The Informavore

We’re a little over two weeks away from Elliott’s due date. The onesies have been washed. The hospital bags are packed and waiting by the front door. My hair has been fixed and photo-ready for the big day. Clearly, our priorities are in order. And, as many folks have asked, the nursery is ready and waiting (sans toys and books for now). Feel free to click through and get a glimpse of our robot themed room. One day we’ll look back and marvel at how clean it once was.

"Come here often?"

Hey Guy,

I know the whole group technically introduced ourselves in class today, so I’m kind of a jerk for not remembering yours. I think it was Bill, but I don’t know. I hope you won’t be offended if I call you Guy.

Not gonna lie – I was really relieved to not be the only singleton in the class today. I was a little surprised at first that the other person flying solo was male – but hey, no gender bias. Okay, a wee bit of gender bias – but you were polite and sober and took notes on the pamphlets so it was cool. You were a good table-mate.

See, I had been dreading it since Breastfeeding 101 when I saw that 95% of the people in attendance were couples. After deciding that it was best that my husband miss the child birthing class so he’d have fewer graduate classes when the baby arrived – I was not looking forward to flying solo in what I knew was going to be a four-hour “couples skate” at the “Nightmare Fuel Roller Rink”. I mean, dude, let’s be real. We knew watching a baby being born was going to be horrifying. But at least when you hose that sucker down – there’s something chubby and cute underneath the gore.

But delivering the placenta?! SERIOUSLY?! You know what you get when you hose that down? A one-legged jellyfish that just got initiated and is limping out of the human body. Gross, right? I know you agreed with me, because we both made those sounds of revulsion and we both seemed quietly apprehensive about what the next 4 hours would bring.

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Our anniversary is Monday July 26th. Corey’s birthday is August 2nd. Elliott could be appearing…well…any day for all we know. How could we commemorate such profound events? Two words: Micro Pig.

I say this in 99.999% jest, given that I was on the verge of putting our dog on Craigslist yesterday and sending her off to the first guy in a trenchcoat to respond. And I know there’s probably something a little genetically and ethically sketchy about trend breeding nature’s own breathing Bacon-Bit. But there’s a .001% part of me that will secretly think of names for my imaginary micro-pig.

Maybe I’ll name him Bacon-Bit.

Not really.

Though, if you had called my cell phone at around 11:24 this morning she probably would have been going home with you. At least until Corey got home and talked me out of it.

Allow me a bit of back-story, if you will.

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We had our 28 week appointment. At 24 weeks, the doctor said I was measuring a bit ‘big’ and they wanted to do an ultrasound to check the growth. I also had the glucose screen which meant cutting back on my traditionally sugar-dipped diet for 2.5 to make sure I wasn’t at risk for gestational diabetes. This, actually, has been one of my major concerns. Albeit temporary, gestational diabetes has been cursed by many a mother I know. So, I went into the lab thinking sugar-free thoughts on Friday. We wouldn’t find out the results of the screen until later that day – after the appointment.

After the ultrasound technician did her thing, we met with the doctor. After some pleasantries (I love my OBGYN, btw) I asked how his measurements looked. Her response?

“You’re gonna have a BIG baby.”

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My oh my…what a busy three months it has been. In the (okay, I’ll admit it) hiatus since the last post, we have welcomed back shows we fell in love with (hey you and you and girl, we can’t forget about you), found out that our Baby Gaga does in fact have a penis (and we’re okay with that), wrapped up the spring semester (with graduation brings the sweet release of summer) while simultaneously wrapping up the second trimester (oh hello….you).

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I love me some mash-ups and this one has been my anthem for the majority of the day. I especially love the ones that are tongue in cheek with the poems they choose to use.

Check out “Ke$ha Just Wants to Have Fun” from DJ Jay-R at C.H.A.O.S. Productions

Ke$ha Just Wants to Have Fun – C.H.A.O.S.

Ah…the untamed wild of our neighbors to the north. When our Canadian brethren aren’t busy dousing french fries with gravy, savoring ham-like bacon or enjoying universal health care, they sometimes engage in a leisurely game of hand-to-jaw combat with wildlife that preys on the family pet. While taking her puppy out, Marie Simon noticed the pup kept trying to run back into the house. She turns to see a coyote lunging for the dog. She grabs the coyote, tosses the puppy out of danger and PUNCHES THE COYOTE IN THE JAW. It runs away. The puppy is safe. The woman gets treated for minor scratches and a rabies vaccine.

Marie Simon, you are woman and I hear you roar.

I too, am the owner of a small dog that probably looks like a T.G.I.Friday’s Puppetizer to most large predators. Usually when I come home I’m greeted with bounding energy and a wellspring of affection. But not yesterday.

When I returned home to a lethargic dog that preferred to lay on the frozen ground than run around outside, I grew concerned. I called the vet’s office. Nothing says good times like, “Wait around for vomit or diarrhea, then call us.” Still, she’s lumbering around looking pathetic. Corey pointed out that perhaps the giant Busy Bone I gave her for her birthday the day before was a bad idea. I waited her out. We sat on the couch, mostly motionless until Corey returned from class at 9 p.m.

Naturally, the little monster ran like a toddler on a 5-hour energy drink binge to the door when Corey returned home, catapulting off the side of the couch and acting like nothing had been wrong. I gave her the side eye for making me sound crazy. She’s been all over Corey over the past few months. Go figure. I’d still punch a coyote for her. But when it comes to the rabbits that taunt her during the summer? She’s on her own.

In other canine related news, I ran across this poem by Jack McCarthy the other day and it made me melt. Read through to the end…and try not to drip on your computer. He’s wonderful. If you agree…go buy his stuff. Support the arts!

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It’s been a wonderfully whirlwind week for the Patterdices. We finally got to share the news of Baby Gaga with the rest of the world and our good friend Jenny, over at the Billman blog, got to interview a cast member from Glee. It’s as if in the middle of all this snow we’ve been swathed in sunshine. As I’m transitioning into the second trimester…I thought, “Wow. I may have had some nasty bouts of nausea, but I never threw up.”

Corey even asked on occasion. Inquired as to whether Mount St. Hormone had blasted forth at all during the first twelve weeks.

“Nope.” I replied. “Just nausea. Lots of heartburn, headaches, muscle pain, extreme fatigue and a chest that felt like a punching bag every morning. Other than that? Faaaaaan-tastic.”

But, o, was I fool.

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There are a lot of exciting things going on in Bowling Green these days. A massive snowpocalypse dumping virtually INCHES of show on the ground, a Gigi’s cupcake shop opening on Monday and a couple of new Redbox rentals being set up at the Krogers. It’s like New York City minus the cultural diversity, crime rate and bustling arts community. (Sorry, Capitol Theater – I don’t mean to undermine K-Ci and JoJo’s recent appearance) Boy howdy. Things have been outta control in this idyllic little college town.

And by outta control, I mean inna my belly. Yessiree – that extra little bit of lady padding I’ve been carrying around isn’t your standard, “Girl hit that turkey HARD over the holiday” weight. It’s more of that “Girl been swimming in baggy tees to cover up her baby bump” weight.  Which – there wasn’t much of a bump until about two weeks ago. But as of January 29th, I’ve passed the 12 week mark. This officially ushers me out of the first trimester “fear and loathing” period and into the second trimester “safer and more swelling” zone. Corey and I – we’re totally psyched. (Is that word still around?) Now we’re super freaking psyched to be able to share the news with everyone else.

So – a quick rundown of some thus-important dates:

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