Susan, Little Rascal, and the Puberty of my Pregnancy

Our appointment went really well yesterday. Our midwife group has a rotating, five-woman, gangbusting posse of midwives. They like their patients to see all five of them throughout their pregnancies, so that they're familiar with all of them.

Susan saw us yesterday, and she was funny and straight-shooting and set me at ease. I have historically passed out when getting blood drawn and also during, um, particular kinds of lady exams. It's an inconvenient quirk of my body. I sort of tell myself to get it together and stop freaking out and just relax, and then I groggily wake up approximately three minutes later with a mob of people hovering over me, pressing cold washclothes to my face. This has happened for a long time... even one time at a high school blood drive when I most lamentably wore a short brown skirt and ended up on the gym floor with legs not so modestly arranged. Not cool. The situation or high school me.

When I informed Susan of my quirk, she demanded of me, "Well, what are you going to do when you go into labor?" I don't know. I've thought about it, and I'm sorta hoping the blinding pain will keep me conscious. Um, we'll see? My best antidote so far has been Carter, who holds my hand and pats my head and reminds me breathe.

We heard the heartbeat very faintly, sort of whoosh whooshing, and fading in and out as that little rascal baby swam gleefully and elusively around my uterus. New nickname? Little Rascal? Does it make you think of this?

So no to Little Rascal.

I've been having some body issues lately. I know. I know. It's vain. Why am I even thinking about me? I should be thinking about tiny hands and developing spleens and skinny little leglets and ear buds. But, if I'm honest, I'm hating my protruding stomach. I really want to be one of those earthy, glowing mothers who feel beautiful and in touch with their bodies... but so far not so much. I don't really even feel pregnant. I forget about it. (Am I going to be the worst mother ever or what?) Carter is calling this period "the puberty of my pregnancy" because I'm in the awkward phase. I'm not my old self, but I'm not cute and pregnant yet either. I'll just say I ready to get this show on the road.

However, last night, I also saw veins on my hips and chest for the first time! Plus, my belly was sticking out so much it looked unmistakably pregnant (but it tends to inflate at night after my enormous dinners and deflate in the morning after I've done a little digesting, so it's gone back down a little). Nevertheless, it was kinda game changing for me to see these landmarks. Looking in the mirror, I even put my hands on my back for extra pregnancy effect drama. It was quite satisfying.

The Cutest Project Ever

Wildly creative mom, Adele, documents Mila's Daydreams (via Cup of Joe)

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Sweet peep-toe Mary Janes from Anthro




A simple ring by Fay Andrada via Inspired to Share



Wanna see the inside? Southern Living via House of Tourquoise

9500 Liberty

9500 Liberty is coming to the Angelika in Dallas tomorrow.

A Big Day for Me

Well, first, I have an appointment with my midwife this afternoon, and rumor has it that we'll get to hear the heartbeat for the first time. Both woo and hoo! (Is that a nice, generic picture of a mommy and midwife? I thought so.)




Second, and only slightly less important, Jersey Shore is back tonight. Slate said this:

Critics called them shallow, vain, depraved. They were all these things. But it was their miraculously intact humanity that most affected us; "I am the Kim Kardashian of Staten Island, baby," said Angelina Pivarnick, carrying trashbags as luggage, demonstrating self-esteem divorced from wealth; "I can never go out without my hair extensions," said Sammi "Sweetheart" Giancola, the show's great beauty, camera close on said hair-extensions, subverting the very artifice of glamour on which The Hills existed...

Beneath their tans and gel, the cast of Jersey Shore showed us how to be good to ourselves and one another. Mainly they fought for, not with each other; "We stood together as a family," reflected DJ Pauly D in the finale, invoking civilization's very core.

Um, hello, it's awesome.




Last, I'm planning on assembling the propane grill we received five years ago as a wedding gift and have never once used because it's still in the box in the garage. I'm typing this as a form of accountability. My goals are as follows: 1) fajitas, 2) a minimum of mosquito bites, and 3) not blowing up.

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Martha Stewart Flor carpet tiles in Faux Bois... nursery option?





I love City Sage's recurring "outfit to room" posts, and I think this one is such a perfect (and perfectly pretty and softly rustic) translation.



NPR is talking about The Hundred-Foot Journey by Richard Morais this morning, and I'm intrigued. Their catch phrase was "Slumdog Millionaire meets Chocolat," but from what they said it sounds, in the best way, like Ratatouille, too. If I could finally get through Flannery O'Connor, this would be the perfect August book I think.

Week 10

Week 10--Wee Woo is the size of a lime!

(I need to get my act together and take these pictures a little quicker--tomorrow I start Week 11! I have an appointment with my midwife tomorrow, too, and we're supposed to hear the heartbeat for the first time!)

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Charcuterie and soft cheeses and wine on the street in Paris with David Lebovitz...
even more mouth-watering because I can't have most of it. Giving up coffee and gin and tonics has been easy. It's the feta and chevre that are killing me.




Chevron striped frames from i suwanee




Too cute round yellow squash stuffed with prosciutto, shallot, sweet potato, Comte, among other things from La Tartine Gourmande

Without a Machine

image by Molly Watson


Did you know you could make ice cream with a bowl, a whisk, and a freezer? I didn't. Now I do. It's easy.

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1. Fuzzy's grilled shrimp tacos with friends last night




2. Switching to one of my mom's favorites for my morning beverage. I was drinking decaf coffee, and it just wasn't tasting so good to me anymore, so I made the jump to Lemon Zinger. It's a hit. Did you know the Celestial Seasoning factory is in Boulder, Colorado? I tried to take a tour one time, but we were too late, so I just bought some Sleepy Time lip balm from the gift shop instead. Long gone now, but at the time, also a hit.



3. My sister-in-law Monique is pregnant, too! And due about a month and a half before I am!

A) I can't wait for the two of us to waddle around together with big bellies during the holidays. B) I can't wait for two little Woo babies to crawl, walk, run, drive around together. :)

Awed

The recipes and accompanying pictures from The Jewels of New York are out of this world. Too pretty.

Spring Breakfast Tart


Pasta with Baby Beets, Mint, and Feta



Crab Souffle


Crown Roast

Let the Nursery Mania Begin!

From what I've heard that's a death-trap crib, but I like the room anyway.


Sling bookshelves and pom poms


Zebra rug and gray aqua nursery



$30 Criagslist dresser/changing table I'm salivating over and hoping no one snatches up


It's so pretty... especially the carpet.



Butterfly mobile by Pottery Barn Kids but I think could be easily replicated



Yellow and aqua nursery

Week 9

In Week 9, Wee Woo was the size of a prune. (Carter sampled a orange-essence prune and did NOT enjoy it. I smelled it and then declined. Anyone want a bag of prunes that smell like oranges?)

Um, Can This Go in the Nursery?

Z Gallerie mirror via i suwanee

Hey! Guess Who's Pregnant!

It's me! I'm the one! We've known for awhile, but I wanted to hold off internet announcing until I told Boss Man. I nervously told him yesterday, and it went really well. He said, "Welcome to the club!" ...which sorta sounds snarky written out, but was not at all. Anyway, he was excited. We'll see how it goes when we start talking maternity leave and post-baby work schedule...

Want to see some pictures?

Week 7--Wee Woo (Get it? Last name Wooten? I would say please don't steal my identity now that I've announced to the internet my first and last name, but it's been sitting up there in my "About Me" the whole time, so I guess my identity isn't that tempting.) Where were we? Wee Woo is the size of a raspberry.



Week 8--Wee Woo is the size of a green olive.



We haven't taken our Week 9 picture yet. Wee Woo is 1.5 inches, the size of a prune, but I didn't have any prunes laying around, so it'll require a special trip to the store. I have to hurry though because tomorrow we start Week 10.

I know I'm still early, still in the first trimester, and maybe I shouldn't be sharing so openly quite yet, but I'm excited, and I want to talk about it.

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This Walker Zanger backsplash tile from the House Beautiful Kitchen of the Year by Jeff Lewis of Flipping Out fame. I think that geometric texture is kool.


Profits from this poster from The Heads of State via Inspired to Share go to clean up the gulf. I chose this one in honor of our upcoming trip to Chi-town over Labor Day weekend. Woo and hoo. Both for our trip and for progress plugging the hole.



Another nook. This one from House of Turquoise. Carter doesn't like the word "nook." I'm thinking of starting a recurring weekly post on nooks. I can't get enough of them.

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Grilled mussels from The Dinner Files



Eric Piasecki reading/breakfast nook via Staci Edwards Design Blog



Certainly summer shot from the Sartorialist's Jazz Age Dance Party post



Raspberry Yogurt Popsicles from Orangette

Whoa.

Rage Against the Minivan had a really interesting post about Barbies and race and what Americans value and a podcast about what happened when FAO Schwartz ran out of white baby dolls and mothers had to choose between Asian, Latino, and African American baby dolls.

It reminds me a little of my gender studies class. I remember discussing and thinking about children's toys and the coded messages parents send with every purchase. Not just messages about primarily liking and befriending those who look exactly like you but also messages about what girls should be good at and what boys should good at. Debilitating messages and, okay, let's pretend like Bratz dolls don't even exist because they really just gross me out. And then depress me.


This is not to say that boys and girls are exactly the same or that parents should force them to play with toys they hate, but some choices in toys seem to limit kids more than helping them grow. I'm also not saying that every toy should be an educational toy, that they shouldn't just have fun sometimes, but it seems a little dangerous to be totally mindless of the early lessons kids learn from these kind of things. And what's so wrong with books and blocks and the backyard? But this is just an observer, commenting on something she hasn't experienced so take that for what it's worth, but it makes me sad.

Sunday Is for Sundaes

This Sunday is National Ice Cream Day. Celebrate with this slide show from Slate. (Photo by Richard Kalvar Rome 1981)

In the last week...

I snuggled with sleepy pup ladies,


stared down some crawling kids,


went "swimming" with long time friends,


and showed off my new birthday earrings and purse from Mo-Weeze. I like to wear my purse while driving. What?



I also balanced the checkbook, made banana bread, and ate some fried shrimp, but I don't have pictures of any of those. Too bad for you.