit pregnant (evidence of my not quite acceptance). I believe Zack said it was “about damn time” and got all excited and all.

Mom
I decided to tell my parents after the first doctor’s appointment. Kenny was in more disbelief and wanted to wait until after the ultrasound to tell his parents. My mom, brother and I had been fighting about whether or not to go on a cruise over Christmas. I did not want to go because I like Christmas and apparently they don’t. I called her and told her that I was not going on the cruise because I was not getting on a boat 8 months pregnant. She immediately screamed, “I’m gonna be a grandma!”

Dad
A few years ago I saw David Sedaris do a reading. I waited in line for two hours to have him sign a book for my dad who is also a fan. I told David who to make it out to and when I got it back it said: “David, Congratulations! Emily is pregnant!” That silly David Sedaris. I mailed it to my dad and he called me in what sounded like heart distress. He said, “What’s this, this, not about?” When I called my dad to tell him I asked if he had read that book lately and suggested that maybe he should. He started to say something and then paused and asked if I was trying to tell him something. I told him that I was carrying his grandfetus and that he was going to be a grandpa. He said we’d have to come up with another name because he was definitely too young to be a grandpa and that just wouldn’t be credible.

Molly and Megan
I didn’t want to tell Megan because she had been trying to do what I had just done for quite some time without success. I was very afraid and contemplated waiting until the next month on the off chance that she’d get pregnant in the meantime. Turns out, I should have done that because that was the month! I was feeling sad though and thought it was due in part because I hadn’t told my Megans and Mollies and that just wasn’t right. I couldn’t possibly be embarking on this whole new phase in my life without telling my girls. So I finally called Megan. I left two voicemails for Molly and she had the nerve to not call me back. I finally texted her: “I’m knocked up. Call me.” TWO HOURS later she called. She loves me. I’m pretty sure she was just away from her phone.

Kenny’s Parents
Kenny called his parents after the ultrasound—after he saw the heartbeat for the first time and had visual proof in his hands. We decided it would be best to call them at work instead of waiting for that night so that we could tell them each individually without one ruining the surprise for the other. Kenny’s mother just kept repeating over and over again, “You’ve made me sooo happy! I love you sooo much!” Kenny’s father screamed. Coworkers came to see if he was okay. He also said, “I didn’t think you guys were ready.” Meaning that he didn’t think that we thought we were—not that he didn’t think we were ready, but it’s funnier if you think of it that way.


After telling our parents, we told them they could tell people--just not to, for instance, put it on Facebook. I thought I was being overly cautious by even feeling I had to mention this to them. The next morning my dad and Kenny's mom both had status messages relating to their approaching grandparent status and my mom had written about it on several people's walls. Ooh, parents. What can you do with them?

The Belly at 16 Weeks

So I thought it was time I shared a few headless shots of me and my gut. Okay, it's not a gut. It's a fetus* (with fetus accessories). The first two pictures are at normal posture and the third is at full relaxation--so the 3rd looks more gut-like.

Those are maternity pants in the pictures. I may never wear regular waistbands ever again. A lot of things about pregnancy can suck, but maternity pants is not one of them.

* Fetus=50% bagels and cream cheese.

Mean things embryos and fetuses do to their moms

The day before my positive test, I found myself unable to eat the salami sandwich Kenny had made or me for lunch. I felt like I was just being a brat and wasteful, but I had to go to Jimmy John’s to get something that sounded nice and calm instead. I confessed my betrayal to Kenny minutes after the positive test.

As I mentioned earlier, the nausea* kicked into gear about two days after I found out I was pregnant. Kenny was a little excited when it began because it was further assurance I was in fact pregnant. That, and he hates me.

It took some time to figure out how to handle the whole eating thing. Eating hurt but not eating hurt more. Sometimes eating was impossible. I would try to think of the one thing that sounded like a good idea. One night, I asked Kenny to make fried rice. Fried rice seemed fairly bland and it would still have some veggies and protein in it. We were almost out of soy sauce. I suggested he use some fish sauce to supplement---which was of course a completely terrible idea. While standing about 6 feet away from it, I smelled it and knew that I absolutely could not eat that meal. So Kenny made a wonderful meal I ASKED FOR, and when he added an ingredient I SUGGESTED, I could no longer eat the meal. Poor Kenny. This happened a few more times. One night I was sure I could eat fajitas. We went to a Mexican restaurant a block away. The fajitas seemed really expensive so I ordered enchiladas. After my first bite, I discovered that innocent seeming chicken was a terrible, terrible thing. Soon after, it was agreed that the word chicken would no longer be spoken in our household and if Kenny felt the need to use the word, he would replace it with the word rainbow.

All of the books suggested eating some dry toast in bed before getting up. But really, who wants to eat dry toast? We tried an English muffin with butter. I did not get to keep that. I tried crackers, but ugh, first thing in the morning? We finally discovered the magic food that I could eat: Lender’s bagels with cream cheese. I get one delivered to me every morning in bed because Kenny loves me. Leroy throws a fit because he wants to steal my bagel. I do not let him steal my bagel. Bagels are also the food that I get when I fail to keep a meal. Bagels are wonderful and glorious and I’m fairly certain that the baby will come out covered in cream cheese and lightly toasted.

Overall, meat (except for pork—Fetus does not keep kosher, loves bacon) and vegetables were the most difficult to eat. For a few weeks there, I’m pretty sure my diet was 75% bread product + cheese flavored product. I could eat almost anything my 8-year-old self would have eaten. That’s not a huge list of items. It includes PB&J, fried bologna, Kraft macaroni, hotdogs, and chocolate milk.

For the past 2 weeks I have been feeling soooo much better and eating soooo much better. Except for a few relapses here and there (designed to keep me humble I’m sure) there is sunshine and nourishment once more.

*I shall call it nausea for morning sickness is a terrible name for suffering that lasts all day.

The many stages of pregnancy acceptance

Weeks before I had the positive test and hours before I took the first negative test, it was very difficult to figure out how to feel. I was a wee bit giddy at the possibility of being pregnant. Could my body be harboring the beginnings of a whole other little person? These wonderings were tempered by my firm belief that I would have a difficult time conceiving. It had taken fertility drugs and several years for my parents to conceive my older brother. It seemed like most people I knew did not have an easy time and who gets pregnant the first month? I was also afraid. A good friend had been trying unsuccessfully for several months to conceive and that would be so mean and not cool if I got pregnant right away. If I had thought it would be so easy, I might not have tried because it would be too mean. I also had this worry of jinxing myself. I didn’t feel like I could really allow myself to think that it was a possibility. I took the test that night when we got home from work. It was negative, and I don’t think I was happy or sad. I just felt confirmed—of course it wouldn’t be positive. I was further confirmed a week later when I took a second test and it was also negative. In fact, I felt pretty silly for taking that second test in the first place. Lesson learned: negative pregnancy tests do not mean that you are not pregnant. They just mean that you are not pregnant enough yet and that you should stay tuned for further updates.

So, as you can imagine, I was totally unprepared when I got the positive test. I felt like I needed to read a million books right away—to study up on this whole thing. I had to figure out which foods and medicines and such I couldn’t have. Just a few weeks earlier I had switched a few of my allergy medications to baby-growing-safe versions just in case. I thought the switches were a bit premature—who knew? I got a big Ziploc bag and put all the not-safe-for-pregnancy medicine cabinet items in it. That left me with some lotion and a bottle of Tylenol really. Breaking up with Excedrin was the hardest. Oh how I miss Excedrin.

Even after the positive test, it was still hard to let myself fully believe and accept that I was going to have a baby. I didn’t want to get my hopes up only to have them dashed with a miscarriage. Also, since I was pukey and feeling like crap, it was hard to embrace the whole thing. I was just trying to make it through the day without puking in front of coworkers. I was cautiously excited, worried and nauseous for a good many weeks.

My first days of really unbridled joy and giddiness over the matter coincided with my first days of having some energy again and being able to eat adventurous things that consisted of more than cheese and bread.

I plan to stop writing in so much past tense soon. I just want to sort of get this all down while I remember it. I think next I'll have to thoroughly cover the puking issue--oh what a read that will be ;-).

Slight of Hand

So, we weren’t really prepared to tell Kenny’s parents about the whole me being pregnant thing on the same day we found out ourselves. As I mentioned, we were in quite a bit of disbelief. I felt like I needed to go to doctor first, get further confirmation, and make sure it was human and in the right spot and all.

Not telling the in-laws should be easy enough, yes? We could just, you know, not say anything, right? That was not the case. A weekend with my in-laws is usually a bit of a workout for the ole liver. We often have an afternoon-watching-the-game drink, a before dinner drink, during dinner drinks, and after dinner drinks. If I didn’t drink, they would know. I knew my mother-in-law watched like a hawk for these sorts of things. When we had visited them a few months earlier I remember her frowning a bit when I accepted her offer of a glass of wine. So Kenny and I developed a plan. He went to pick them up from the train station. I poured a little wine into a glass so that I could pretend I had already been drinking. That would take care of Friday night. For the afternoon drinks, Kenny would make me virgin versions of the cocktails he made for his mom. The difficult part to cover up would be the during meal wine. The solution? Kenny drank for two. It was much like a sitcom. We sat across from each other and put our glasses close to each other. He would casually drink from both. I would put one to my lips every now and then. He seized on opportunities like the arrival of our food to switch the glasses entirely or take giant gulps out of mine. “We” drank on our porch a few times as well. I would carry my glass inside a few times and Kenny would come in and dispose of some (sure I could have poured some out, but we’re not alcohol wasters). Basically, Kenny was drunk all weekend.

I was sure my mother-in-law was suspicious. She commented on how I hadn’t finished one of my drinks and I was sure she was catching on that no alcohol was really going down my throat. To top it off, she brought up the subject of children and parenting a few times. She even talked about how quickly she told people when she found out she was pregnant. Apparently, after she got the results she even told a stranger in the stairway on the way to tell my father-in-law.

Of course the nausea also showed up right away. I had my first puking on Sunday when I saw/smelled Kenny preparing a large slab of raw beef. Luckily, that happened while Kenny’s parents were on a walk with the pups so crisis was once more averted.

We found out later they had no clue. They did have fun figuring out all the signs they had missed later.

More than you ever wanted to know about things I've peed on

Two months and two days ago I had a dream that I was pregnant. I’ve always had dreams about being pregnant or about my friend, Megan, being pregnant. Not sure why, but if I were to name a recurring dream it would be that. This time, I decided that the dream was good enough reason to take a pregnancy test. Why was this time different you ask? Well, my period was 3 weeks late. I was fairly certain I was just having an off month because I had already taken 2 tests and had negative results both times. I felt silly for taking the third test. If you know Kenny, and if you read this blog, you probably do—you know that he is awfully cheap. He thought I was wasting money when I peed on the second stick so I didn’t tell him I was peeing on the third. Hehe. I had just rolled out of bed and didn’t quite have my eyes open all the way when I thought that I was perhaps seeing a plus sign. I rubbed my eyes like a cartoon character might do in a similar situation and looked again. I picked up the stick and ran into the bedroom where Kenny was wrestling with Leroy. I’m not sure I was making real words at this point or just concerned noises when I put it in front of his eyes.

I remember the episode of I Love Lucy where Lucy tells Ricky she’s pregnant by sneaking a song request to him for, “We’re Having a Baby.” He goes around the audience and tries to figure out who made the request. He almost passes over her but she nods yes and he realizes it is her that is pregnant and he gets ridiculously excited. I’d always imagined that when I told my husband I was pregnant, it would play out in a similar fashion.

Kenny’s reaction was more of disbelief. He was sure that this couldn’t be right what with the other two tests and how, how could this be? We agreed I’d get a test on the way to work and see what a second test said. There was no point really celebrating or discussing—or worrying about those drinks I’d had the other night because really—this was probably just a wrong test. After all, his parents were coming to town that night and how would we handle that?

When I had originally tried to buy a pregnancy test I failed. I looked around Walgreens for 10 minutes and gave up when I couldn’t find it—made Kenny stop and get one. This time, I tried for 10 minutes again to find one. I finally gave up and asked the pharmacist who did not know and had to ask somebody else. Apparently, at the Walgreens near me they keep pregnancy tests behind the makeup counter—because those are two things that go together, right? I got to work, went straight to the ladies’ room and tried this again. For a moment I thought it was negative because of course on this test the positive symbol looked much like the negative symbol on the test I had taken earlier.

I called Kenny and told him of the confirmation. We both went on to freak out and get zero work done that day as we had to keep asking the interweb questions and hatch a plan for keeping this from his parents for the weekend. When I got home he greeted me with flowers.

Though I’m 27 years old, married, and was certainly sort of trying to get pregnant—I still totally felt like I’d gotten knocked up and was going to be kicked off the cheerleading squad or something.

More catching up to come, but I think this post is already ridiculously long.

Increasingly Green Dog

If only I meant green in the environmentally friendly way.

Yesterday, we went to the vet for Jack’s annual shots and well puppy check-up. We decided to bring Leroy with us since he’d been so horribly treated all day. On the way there, I noticed he had some green stuff in his eye. It complimented his collar and tail, but also had that pending-increasingly-expensive-vet-bill look to it. My sweet Jackie boy had to be muzzled per his usual vet behavior, but he was parasite and disease free. As the vet was leaving the room I asked him if it was like, a bad thing, to be a puppy with green stuff in your eye. He said that yes, that was in fact a bad thing. He started to go look at Jack again, afraid he missed something. We said, no, the wily one on the floor over here. He took a quick look and said that Leroy’s eye looked terrible and how could we miss such a thing? We must be the kind of puppy parents who crate and zap their puppy and let him play with paint. Seriously though, he asked about the green tail and did not seem amused by our explanation. What are we supposed to do? Shave his tail?

Oh, and I learned a few truths:
1) Jack=angel outside of vet, demon at vet
2) Leroy=demon outside of vet, angel at vet
3) Sick puppy=expensive
4) Healthy puppy=more than twice as expensive

Side note: Yes, posts 2 days in a row! Yes, another one about my dogs.

The Notorious, Green, Robotic Puppy (No, it’s not Jack)

We painted our dining room on Sunday. Despite our insistence that no help was needed, Leroy insisted and used his natural hair brush to lend a hand. His intrusion might have gone unnoticed, if not for his bright green tail, tushy, and ear. Also, he tried to get the wet paint stick out of our way by relocating it to a nearby rug. Poor, misunderstood Leroy. Jack, as he strives to do in all occasions, remained perfectly clean and also tried to help clean up Mama and Daddy’s feet later.

This is the place I would put pictures if you know, I weren’t too lazy to have taken them and then put them on my computer. All of the button pushing and plugging in…so taxing.

In a related story, yesterday we received the kindest and most politely worded email from our downstairs neighbors regarding a certain someone’s inconveniently scheduled singing sessions. Apparently, Leroy has been terrorizing our poor neighbor and her two babies all day long with crazy barking jags for almost the entire time we’re at work each day. This is of course, making it nearly impossible for her to get the babies to nap at all or for very long. During college, I babysat two little boys for a summer and if someone had been doing something to disrupt or prevent nap time, I would probably be writing this post from jail. I’m just grateful that our neighbors chose the kind email over showing up at our door with wild eyes and guns—which, honestly, I wouldn’t have blamed them for.

Now, Leroy is a dog and dogs bark. He’s part Beagle and that is certainly a breed bred for that. If he wants to bark at the dog park or occasionally while playing or at a masked intruder, I think that’s great. But man, something had to be done about the constant all day barking he’d apparently been enjoying. I did it. I went to Petco last night and bought him this:

That’s right, we are now locking the poor puppy in a crate AND making him get a little buzz (the guy at the store insisted they weren’t shocks, merely static zaps) if he barks. Out of guilt, I also bought him this little diffuser that is supposed to put off calming mama dog pheromone stuff. I also gave him a bone stuffed to its brim with peanut butter and food today.

Update: We received another email from the neighbor this afternoon.

"It's very quiet today, so not sure what you did but Leroy seems content!"

Spontaneous Update, Part 1

1. We bought that condo and moved into it and all. It’s lovely.
2. I had no idea I wanted a second bathroom. In fact, when I found out our realtor had been screening for 2 bathrooms I was kind of mad. I grew up in a 3 bedroom, 1.5 bathroom house that for the first 12ish years of my life had 4 people living in it. But! Kenny is a bathroom hog, and not until I had my own bathroom did I realize all of the juggling I did to make the most of the 5 minutes of free sink/mirror time that was allotted to me each day while we were sharing one. I now have time to do things like moisturize and cut my toenails.
3. We got a dining room table off Craigslist. The previous owner said in her ad that she wanted it to go to a good home. I promptly wrote her my story and told her about the aluminum foil covered mess we’ve been serving people dinner on for years. She let me have it for $50 less than somebody else who responded because she was that horrified by the foil! See the picture below. I don't know why the pictures is so small. It refuses to be larger.
4. I probably shouldn’t write this because it will probably jinx us. Leroy is like a brand new puppy in the new place. He used to pee in his crate every day and is now down to about 1 in 10 days. Our bedroom does unfortunately face East and he is up searching for slippers (and sometimes even shoes that somebody wore for her graduations and wedding!) at first light. Believe it or not, first light is at like 5:00 am. I had no idea the sun came up that early.
5. Jack is his usual cuddly self. Is pleased to have the master bedroom in the back of the home away from noise and things that might otherwise disturb his naps.

Important things.

1. We are buying a HOME. I’m pretty sure anybody who reads this blog (by the way, MS Word is way behind the times as it believes “blog” to not be a word) already knows this, but I can’t just not mention it because it is currently consuming my life. It’s a condo in Uptown which is near the lake, the train, and as the real estate ads always mention—a Borders and one day a Target. I lived near a coming Target for two years. That Target promptly arrived two years after I moved out of the neighborhood. I spend 3 out of every 4 hours awake thinking about what colors I shall paint it. Kenny must hate me because he waited until last night to tell me about this website. In retribution I plan to drag him to no fewer than 9 stores this weekend in search of the perfect bedspread.
2. I’m finally Excedrin broken. I always feared this day would come. I would sometimes cry when I imagined what it would be like. I get a lot of headaches—probably 10 a month. I’ve always treated Excedrin with the restraint and respect it deserved. For my last 5 or so headaches it’s been deadening them halfway and then allowing them to come back in full force. Life as I know it may be over.

Older than I used to be

Of course that's true at any given moment. I did, however, recently have a birthday. It's way old news but I think worth documenting.



It was a pizzzzzzaaaa party! We may have gone a bit overboard. I believe we made eight pizzas.




About an hour or so into the party, some people arrived. I looked at one of the new arrivals for a moment and couldn't figure out why one of them looked so much like my friend Megan who lives in Kansas City.




Turns out, it was Megan. I couldn't understand how she was in Chicago when--afterall--she was supposed to be in Kansas City. It was just like Christmas.

Leroy enjoyed his first party and behaved for the most part. Note: That is not his beer.




My uber allergic friend Lisa found out a few weeks ago that she was, in fact, not allergic to dogs. She came to the party and had her first puppy experience.




Jack was happy to help out with that. She was in awe. Then at some point Melissa and Amy turned into cats.




Eventually even puppies couldn't keep their eyes open and we knew the party had been a success.