Teething: the nightmare has begun

Superbaby has turned into Grumpy McGrumps the past couple of days.  Add to that an inability to fall asleep or stay asleep longer than an hour at a time, an insatiable urge to suck and bite everything she can grab, and an almost constant urge to nurse, and we have what is known as teething.

Today I found proof that teething is the culprit of all of this: a white line of teeth showing through the gums.  Granted, it's hard to see, especially since superbaby doesn't like it when I look.

Please let us get through this stage quickly.

Grumpy McGrumps needs to be a very short phase or I will completely lose my sanity. (Though, she seems to be happy playing and gurgling with daddy.)

Addiction

Addiction: a compulsive need for and use of a habit-forming substance

Some people have coffee, some people have pop, and some people have tea.  We have tea.  Seriously, we spend way too much money every time we hit up the tea shops.  Our cupboards are full of green, white, roobios, herbal, black, grey, you name it - we've got it.  (There's even some stashed in the freezer - we'll always have some!)

We start to get scared when we finish a bag or two, and take another trip tot he store to ensure our need is met.

Then we started looking online.*

Hello, Teavanna.

We usually have a chance to hold, smell, and then decide on the teas we want, so we have a more educated guess as to whether or not we will like the teas.  That luxury is not permitted when ordering online.  So, we decided to get the smallest amounts possible this time.  We can decide if we like it or not and get more next time.

An hour and a credit card bill later, and our order was complete!

Our teas arrived today - seven different flavors. (Yes, I know there are eight bags there. We did get two bags worth of one kind.)

So far, I've brewed only one.  A mix of roobios and herbal tea, I really like Citrus Lavender Sage/Opus Rouge Blend.  It's also a very pretty pink color once brewed.

Anyone have suggestions of good online stores to buy tea from?  Or great flavors from Teavanna?

*Another reason we're looking for tea online...tea bags have a huge mark up in the store.  Seriously, $8.80 for a bag of 60, when I can get the same pack for $3.45, or 100 bags for $5.25.

Gender results

Results are in!  Baby did cooperate for the ultrasound, which means the inside of the cake pops was not yellow or green.

(It also means that I went out shopping for clothes!  And found some really cute outfits, it was so hard to just choose one...well, technically, I got two, because there was a buy one get one half off sale.  I struggled not to buy another three outfits.)

Cake pops have been dispersed.  Well, most of them were.  The Russian ate a lot of them before they could be given away.  Every time I turned around, there would be another two (or 5) empty sticks creating a pile on the counter.

I've heard back from those who received cake pops in the mail, so it's now time for the moment of truth.  If you don't know, make your guess now before you scroll down...

It's a girl!

(And I found the cutest little blue outfit with monkeys - perfect - that I wanted to buy!  But it said "Auntie's Favorite," so  I couldn't buy it.  It also happens to be the only blue girls' outfit that I've seen!)

Cake pops and ultrasounds

Bright and early this morning was 18 week ultrasound day.  Dutifully, the Russian arose early to accompany me to the doctor's office.

Among the anatomy and measurements, pictures were taken.  Baby didn't want to be bothered by us, and had it's hands up by the ears.  (Maybe to tune us out?)  Baby also chose to face away from us for most of the scan...but here's the best face picture we could get.

See the elbows sticking out?

We also chose to find out the gender.  Baby cooperated in that regard, at least.  I know I could just tell you all, but I can't resist the urge to make cake pops.  (Or go shopping*.  Do you know how hard it is not to buy everything in the baby section?)

Using the cake pop maker I received from my fantastic sister for the wedding, sadly, no frosting was required.  (Sorry all of you who like the frosting/cake mix.)

Mmmm, tasty.  I'll post results in a few days for those who are too far away to get one.  If you want to know earlier, come grab one or three from me. :)

So what's your guess as to what we're having?  Think we're having a boy?  A girl?  For the very limited number of people who know the answer, don't give it away!

*The cutest outfit at Target is a little white bag-like coat-ish contraption** with a little brown bear and the words "snow cute."  Even the Russian told me it was adorable.  Anyone know what the little slits are for that go through the front and back?  It's like the perfect size to shove your hand in...but that seems a bit awkward...

**Unfortunately, it's gender neutral, so I didn't buy it, though now I'm tempted to go back...

Ever had a stomach massage?

Massage chairs.  Wonderful, luxurious massages.  I think I may have to get me one.  Arguably my favorite part of shopping at Bed Bath and Beyond is taking a break in the demo chairs.  Thankfully, I had a few minutes to spare while waiting for the Russian and settled into a chair.

About 30 seconds into my massage, I had the strange sensation of an echoing feeling in my stomach.  At first, I startle.  Then laugh.  Apparently baby likes the sensation and decided to extend it to my abdomen.  I'll take it (although it is really odd to feel pulses on both sides of my body).

The Russian returns and we try out all the demo chairs.  (Gotta know which one is the best in case one of the chairs is on a great sale or it's shortly deemed necessary.)

"Must be a girl," is the response from the Russian after hearing what happened.  Of course it is, if she likes massages.

Too bad we don't know yet.  Hopefully that's coming soon. (Very soon.)

Guys

Stick a group of guys in a room and this is what you get...

This is the scene I walked into last weekend, as one brother's family stopped by and another brother was around helping with the sprinkler system.

Like bugs to a bright light - games are irresistible.

Autumn

Image courtesy of Dan / Freedigitalphotos.net

You have to love the fall...

The scarves...

The shoes...

The cute jackets...

The soup...

The flowers...

The fog...

(Well, maybe it's just me who loves the fog.)

But I'm ready for it to get here already.  C'mon, crisp, cool weather.  I can't wait for the brisk mornings kissing my cheeks as I clutch a warm coffee in my hand.  Of course, the sun is always shining (after morning fog slowly burns off) in my oh-so-realistic imagination that paints my fall.  And, of course, I never get tired of hearty soups and potlucks in my head.

The Pillow Saga, pt. 3

Sleeping with the body pillows worked for a while, but slowly I began to notice the back pain creeping back into my body.  Maybe I just don't know how to sleep with the pillows appropriately.  I don't know.

Needless to say, I needed to come up with a new solution.  Even having two body pillows wasn't fixing the issue.  Yes, I could simply roll over and use the a pillow on each side.  (No more stuck under my pillow wake-ups.) But the backaches were persisting.

I did happen to read online about sleeping in a recliner.  Well, well, well, what an idea.

The Russian and I found a great local sale on furniture and figured worst case scenario was that I could rock the baby and sleep during late-night feedings.  That alone makes buying a recliner worth it, right?

So we bought a recliner that takes up approximately half of what will be the nursery.  I don't care - we'll figure something out.  At least the chair matches the soon-to-be thematic decor of the room.

Last night, after the 4th straight morning of back pain, I decided to bid the Russian farewell and take up residence in the recliner.  Let's just see how this works.  I snuggled into pillows and blankets the Russian was kind enough to bring to me.  It's kind of odd falling asleep not completely laying down, but after a few minutes, it doesn't seem to matter.

My night haven

My night was filled will strange dreams about a family painting contest and matching the artist to their work.  The garbage truck came at too early an hour, and barely registered in a hazy almost-awake state.  I heard the alarm go off in the other room, yet I could not force my eyes open.

Finally, I woke this morning with no back pain.  None.  Not a twinge.  Victory at last!  Hopefully, this will last throughout the rest of the pregnancy.

(I might not sleep with the Russian again for the next 6 months.  Granted, he's not too upset, as I'm not taking up 3/4 of the bed with myself and the pillows...and sleep is a very important necessity.)

The Pillow Saga, pt. 2

After learning that my backaches are indeed pregnancy related (seriously, already?), I decided a body pillow (or two) was exactly what I needed.

A trip to my parents' house cemented the need for a body pillow in my mind.  My brother oh-so-graciously allowed me to claim his unused pillow, but I forgot to pile it into the car for the trip home.

The solution: buy a gigantic pillow as we near the house.  Fantastic!  A pillow, a couple pillowcases...all for less than the cost of a 'maternity' pillow.

Falling asleep with my log isn't a problem.  Unfortunately, I only have one.

This leads to a new problem... waking up flat on my back with the pillow clenched in my arms above me.  I feel like a beetle stuck on its back with no way to flip over.

Apparently, what is happening is that I feel the urge to roll, but the weight of the blankets is too heavy for my sleep-laden appendages.  I guess I do need two pillows.

The Pillow Saga, pt. 1

It started two weeks ago.  I woke up with a backache and a pulling on my side.  At first, I think I just slept too long on one side.  But then it happens again the next night.

I have a sinking suspicion that this is pregnancy related.  But all I can think is: Are you kidding?  I'm 11 weeks along there, 11.  I can't imagine what it will be like when I'm 8 1/2 months along with a ginormous stomach to boot.

Needless to say, by the end of the week, I'm looking into maternity pillows.  Anything "maternity" seems to mean insanely expensive, so this option isn't too thrilling.

Imagine my luck when I take a trip to visit my parents and find out my brother has a body pillow...one he doesn't use.  As we're stealing his room from him while we're in town, I have the opportunity to use said pillow to my heart's content.

As sleep weighs heavy on my eyelids the first night, I crawl into bed.  Laying on my right, I snuggle into my body pillow as the Russian props an extra pillow against my back for support.  Perfect!  This should be a great night's sleep.  I don't even mind as I feel the Russian cuddling the pillow at my back.

I groggily wake up and wrestle my pillows around to face toward the Russian at some point.  (Of course, I can't spend the whole night on one side.)  A few hours later, I wake again and stumble down the hall to relieve myself.  Climbing back in bed, I realize something unfortunate - the Russian has a new best friend.  I go to grab my pillow, but it's cemented in his grasp.

Sleep slowly comes back to me, but I am devoid of my new comfort.  I wake again a few hours later, an ache slowly claiming my back.  That's it.  I grab the body pillow and pull with all my might.  The Russian finally lets go, sighs, and rolls over.

Victory at last!

(That's not to say that I didn't wake up with a backache again from spending half the night without the pillow...)

Pickled peppers, anyone?

Pepperoncini.  Golden Greek Peppers.  Pepper-ccini.  Tasty little peppers pickled in vinegar.  Yes please!

I remember having contests with my brother: who could eat more straight from the jar before someone puckered?  If I remember right, I probably lost most of those contests, but they were a ritual we enjoyed when they were placed upon the table.

Those times are long since gone.

But my affinity for the peppers has not waned.  No matter how many people stare in wonder when I eat my pickled peppers, no matter how many people pick them out of their salads, I forge on in my love affair.  Nowadays, I buy myself a jar and finish it in about a day.

(And no, it's not a pregnancy thing.)

How much is too much?

I consider myself a fruit lover.  From apples to strawberries, pineapple to passionfruit*, lychee to kumquats, I love it all.

But then I met the Russian.

We frequent the farmer's market each weekend while it runs to stock up on fruits and vegetables.  This is our typical Saturday haul: 2 heads lettuce, 1 bunch scallions, 1 onion, tomatoes, random mix of additional vegetables, occasional potatoes**, and fruit that is in season.

(Newsflash for those who don't pay attention: it's berry season.)

Lately the haul has morphed into boxes of fruit.  (Keep in mind that a box of fruit contains at least 6 cartons of berries, or is exploding with tree fruit.)  We have strawberries and raspberries - not mixed together, but rather a box of each.  There is a gallon sized bag of huckleberries (sorry, don't ask, he doesn't share), and a box of peaches.  We decided to pass on the cherries this time, being that we finally arrived at the farmer's market 10 minutes before it closed this past week.

Plans are still in the works for bananas and pineapple as well...for breakfast and smoothies, you know.

There's two of us.  How we're supposed to eat all this fruit before it goes bad, I'm not sure.  But we'll make a valiant effort.

*aka, the best food ever.

**A hearty potato-based diet, anyone? Don't fear, we always have some.  We typically end up buying huge bags from the store instead of the farmer's market.

Coupons

I've never been one to cut coupons.  It wasn't really a part of my upbringing, and frankly, it's a hassle that hasn't really appealed to me...although the price at the register each week doesn't appeal to me either.

Lately, I've watched some episodes of Extreme Couponing... you know the show, people go and buy $1,000 worth of groceries for $100.  They're a little crazy.  They clear shelves.  They get things for free.  They build up negative money to pay toward non-couponed items.

I have no wish to be an extreme couponer.  But not using coupons (ever) makes me feel guilty that I haven't used a coupon in 15 years.

I'll beat you with a stick

Last night the Russian and I were lounging around the living room, watching youtube on the tv.  (He's still trying to convince me that I want a dog.)

As we're laying in our various positions, terriers prancing around the screen, I notice a brown spot rushing across the ground.

"Uhm, honey, do you see that spider?"  The moment the words exit my mouth, the spot stops moving.  Brown on brown.  Of course the Russian doesn't see it at first.  But this arachnid makes one fatal flaw - he doesn't wait long enough and starts zooming across the floor again.  This time, instead of heading toward me on the loveseat, he changes directions and careens toward the Russian on the couch.

Now, I'm laying there with nothing but my sweats and a blanket.  The Russian is lounging around the couch with shorts, a t-shirt, and the remote.  There isn't exactly a weapon handy - no shoes, nothing heavy.

This bad boy is quickly encroaching on the Russian's territory.  With no other option, the Russian beats it dead with the remote control.  It took multiple swats and there might now be spider guts on our remote, but the man lived up to his purpose.

At least he didn't have to hit it with his bare hand.

Update: I wrote this a couple days ago.  Since then, the Russian and I were playing our respective PS3s  when I hear "do you see that big bug?"  Uhm, I'm watching my screen so I don't get shot, so no.  But, as we're both shoe-less and the only item he has at his disposal is the PS3 controller (which isn't exactly flat), the Russian had to beat it to death with his hand.

I don't think I could have done that.  But that's why he's the man (and I'm not).

Ode to ketchup

Those who know me know that I try not to eat high fructose corn syrup.  I buy into the thought that it's bad for me - worse than regular sugar.  I know, I know, there are ads out there that claim high fructose corn syrup is the same to your body as regular sugar.  But have you looked at who funded that research?  The National Corn Grower's Association.

Now, the first thing you learn in a research methods class is that it's not a good thing to have someone with a vested interest fund your research...results might be skewed.

I'm assuming they're skewed.  I've read enough evidence contrary to this claim.  But even if they're not, HFCS is not something I choose to put in my body.  I try to avoid a lot of processed sugar, too, preferring to use natural sugars instead.  (Though I can't claim I don't add sugar to my cake pops.)

Anyway, the other day I was searching for ketchup.  Mmmm, ketchup.  I like my ketchup with the hearty potato-based diet the Russian insists on.

So, I'm happily trucking along down the aisle of Fred Meyer in search of my yummy sauce when I arrived at a small red section of the store.  Aaaah, ketchup.  Heinz, you're a tasty friend.

Imagine my dismay when the Russian grabbed a bottle of my red goodness and perused the ingredients list.  "This has high fructose corn syrup."  In ketchup?  Are you kidding me?  I know it's in practically everything.  But ketchup?

One by one, we pull each type of ketchup from the shelf.  High Fructose Corn Syrup.  Over and over again.  Finally, we find an organic ketchup that does not contain HFCS.  That (small) bottle lasted all of a week.

Last weekend at Huckleberries, we found a much larger selection of organic ketchup.  Apparently, this is the only kind of ketchup that does not contain HFCS.

The news

Some of you may know; most of you don't.  Let me enlighten you about the newest development in our lives:

Berries!

Blackberries are coming....

So are blueberries....

Aren't they pretty?

Too bad the birds got to almost all of the raspberries.  (I managed to pick two before they were gone.)

The urge to sleep

I don't know what it is, but lately, I cannot resist the urge to sleep.  It doesn't matter how many hours have passed since my previous nap or night of sleep.  It's just always time for shut eye.

Right now, for example, I'm laying on the love seat with my laptop cradled on my legs.  My eyes are closing quicker and opening heavier with each blink.

Keep in mind that I've already had a two hour nap today in this very spot; the same time the Russian dropped his pants and fell onto the floor to sleep with the fan blowing on us.  (What is it with men and walking around without pants?)  He was so fast asleep that he didn't notice when my feet landed mere centimeters from his face as I woke up.

Last night, we enjoyed plenty of sleep, so no complaining there.  I mean, we might not have hit the hay early; it could have been around 2 in the morning when we fell into bed, but we did sleep for a whole eight hours.

International differences

You know how they say there's no place like home?

Well, in Puerto Rico, it may seem almost like home (read: American territory), but it's scarily similar to my secondary home, Latin America.*

On one hand, you have the quintessential Latin American housing, on the other, Puerto Rico is cleaner than most countries in the Caribbean/Latin America.  Flying into San Juan might at first glance appear to be like flying into any American city:  soaring skyscrapers, highways, and parking lots.  However, upon a sight longer glance, it's like flying into Latin America: below you is chaotic traffic, rusty metal roofs, and overgrown vegetation typically around fascinating graffiti.  The metal roofs are what mainly give it away from the air.

Buildings in Puerto Rico are either stately and tall, skyscrapers that you would expect to see in New York or Seattle, or they are squat and square with rusty metal roofs; plants and laundry blowing in the wind sit half-hidden on rooftop terraces.  It's an eclectic mix, although in the older parts of town (now historic sites), colonial spanish town homes dominate the streets.

After retrieving luggage and walking into the humid afternoon air, you could be in any large city around the globe.  However, zipping down the streets, it is fast apparent that you are not.  Street signs, although identical to U.S. signs, are written in Spanish.  (Spanish and English are both national languages in Puerto Rico, although Spanish dominates.)  Approximately 85% of the advertising and stores you pass will be written in Spanish.  But that's not what sets the city apart - it is the driving conditions.  Unless you are a seasoned California driver, and maybe even not then, driving is hectic and indecipherable.  In old San Juan, the streets are cobblestone with a row of parallel parked cars lining the left side of the street.  At this point, I have flashes to the colonial part of Quito, which is the same, although the cobblestone is typical beige, not blue as it is in San Juan.  What in the States is considered one lane would be made into two, or at least one lane and a row of cars.  I can literally reach my hand out the window and touch the car next to us.  Latin American driving at it's finest.**

While staring out the windows hoping like mad that you don't die in an accident, familiar and less familiar signs pop into view.  Pizza Hut.  Pueblo.  McDonalds.  St. Germain. Bar de Tapas.  Wendy's.  Ben & Jerry's.  The island is overrun with U.S. restaurants.  Traditional comida puertoriquena is available in street kiosks as well as restaurants and identifies more with Ecuadorian cuisine than American or Mexican.  Plus, don't expect great service in a restaurant - they seem to have accepted the Spanish tendency to linger over meals.

*I know, I just married a Russian.  I should get over this whole "Latin America" fixation...***

**The worst driving I have seen in my travels is in Mexico, where it appears there are no rules when it comes to the road.  Second place is Costa Rica, with Ecuador coming up third...almost  a tie with San Juan.

***(It's not going to happen.)

Nostalgia

My radio just started an old Backstreet Boys song. At first it hits me as goofy, but my laziness to flip through the song has me sitting here listening to how these five men will never break my heart.

But then it hits me: the last time I listened to this song, I was belting it out at the top of my lungs in the car. I was in high school.

I used to listen to the BSB with my best friend in the world. Unfortunately, life has pulled us apart, though we still talk. It's been ages since we sat around talking for hours let alone lived in the same city.

At that time, we were young girls who obsessed about boy bands. We were in denial we were growing up. Concepts like careers and our own children were foreign to our reality, although it never was far from our dreaming minds.

This song, no matter how cheesy, reminds me of fun times with my best friend. I've never been that close with any other person and miss her greatly.

(I guess we're just going to have to move to the same city.)