This weekend the denial broke away a little further as Jeff and I began to research cribs. For the uninitiated, there are about 10 million choices for cribs out there. The price ranges from $99 to $2000. We had almost decided on a DaVinci (sounds Italian, but made in China) crib as recommended by some fellow mommies, but then Jeff got his copy of Baby Bargains in the mail and it gives the DaVinci cribs a C+ grade. I am thinking that with over 10,000 choices, can't we do a little better than a C+? I have never made a C in my life-- all the B's I ever got still sting to this day-- so why would I start now in my childraising days?
C+ ain't gonna happen.
So, we are back to the drawing board.
We also got our first present for Peppermint. At a one-year birthday party for a friend's daughter, we were the luckily recipients of a basket of goodies, including the softest, organic onsies you have ever felt. I am seriously going to order me and Jeff some organic jammies-- there is nothing softer and more comforting than good pj's. And if you saw the state of my body in my current pj's, you would post a picture on youtube and send it to all of your friends. It's wrong and it's borderline obscene. I am still having that experience of not feeling like I am any different, until I put on clothes and realize that there have been very significant seismic shifts in my body.
Twice this weekend I felt the baby kick from the outside when I had my hand on my stomach. It's incredible. Last night, I kept tossing and turning and putting my hand on my stomach so I could feel some more, but this kid ain't going to perform on command. I am proud of her. When I got up to go to the bathroom 5 times last night (don't I wish I was exaggerating), I told her in the bathroom that she is not required to kick to make mom feel better or to entertain mom. She should only ever kick when she damn well feels like it and at no other time. I told her I was proud of her for holding her own and not starting any codependent patterns in the womb whereby she takes care of me by meeting my needs. Guess those Melody Beattie tapes I put on my womb are really helping us both!
We also got some lovely hand-me-downs from a friend, including this strange yellow booster-seat looking chair that is meant to help Peppermint when she is learning to hold herself up. Jeff tried to sit in it, and that didn't go well, but it proved to be a sturdy little piece of furniture after withstanding his 170lbs weight.
And, we've made it to 22 weeks. It seems so far-- 11 weeks ago we heard the heartbeat again and I was really starting to lean into my morning sickness. Now, I have a fair amount of energy, but I sure do love sleeping. 12 hours or more is best. My appetite is much calmer now and I am hoping when I see the doctor next Wednesday, I have a pleasant exchange with her about my weight. As in, I hope to hear that I am right on track, as opposed to, "You really spiked this month, gaining almost 10 lbs." I read that Pepps can taste the amniotic fluid now and is practicting swallowing. Some moms report their babies having hiccups. I love eating delicious and healthy food thinking of little Pepps lapping it up. I am also really craving fruits and vegetables. Last night I really, really wanted to order the fish and chips, but I stayed true to my goal of providing Pepps with really good nutritious food and went for the polenta with veggies and later a mango.
I also treated Pepps to an evening with Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love. It was a fantastic night-- Gilbert told stories about writing-- and rewriting-- her new book about marriage and then answered questions from the audience. The best part about it was that Gilbert didn't preach or pretend to have any answers. She was pretty adamant that it is a spiritual exercise to say NO to people, even and especially when they may dislike you or be disappointed. I agree that is spiritual and also the hardest word in language for me to use. I hope to teach my daughter how to say no without shame and without fearing that she will die if someone experiences disappointment or, god forbid, doesn't like her.
But, then again, who is not going to love Ms. Pepps?
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