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I had a dream last night that Baby 2.0 had been born. (And no, she didn’t have a name in my dream either. I was hoping for a sign, but alas.) The main thing I remember about the dream was holding her on my shoulder, her tiny face on my neck, and patting her tiny padded diaper butt, and I woke up feeling like, “Oh, hell yes. I want that. NOW.”

I’ve mentioned before that I don’t have many happy memories of the newborn days with Catie; my brain seems to only remember the exhaustion and the tears. But then suddenly I’ll remember a tiny moment like this:

And I absolutely cannot wait to do it all over again. Which is particularly weird since I’m pretty sure I got puked on just a few minutes after that picture was taken.

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Semi-related: my sister had to be in Raleigh for a work meeting this morning, so she came over last night and spent the night with us. Catie was super-excited, as Tracy is pretty much one of her favorite people on the planet.

The night before, I told Catie about Tracy’s visit, and explained that yes, Tracy is coming, but it’s only for one night and then she has to leave in the morning and go back to Charlotte. I was hoping that if I warned Catie in advance that this would be a quick visit, that it would prevent any meltdowns.

Catie: But I’ll be sad when Tracy leaves.

Me: I know you will, Catie-Bug. But you know what? Tracy will be back again soon. When Baby Sister is born, and Mommy & Daddy go to the hospital, Tracy is going to come to our house to take care of you!

Catie: (looking worried) Forever?

Which, OMG. She’s been talking up the whole Baby Sister thing, I had no idea that there were underlying fears that once the new baby arrived, we wouldn’t be her Mommy & Daddy anymore.

We had a very long talk about how I will always be her Mommy, and how Daddy will always be her Daddy, and all this means is that now we’ll be the Mommy and Daddy of two little girls instead of just one. She buried her face in my neck and hugged me for a long time, so I think she got the message.

What’s funny is that I’ve been trying to lay off on talking about the new baby with Catie for the most part, and I usually wait for her to bring it up, because I don’t want to overwhelm her with baby-baby-baby all the time. But now I’m realizing that approach might not be the best, and maybe I do need to start talking with her more about what things will be like after the baby is here, and emphasizing how this is going to be a good change for our family.

I mean, we have the “I’m a Big Sister Now” book, and several of her friends have younger siblings, so I guess I took it for granted that she understood how the whole transition would work. But my guess is that four year-olds aren’t really capable of internalizing quite so well.

If any moms out there want to throw some advice for how to walk a four year-old through this process, feel free to throw it my way.

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Today at work, my cell phone rang and it was Dave. Not normally a big thing, right? Spouses call each other at the office. It happens. But the ensuing conversation was not at all what I expected.

Dave: So, a policeman is here at the house. They found your purse and your mom’s purse.

Me: WHAT?!?!!

Dave: Yeah. Uh, here, I’ll let him tell you.

So, the police officer gets on the phone, and explains that the best he can figure, whoever stole the purses tossed them down a storm drain, because a maintenance worker found them in a retention pond in the next subdivision over from ours. Which is where they’ve been for a month. He warned me that there wasn’t really anything salvageable there, but they did find my passport, which is how they knew the purses were ours. (My passport, btw, has already been canceled, so recovering it was not exactly a big “yay!” moment.) (And yes, it’s very stupid to have one’s passport in their purse. I had just had to do an I-9 form at work a couple of weeks before and I had forgotten to put it back in the drawer with all of our other important ID information.)

Want to know what purses look like after they spend a month in a stagnant retention pond?

This photo doesn’t even begin to do it justice. Seriously, y’all, I just… I cannot even begin to describe the smell to you. It may never leave my nose. It might be worse than the time our septic tank exploded back when we lived in the boonies. This smell is burned into my brain.

Dave had already deemed the purses as ruined and trashed them before I got home, but I don’t know, I just needed to see it for myself. So I pulled them out and took a picture. (As Dave pointed out when he found out I retrieved them from the trash, it was probably not very smart for me to be breathing in God-knows-what when I’m pregnant, which, yeah I guess he has a point.)

When I told my mom, she wanted me to save her purse so she could try to root through it the next time she’s up here. I called her back and told her that no way is that foul-smelling thing staying in my house. OMG. Nevermind that the purses are basically empty anyway. We found some nail clippers, a tube of Carmex lip balm, and my mom’s epi-pen (which was filled with nasty drainage pond water). I think that anything else the thieves didn’t take is probably still floating in that pond somewhere. The only reason my passport didn’t float away is because it was in a zippered side pocket.

So, I guess that’s the end of the story. Not exactly the satisfying, “Lock up those thugs and throw away the key!” form of justice that I’d been hoping for. Instead, it’s just two empty black purses covered in mildew and pond muck. Lovely.

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This past Saturday, we did something we haven’t done in a long time: went on a fun outing. I know, it’s pathetic, but I’ve been feeling so awful lately and I just haven’t been up for it.

The story is, there’s a church near our house that we drive past every day. They have an annual Spring Fling, and we saw them setting up the rides and whatnot last week. Catie saw it too, and was all, “Oooh, we go see that???” So I looked it up and found out that it was open to the public, and better yet, the entire event was free (apparently it’s the church’s way of giving back to the community), so I said that heck yeah, we’d go.

So, on Saturday, Dave, Catie, and I trooped off to the festival and met up with our former neighbor and her daughter (who is Catie’s age) while we were there.

The girls LOVED it.

Tip for getting genuine smiles from preschool-aged kids? Yell, “Everybody say, CHICKEN HEAD!!!” It cracked them up.

Oh, and the best part of the whole day? They had pony rides.

There’s probably nothing that Catie loves right now more than horses and unicorns, so the presence of actual, live ponies? Made her freaking year.

After that, Catie and her friend Morgan jumped themselves silly in the bounce houses, and when they hit the point of exhaustion that both of them were crying and throwing tantrums? We headed over to the free food area. After some hamburgers, hot dogs, and cotton candy, all was right with the world again.

So, yes, I probably over-did it, because I completely exhausted my pregnant self by being on my feet for over two hours, but it was totally worth it. We’ve been needing a Fun Day around here. We need to work on making them happen more often.

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Dave got home yesterday. I picked him up at the airport in the afternoon, and we headed over to daycare to surprise Catie. She knew he was coming home that day, but she thought that it was in the evening, and that I was going to pick her up from daycare and take her to the airport with me.

We pulled up at daycare, and Catie saw me and was happy, but then she saw Dave, and it was the biggest “DAAADDDDYYYY!!!” reaction you’ve ever seen. Like, a full-on running tackle hug.

And of course, I tried to get a video of it with my phone, but it didn’t work, so you’ll just have to take my word for it. It was awesome. She’s been pretty much glued to his side ever since.

So, yeah. We’re all home now. It’s really nice.

(No reason for this picture at all, it just makes me laugh.)

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I had back-to-back doctor’s appointments yesterday. First with my regular OB’s office, then with the special high-risk ultrasound center that I get to use because of that big ol’ Advanced Maternal Age flag on my chart.

So, first up: the obstetrician. Baby 2.0’s heartbeat is good, my weight is on track (I’m up 14 pounds at 30 weeks, no complaints there), and my stomach is measuring on target. That’s all the physical stuff.

The emotional stuff? I told my OB about all of my anxiety problems I’ve been having lately, and how it was really very sweet of them to call in xanax for me last week, and I do appreciate it (I probably enjoy the way that xanax makes me feel a little too much, considering that it’s highly addictive), but I also need to be realistic: I can’t take xanax all the time. I need to be able to drive, do my job, and take care of my kid. And I can’t do any of those things if I’m all loopy on sedatives. So I really need something that won’t turn me into a zombie, and that’ll help me keep my anxiety in check at the same time.

They gave me a prescription for Lexapro, and I took the first one last night. I feel horrible and groggy today, but that could be because I had to get up at 6 a.m. to drive my mom to the airport, and we stayed up late to watch “Dancing with the Stars.” So, I can’t blame it entirely on the meds, is what I’m saying. I’ll have to wait and see how I feel after a couple of weeks.

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After my OB visit, I went home to pick up my mom, and we went to the ultrasound center, so she could see her second grandbaby live and in person.

Baby 2.0 (who, yes, is definitely still a she) was not very agreeable about letting us get a good picture, and this was about the best one we could get. You can sort of see part of her profile and a little hand at the top. I think she was throwing an elbow to get that ultrasound wand off of her “house.”

She’s a little on the small side, measuring in the 30th percentile. But Catie was somewhere in the 10th percentile when she was born, and God knows she made up for it later, so I’m not worried. I’m honestly relieved to know that I likely won’t be giving birth to a ten-pounder. An average-sized healthy baby is ideal, as far as I’m concerned.

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My mom flew home this morning, and Catie and I are both sad about it. For the sake of logistics, I had to drop Catie off at daycare before taking my mom to the airport (the airport is about 4 miles from my office, daycare is 12 miles), so they had to say good-bye at daycare. We were afraid there would be tears, but my mom had “going-away toys” for Catie this morning. Tiny little things she got at Rite-Aid for a couple of bucks, nothing major, but enough to make it ok that Mimi was leaving. That plus a lot of kisses, and promises that Mimi would be back soon (well, in a couple of months, anyway), and Catie seemed ok when we left.

Of course, I’m fully expecting her to have a meltdown later. She’s also been crying a lot about missing Daddy lately, poor kid. The last couple of weeks have been rough on both of us.

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In related news: Dave will be back one week from today. I can’t wait.

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Dave left for England on Tuesday night, which means I’ve been doing the solo-parent thing for the past three days. So far, it’s going ok. Catie and I kind of have our weektime routine down: we get up, she goes to daycare and I go to work, we come home, have dinner, and do the whole bedtime routine. It’s been pretty easy to just coast on auto-pilot, honestly.

“I’m just taking it easy on her for now. Next week I unleash hell.”

A few things I’ve noticed, though:
1. I don’t sleep well when I’m the only adult in the house. Now, look, I didn’t meet Dave until I was 28 years old, so it’s not like I’d never lived alone before. But I was always in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. In our current house, I lie in bed and think things like, “Hmm, if someone broke in through the garage door, would I even hear it upstairs?” And I worry about things like what would I do if a fire broke out, things like that. Not exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep, obviously.

Oh, and related: I get very jumpy about unexplained noises in the middle of the night. Which is why I’m just about ready to throw Beaumont outside for good. Seriously, cat, it’s 2 a.m. Do you have to jump up on the kitchen counter and knock over a whole bunch of stuff now? (To be fair, he is totally thrown off by Dave’s absence. The past two nights, he’s been asleep in the hall when I got up in the morning. It’s like he’s trying to keep an eye on both Catie’s room and mine at the same time. “We lost one human, gotta keep a watch on the last two!”)

2. While the routine itself is pretty manageable, I forget how much Dave does in the evenings to help out. Because I’ve noticed that by the end of the day, my body just aches. I know it’s pregnancy-related (since it’s mostly my lower back and hips that hurt), but it’s like I hadn’t taken into account how little “sitting on my butt” time I would get while Dave was gone. I miss my sitting-down time. A lot.

3. I’m really lazy about meals when I’m the only one who eats “grown-up food.” Last night we had mac & cheese with a side of broccoli. Not exactly health food, but whatever, it was easy. (And I love that Catie will eat broccoli.) (Although we did have cupcakes for dessert. You can’t be good all the time.)

4. Trying to wash a four year-old’s hair in the bathtub when you’re 7 months pregnant. I have nothing else to add to that, except: good GOD. And, ouch.

This is not a shape that is meant leaning over the side of a bathtub.

5. As for housework: I give up. I’ve called in the housekeepers. I can’t do it all by myself, so I’m just going to throw some money at the problem and stop worrying about it.

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My brother is on his way here from Charlotte to hang out with us this weekend, and Catie and I are both really excited. My brother is a great guy and Catie adores him, so it should be fun to have him around. No big weekend plans, just hanging out and enjoying some nice springtime weather. Should be fun.

Hope y’all have a nice weekend too, wherever you are.

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Last night, I woke up sometime around 1 a.m., and our power was out. That struck me as weird, since we weren’t having any bad weather or anything like that.

Then I noticed strobe lights reflecting all over our bedroom. I wondered if I was still dreaming? Or maybe I was hallucinating? Is this a common pregnancy symptom that I somehow missed? Was I about to be abducted by aliens? WHAT was going on?

I got out of bed and stumbled over to the window. At first it looked like a police car’s blue lights were inside my neighbor’s house. That made no sense, so I rubbed my eyes and looked again, and realized that I was looking at a reflection in their windows. I looked to the right, to our nearest intersection (we live in the second house in our subdivision, so the intersection is close) and I saw police cars, fire trucks, and rescue vehicles all over the street.

Of course, because pregnant ladies are known for being completely sane and rational, my first thought was, “hey, what if it’s that urban myth about the axe murderer who knocks out the power to the whole street before he goes on a killing spree? And maybe the cops are here to catch him? Should I go downstairs and make sure that all of our doors are locked? Or wake up Dave and send him outside to investigate?”

Then I decided that was the Unisom talking and I needed to go back to bed.

I woke up again around 3-something, because that’s the hour Baby 2.0 has designated as her In Utero Dance Party (seriously, EVERY. NIGHT.), and our power was back on, but the cop cars were still outside. Weird.

I asked Dave this morning if he had noticed all that, and he said that he heard a loud bang and assumed that a transformer blew. He didn’t notice anything with the police cars and lights because he was asleep.

I checked the news this morning and found out that apparently some drunk idiot hit a utility pole. Based on the pictures of that truck, I can’t believe that his injuries were “non-life threatening.” Crazy.

And I have to say, it is really weird to see your street on the map of a local news story.

But hey, at least I’m not hallucinating, so there’s that.

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