Netflix

Oh Netflix, how do you manage to keep blowing so many opportunities?

There was a button for a free Bonus disc on our page this week. We've been burning through the discs, so figured, sure, we'll tap that in a day or two. Then it disappeared. It didn't say that there was a time limit on the button. It just said to click it and it would send the next disc in queue. But when I went to do it, it was gone. So you like teasing your customers?

Then I thought, hey, I'm bored and we've cleaned out the Tivo (for once in forever), so maybe this is the time to add Netflix streaming back to my account. Then Erik found out I'd never actually seen Die Hard. I thought, "Well, if it's on Netflix streaming, then I can watch that while he's at work one of these days. I'll check." Turns out, it will tell me whether or not they have it on disc, but there's no magic button that says, "Watch it now - Add streaming to your account!" Seemed like rather a missed opportunity. I mentioned this to Erik and he said, "Well maybe if you sign out you can see if it's available or not." Turns out, nope, they only tell you a few select things and won't let you see what's available on disc vs. on demand without an account.

So I decided to go ahead and call Netflix. This was destined to be one of those awkward conversations. So were you teasing me with that bonus disc thing? Yeah, um, sorry, it was a limited time offer. Did you see the email a month ago? No, I saw the button on my queue. Yeah. So, about what's available on demand, how do I tell? Oh, I can call and ask? Really? Or I can sign up and take my chances. Um... yeah. I stopped short of asking the real question - so do you actually have a marketing department? How are they this incompetent? Because really, it's been since last July that y'all have been doing an epic job of blowing a lot of consumer good will. First you reduced what was available on streaming, then announced a big price increase a few weeks later. Then the spin-off. Then the not spin-off. I just heard that your stock was doing much better today after you announced that you've stopped bleeding customers and started adding them again. Seriously, you've got this market sewn up, and yet... I mean, you watched Blockbuster and Hollywood Video piss it all away. Don't be like them!

38 Weeks and Counting

Let me just back up a smidge here. As usual, Dickens + work = total exhaustion by the end of the run. This year was nothing different, but add a growing pregnancy, and the amount of functionality left over at the end of any given day is something in the negative range. To be fair, my office desk chair was my personal torture device. An hour and a half sitting there could swell up my feet and legs and put my hips  in enough pain that I was done for the day, but I have to do it for 8+ hours a day, four days a week during the run. That was a bad way to go to begin with. Days at Dickens were oddly comparatively easy. I'd be up and moving about frequently, sitting briefly, and wearing my boots that helped keep my feet closer to normal sized.

Additionally, every year a certain amount of things are planned to be accomplished each month, and it seems like every year, the list of things planned for December doesn't well take into account that the university is closed for 2 weeks of that month. This means that getting everything done before winter closure requires heroic efforts at the best of times. I was also trying to get my partner Jo-Ann (and the half-dozen project managers who she'll be working with) ready for my leave. About 10 days before close, they decided they could get the carpets in our offices replaced over the holiday, but that to do so, we'd have to pack up everything in our drawers or on our desks and store them in an empty office. This was pretty much the straw that broke the camel's back for me. I could ~almost~ get it all done with only a few late nights, except that I needed to save most of a business day to pack my office while 35 weeks pregnant.

Now my manager had been experiencing some stress, and she was concerned that I wasn't getting my partner and the PMs sufficiently ready for my leave. About 2 weeks before close when she kind of freaked out, I asked for specific suggestions on what else I could do to make her more comfortable and Jo-Ann more ready. (Meanwhile, I confirmed with Jo-Ann that she felt like she was pretty ready.) I got two action items, which I handled over the next week. Then we met again about four days before close. She spent 90 minutes of our 30 minute meeting telling me that 1. I'd done a rotten job of prepping Jo-Ann,  2. I wasn't behaving like a lead, and 3. it was too late and there was nothing that could be done to fix it now. Also, performance evaluations were due the week before I was planning to return, so that was another issue that she'd just deal with. Now, at the best of times, this would've been a very stressful conversations. At 35 weeks pregnant and exhausted from Dickens season, this led to me going out behind the building afterwards to call my husband and cry. A lot. This was not my best day ever. Once I'd pulled it together, I went back in and finished the items on my to-do list, then ran an hour late to my breast-feeding class, and spent most of the rest of that class quietly trying to stop crying again. If there was one thing I thought I was good at right now, it was my job. I've been doing it for 10 years and this I have down. Breast-feeding I may totally blunder through. How the hell do I work a breast pump? How do I handle all the bags and bottles and whatnot? How do I do this at work and keep up with my job? And seriously, how do I get a human from the inside to the outside of my body through a 10 cm hole that didn't exist a few hours earlier?!

So that was the low point. Dinner consisted of several ounces of New York Super Fudge Chunk.

But, I survived the week and managed to avoid another conversation with my manager. I finished the Zimbra 7 videos I was working on and got them signed off. On Friday I packed my office. On Friday night, I felt really really bad. Every time I stood up, I had a contraction. I tried drinking water. Still happened. I tried eating dinner. Still happened. I tried lying down. Still happened. I tried showering. Still happened. Eventually, by 9 p.m. I gave up and went to bed. My body said it was done and I let it be right.

Then there was the last weekend of Dickens. It went swimmingly well. It also meant Gaskell, which now that we're committee members we can't just skip. I sent Erik and Jessica to teach the class, and ducked out after my second lead shift to check us into the hotel. This led to a moment of "maybe I'll just take a little nap..." and 2 hours later I headed back to Dickens to finish the day much refreshed. Then I worked the door at Gaskell with my feet up most of the time and let people drop by and chat with me. It was actually lovely. We headed back to the hotel at the end of the night, and got a decent night's sleep before trekking the 3 miles into the last day of fair. We had a lovely and insanely crowded final day and I got one final turn with my King of Kings/Lord of Lords card, and many many complements from friends who were resetting their standards of what could be done at 8 months pregnant.

And then it was break. Winter closure at Stanford is terribly civilized. Yes, there was a frantic hunt for Christmas presents. Yes, there was a trip to Sacramento for the usual family Christmas events. There was also lots of sleeping in and one day where I never left the house and never changed out of my slippers. This is a truly magical thing. I would never plan a vacation like this, but having it happen on an enforced basis is really good for me. We went to the movies. We went out with friends. We went to parties. We played video games. We prepped baby things. We lounged in bed and read. We played Ticket to Ride on the iPhone. We had a truly lovely time. And for the first time in months, my hips felt really pretty good. During the second week, I went to my 36 week prenatal appointment and got my disability paperwork from the doc. Prior to break, prior to bad scenes with my manager, it seemed a little silly to take weeks off BEFORE the baby arrived, but who was I to argue? Now, at 36 weeks, having unwound for a week, I knew it really was the exact right thing. My office chair was a torture device and I needed to get away from it if the little alien was going to make it to term. So, I went back for 3 whole days and left with three weeks until my due date.

On that Friday, I thought, "So wow, I'm legally disabled. I don't feel different from yesterday. Ha ha." Now, I should know better than to call out the karma fairy. On Saturday we had an awesome baby shower. I feel incredibly loved by my friends. On Sunday, we went through the stuff from the shower and some hand-me-downs and lets just say that our little girl will never go naked. She has so many clothes. (She does however need some more diapers ASAP. Amazon Prime to the rescue!) She also has adorable toys, books, and decor. Where we're going to keep it all is another issue. Ah well. Life goes on and everyone figures this out.

On Sunday night, I felt a bit... off. By 2 a.m., I needed to throw up. By 4 a.m. that task had been thoroughly accomplished. Back in bed, I warned Erik that our plans for the day were likely off. He headed off to the first day of class. I headed back to the toilet to bond some more. We were becoming very close. Food poisoning seemed the likely culprit. A call to Kaiser suggested that as long as I was able to keep some fluids coming and not running a fever, that I could just ride this out. At around 1, I made a mad dash for the bathroom and didn't make it. Erik got home just in time to clean that up for me as I crawled back to bed. Unfortunately, I wasn't done and by evening I was dehydrated and feverish. Another call to Kaiser got me sent to Labor and Delivery. We arrived a little before 10 and they promptly started an IV and gave me some Tylenol and anti-nausea meds. 1 liter of saline later and I went from a 130 heartrate to a much more normal rate. The wee miss experienced a similar drop. They sent us home around 3 in a much improved condition. We'd previously wished for a tour of Kaiser L&D, and now we'd had it. Careful what you wish for eh?

Tuesday was also spent in bed. Wednesday was almost functional. By Thursday, I was feeling mostly okay and tried catching up on stuff around the house. There had been a plan for things to accomplish this week. My plan was smashed to tiny pieces. Still, I could accomplish the maternity photo shoot with Rachel, put off from the originally planned Monday time. But in this process of being sick and being a poor host, the space alien had dropped into a lower orbit and now pretty much nothing fits. A fashion crisis ensued, but really, I should just have faith in Rachel. She can work wonders with her camera and I'm so grateful to have her to capture us and make us all look amazing and gorgeous. I finally pulled it together and headed over and she made beautiful magic.

See:

The set is found here.

So here we are, less than 2 weeks til the due date, and still trying to convince the wee miss day by day that she wants to stay put for as long as possible. We'll see how that goes. Each day we tell her she can't come today because of some important thing - Christyn's graduation/birthday party, we need to wash the car seat cover, friends visiting on Monday, theater tickets on Tuesday... there's a list. And so far, she's cheerfully obliged. We're still hoping to make it to 1/23/12 for totally silly reasons. (Plus, she could be a zwiefacher. Plus it's the first day of the Dragon Chinese year.)

31 Weeks - The Kickoff to Dickens

So let's just say that going in, I knew the Dickens thing would be ambitious. However, after 1 day, I'm feeling great! I danced. I called. I led sets. By late afternoon, I was thinking, "Geez, maybe we *could* do this next year with the right set up."

Yeah, yeah, crazy talk. I'll get over it.

But really, feeling great! And now luxuriating in our hotel room. This year, the fair arranged for an awesome participant discount on rooms at the Radisson just 3 miles from the Cow Palace. It was nice to be fed by 9, showered, by 9:30, and lounging in bed watching Once Upon a Time on Tivo To Go for an hour.

It may not go this well the rest of the weekend. It may not go this well in future weeks. But right now, I'm getting merrily kicked by a happy little girl while lounging in a King sized bed and my alarm isn't set to go off til 8:30 tomorrow. Usually, we wake at 7 to get to fair on time. This is going to be so awesome.

So yeah, I look ridiculous. At 5 foot 1 inch, 31 weeks pregnant is Very Obviously Pregnant. But favorite dance partners have waltzed and mazurka'd with me and the biggest difference is that my boots are hard to get on in the morning even though I'm not wearing a corset. Erik is helpful with that. On the plus side, the boots seem to help keep my feet from swelling so badly.

I noticed a wallflower this afternoon standing behind the chairs who promptly professed two left feet, and I said, "Ah, well we do specialize in fixing that here." And he gave me permission to try. We waltzed and then I handed him off to Miss Bodeswell for the Duke of Kent and then caught sight of him dancing again nearly an hour later. Super-Fezzi Powers = still got 'em.

Another Weekend Headed Towards the Future

Do you ever have those moments where you realize you've agreed to do something kind of crazy? For me, it was as I was sitting at home Saturday morning, missing my husband (who was off rocking his presentation at the American Chemical Society conference in Pasadena), with my feet up, trying to drain my swollen ankles. I'd agreed to teach Cathleen's Dance 3 class from 1:30-2:30 at Dickens workshops and I was planning to teach Bohemian National Polka. This was all well and good, save that, 1. my ankles and feet were harboring the 3 1/2 pounds I'd gained in one day, 2. I'd never taught BNP before, 3. Richard usually teaches it in 2 hours and I only have 1, and 4. Oh for Pete's sake, I'm 7 1/2 months pregnant and I'm about to teach others to do pivots with someone who is over a foot taller than me. Can this even work???

But, I got there, I taught the class, I handed out Richard's notes, I got many compliments from the students, and an inquiry from one as to whether or not I'd be teaching anything else during workshops because he liked my teaching style. Aw shucks!

During Fezzi rehearsal, we blasted through a whole pile of set dances, now having danced everything at least once during workshops. Then I grabbed dinner with John and Rebecca and Alex, Sherman, Cordelia, and Chris for Becky's birthday. We tried the Mexican place near where Nona's used to be, and all wished we were at Nona's.

On the way back from Pacifica, I jaunted through Home Depot to pick up paint for the next day's adventure: painting the baby's room.  Earlier in the week, I'd planned to go buy the blended paint+primer that came highly recommended from friends, but they recommended the Home Depot variety. I had a Lowe's color picked out. So a trip through both, and I found a Home Depot color that was the tiniest bit different, and suddenly I wanted to paint a test wall again. I laughed at myself and reflected on the Radiolab episode on Choice and brought home my samples and splashed them up on the wall Saturday morning. Now confident in my selection, I headed back to Home Depot and grabbed 2 gallons of "Brilliant Sea" in Behr Premium Plus Ultra Paint + Primer, plus a gallon of white for the ceiling. Then I proceeded to San Jose airport to reclaim my husband.

The next morning, Athena came over and put her years of interior paint experience to work. She's a master, having put herself through school with painting interiors. First she caulked a seam between the ceiling and walls. Then Erik rolled paint on while she cut in the edges. After the first coat on everything (including the ceiling), we broke for a lunch of burritos from El Sabroso. Then we finished up the second coat around 5.

 

It came out just gorgeous! And it matches the baby's linens perfectly.

We sent Athena on her way with many many thanks and then collapsed on the sofa. I ordered a baby crib and a dresser/changing table. They should arrive this week and we'll assemble over the next few weeks. Luckily, the 2 p.m. burrito lasted us so we skipped dinner. After getting through various emails and other electronic chores, we enjoyed an episode of Supernatural, and then I was hoping for a little dab of ice cream, but we were out of New York Super Fudge Chunk. Erik volunteered to run to the store. I realized though that I also needed gas in my car, so I started thinking about going myself, but then he said he could just take my car and do that too. I looked down at the sleeping Leeloo in my arms and handed him my credit card for gas. 

So there I was, reveling in just how good I have it, with a sleeping kitty in my arms, Pepper curled up at my side, a husband out running my errands, and a baby kicking me from the inside, with a freshly painted baby's room among the accomplishments for the weekend. Yep. It doesn't get much better than this.

One Perfect Day

Today was a perfect day. I may never have one like it again, but when I think of how I run my life and what I'm good at achieving, today exemplified the best I can achieve and why I enjoy living this way. 

First, I crammed three major tasks/events into one day. I got my 150,000 mile service for my car. I did the first day of Dickens workshops and Fezziwig's rehearsals and got my gate pass for Dickens. My husband and I went to see a fabulous Cirque du Soleil show. 

To make this all happen, a lot of planning had to happen over a very long period of time, with a lot of fine tuning along the way.

First, there was Cirque du Soleil. Back when pre-sale tickets were first announced, I logged in and found some second tier tickets in one of my favorite locations. A quick IM exchange with the husband and these were purchased something like six months ago. 

Then there was Dickens workshops. We arranged to have Hilary come do VicSpeak at Fezzi rehearsal in October, suddenly making it totally possible to finish the required workshops on day one. 

So, with those cogs in place, the grand plan for the weekend started gelling over the last two weeks. I worked with Arielle on updating and printing Fezzibooks for newbies (thank you so much Arielle!!!). We had plenty of copies ready to hand out today, even though we basically started pulling it together three days ago. 

I got an appointment yesterday for my car service. It was at 149,500 miles, but needed some love. The window wash fluid was out. The tires gave a low pressure warning yesterday in the cold morning. I spent a few minutes here and there yesterday figuring out how we could drop it at City Toyota and get to and from workshops. They no longer automatically gave a free rental car with the 30,000 mile service, so this meant getting rides, taking two cars, or using their shuttle. We finally settled on shuttle, plus figured we'd get back via Elizabeth on the other end. When we dropped it off this morning, we realized the timing was tricky. The car had to be picked up by 5:45, and Fezzi rehearsal officially ended at 5:45. So we arranged for them to pick me up at their latest shuttle time - 4:45. We walked into workshops on time for the morning meeting after getting dropped off by City Toyota. 

We got our forms, and I got signed off for Fezzi costume approval first thing, then went to the really rather good Streets of London workshop, then did general costume approval at the top of the lunch hour, then had a leisurely lunch, including hugs and visits with old friends, and yummy chicken, veggies, and bread from Jessica's mom (many thanks! Hot food always makes my day!). By 1 p.m., after many compliments on my hand-me-down maternity costume (Thank you SO MUCH Michelle Marovich!!!) I was back in my civies,  then skittered off to Character Lab, and finally grabbed the final signatures from Dave, and had my gate pass and parking pass in hand by 2:45 in time for the start of Fezziwig's rehearsal. 

Fezziwig rehearsal included the usual full download hour, naming some newbies (Mr. Coriander, Mrs. Steep, and Mr. Jamison all distilled out of the usual line of questions), and then we did the name game. If you've not done it, you stand in a circle and each person gives the names of everyone who gave names before them, then add your own. I am notably good at this. Mr. Fezziwig marched over and started the circle just to one side of me. Now I'm thinking, "Aren't I supposed to get a pass on this for pregnancy brain?" But then I thought, "No, I've got this. I can totally do this." About half way through the circle, I realized I was sharp as ever at this and the only problem were the names of folks I didn't hear on the first announcement, so I had to wait to learn those from someone who spoke up loud enough. The circle was about 60 folks. Near the end, Curtis joked to Erik that he should call "Christmas!" before I got my chance. Erik said that he could not endorse this and it might lead to death. Initially I thought, "Eek, that's trickier," but a random sampling around the circle and I realized it would be no problem. Curtis texted me to check on his evil plan, and I told him that so long as he told me one name I'd missed, he was welcome to give it a go. WIth the circle reshuffled, I confidently made my way around, getting everyone's name without a hitch, even when faces (like Dr. Kettle!!!) showed up multiple times. Woohoo! Take that! My brain is still sharp as can be, at least for some tasks. 

Just as Fezzi rehearsal wrapped up, I got a call from a somewhat lost City Toyota shuttle driver. It wasn't the same chap who'd dropped us off, so he didn't know where to find us. We packed up and went to meet him outside. By 6 p.m., my car was serviced, washed, had new wiper blades, new brake fluid, a new belt, and new batteries in both key fobs, and we were on our way to see Totem at AT&T Park. This gave us 2 hours til showtime, which  gave us plenty of time to figure out alternative parking. I'd received an email from Cirque saying that due to another event, parking rates would be $30 per car. So, we circled in on the location, then widened back out to Brannan, parking nearly in front of Tech Soup, and started walking in to the Grand Chapiteau. It was raining, and the detail I'd forgotten was an umbrella. Scarves thrown over our heads served us well and we walked a few blocks and had supper at Amici's. The Cal game at the park had been rained out, so the place was packed, but we quickly found a tasty pizza to split and were on our way in the much less rainy weather for the final blocks to the Grand Chapiteau. 

We arrived, picked up the complimentary souvenir program and CD that came with my tickets for purchasing pre-sale with an AMEX card, then signed up for a cool contest where the prize is a private party where Cirque comes to you for you and 25 friends. Then we posed for a photo and finally headed in. Then I remembered which seats I'd bought so long ago. After years of seeing Cirque du Soleil, my favorite seats in the house are on Row H. You see everything, you have the  section break to give you plenty of leg room, and we were on not only the row H, but also seats 1 and 2 by the #3 door where at least 3 performers entered the show. I said, "Oh, right. These are my favorite seats." I explained to Erik and he just said, "Have I mentioned how much this planning thing you do is awesome? And that it makes me love you even more? Because yeah." 

Totem is the best Cirque du Soleil show I've seen in years. There were amazing acts the likes of which I've never seen. There was an amazing set with mind boggling lighting and effects, gorgeous music, and perfect costumes. I can't tell you if the best act was the Mad Scientist juggler, the bowl-flipping girls on tall unicycles, or the ultra sexy roller skate dance. And that's just he top three. But the set really was a star as well with images of the performers swimming along and the real performers popping out of the images or the hydraulic bridge/boat/scorpion spine thing that glided out to become whatever it needed to be or the stealth trampoline run in the floor. Just awesome. And a really full length show - 2 1/2 hours as opposed to some of the Vegas shows clocking in at just barely an hour.

The rain had stopped and we walked back to the car and found it happy and safe and waiting for us. I drove home, laughing at Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, as Erik napped. We got home and I played feather with Leeloo at bit til she crawled up in my arms to snuggle as I typed this. So yeah, I can't imagine a more perfect, more perfectly me day. 

I needed this day so much. For at least the past week I've felt like I've been moving more slowly, unable to keep things running at the pace I usually set, letting things slide through the cracks, missing the little tuning adjustments that need to happen to make my day run smoothly, and feeling a bit defeated by my unwieldy body, and tired, so very tired. It's been frustrating at work. It's been frustrating in the evenings. And I'd just about given in to this being the new normal when I could least afford it. I honestly had some serious doubts about making it through Dickens season successfully without having to hit the eject button on something, but I couldn't begin to pick what would be the thing left behind, because I can't take more time off work and I can't stop being pregnant, and that leaves Dickens, but dammit, it's the one thing I do for my happiness every year and I know already I'm taking next year off. So would it be the thing that I gave up now too? 

But you know what? I can do this. I can hold my brain together, and true to form, I perform at my peak when I have to. A little extra pressure makes everything fall together like a perfectly baked cake. And tonight, the icing on the cake is the extra hour of sleep as I set the clock back before climbing into bed. I think I earned my bonus hour today. 

Friends - A Request

At 25 weeks down, I'm starting to contemplate the details. When Wendy and Jeff welcomed their Littlebit into the world, they asked that anyone planning to see the baby please be up-to-date on their TDAP and flu shots. It seemed a tad paranoid, but reading about this stuff, there were over 9000 cases of whooping cough last year in California. What's worse, 10 infants died. They don't get their first pertussis vaccine until they're 8 weeks old, so for the first 3 months of their life, they're not only using their lungs for the first time ever, they also have no defense against such a severe disease. So, I'm asking for the same thing they did - if it's been more than five years since you got a TDAP, please go get a booster if you want to see the space alien in her first 3 months of life. There's a lot of time and effort and stress and strain that goes into creating a little baby. Being a tad paranoid for her first 3 months is fine by me. Heck, it's taken over 6 months to build her so far. I'd like to keep her at least that long, and really, a whole lot longer. A WHOLE LOT longer. If you're an anti-vaxer, you're just not welcome to be near her for at least 90 days. That may sound extreme, but if you disagree, you're welcome to have your own baby and do things differently.

So, for anyone planning to come help us welcome our baby into the world, I'm hoping that 3 months is enough notice. You need to be vaccinated about 30 days before she arrives for your immunity to be in place, say, by Christmas. Getting the jab for me is the only Christmas present I want from y'all this year.

Happy Anniversary!

So a year ago, I did something I never planned to do, in a state that once again does not allow some of the most wonderful people I know to get married to the person they love, and I did it with full knowledge that getting married meant that the next crazy thing I'd be doing would be attempting to get pregnant, on purpose, so that I could have a child with this guy I was getting legally tied to in the eyes of the government. I'd say my 20-year-old-self was likely hitting her head against a wall repeatedly, but even back then, I knew that there was some room for negotiation from zero to one for exactly the right person. Who knew such a person would ever walk into my life, but here he was, standing next to me on the beach in Pacifica on a sunny October afternoon, surrounded by my friends and family, and the most improbable thing I could imagine became reality.

In the year since, I've gotten used to a new name, a new title (Mrs.), and the experience of being kicked from the inside by a space alien. I gotta say, there's not one tiny part of me that thinks this was a bad idea.

Meanwhile, I'm once again enjoying the benefits of lowered expectations. Towards the end of last week, Erik giddily bounced up to me and was all manner of thrilled just because he was going to get to have a one-year anniversary. That I wasn't planning to divorce him in the following week was reason enough for me to be the Best Wife Ever.

So we plotted and planned what to do for our anniversary. We would not  be following the "tradition" laid out by the American National Retail Jeweler Association. They can keep their commercial opinions for others. Instead, there would be pie, and a visit to Our Tree in Pacifica and a trip to the California Academy of Science, and then a nice dinner somewhere. This got slightly derailed by an invitation to brunch with John and Becky that we just couldn't refuse. Heck, we'd have likely dithered and picked a much later date without their wedding as incentive. So, we added that in. Then we forgot to take into account the Columbus Day holiday weekend, the 49ers game, and Fleet Week. At 2:45, we abandoned the Academy of Science plan in favor of hanging out with John, Becky, and friends at brunch for longer. We were also stuffed, so we ran errands on the way home, then decided on a dinner plan later in the evening. We went to Vaso Azzurro in Mountain View for nommy Italian (courtesy of a recommendation from Paul Wilcox) and followed that with a trip to Alien Extreme, a new haunted house thing in San Jose. Alien Extreme had a few rooms that were pretty impressive: (Spoilers - highlight to see) animatronics + vibrating effects in the floor, black aliens on black walls, and a strobe room with bloodied body bags swinging to navigate through. All in all, a nice new venue. This satisfied my basic wish to do something new together on our anniversary, so I was a happy girl. We concluded the day on the sofa, with Leeloo curled up on my arm for an hour, thoroughly pleased with her universe (blissfully unaware of how her world is about to shatter), watching the latest episode of Supernatural.

Meanwhile, I've passed the 24 week mark on my own alien incubation experiment.

The space alien has learned how to jab me in the ribs in exactly that spot where people reach around to tickle you. This has led to several moments of jumping uncontrollably as she lands the first kick just right. I find myself unable to explain to her why this is a bad thing while I'm driving. So it goes.

Her room is currently empty of stuff with two big test patches of paint on the walls. We've picked a color, and we're planning to paint on November 13th (yes, missing one day of Dickens workshops).

Speaking of Dickens, Michelle Marovich offered me her maternity gown from last year to wear this year. Better yet, she's even taking it in this week to fit me even better. For this, I'm supremely grateful. She built it from several extant photos and other documentation and it's a dress that has passed costume approval previously. All of these things are totally awesome. It's a great dress, well-made, and tailored to me. I can't thank her enough.

Why yes, I am planning to do Dickens this year. One thing is certain - staying active is the key to getting through this with my health intact. That's why I still climb all the stairs at the Clark Center every day before lunch and why I still do ceili every Tuesday and Friday Night Waltz whenever I can. (Plus, the space alien likes it. She sits merrily and enjoys the ride all through ceili, then when I get in the car and sit still, she starts jabbing me in the ribs as if to say, "Hey! Dance, monkey!" Somehow, few people who know me are surprised by this.) Also, by Dickens time next year, I'll have a crawling baby who will think that crawling around on the ground at the Cow Palace seems like a grand idea. As I'd rather she survive her first year, next year is the year to take off. So this year, unless things go very contrary to plan, I'll be there for all but one day - the day of my grandfather's 90th birthday party.

On Buying for Baby

As we get ready to meet our little space alien, there's a lot of weird shopping for stuff I never considered buying before. There are so many things you *could* buy to be ready for the arrival of a baby, but one of the big conundrums is trying to figure out what you actually need.

Then there's the expense of the whole adventure. Babycenter.com has a truly terrifying cost calculator available that's probably reasonably accurate. Although, I really like Cyrus's summation on the topic: "Babies are as expensive as you let them be, plus the cost of daycare." 

Then there's the needs vs. wants vs. how-cool-is-that!!! whiz bang factor that comes with some of this stuff. I mean, looking at strollers, you can get a pretty basic stroller for $50-60 or a jogging stroller (3 wheel style) for around $150. You can get a really super basic umbrella stroller for $10. You can also opt to spend $449 on a BOB stroller or $1150 on an Orbit stroller. And that's still not the top of the line. So the decision to draw the lines between need/want/splurge is kind of tricky. (We're leaning to getting a City Mini eventually since it folds up so nicely, is lightweight, and steers like a dream, but figure that can wait til next summer probably.)

On the plus side, I'm fairly certain we won't need to buy clothes for her for quite some time. Hand-me-downs have rolled in from every corner from Alex and Sherman whose daughter grew out of newborn things in the last 30 days to Dirk and Tracey, who still had boxes of clothes for 0-24 months when we visited Seattle (plus bonus boxes of board books!). For this, I'm intensely grateful. We've also acquired two hand-me-down infant carriers with car seat bases, a Snap-n-Go stroller that works with the infant carriers, a bouncy chair, an offer for a hand-me-down Ergo carrier and Pack-n-Play, an Infantino carrier, a Diaper Genie, a co-sleeper, and various pregnancy and birth books and DVDs. We've also gotten some truly awesome gifts like a beautiful quilt, Mickey Mouse onesies, the softest slippers ever, and plush Millenium Falcon and X-Wing.

You'd think this would put a huge dent in our buy list, and well, it has, but that doesn't make that list small exactly. I've been keeping everything on an Amazon baby registry list. I told Erik back when we agreed to do this thing that my final condition was that I demanded a glider rocker and ottoman, because the best times I've ever had with small babies have been in those rockers. It is on the list. Oh yes, it shall be mine!

The one thing I've splurged on so far was the crib set and it's matching window valence and changing table covers. I wanted to get those early so that I could paint walls to match. Once the walls are painted, we'll order and set up the crib.

Today marks 23 weeks. Only 17 weeks to go!

And Another Thing!

I thought of some other things I'd left out about being pregnant.

I have never been so tan. Tan and freckled. Apparently you're just more photosensitive when pregnant. I suspect that this is what many end up referring to the "glow" of pregnant women. You're just more tan. I've never been much of a fan of tan, especially since it usually has meant being painfully burned first. I look down at my arms now, and even though they get a daily slather of Trader Joe's enrich moisturizing face lotion SPF 15, they look dirty to me, but it's just tan. My chest looks like I've been doing Ren Faire all summer. Freckles on my face are much darker. This displeases me, but I'm just trying to be sanguine about things returning to vaguely normal next summer. It's not keeping me from a daily exercise routine at work that involves climbing all the stairs of the Clark Center at a minimum before going off the to the land of chicken taco and side of pinto beans. What amazes me is that day by day, how much more effort it is one day over the next. The difference between 7 1/2 and 8 1/2 hours of sleep is impressive, and "a little tired" is really much closer to really really woofed. My 4 p.m. meetings have been frequently experienced as struggles to remain conscious.

Meanwhile, there's an emotional thing. Everyone gets warned about it, but most of the time I feel just fine. But when things get emotional, it keeps impressing me how little control I have compared to my usual demeanor. And how much it suddenly affects me. I feel like I'm overreacting all the time, and I don't see it coming til it's already happened. I end up crying at stupid shit - sappy tv shows, for example. It's really annoying. The big adventure with this was on the way to Ray and Rae's wedding. Early on, I'd thrown a big splotch on the calendar to block the date, not knowing what time the wedding was. Then, I knew I hadn't adjusted it, but the night before, I wanted to count back and figure out exactly what time we needed to be there. I was busy doing some stuff, so I asked Erik to double check on the wedding website. He checked the Google calendar, not realizing that I hadn't updated that. This led to us planning for a wedding at 1:30, and we were going to be there at least an hour before that. Unfortunately, the wedding was at noon. I got a call from Ray while we were already on the road asking when we'd arrive. I said, "Around 12:30, maybe a few minutes later, but should be plenty of time to trouble shoot any sound issues." He said, "Uh... but the wedding starts at noon." I looked at Erik and over the course of the next 60 seconds, figured out what had happened, freaked out, and sped up. I figured maybe we could shave 10 minutes off if traffic was kind. I was already crying before we got off the phone. I didn't stop for the next hour. And it got worse about 3 minutes later when we got pulled over for speeding. Yep, I was definitely speeding. I was supposed to be at a wedding that's 45 minutes away in less than 30 minutes. At this point in my life, I rarely speed much. I mean, I've had a Prius for enough years to track fuel consumption and realize I get far better mileage at 65 than 75, so my car has trained me well. I usually hover in the 65-70 range with a little burst here and there to navigate around other motorists. I was ready to burn all the gas it took to get there as soon as possible. That plan lasted for less than 3 minutes, and then we spent 20 minutes waiting for the cop to hand me a ticket. Sigh. By the time we got to the wedding, I still couldn't stop crying. This was starting to make me angry on top of soul-sick at my mistake. Friends hugged me and all I could say was, "I just don't have control of my emotions. I'm really sorry." And then I felt bad for making a scene at someone else's wedding, so that made me cry more. Suffice to say, I was definitely having a moment of just wanting to go hide away and beg the universe for a do-over on the day. But we eventually got the music up and running for the wedding and life went on. This weekend I closed that chapter by taking an 8-hour traffic school class on Sunday and mailing off my completion certificate to the Fremont Hall of Justice. Anyway, mood swings, check.

The other weird tricks I learned for getting past morning sickness are truly weird: get a prenatal vitamin without iron for the first 3 months and take B6. Taking B6 alone made a huge difference for me. You have to be careful, because you can have too much, but cut a normal tab in half and take it when things start getting dicey (or generally with my morning cup of decaf) and I'm pretty sure I managed to head off some bad days. The other thing that was recommended by a doctor, but that I never tried, was Unisom. Apparently it's good at heading off nausea. Go figure!


I noticed today that there are two Tums tablets left in my bottle at work. Heartburn is my constant companion. On the plus side, I guess I'm getting plenty of calcium! But generally, by about 4 p.m. each day, I can count on some heartburn. Some days, it's mild. Other days, it's epic. But it's always present. There's Tums in my purse, Tums in my desk drawer, Tums next to the sofa, and Tums in my travel kit. Sadly, they still taste like Tums. It'd be so much more convenient if Tums was suddenly tasty. Instead, it still tastes like snacking on chalk. Apparently, I can only look forward to this getting worse as we go along.

My Baby-tastic Life

It's been an interesting weekend. On Friday, we decided it had been way too long since we'd seen a movie, so we opted to skip Friday Night Waltz in favor of Tomatina and Rise of the Planet of the Apes at the Mercado. Now it's getting close to Halloween, so the first movie trailer was a good scary one that made me jump and scream. Normally, that would be that, save for the giggling. But this apparently woke up the wee little space alien. She then spent the next hour doing a full 360 from her usual feet to the left position, to feet front, to feet right to feet back, and then finally settled back in her usual spot. When she was facing front, kicking like a champion, I thought, "Faced this way, I bet even Erik could feel this." So I grabbed his hand and put it down where she was kicking. She instantly stopped for a few minutes, then started up again just as I was about to give up. He whispered, "Is that her?" I nodded. Cue giddy soon-to-be-dad!!!

The next day we ran to Cupertino briefly to pick up an infant car seat, base, and Snap-n-Go stroller base for $20. All hail Craig's List and the buyer's market that is baby stuff. Now we have two infant car seats - one for each car - and a stroller that should last us most of the first year. Then we headed up to Dave and Ellen's for Sara and David's "Hippie Wedding Potluck." It was great to see everyone there, including other pregnant friends (twins! 46 chromosomes! yay!!!), lots of babies, some toddlers, and some school-age kids. Wow. When did I start hanging out with so many parents? Well, it's me soon enough, so it's probably for the best. Sarah was darling as ever. She's still one of those kids who convinced me I might be up for this challenge. She ran up and handed me a lei as I arrived and spent the day being awesome. Meanwhile, Kai has turned into a little boy. There's a magical moment where a baby's face changes to a kid's face. He's hit it. I saw him just a couple of weeks ago and it wasn't there, but there it was. Meanwhile, Fiona and Alanna are just a few weeks apart, and Fiona towers over Alanna. I'm expecting to have one more her size than super-sized. Josh and Magenta have the most beautiful, biggest kids I've ever seen!

We had to bail on Toshi's birthday since I had traffic school on Sunday (to correct the speeding ticket on the way to Ray and Rae's wedding. D'oh.). But, we ran a few errands, and then dove into tearing apart the room that shall be the nursery. The house looks like an explosion of stuff, but the closet in the guest room closet is full of wine (thanks to Paul, Karen, and Crystal for the hand-me-down wine rack!), and the nursery is emptying out. A big haul will go up to the attic later this week. I spent most of the day in traffic school while Erik worked through what to do with a lifetime's worth of treasured knick-knacks that had little place to go but in a box. Sigh. Changes are big as we keep hurtling towards January. The wee space alien has been very very active all night, so there's no denying her presence. Kick, kick, kick. Yep, I feel ya little girl. Looking forward to meeting you, but not til January, m'kay?

On Being Pregnant

So there are a few things you expect, and a few things that are never mentioned, and a few things that are not as advertised.

Yeah, morning sickness. The week before I got a positive pregnancy test, I was uncontrollably burpy. And a bit gassy. And certain things started sounding less good to eat. But mostly burpy, like I felt like I was belching every 20 minutes. By the end of that week, it was definitely cresting into vague nausea, but nothing that would keep me from doing my normal daily routine. Just a "hmmm, I feel a tad off today." Then we did the pregnancy test on Friday, May 20th. My temperature had not dropped that morning. My period was due that afternoon. And well, the test was positive. So we did a second one. Yes, still positive. Okay then. Project BorG has officially launched! Now what?

So I had a birthday party planned at Forbidden Island two days later. I figured this would either be terribly inconvenient or just the thing. Turns out, definitely slightly inconvenient. We grabbed Subway sandwiches before the Pirates movie, went to see Pirates 4, then headed to Forbidden Island. I was served my traditional birthday mai tai, which Erik surreptitiously drank for me. I enjoyed a virgin Missionary's Downfall and a virgin Painkiller. There were noshy bits and hanging out and getting massages from friends and generally a lovely day.

The next day, the morning sickness monster had me in its grips. I don't know if it was the Subway (which it turns out you're not supposed to eat deli meat when pregnant), or some noshy bit at FI, or just not staying sufficiently hydrated (most likely!), but I started my day feeling a bit off, sat down with my morning cup of joe and sipped it, reading email and waiting for the nausea to pass. Then I got up and went to the bathroom. Not feeling better. I figured if I sat very still and drank some water I'd be okay. Maybe a couple of nice pretzel thins. That didn't work, so I thought I'd take a little walk. Once outside, I decided to go lie down in the car for a bit. After being there a few minutes, I called Kaiser for suggestions. They suggested pretty much everything I'd tried that hadn't worked, so that wasn't good. I thought of going home, but didn't think I could drive. I called Erik to see if he could come pick me up. He did. I was in agony the whole way home. I tried lying in bed. I tried throwing up. It just kept getting worse rather than better. Finally, we called Kaiser back and they wanted me to come in to check for 1. ectopic pregnancy or 2. dehydration. Finally, after throwing up again, it started to ease off and Erik put some ginger ale in a glass and we shuffled off to Kaiser. Turns out, yes, I was really rather dehydrated. What isn't mentioned in a lot of stuff about morning sickness is that if you get dehydrated, it's going to be worse. Lots worse. And the trouble with that is, it's what you do the day before that really determines how dehydrated you get the next day after a long night's rest. Go to bed well hydrated and yes, you may wake up and pee three times in the night, but you'll likely feel better in the morning. After this little episode, my reusable cup/lid/straw combo became my constant companion. I took it to every meeting and out to most events. Virgin mojitos with Hansen's ginger ale, mint leaves, and lime became a nightly treat. And by and large, I weathered the first trimester nausea pretty darned well. I know it was also that I was just plain lucky. By week 9, I was feeling mostly back to normal and ready to get on with the rest of this adventure. There was one notable evening where I planned to make chicken and string beans for dinner, but opened the bag of string beans to find they'd gone moldy in the fridge and well... dinner was off. Eventually, I told Erik he could make whatever he wanted for dinner but that I wasn't having any. He said, "Well you have to eat something!" and I said, "I really don't." I spent the rest of the night curled up on the sofa and he eventually talked me into a couple of potstickers several hours later. But, all in all, two notable days of total tummy fail is just not bad at all. My recommendation: drink plenty of fluids. Lots and lots. Whatever it takes. It will probably save you.

However, there are several pregnancy weirdnesses no one ever mentions. Number one on that list is round ligament pain. I'd never heard of it, and then around 11 weeks in, I suddenly got a stabbing pain in my belly. Now, everyone knows, the first trimester is dicey. At any moment the body can say, "Oops, too many mistakes. Let's start over." and the game is off and you're back to ground zero. Getting stabbing pains seems like a bad sign. Turns out, it's perfectly normal, but rarely discussed. As the uterus starts it's truly bizarre growth, it pushes stuff out of the way and tips out and this ligament stretches and grows. This is one of those you're fine... you're fine... you're fine... wait, Ow! What the heck was that?! things. This isn't supposed to start until the second trimester, but I suppose I'm just lucky that way. Also, there are weird days where my belly button just aches. This is also apparently completely normal.

Really, the whole first trimester kind of sucks. First, you pee a lot. What's more, every time you pee for 90 days straight, you get to check the toilet paper to see if you're bleeding, to check if the whole thing has gone wrong. It's a tad nerve wracking. There you are, 20 times a day, checking, thinking, "Nope, still good." But every time, I wondered, is this the time? And then one morning I woke up and there was some spotting. I spent the day a wreck wondering if this was it. I scoured the web and found some things saying that this might be normal, but best to get it checked. I called Kaiser and got the "unless it moves from spotting to really bleeding, it's probably normal. Just don't have sex for the next 3 days." Still, all day, and the next, and the next, I wondered and waited. And it sucked. But then it was fine and we had our next prenatal appointment on July 18th, and sure enough, there was still a proto-human in there paddling around.

Another thing is that as your breasts get ready to be more than merely decorative, they hurt ALL THE TIME. I'm one of those people who get sore breasts when I'm about to start my period. It usually lasts two to four days, then things are back to normal. This time, that all started at the normal time, but then it didn't go away. It didn't go away for four months. For those playing along at home, that means instead of four days of discomfort, we're talking 110 days of discomfort. And what I learned here is that I hug a lot of people. And each time, for four months straight, it hurt like heck. Folks casually bumping into you is jaw clenchingly painful rather than "oops". Meanwhile, they're sore because they're growing. I went from a nice tidy little 34B to a 34D in the course of 90 days. Things have mellowed out for now, but there was a bit of fear about whether or not this was actually going to do this for the whole 9 or 10 months. Turns out, nope, it eased off starting with the second trimester. But yikes!

And remember the part about being burpy back at the beginning? Well that mild burpy, tootiness translated into full scale constipation a week later. The digestive system went on holiday and left me to figure out what to do next. Luckily, about this time, my usual lunch stopped appealing and I was driven to go visit an old favorite on campus - the Beckman Bistro. Turns out, the little space alien growing inside had pretty strong opinions about food, and she loves Mexican food. It's a rare day I go without it. My daily lunch became a chicken taco with a side of whole pinto beans. Luckily, the bistro serves that up for just $4, and I can build in a daily exercise routine to go with that. I climb all the stairs in the Clark Center - 8 stairwells, 3 stories up apiece - on my way to lunch. This means I get a least a 20 minute walk and stairs workout before lunch every day. It has done wonders for getting the system up and moving again, but early on, there were some desperate moments where all I wanted out of life was to move last week's food to the outside of my body by any means possible. Luckily, the space alien and I can agree on our love of pinto beans and all is better now.

On the subject of food, this is definitely different for everyone, but I have to say, I want nothing to do with a hamburger anytime in the near future. The siren call of the In-n-Out is dead to me for now. In the first month, we had several things spoil in the fridge - chicken breasts, sausages, ground beef - all because it never looked like the right thing to put together for dinner. Prior to this, we'd routinely had chicken breast with a thin slice of ham and a slice of swiss on top, broiled together for a few minutes with a side of broccoli for dinner. It was a satisfying, low calorie dinner. I haven't eaten that in 20 weeks. In general, any big hunk of meat appeals less than nearly anything else. I'd much sooner have pasta with veggies or a nice Indian dish than a steak. On the other hand, the traditional pickles and ice cream also holds no appeal and shows no sign of becoming interesting. Fish seems more interesting, but not shellfish. But Mexican food I could eat for two meals a day and never grow weary. There were a lot of taco nights at home in the first three months. Soy chorizo is also awesome for tacos - all the flavor with none of that pesky meat. Overall though, it's been remarkably easy to feed me, all things considered.

So speaking of Subway, the whole admonition to avoid deli meat (and a host of other things) is pretty much par for the course. It seems like every week comes with a new thing you're supposed to avoid doing for the remainder of the pregnancy. The list started with: foods (soft-serve ice cream, sushi, deli meat, unpasteurized cheese, some fish, smoked seafood, ceviche, raw meat, raw eggs, etc.), alcohol, ibuprofen (or any other NSAID), Sudafed (or any other decongestant), and more the 100-200 mg of caffeine per day (which varied by source). Then add in things you're not allowed to do: roller coasters (or other amusement rides), soak in a hot tub, get a massage in the first trimester, dye your hair in the first trimester, sleep on your back after the first trimester, do sit-ups after the first 8 weeks, scoop the kitty litter (um, okay, that one isn't so bad), dig in the garden, wash the fruits and vegetables (as in, get someone else to do it, not just skip it), and the list just keeps getting longer as time goes on and depending on how excitable the resource you're looking at is. Some say no artificial sweeteners at all. Some say they're fine. Some say no more bouncy exercise after the first trimester. Others say game on until you don't feel good doing it. Some say to give up the underwire in your bra. Others say that there's nothing that bears that out. You could go crazy trying to sort through all the freaky crap. Or you could go crazy with worry if you found out you're not supposed to do something right after you did it. Like, y'know, eat a Subway sandwich because it could lead to certain doom!

I'm personally trying to refrain from the crazy, but I'll be darned if it isn't lurking around every corner. I mean really, my breasts finally started giving me a little relief three weeks ago, and rather than thinking, "Whew! Glad that's over." I first thought, "Oh no! Is everything okay? Has something gone wrong and my breasts are the first sign?" And then after smacking myself in the head and dragging myself back to the land of sanity, I thought, "No wonder people go completely nuts during this process!" Every inch of the world is to be second-guessed and every action checked against a reference. I myself enjoyed reading Pregnant Chicken more than most other things. This was the snarky resource I wanted that would tell me it was fine to exercise and if I really wanted to jump in the bouncy castle, then go right ahead with your bad self.

Now we're about halfway through the second trimester (21 weeks today!) and I've been feeling the wee miss kicking away for about three weeks now. This is remarkably reassuring. In the first trimester, there's a whole lot of things you can do wrong, and a whole lot of things that can just go wrong, nothing you can do about it, and no way to tell until things have gone sideways. We had prenatal appointments at 8 weeks, 12 weeks, and amniocentesis at 15 weeks. Each time, we got to check and make sure that there really was a fairly healthy looking person in there. But about 3 weeks after each visit, I'd start wondering again. Was this really happening? Is everything okay? I'd talk myself down with just waiting a week if need be and chilling the hell out. I was just starting to get a little itchy again when it suddenly became very clear that that sensation was not just gas (which is still alarmingly common at the moment), but instead it is definitely someone kicking me from inside my body. Last week, this reached a new level when I was in a meeting and she landed a kick squarely on my over-full bladder. Yes, I know that needs emptying, and thank you for the not-so-gentle reminder. Apparently I got a look, because the project manager stopped by later to check on me. All signs point to that just continuing to get weirder for the next 4 1/2 months. At Pacificon, Rob told stories of being kicked in the back by his daughter while sleeping next to his wife, months before she was born. That is some creepy shit there, let me tell you. But for right now, it's nice to get notice several times a day that the space alien is alive and well and feeling quite at home.

Baby Tracker

For all things baby, there is an overabundance of cute available if you want to participate. Today's case in point:



There are also more informational, less cute options as well.

Make a pregnancy ticker

On Getting Pregnant

WARNING: Grandma should probably skip this one. Heck, that goes for anyone who doesn't want to know that I have sex and occasionally drink alcohol. For anyone actually trying to get pregnant, this is my collected knowledge.

Let's be clear. I've spent a great deal of time learning how to AVOID getting pregnant. But over the course of a few months, I actually learned a lot about how to get pregnant, and the weird part was that, at least at my age, it's a little harder than you'd expect.

First, there are details. As it turns out, almost all lube is toxic to sperm. Some kills them dead. Others just make them immobile. Little did I know that all these years I'd frequently had an extra line of defense. This led to our first surprise in that we had some time off between quarters around the holidays, and we entertained ourselves with the teen boy's fantasy world - sleeping late, lots of sex, movies, video games, and hanging out with friends. Honestly, we were just a little surprised when our activities did not lead to what seemed inevitable if you behaved like that as a teenager. But there we were. So, I started doing a little research, and quickly figured out our likely issue.

A quick trip to Amazon showed two options: Pre-Seed or Conceive Plus. I figured we'd order that now, and be able to use that next time around. This led to an Amazon fiasco where my little purchase was shipped from Belgium, got held up in Customs in New York, and made it's way to me after 29 days. So, we kind of missed that window just a bit.

Getting back into the game in February, our last shot before the dreaded December 7th and January 1 due dates, I'd just started temperature tracking. This is one of those weird things that you hear about and it seems too weird to be true. Every morning, you wake up, and first thing, before you budge an inch, take the thermometer off the nightstand and check your temperature. (Some say you need to do it at the same time every day, but just when you wake up is fine.) Sure enough, I am 97.0 degrees when I wake up for half of the month, and overnight it jumps to 97.8 and stays there for the rest of the month. We didn't have even a full month of data in February, so we didn't really know when the right timing was. Beyond that, this was also when Pixel got sick, so our attention turned to him, and to not shaking the bed, rather than to our future planning. Tracking temps did help us successfully miss the December 7th and January 1 due dates though, so that's good!

Then there's other things, like yes, a guy makes sperm all the time, but it's like product rotation at the grocery store. What he's shooting today can actually go back up to 3 months. So that hot tub trip that killed a good number of them may actually hold down sperm counts for quite some time, rather than just a day or two.

Then there's stress. Stressed out and you may not ovulate. Stressed out and you don't produce as many sperm. Tricky that.

Then there's the basics that don't apply to us: don't smoke, wear boxers instead of briefs, and start taking a multivitamin with at least 400 mcg of Folic acid right away. Then, give up alcohol. Yeah, both of you, just while you're trying. Also, drink lots of water and avoid dehydration.

But then there's that temp tracking thing. Now that we were ready to tackle this project again in May, I had 3 months of data! So, you look for the day of the spike, and plot it out. There are online tools to help do the math. Once you know it for the next cycle, put it on the calendar. We did! (Which led us to question just how many people we'd shared our Google Calendar with... la la la.)

They say to try for 3-5 days before the temp goes up and 2-3 days afterwards. We adopted a metaphor about this one night: milkshakes. Now I like milkshakes as much as anyone, but say for example you're required to drink a milkshake every single day for 8 days straight. By then end of it, a milkshake, no matter how good they can be, just doesn't sound all that appealing.

There's some debate about whether or not it's best to try every day or every other day. I can't speak to that, but we tried to split the difference and pretty much hit it at least every 24-36 hours. The temp spiked on the predicted day, and we'd done our due diligence, and continued for 3 more days. For better or worse, we'd actually started a few days early since it was a nice lazy weekend and we were just in the mood. Little did we know that 10 days later how much effort drinking a milkshake would be. It's okay. It's good to know your limits. We're a two or three times a week, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, kind of couple. Ten days in a row was... daunting.

Luckily, you're also supposed to lie still, not bound out of bed to the shower, to help the little swimmers get where they're going. An enforced lazy snuggly nappy time was just lovely.

Then there's the annoying waiting phase. You wait 2 weeks and see if anything happened. If it did, great! If not, start over. You're back at the starting line. Oh, and in the meantime, if you treat yourself to a nice glass of wine or a mai tai, you're spend the next 9 months wondering if you inflicted harm on your new little person, so no alcohol at all until you're bleeding!

Which led me to write a post I never ended up actually posting in mid-May on Project BorG:

People keep asking what I've been up to lately. There's been a bit of this and that - working with Arielle on the 4th of July Parade stuff, prepping for Erik and my birthdays, getting the Gaskells mailing list up and running, taking some Google certification tests, using The Daily Plate to lose weight (down 14 pounds since Christmas!), running off to Los Osos to see Ray and Rae's new place and talk wedding stuff, keeping Stanford Ceili running, and generally enjoying the whole new world created at home with two happy (drugs are awesome!) kitties. But it feels like there's something missing from that list. It feels like there's a big project looming out there that I keep working on but not really talking about, and that's taking up the bandwidth usually occupied by a big future state project, but this one doesn't feel like normal.

I realized that it was Project BorG. Unlike most projects where I work to a defined conclusion and that all of my efforts necessarily support (to greater or lesser degrees of success) that final culmination. In this case, I don't know which combination of actions will actually bring this project to a conclusion (or to it's next phase, I suppose). I can try to do all the right things, but ultimately, there's rather a severe lack of control here. And a lot of waiting. I hate waiting. It's do all the right things, then wait 10 days to see if it worked. If it didn't, do it all again. It's very very odd, and not the way I like to run my projects. I can see why so many couples go utterly bugnuts during this process. There's so much effort and anticipation that it's hard not to let that turn into disappointment. So, ultimately, my current focus is on not going crazy in this process. Also, I'm trying to decide if I can take this out of uber-project status mentally and emotionally and let myself have an alternate uber-project that I can invest in and talk about. While no one really wants to hear about your dieting plan and how that's going, it's perhaps unsurprising how many more people really really don't want to know about your efforts to have a baby. Baby making is boring even to people who do want to talk about sex, which is already an extremely limited subset of folks. Oh sure, I could wax on for at least an hour on all the stuff I've researched and found out and tracked and so on, but really, not even my mom wants to hear it. What's worse, even if the project is a potential success, you don't get to talk about the potential success with anyone for at least 3 months, which kind of kills the "Woohoo! Go team Woodbury!" aspect of it. By the time anyone else says that, I'll be kind of over it, well ensconced in the next phase of the project.

So suffice to say, it's weird. Really weird. And I'm still wondering how exactly this ended up sounding like a good thing. But now that it is a good thing, can we just get on with it already?

There were other things, like start earlier in your cycle if you want a girl, later if you want a boy as the boys swim faster but the girl sperm last longer. Or there's eat acidic things for a boy or take calcium to get a girl. Or make sure the woman has her orgasm first if you want a boy or second for a girl. Theoretically, these can change the ph and tilt the odds in favor of one over the other. I will note that Athena very helpfully gave me a bottle of calcium supplements, knowing I wanted a girl. Erik thought this was dirty pool, but luckily didn't believe it had much of a chance of working, but here we are having a girl, so who can say whether that's chance or something more. Personally, with Erik being one of 3 brothers and his dad being one of 2 brothers, I didn't think we had a shot at a girl. I'm just thrilled we lucked out. After watching me get stabbed for amniocentesis, Erik said that it was okay that I won that little victory. I was taking the hits for the team on this one and if I got the girl I wanted, that seemed more than fair.

So that's basically it. If you've got questions, feel free to ask. I can probably point you to an online resource or something. Because now, now I know way too much about this. Hopefully it's useful to someone.

You're Doing What? Wait, what?!!!

So there was this shiny new toy called Google Plus. It has what I like about Facebook, plus longer posts, and an absence of obnoxious ads. It's funny, but this coincided pretty neatly with another big event in my world, announcing a massive life change, and being able to do it selectively. It was a ticking time bomb of congratulations as folks have joined Google Plus over the last 10 weeks. But here we are at the half-way mark, and the second ten weeks went far more quickly than the first ten weeks, and I don't expect that to change. There are a few bits and pieces I'd like to get down in what I perceive as my personal record of things that are just me, that a few folks still deign to read. A few folks, including my grandma, who I'm guessing isn't ever going to join Google Plus (or Facebook, or anything else). It's also still the most conducive place for long format posts. So here goes.

We're having a baby. Well, that's the big plan anyway. Sometime around 20 weeks from now, we're expecting to be in a hospital, I'm expecting to be in a lot of pain, and at the end of it all, we expect to have a little baby girl.

Now for those of you who missed the memo and are now staggering around going, "Wait, what?!!! But you said no kids. What gives?" Well, there's always been a small reservation, infrequently voiced and never expected to be acted upon, that for the right partner, I could see having one kid. It seemed such a dim possibility, that it nearly faded out of existence.

Remember the part where I also said that there were two reasons to get married, thus getting the government involved in your love life: 1. Because it's important to you for religious reasons or, 2. Because you want to have kids. Well, remember that whole getting married thing last October? Remember how I haven't had a sudden religious conversion? Yeah, it was all down to the "One-Child Compromise" (TM).

When Erik and I first met, lots of folks said, "Wow, you two have such great chemistry." And then they implied a lot of relationship potential. Meanwhile, we were both happily ensconced in other relationships. I knew that it could never work between us because having kids was very important to him. So, nice as he was, it was just never going to happen.

Then things changed. Rick and I broke up. Marissa divorced Erik. Suddenly we were both single, saying, "Well that was never supposed to happen." When we first started dating, more than one friend counseled suggesting that this could only end in tears because he wanted kids. We lived with the elephant in the room for a few months of dating. When it became clear we were both pulling back on playing the field and spending an awful lot of time together, we acknowledged the elephant. He said, "So where is this going?" I said, "Well, I've always thought maybe I could do the one with the right person." Erik looked like I'd lit off fireworks. I said, "BUT! I don't know if you're that person. You might be, but if you push me on this, I'm going to do what I've always done and bail." I suggested that he had a PhD to finish and that he wasn't really going to be making major life changes between now and then, so how about we enjoy what we have, and when the ink is dry on the bottom of the degree, I can have an answer to the kids/no kids question.

As it turned out, this was the best deal I've ever made. Many times, it stopped him from pressing the issue. It also provided him a big motivation for finishing the darned thing. For me, it gave me the breathing room to measure things, knowing that I'd have to have an answer, and I'd have to be ready to walk away or to go forward on an adventure I never planned for. Things bore a lot of scrutiny. Every good thing, and each slight or failing was judged against how that would affect not only me, but what if we were raising a child together? No pressure, eh? And it went on for months, which for me meant plenty of time to collect data and plan a future state, and also plenty of time to imagine how this could work. In the end, Erik finished his PhD on August 7, 2009. I was officiating Alex and Sherman's wedding on August 8th. So there we were waltzing at the wedding, and I said, "Y'know, the ink is dry. And I've thought about it." And there was a sort of "oh dear god" hanging in the air - here? now? Um, yes. "And I can go for the one."

A lot more discussion was had later as we embarked on our big vacation together, headed to Yosemite the next day and Disneyland afterwards. What if it doesn't work? What alternatives are we willing to explore? Should we get married first or try for a kid first? (Because ostensibly, knowing how important this was, if it wasn't going to work, then why would I block him from finding that joy with someone else, and why make him a two time divorcee in the process, right?) So that's when it comes back to a great moment in our early dating period.

At Bad Movie Night at Tracey's place, Sam pulls me aside and says, "I think I've got a solution to your problem with Erik, but you might find it offensive." Now, Sam, bless his heart, is inadvertently offensive to folks with some frequency. That he knew this would likely be offensive, and wanted to preface it that way was a pretty good measure of just how offensive this was going to be. Deep breath, rub hands together, and say, "Okay, I'm ready. Lay it on me." And Sam says, "Well see, Erik wants kids, and you don't, so you could just get your tubes tied and it barely leaves a mark, and then he could try and try, and then when nothing happened, and it didn't work out, it's not like he's going to leave you over it, right?" And I say, "WOW!!! Sam, you're right, that's REALLY offensive." And I laugh really hard. Because, no, I could not even conceive of starting a relationship on a lie of that scale. Eventually I even told Erik this story. He took rather a less humorous view of it, but here we are on our way to Yosemite, and he says, "Y'know, really, fundamentally Sam is right. It's that you're willing to give this a go, and if it doesn't work out, we'll do other things. But that you're willing to go down this path with me, to potentially change your life this much to spend your life with me, well, that means a lot." And so it was decided - marriage, attempt One-Child Compromise (TM), and see where we end up.

Well, turns out, once you do everything you're supposed to (more on this in another post), getting pregnant, even at 37, can be remarkably easy. Like, um, first time you give it a serious try and pull out all of the road blocks. We very specifically avoided the potential December 7th and January 1 due dates, giving things a try in time for the January 27th due date. At our amniocentesis, they adjusted our due date by a whole 1 day, so now we're officially due on January 26th. That means that last night was our official half-way mark. We took our first baby belly picture last night. I'm finally starting to look a bit pregnant rather than just plain fat.


We did opt for amniocentesis as it's recommended to everyone over 35. At 37, my chance of a trisomy (47 total chromosomes, where one has 3 copies instead of 2) is 1 in 125. Next year it gets worse again. Not liking those odds overmuch, I wanted some assurance that if I was going to all of this trouble, I wasn't growing a creature that might or might not make it to birth and then might live less than a year, because yeah, some of the trisomies are just that bad. I mean, in reality, Downs Syndrome is the *good* trisomy. At least, it's the one that you can survive. Most of them are tragic. So I met with a very nice geneticist named Sharon at Kaiser and she ran me through the options and we opted for amnio. As Erik said, "Have you met my wife? Have you ever her seen her pick less information over more information?" On the plus side, you get an extremely detailed ultrasound (in our case, with a totally awesome ultrasound tech) that checks that everything is in the right place - heart with 4 chambers, and blood flowing in and out the right way, with no leaks. Full digestive system. Two little kidneys. Feet with five little toes apiece. Brain connected to the spinal column. Spine inside the body. Lots of things to go wrong, but everything looked alright. It also looked a lot like a little girl. Then they stabbed me, and sucked up a bunch of fluid. That part was not so awesome. Sharon called 12 days later to give us the good news that indeed, the wee little alien has 46 chromosomes and is definitely a girl. Here's her photo from 5 weeks ago:


Now we're on to other adventures - comparing strollers (and we really like the City Mini and the Britax B-Agile) and cribs (looks like we're going for the Kalani 4-in-1 Convertible Crib) and deciding on nursery themes (Space! With a side of geek!). We got our crib set in the mail today.


Suffice to say, I've been a bit quiet here, and there's going to be some serious download about pregnancy and baby stuff in the near future, so I'm sure I'll likely drive away my last few readers, save for my grandma. But like I said before, this is for me to have a place where I write it down and have a history. And for that, this is just perfect.

37F Test Subject

One of the weird things I love about working at Stanford is being able to volunteer for studies on campus. One came up this week that was specifically looking for anyone who was NOT a Stanford undergrad. That's me! They ran me through the phone screen, and I went to the first session of a 3 month study.

Turns out, they're trying to assess people's reactions to hearing news about potential health risks associated with genetic screenings. So after dithering about discount deals on 23&Me, I never signed up for one. Now I get to do it for free! Actually, they're going to pay me. Cool eh?

So, I answered a bucketload of questions, took a math test, assessed my future mood about hearing results, and spit in a tube. The spit in the tube part was the hard part. That's a lot of spit! But five minutes later I'd managed to work it out.

I'll go back in a month to review results. A month later I'll go back again to reassess how I feel about the whole thing then. They'll call a couple of weeks later for a closing questionnaire. Then they'll turn over the 23&Me account to me for keeps. How awesome is that? Pretty darned awesome I must say.

Commencement!

I've been working in IT at Stanford University for over 10 years now. Every year, as Commencement approaches, there's a 2-4 week freeze on everything we do. We can't change anything for fear of breaking something and slowing down the Commencement machine in it's critical hour. Every year, Commencement comes and goes without a hitch.

Today, around noon, one of our email servers got a bad case of data corruption. Early attempts to get it back up and running failed. This was going to take a full restore. That's bad.

The good news is that that server that went down is largely populated by IT Services staff. The bad news is that it's not all IT Services. Turns out, it's also Student Financial Services, the Registrar's Office, and the assistant to the Dean of the Medical School. On the day before Commencement weekend, this is Really Bad.

So, about 3 p.m., I gave my phone more of a workout than it's ever had. I called stakeholders in every area on campus (since email is broken, yo) and talked about who was impacted and we moved critical personnel to an alternate server so that they could read their queued messages and continue working. At 5 p.m., the Dean's assistant's messages still weren't coming through, so fearing a possible PEBCAK issue as she used the unfamiliar Webmail instead of Outlook, I sprinted down to her office to check it out. In the fine tradition of having the IT guy standing over your shoulder, it immediately got with the program and started working.

Now everything is back to normal and I'm be off to dinner and Friday Night Waltz. But for the first time ever, I got to be part of the Commencement madness in a participatory way. As I sprinted out, they were setting up a photo of medical grads. As I came back, they were having one young lady stand on a turned over plastic bin for the photo, but her heels were threatening to collapse the bin. A couple of parents were escorting their obviously beaming son down Via Ortega. There's a giant tent blocking part of the walk way between Clark Center and LKC. It's all very exciting here. And at the end of the weekend, the grads and their families hopefully won't have noticed anything wrong. And once again, I adore our UNIX admin who was technically on vacation today, but has spent the last six hours pulling a rabbit out of her hat. I work with awesome people. We get stuff done.

The Strange Keys to a Nerdy Girl's Brain

For my birthday, Erik found something that I really wanted: all of the Radiolab programs ever broadcast. He burned them to CD for me. This is a miracle of sorts in that he both listened to me say "I wish I had..." and then took action to make it so and managed to get me a thing that I really really wanted for my birthday in a time in my life when I've said repeatedly that the last thing I want is another thing. That's how awesome my husband is.

This is actually the background you need to understand that I have a totally platonic crush on Robert Krulwich. I love his storytelling style, whether it's on radio or in pixels. His "This is so cool! Everyone should hear about this!" style of science news just brings me endless joy. Today's story is on gut bacteria and it's utterly fascinating. No, really. Go read it. There may be as few as 3 standard microbiomes in the human race and it could affect a huge range of stuff.

Meanwhile, I'm am of a generation of girls who found Colin Firth terribly attractive since we first saw him as Mr. Darcy. He's a great actor, and seems to be a genuinely decent guy. There are few celebrities I'd want to really sit down for a good chat with, but he's up there. His status increased again this week when he was listed as a co-author on an academic neuroscience paper on political leanings and the thickness of certain portions of the brain.

Cherries!

The other exciting garden produce this week is not from my garden, but from my grandparents. I came home Friday to find the contents of a box of cherries.

To back up, my grandparents have a "garden" that's really more of a small farm. It spans two properties and includes several well established fruit trees: kumquats, tangerines, oranges, peaches, and right now, the big star is the Bing cherry tree. With the wet spring, the cherries came in plump and will inevitably rot quickly, but right now they're glorious.

My grandma called last week to ask if we'd be in Sacramento this weekend. That wasn't in the cards, so she said, "That's okay. Your grandpa has discovered Priority Mail boxes. You can stuff them with lead and they ship for the same price as feathers." So I envisioned getting a small priority mail box of cherries delivered to my doorstep.

But this is my grandpa, and his idea of a few oranges is an one entire paper grocery sack full rather than two. In Priority Mail box terms, I think we got the Medium box. This led to two green bags full of cherries. Now some were soft and a little rotty, and some had been attacked by little worms, but there's still a vast amount of cherries, and they're ripe and delicious. We spent the entire weekend with a frequently refilled bowl full on the table. Luckily, I eat a lot of fiber in my daily life, so there were no unintended effects.

But seriously, there are few more magical things than having your grandparent's home grown cherries show up on your doorstep when it's pouring down rain in the beginning of June.

How Does My Garden Grow?

Have you ever heard those stories about a family adopting a puppy that's a Lab mix and then the dog grows up and looks like a pit bull? We had kind of the same experience with our garden. We picked up four little broccoli plants at Lowe's and brought them home. We figured that we eat so much broccoli that having it fresh and easily available in the yard would be awesome. And with the cool, wet spring, they've grown vigorously. Only, it turns out, they're cabbage.

Now one of the heads is a total overachiever. It's huge. It's bigger than a basketball. And I tend to make cabbage about once a year for a March corned beef and cabbage. Any suggestions for yummy cabbage-based meals are welcome. Or, if you want a beautiful, home-grown head of cabbage, let me know. Because we've got four heads of cabbage. Yeah.

Tab Closing Bonanza!

I was waiting for one or two more cool things to hit my desk before publishing a potpourri post, but it turns out the LJ feed for BoingBoing is broken, which basically clears my feed of half the interesting stuff. I have to go read BoingBoing on BoingBoing.net. That's just wrong! (The death of LJ is overrated, but it's rapidly making its way out of my daily check in list. Does anyone recommend a good RSS reader that isn't Google Reader? I'm afraid Google Reader doesn't make me warm and fuzzy.) So, that leaves me with a scattering of weird stuff.

Starting with the potential AIDS vaccine, and no, not the one that works for one guy who got a total bone marrow replacement. That's a different issue, and an awfully radical step for what is a relatively manageable disease nowadays. (Okay, step back for just one moment and think about how far we've come in 20 years to transform AIDS from death sentence to manageable chronic disease. Just amazing.) Anyway, using CMV, an extremely common virus in the herpes family, it leaves the body on constant lookout for HIV, killing it before it gets a foothold. So, we may opt to catch have a specialized vaccine that has us catch a modified CMV making us immune to HIV. Pretty cool. As someone who has never contracted CMV, I only hope that synthetic blood technology improves in parallel to testing this because the blood center is always thrilled to have my blood since I'm one of the rare few who can donate to premature babies since I haven't had CMV. This would make finding those donors much, much more difficult.

Then there's the Indian chap who has made developing a male contraceptive his life's work. Against the odds, he's found a way to do it, and I hope he further beats the odds and gets it out there. The pharma companies aren't interested since it's a one-time procedure that lasts up to 10 years, so that's a lot of missed birth control pill sales. I'd love to see someone like the Kaiser Foundation get involved. It really would be revolutionary.

And for me and my dancer friends, here's a list of exercises for life-long dancing feet. I know I personally need to do these more. Number 2 - Kneading carpet - is one I've been told before. When my feet get achey, I remember to do it. Then I get busy and forget for months, then my feet get achey again, and I remember again. Silly girl. Some day I'll learn.

That's all for today. Cheers all!