Surprise! It's a House

Um, yeah. I realize this actually was completely new information to anyone not in our immediate family (or rather, anyone that the immediate family didn't tell), but ok, here's how it all went down, which I'm sure is more than you ever wanted to know:

We'd discovered some time ago that 2 1/2 people and 2 beasts in just under 1300 square feet does not work well (nor does it a happy family make). Jon is constantly on MLS anyway looking for investment opportunities, so he would often scope out possible future homes (yet still investment-worthy, of course ;) in which to raise our "brood" of children, dogs, etc. We'd come upon several in the past 6 or so months that seemed like they'd work, and placed offers on 3 at different times, but things fell through with each. And Jon was starting to reevaluate what we might be able to afford with impending day and childcare expenses. 

Then it appeared. Well actually, it had been on the market for a while I guess, but Jon suddenly found it and on a random weekday asked me to take a look. We did the tour in less than 30 minutes, and despite the blue carpet and brass fixtures, we both had the feeling that it was "the one." Of all the homes we'd seen, it was the only floor plan I walked into and said "Yes. I could live here as it stands." They'd reduced the price considerably a month or so earlier, but if you know Jon, you know he's always looking to make the most out of our money, and the reduced list price was even quite a bit higher than we wanted to spend. Adding to my anxiety, the agent told us that another offer was on the table. But Jon kept me calm and assured me that a) sometimes they just tell you that, and b) sometimes even when people outbid you, the financing falls through, so even that wouldn't necessarily end it. We decided on a price we couldn't go above and offered 10% less than that. They countered as expected, and though they came down, it wasn't where we needed to be. Jon (and perhaps more reluctantly, I) decided that we'd go up to our magic number and tell them final offer, and if they didn't take it, it wasn't meant to be. I think it was Adam who explained it best: he said just think to yourself, would you rather not go above what you want to spend and maybe lose the house, or offer more and then wonder if you paid too much? I was so nervous I don't know if I slept the whole weekend we waited on the response.

Monday was the beginning of a series of events I can only describe as divine intervention. The offer was verbally accepted. We were still on a high from learning that there was a fully-forming, seemingly healthy little girl in my tummy, but of course I was a bundle of nerves at the fact that we had no written acceptance, no solid plan for our current home, and had yet to obtain financing. A week later, they returned the signed contract. Jon put a for-rent sign in our yard on Eagle. And though he'd planned to place an ad in the paper and on Craig's List as well, we got 6 calls that day. After a mad dash to tidy and de-dogify the house, we showed it to a nice lady who signed the lease contract by the end of that week. 

At this point, it still didn't sink in for me. Yes, my subconscious was aware that the closing was set for the end of the month (less than 2 weeks away at that point), but I was in the midst of planning Jenna's bachelorette celebration at the beach. And, being my neurotic self, was so uncertain about the qualification process, I just didn't believe things would happen along that timeline - if at all. We decided to wait until the house was ours before really telling everyone we were moving (mostly because of my nerves). When I returned from the beach on the 27th, however, our house was 2/3 of the way packed and stacks of boxes populated the living room. Jon had worked tirelessly all weekend and our closing was set for three days later. Somehow, everything fell into place and we (i.e. Jon) started moving boxes that day. 

So if it seemed abrupt and shocking, it kinda was. I still can't believe it's our real home!

Random Thought

{week 23: I swallowed a watermelon seed}

Babycenter compares the size of my baby to the weirdest things. 

I remember fig, kumquat, green plantain and this week it's "your baby is the size of an english hothouse cucumber." 

Seriously. What the? I don't even know what half these things are! Couldn't they figure out a more reasonable and common fruit or vegetable (or any normal item, for that matter) to compare my baby to? And that's very specific. Maybe I just don't cook enough?...

File Under: Peculiar and Unexpected

At 22 weeks, my little peanut has attended and survived her very first bachelorette party. So proud.

 

Though a large amount of planning and preparation was involved prior-to (and was seriously compromised by the presence of wildfires), the main event went down over the weekend in Myrtle Beach. We drove there with 5 people AND all their stuff packed into the Camry (also quite proud of that), and managed to make it in good time despite a slight smoke-induced detour.

I was determined that Jenna have an excellent and traditional bachelorette, so with the help of her friends - several failed sunscreen applications, one lingerie shower, a bucket of margaritas, 4 pizzas, 30 separate calls to limo companies, one questionable Bon Jovi-obsessed party van driver, and numerous lifesavers later - we were out at Broadway basking in the attention of our adorable matching black tanks and coordinating bachelorette party flair. 

Surprisingly, the item that garnered the most investigation by the opposite sex was our blow-up companion Elliott. But after an unfortunate cigarette-burn incident, we had to keep him under close observation and away from the boys. The other item that unexpectedly drew their focus? My covert (and fairly-well-hidden-by-empire-waist) baby bump.

Inevitably, the question of why I was drinking water or had "virgin" flair covering my person would arise, and I would respond by revealing my knocked-up status. I did have one dirty creepy offer to rear my child, but Jenna promptly put him in his place and gave him a warning smack, telling him "she's having my brother's baby get away." He was so scared of her by the end of the night he would run the other direction at the sight of us. Then there was the rest of the bachelor party, who stood for (seriously) a good 20 minutes as we waited outside the restrooms asking me questions about the baby and being pregnant as I thought to myself 'what the deuce? these are GUYS, right?..'

I mean besides the obvious abnormality of a pregnant woman hanging out in a club and stuff, I just didn't think they'd care. But THEN, when one of them asked me if I could feel her kicking and I responded in the affirmative, like four hands immediately went straight for the belly! I was shocked. I could not stop laughing at them long enough to be offended. Of course I had to say, "well she's not kicking now!"

I mean really? Grown men.

(Conversely, Loryn's husband Lee is fearful of even touching a pregnant woman. Apparently we are quite breakable. Or perhaps he's afraid that at some point I may be able to use this belly as a weapon against him. Hmm…  ;) 

The mini-cherry on top of the regular cherry on top of the sundae of awesomeness that is my life

{21 weeks "in the family way"}

I don't hate being pregnant. It's really not unpleasant (yet, right?). And I kinda understand Mother Angelina (Jolie)'s comments about it making you feel womanly. Not just because of the expanding ta-tas. Of course I am quite aware that I'm one of the lucky ones. No major nausea; no current heartburn (though it appears that my baby girl will have no hair due to this fact); and no extreme changes or mood swings that are making life nearly as difficult as I expected it to be with a baby in my tummy. Maybe that's why. I suppose I just expected that I'd be ballooning overnight and popping Prilosec like an addict. Apparently, assume the worst and wish for the best is the story of my life right now. And that's a really good thing.

[Get ready 'cause I'm gonna get all sappy and philosophical].
I just have to blurt that I feel so incredibly blessed at this point in my existence. To have the family and friends that I do, the job and support system I do, and this little miracle baking away in my belly is like - so much, you know? They say that sometimes dads actually speculate that their wives have been unfaithful even knowing that it's untrue because they just can't believe they are so lucky to have made this little being. It seems too perfect (BabyCenter told me this). And you know, I get that. I really do think about all the blessings in my life sometimes and get scared. There are so many things to be thankful for; how can I expect even more? We'd be here for hours if I got into my amazing family and friends. And I am so fortunate to have Jon and the love we share, I cannot imagine another soul for which I will feel the same amount of fondness and adoration. 

I guess I'm counting my blessings. Thank you God that, for whatever reason, you saw fit to bestow these gifts upon me. I know there's no way I deserve it.

Goooooooooal!

I've been trying to figure out for approximately a week now whether the little kicks and jabs I feel from the inside are discernible from the flipside. The problem is, they've been so few and far between that when I notice her moving and Jon sneaks a feel, she stops. But last night we were lying on the couch and I was determined to catch her in the act. I told Jon to just keep his hand there for a while and we settled in to watch the Real World/Road Rules Challenge.

Unfortunately, Jon is kind of ADD and was playing with Hanna simultaneously. So every time I'd be like 'did you feel that?' Jon wasn't able to tell if it was her or just the tugging motion from Hannabelle wrestling with the rope in his other hand (you'd think he could stop playing with the dog for 30 minutes to try and feel his child I mean come on..  jk  ;)  But she did finally make her presence known with a nice strong kick (or punch? or flip?) during a particularly rowdy party scene with some jammin background music. 

Either she dances on cue or she was headbanging. 
Whatever it was, I'm proud.

Baby Got Back

Ok, I realize this is probably totally unnecessary and TMI for some of you, but I'm just gonna put it out there. I cannot remember the last time in my life that I went up a lingerie size. And all of a sudden I'm forced to. At this point there are two glaringly-obvious exhibits of this. It's kind of hard to ignore the larger, waterballoon-like protuberances from my chestal region (which I am so not complaining about, especially knowing how temporary this enlargement will be), but one thing I wasn't prepared for is the widening of my normally and comfortably small-sized booty. I guess I just didn't put it together that - hey, your stomach is growing out, your hips are widening... this may cause your butt to upsize, too. Holy crap this pregnancy thing is weird. 

Second piece of unsolicited mom-advice: take those obscene photos when you have the chance (just kidding!!) ...

Viva La Leche!

{pregs week 17}

If it's even possible, the inundation of preggo-related emails has increased in recent days. Just watched a video about a leopard mothering a baby monkey and a dog nursing 5 kittens. Not so certain I have that "motherly instinct" at this point. Definitely not to that extent (please Lord let me possess some amount of natural mothering ability that I don't know about..). I mean that stuff rivals Selma Hayek pulling out an udder for a starving orphan child. I'm secretly glad I'll probably not be placed in that situation, because my reaction might not be as altruistic. At least not without coercion.

Speaking of.. I am not even sure where I stand on the whole nursing thing. It worries me. 

First of all, I hear it's kind of difficult. And now, I've just discovered that I myself did so until... 15 months. I feel this is unusual. I had teeth and could walk. I could ask/gesture for the milk. I just liked it, did not like formula, and had an aversion to bottles. But La Leche was at its peak in the early 80s, and at the time, it really wasn't so unusual. Apologies to my poor mom that I was too flipping picky even at that young an age to give up the b. milk in a more timely fashion.

I'm currently thinking that at the point where there's a possibility my child can bite me, I will attempt to stop. Though if this kind of thing is hereditary, it may be tougher than I think. I'm sure some people don't find it strange at all. And La Leche League would probably scold me for even considering weaning before the baby dictates. But in the immortal words of Heidi at our girls' night discussion of all things breastfeeding, "La Leche can suck it." 

P.S. addendum: On second thought, if the whole nursing till 15 months thing contributed to my current awesomeness, it could make my child equally as awesome..  I shall need to do extensive research on this before any final decisions are made..