Making Herself Known.

So after saying yesterday that I haven't felt Baby Sequins from the outside, last night I was curled up on the couch with Tim, with my hands on my bare belly as normal (I am like Al Bundy most days.) I realized that not only was she bumping around inside, but it seemed like I could feel her from the outside. I had Tim put his hand under my belly button and within a few seconds, there she was. Bump bump bump.

I think she was still excited about the kiddie cocktail I'd drank at her Grandma Eileen's birthday celebration.

I am mostly excited to know that there's a chance her great-G&G can feel her when we fly out to Wisconsin in a week and a half. I am sure she will love them!

Halfway There!

We've had to do some minor renovations around the ol' homestead, thanks to this little guy:
Thory is having what they called "misdirected aggression problems." Basically, this week he's been getting upset when he sees Jonesy on the other side of the glass. He freaks out and hisses and bats at Jonesy, and then suddenly turns and sees Lulu and physically attacks her, thinking that she might be at fault. It's not that different than when humans are driving someplace unfamiliar, running late, and start snapping at their spouses for no reason. Unfortunately, cats aren't very good at apologizing. And they recognize each other more on scent than on sight, so they can be in the same room with a cat they've spent their whole lives with and still freak out.

Thor has actually gotten so vicious with Lulu that he's drawn blood. The past couple of days they've alternating between being just fine with one another and then instants later, they'll be growling and hissing. Thor instigates most of it, but we've definitely seen Lulu start growling for no reason.

So, we're keeping them separated when we need to, and then bringing them both into a safe space to try to arrange re-introductions. No one has been bleeding recently, so I guess they're improving.

And since I can't prevent Jonesy from coming into our yard, or stop Thory from being an overprotective little jerk, the only thing we can do is keep them from seeing each other. The best way to do that?

Newspaper at the bottom of all of our sliding glass doors. Hopefully as a temporary measure.

In other news, here's what I look like lately.
You can perhaps see why dad insists on calling me "his fat daughter."

As of yesterday, I am into my 20th week of pregnancy and ergo, half way done. I continue to be amazed and feel grateful as to how not pregnant I feel. I'm still sleeping really well, I don't have to go to the bathroom every ten minutes, I'm not swollen or bloated (other than just general chunkiness) I can wear my wedding rings, and I can still wear my pre-pregnancy pants with the aid of the Bella band, I don't have heartburn, and I have still gotten through this whole shebang without vomiting once.

The best news is that I'm feeling the baby move on a more regular basis. It's mostly in the evenings, after I finish dinner. If I sit still enough on the couch and keep my hands on my belly, I feel a couple of little bumps underneath my belly button. It's still nothing that I can feel from the outside, and I have to be really still and concentrating, but it's nice to know she's in there (and that she enjoys spicy cheese, apparently.) Tim is definitely looking forward to being able to feel her kick - hopefully that will happen in the next couple of weeks.

We have our Level 2 ultrasound right before we leave for Wisconsin, and until then, I'm just hanging out, growing the baby, and eating every jalapeno I can get my hands on.

Cat-boy!

Happy Birthday, Thor Elizabeth! You are five years old today (approximately!) and you are just as stupid, stinky and fond of hanging out in the bathroom as you were when we first adopted you. I can only imagine that you've been that way since birth.



Thanks for being the biggest mama's boy I could ever want. Now please don't ever throw up on my bed ever again. Oh, and we hope that you viciously attacking your sister the other night was a midlife crisis that you will not soon replicate. You can be one mean bastard when you're scared!

Hail to the Hills of Westwood!

Oh, we've had a fabulous weekend. Friday night Tim went with his boyfriend Ed to see MacGruber. I went over to mom and dad's house to watch the Twins beat the Brewers half to death. As an added bonus, we texted smart ass messages to the Wisconsin, Brewer-lovin' cousins and then giggled at our cleverness. I also brought over the furminator for a test drive on the family cats. Verdict: their fur came out in clumps, and they seemed quite happy to be groomed (except for Chuckie, but that was more that he doesn't like me looking at him. I picked you out and brought you home, you ungrateful 16 year old jerk!)

Saturday night we had a play at the Freud Playhouse at UCLA. Knowing that I also had a work event on Sunday morning in Bel Air, Tim and I opted to book a hotel room and stay in LA overnight, saving ourselves (or rather, me) an extra two hours of driving and minus four hours of sleep. I got a great rate at the W Hotel in Westwood, which is known for being pretty swank and celebrity friendly, and we headed up early to check in. We found street parking, which made our LA-hearts happy, and then as we were checking in, the front desk person asked if we wouldn't mind being upgraded to a suite. Well, TWIST MY ARM WHY DON'T YOU! So, we went from a basic "studio" room, apparently near the elevators, to a corner suite on the 8th floor. The hotel room was bigger than our old apartment, and totally swankified. Once we got in and settled, we decided that it would be foolish to waste this hotel room by going out to dinner, and so we ordered room service! When I called, the first thing they said was "how can I help you Mrs. Ford?" Umm... you know me by name? WOW. (Can you tell that we're used to budget traveling?) We ordered a burger and fries and I laid around in a plush, borrowed robe and we were happy as can be.

Around 7 we headed out to walk over to the theater. Tim stopped to take a quick picture of me and my Baby Sequins belly outside of Royce Hall.

We are very proud to be having a 100% Bruin baby. As I told Tim, we won't force Sequins to go to UCLA, but we have lots of happy memories that we can't wait to share with her. And of course, if she tries to apply to U$C, we will disown her, and consider our parenting a total failure.

We saw "How to Succeed In Business Without Really Trying," which was great. Reprise, the theater company that puts on these productions, does a really bang up job. We wandered through campus on the way home, grabbed some snacks for the morning and then returned me to my plush bathroom in time for SportsCenter.

Here's our 8th floor view of the Hills of Westwood.

This morning we were up and at 'em around 9, and off to the home of Sherry Lansing for the Big Brothers Big Sisters Future Fund luncheon, where the agency awards college scholarships to graduating Little Sisters. It's really great program, with speeches from some of our biggest donors and stories from the girls themselves. There's usually a pretty healthy dose of tears throughout the audience. This year, we also had Eva Longoria Parker as our celebrity speaker, and she was darling. With both Trena and I pregnant and unable to do very much hauling, Anja was glad to have Tim around, and he was quite the Helper Helperton, putting out gift bags and cleaning up afterwards.

When the luncheon was over, Tim and I headed to UCLA to buy Sequins her first Bearwear. I have long looked in the little kids section and made cooing noises over all of the baby clothes, and finally, I had an excuse to buy (and buy I did! Though in all fairness, this is the first thing I've bought for the baby, other than books.) I may have gone a little nuts, but I got things in different sizes so that she'll be covered all along the way. Plus, IT WAS SO CUTE! I started crying a little in Ackerman. Yes, yes, I have lots of hormones. We also realized that Coach Wooden is turning 100 a few days before Baby Sequins is due. Maybe they will end up being birthday buddies! Worse things could happen.

Here's a shot of her loot, laid out on the UCLA quilt that her great-grammy made for her.

So now, after a lot more driving and a quick stop at the grocery store, we're home and vegging.

Business as usual in the Thiel-Ford household.

Paper Roses.

I got the sweetest gift today, from my Chicago-based bestie Becca. She made me an enormous paper chain to countdown from my first Mother's Day until Baby Sequins' due date. She even included extra strips in case Sequins goes overdue (which I have to be honest, I don't think she will do. I feel like with my small stature, and the hugeness of Tim and I at birth, the doctor won't be letting me go much overdue.)


Anyways, HOW SWEET IS THAT? It's the cutest present, and I look forward to counting down every day. She also said that if I felt like it, I could use the paper pieces to write down a memory from each day when I tear it off at night, which I think is a nice idea. Becca is so cute. Plus, the kitties are super excited for the box it came in.

Baby Sequins is going to be one lucky little girl - beside her Aunt Sara (who is going to be the absolute best) she's going to have lots of auntie friends to swoop in and love on her. I got to spend the weekend with two of my girlfriends, who are both leaving the area shortly to start new and exciting lives - one in Austin for an MBA program, one in San Francisco for a dermatology fellowship. But I got to spend Saturday night hanging out with them, and they got to see my wee belly while it lasted.

Dr. Pristine, me and my Annie

And of course, Lulu is already learning how to tuck a baby into bed. (note for skittish non-cat people: she is not in the baby's actual crib, she's hanging out in a doll bed, which has spent most of its 50 year lifespan being occupied by kitties. Or little toddler girls who climb into bed while tucking in their dollies.)

As Seen on TV.

Today during a coffee run, my coworker Emily expressed a need to run to Rite Aid to buy a pedegg. We found the pedeggs at the end an aisle, in what can only be described as the "as seen on TV" section. There was also a Clapper, an Emery Cat board, and... THE SLAPCHOP. Tim has been expressing his need for a slapchop for months now, so I bought it.

We had the makings of guacamole in our fridge, so tonight I busted out the slapchop. And was sorely disappointed. All of the veggies got stuck up in the blades, and I had to pick the pieces out with a knife.

HOWEVER, we had a very successful "as seen on TV" purchase from Tim. We continue to have hairball issues with Thory, even though he's getting laxatone regularly and eating hairball control formula food. A friend had recommended the FURminator brush, so Tim bought one at the pet store tonight. It purports to get at your pet's undercoat and remove more hair than a regular brush. Which it does, by the absolute HANDFUL. I have never seen hair come off a cat like that before. The volume is only slightly less than if I was actually buzzing them down to the skin. Both kitties initially looked at me like, "what are you DOING?" because I think the brush is a different sensation on them, but by the third stroke, I had Thory purring and rolling around on the ground. I think I have officially plucked out every piece of spare fur that boy has to offer. I'm looking forward to a silent, solid night of sleep tonight.

And now, Tim and I are off to take a walk to the library (just to return some books, but also, to go for a nice walk.)

Alias.

This morning at our staff meeting I announced that I was having a girl, as part of the "does anyone have any nice stories from the weekend they'd like to share" portion of the program.

Our HR direction immediately says "I hope you're not going to name that poor baby Sequins."

Of course, I immediately could think of nothing else! It's the perfect name for my future bedazzled daughter. For those of you who have been asking me to reveal the name, please know that it's currently a dead heat between Sequins and Glitter. I think they both have a nice ring. Feel free to leave your vote in the comments.

Shakira.

For Mother's Day, a traditional story of mothers, from ancient times.

And yea, they said that although the line of Ford men would be strong, there was one stronger. As Etta had her oldest daughter Vera Belle, so did Vera Belle have an only daughter Patricia. And Patricia begat Ann, oldest of the Miller girls, and lo, Ann bore Meg, bossy older daughter of the Thiel sisters. And so, as it as been written for centuries, must the oldest child of Meg

BE A GIRL!!!!!

That's right. We found out for sure on Wednesday that Wolfie is definitively a girl (they told us she most likely was a girl at our 12 week ultrasound, but we didn't want to start spreading the news until we were sure. You heard me. I kept a secret for over a month.) We are now generally referring to Wolfie as Shakira (she's a Columbian singer whose most recent big single was called She-wolf.) Of course, we are always happiest to learn that the baby and I are healthy and happy, but it's even more fun to know that I'm going to have a daughter!

Photos.

Tonight when Tim came home, I made him come outside and snap a picture of what my dad calls "my gut." I am letting it hang out over my pants (or in this case, skirt) now. Check it out!

A little bit of bump is definitely my fold over skirt (aka: the best piece of clothing ever, whether you are pregnant or not!) but I guess this pregnancy thing is really happening. While Tim was snapping the photo, we got yeowled at.

Someone was ready for her dinner.

Speaking of dinner, for Mother's Day Tim and Wolfie worked together to buy me the following apron (yes, of course I already opened it.) It features a bun and an oven. Get it? And I'm barefoot in the kitchen, making Tim some pasta. I am practically a hausfrau.


Lastly, I was sitting at my desk today when I got a weird fluttery feeling on the lower left side of my belly. I suspect it may have been a kick or two from inside. Tonight I am sitting quietly on the couch, hoping to replicate the sensation. Com'n baby!

Cinco De Mayo

I realized this morning that I seem to have an ultrasound on all of the fake, drinking-focused holidays. 12 week ultrasound on St. Patrick's Day, and then my 16 week ultrasound on Cinco De Mayo. No margaritas for me, but a beautiful baby!

Four weeks was a long time to go without seeing my little friend. It's easy to let myself get totally worried, especially because I haven't felt any of the fluttering yet (which they say is normal - first time moms may not feel the baby until 20 weeks!) Of course, my coworker Trena has already felt her baby kick AND she looks pregnant (whereas I look lumpy.) I am jealous, and tell her so often.

Anyways. Today was Eileen's first ultrasound. Since she had babies back in the dark ages, she was not given the option to see her offspring prior to them leaping out of her body. My doctor (who is a total wiseass) did a really good job taking time to show her (and me) all of the baby's arms and legs and activities. It's always wonderful to see the heartbeat. What more could you want?

Well, I wanted a picture. He was about to wipe the jelly off my belly and I said "hey! Where's my picture!" and he obliged by snapping a photo of Wolfie. Too bad Wolfie had his back to the camera, so you can't see his cute profile. But the important thing is, he's healthy, he's growing right on schedule, and as the doctor said "he's perfect." I can't WAIT to screw my perfect baby up with my subpar parenting!

I am pretty sure that the dark spot on his chest is his heart. You can see he has a nice head, and some arms and legs. It's so funny to look back at our first ultrasound - we were so impressed by Wolfie then, and really, he just looked like a smear on the camera. It's nice that Wolfie is turning into a real baby. He's the size of an avocado, which brings me back to my original point - have some beer with your chips and salsa tonight. Do it for me.

Manual Labor (not ours.)

It's 7pm on Saturday and I am still unshowered, in my pajamas. Tim is off on a date with his boyfriends. All is well with the world, it would seem.

Had a rough night last night - I stayed in LA to have dinner with a friend, and then the 8:30 train never left the station, and the 10:10 left late. After a long week, I was tired beyond belief and near tears. Not to mention, trapped in pants that don't really fit anymore and shoes that hurt my feetsies. I was a hot, angry mess. Then this morning, we had to be up early to have work done on the house. Ricardo and friends were here to cut back our ivy, and on a recommendation from Rita, we found a handyman to plane down the doors in our bedroom and the baby's room, which don't really move thanks to our nice thick carpet pad.

As soon as everyone left, I went back to bed for a much needed nap. And like a heel, I had to get in touch with Nancy and bow out of her bridal shower - I just don't have it in me to shower, drive 200 miles, and socialize with a lot of folks I don't know.

Mom and dad both stopped by for a bit and we watched the Kentucky Derby together, then Tim peaced out. Sometimes, there is nothing I love more than having the house to myself, to live out all of my hermit dreams. I will probably be in bed by 9.

Here's a shot of our ivy, post-trim. I know it looks barren, but mom and Ricardo assure me it'll grow back. Also, the rats will probably come back to roost at some point (Ricardo said they saw most of them over by the trash cans. Ick.)

Also, here a 46 second video of me talking to a cat (the videos are weirdly sized - if you click on them, it should take you to YouTube where you can watch them in normal vision.)


And here is the best video I've seen all year