Moving Right Along

The summer heat wave in Indiana continues.  I have been trying to make better choices in attire, so as to avoid sweating in unfortunate locales.  My mother went with me on Wednesday for my 28 week appointment.

She takes a better picture.

I wore a zebra print dress that is quite drafty, so it was perfect.

It is not maternity, so I just stretched that pattern to an entirely new level.

We were pleased to find out that our girl seems to be of average size, as we had an additional growth ultrasound.  My OB thought she might be quite tiny after the 20 week one.  Fortunately, she measured in the 49th percentile at 28 weeks, and is estimated to weigh 2 lbs, 8oz.

The words "average" and "normal" were music to my ears.

I really can't imagine that I won't birth a behemoth of a child, as my poor mother pushed out a toddler when I was born at over 9lbs.

I don't think she will be a big baby, but we still have 10-12 weeks to see.

Trinity was a peanut, though, as he continues to be.

I'm currently suffering from an affliction where my already trim husband decides to beef up his workout routine and clean up his eating a tad as I grow larger daily.  

Just love him for that!

In fact he told me that he forgot something the other day because he was too busy with GCP.

He explained that this is his lingo for "gym, cafe, parfait."

He calls black coffee "cafe."  Like he's fancy or something.  He enjoys this routine on the weekend, where he goes to the gym and then gets a black coffee and a fruit and yogurt parfait from McDonald's.  

Lord.

In other developments, I saw two of my college friends last weekend.  

Tiny Kate came in from Chicago.

I always love to see her sweet face and little 5'1" self.

She stayed at Meg's house and we went to dinner on Saturday.

Meg's life has changed a bit.

Check out those precious littles.  

The heat wave has me and kitty laying low.

She always lays low, I suppose.

She was being ever so supportive the other day while I watched the morning news. 

T left for work this morning after telling us, "Now my 3 best girls better take it easy today.  It's too hot to do a lot."

Silly man!  We need no reminders foster our lethargy!  Now go to work so we can watch Wimbledon.

These prints arrived for G's nursery.

I'm enjoying all of this fluff, as I have almost exactly 4 weeks until I'm back waddling the hallways in my new job.

Summer Putzing

I so wish I had exciting pictures and stories to share.  I am in the middle of my typical summer putzing, when I do so little it is a bit embarrassing.  

We took my 27 week picture in front of the fireplace.  

We're mixing it up.

I'm not sure why I'm standing like a linebacker doing a pelvic tilt dance.

The belly is getting bigger, and so are those glorious Polish thighs.

I had a typical summer putzing day on Friday, when I drove up to Zionsville to eat cookies.

Everyone does that, right?

I do love Main Street in Zionsville since it is so cute and quaint.

I discovered a bakery up there that makes macarons.  They have officially replaced the cupcake in my sweets lovin'.

I simply had to get them.

I quickly snarfed down vanilla and framboise, which is French for raspberry.

I think.

I zippidy-do-dahed down to Nordstrom, with birthday gift cards from sister, Chipper and Caroline burning a hole in my purse.

I didn't find anything that I was dying to have, so I decided to save them for the Anniversary Sale, which is right up there with Jesus' birthday, my anniversary and birthday as my favorite time of the year.  

I love to call ahead and go behind the curtain to "preview" when they're still setting up and pretend I'm all fancy and not just a teacher with a spending problem.  

I did buy these handy dandy neon hair ties.

Source: google.com via Betsy on Pinterest

I like them a lot.

I also went to see Moonrise Kingdom by myself that afternoon.

I love to see movies alone.  I'm not really sure if that's totally true or if I just learned to love it when I was single and then when I married a man who basically refuses to go to a movie theater.  

Wes Anderson maintains his brilliant, artsy-fartsy creative director status in my book.

I stuffed another macaron in my gullet as I enjoyed that cinematic masterpiece, since I had to purchased one to go too.  

I arrived home to find that Genevieve's pillow covers arrived.  

I loved the packaging.  

I ordered five to line the back of her crib, which I will then remove every night so she doesn't spit all over them. 

That would be tragic.

Her furniture should arrive later this week, along with some Etsy prints I ordered.  

I have been calling daycares this morning and feeling like  a total mother imposter.

I still can't believe this child is mine, even though she kicks me every 30 seconds.

It's a surreal feeling!

Childbirth Class and Sweaty Boobs=Bully

Trinity and I started our 7 week childbirth class last evening.  The class meets each week for 2 1/2 hours and focuses on Lamaze breathing, information on the 3rd trimester, childbirth, medical intervention, breastfeeding and infant care.  

Last night's class lasted almost 3 hours and I think my husband nearly died.

My first clue when he leaned over to me after one hour and said "this is just an hour class, right?"

Um, no.

I was excited to head to a class that required me to bring a pillow.

T and the other dads participated in a "demonstration" of the weight that a pregnant woman carries.

T is in yellow, clearly looking upwards for some sweet salvation from this torture.

They held a blanket taut to represent the pelvic floor and she dropped in weighted bags of rice to represent the placenta, extra blood volume,etc.

T noted that it was "heavy."

Yes, heavy, Trinity.

Only that rice didn't kick the tar out of your insides.

So you don't get it.

Our class ran over due to our breathing and relaxation exercises.  

I got to sit on that giant green birthing ball as it was the biggest size and I was taller than all of the other mothers by at least 6 inches.

High five for Giantess status.

T rubbed my back as I did breathing very similar to what I do in yoga.

I learned my husband gives a great back rub.

He would not have initiated this, but the other menfolk were doing it, and the teacher encouraged him to do so.

I think I will be enjoying this class more than him, since it was so cold in there and I got to relax.

This brings me to the other part of my post title, the sweaty boobs=bully part.

It's really hot in Indiana.

I'm not liking it.  I am gaining weight, my limbs are swelling slightly, and I am hot.  I'm sweating in places that I didn't know existed.

It's all making me rather cranky, really.

My family let me know this past weekend that my discomfort is causing me to be mean.

I am picking on everyone, making little digs and overall making my immediate family feel like worthless dirtbags.

My brother engaged me in a  little Come to Jesus talk last night about my attitude.  I claimed I wasn't unkind in the least.  He said that I had reverted back to Junior High Betsy.

Ouch.

No one, and I mean, no one, needs to be subjected to that era again.

I am vowing to be kinder to my family.

I must remind myself that although I am sweating profusely when I leave the house, I am currently not working, thus my days are filled with naps, yoga and watching episodes of The Closer.

I have little to be irritated about.  

For anyone who was concerned, my husband has not been subjected to my ire.

I am still nice to him.

No divorce in sight.  

Garage Sales and Father's Day

My mother and I decided to participate in my neighborhood's annual summer garage sale.  It was our first attempt at such an event.  

It was hilarious.  

Thursday evening we prepped the garage for serious selling.  We didn't have any tables, so right away we knew we would be pegged as amateurs.  We soldiered on.  

I helped very little, because, well... I'm pregnant.

That fact is totally irrelevant, as we all know.

I really just don't like helping.  

Trinity and Robby lugged out furniture that we needed to sell to prepare Genevieve's nursery.  

Mom unloaded trinkets from the last 30 years, at least those that didn't drown in the flood.  

Prices on her items ranged from $.25-$1.50, so she was set to make a killing.  

My husband tried to sneak out wedding gifts that he felt were unnecessary.  I stopped him at every turn.  

* Mother is deciding how to price Ralph Wigham from The Simpsons.  He sold for $1.  

Robby reclaimed old Sega games and various items from his childhood and put them in his trunk.  Robby is a bit of a memory keeper in the form of stuff.  He is reluctant to let things go.  I didn't make fun of him at all for this. 

Jane left Friday afternoon with $46 in her pocket, about enough to cover the gas and Starbucks she consumed driving to my house.  

T and I made a profit of $250, selling our old grill, a few pieces of furniture and some of my old pajamas.  That old lady is going to love those pjs. 

We had lots of no-sells.  

like these dolls I had as a young lass.  Her clothes were seasonal.  

On Saturday morning we departed early for a fun filled Father's Day weekend extravaganza.  When we arrived at my parents' house, Robeghan gave me a birthday gift. 

They have a much better understanding of the gift packaging presentation.  

The six of us loaded into a red Dodge Caravan that Robby rented from the airport and headed to St. Louis.  The Thrifty rental car guys gave him a bit of trouble at the rental counter at Indianapolis International Airport because he was a "local" and picking up his rental at 9:00 p.m. on a Friday night.  Local yokels renting mini vans from their city of residence and picking up prostitutes and doing 8 balls of cocaine is somewhat of an issue, and I guess Robby looked suspicious.

I just made that up, but just the part about coke binging and such.  They really were not pleased because I guess local  people might rent cars for parties or something less imaginative than the aforementioned visual I created.  Robby explained he was picking up his Baby Boomer parents, fiancé, pregnant sister and brother-in-law and driving to St. Louis to see a Cardinals game and go to Grant's Farm.  

They gave him the van.   

We arrived safely and I became increasingly concerned about the heat.  93 degrees was the forecast, and sunny.  

Here's a before picture of part of the crew headed into Busch stadium.

Look at me, I'm like all happy that I'm going to eat a hot dog. 

Fast forward one hour.

Holy Mother of God, it was hot.

I was glistening.

T was straight up sweating his a** off.

This is when I was feeling very grateful to my father, and his habit of buyng high priced tickets.  Since we were practically sitting in the 1st baseman's hip pocket, we were allowed access to this underground lair of luxury.

It was a small air-conditioned lounge under the bleachers and it was heaven.  I may have spent the entire game sitting down there, eating Ben and Jerry's mango sorbet. 

I had a trusty companion in Caroline.

She got sassy ra-ras.  

Katie and Chip stayed out in their seats almost the entire game.  That's why I don't have pictures of them.  I lasted about 25 minutes out there, in 3 minute increments.  

Mom and Dad survived.  Mother was wearing her "I'm having tea and crumpets in an English garden" straw hat to protect her face.  

and here comes Betsy beast.

My ankles and feet had swollen to the size of sausages due to heat and baby, I guess.

My precious brother in law was sure to comment on them, and those sandals had to practically be cut off my tootsies.  I fear I may continuously battle with what I will henceforth refer to as 

Big Trouble in Little China feet.  

If you don't know this movie, you haven't lived.  Watch it.  It stars Kurt Russell and Kim Cattrall in all of their campy 80s glory fighting an evil Chinese man named Lo Pan.  We loved it as kids, particularly the part where the guy swells and then bursts into a pile of lettuce and various other vegetables.  I couldn't find a google image of his feet, but you get the idea here...

this is what my feet looked like.

Not good.

We wrapped up our family weekend at Grant's Farm, where we visited lots of animals, including Clydesdales.  

We had a great time visiting with my family and celebrating T's first Father's Day.  It's hard to believe that next year we'll have a 9 month old daughter!

My Birthday

My birthday started a bit early when Trinity came home from work with this box-

those would be the chocolate macarons that I fell in love with last summer in Seattle. 

T had his pal Andy pick them up when he went to Seattle this week for work.

That's some planning!

I was thrilled. 

I opened it after my intermediate/advanced yoga class on Monday evening, which is becoming increasingly more slow flow/Betsy modifies everything and spends a lot of time in child's pose.  

T bought me this Lulu top in California as an early gift to better accommodate my growing girth.  

Last night we bought Trinity a new natural gas grill.

This was an hour and a half endeavor as he had to bargain with the Lowe's peeps to get the same deal he found at Home Depot.

I was forced to sit on a lawn mower and wait.  

This morning I was presented with my final gift.  Trinity knows I love gift packaging, so he went into my closet, snagged this gift bag full of maternity clothes I borrowed from Nicole, dumped them all over the floor and then dropped a teeny box inside this giant bag, sans tissue.  

He really gets what I mean when I say swanky presentation.  

I do love my new necklace.

I wore it today for my 33rd birthday/week 26 picture.

I am definitely growing.  This top accentuates that.  My innie belly button is rapidly becoming an outie and I am not handling it well.  No one can control what kind of former link they had to their mothers, but outies gross me out.

They make me think of Cabbage Patch Dolls (terrifying) and tied ends of balloons (even more terrifying.)

I shall soon have an outie, which I will be unable to touch or gaze upon.

I am excited to see my entire family this weekend, and collect more gifts.

I got a Bonefish gift card from Aunt Shirley because she knows I can down some serious Bang Bang.

Eddie and Pat sent me a gift card to A Pea in the Pod for a fun shower dress.

Yay!

Lastly, BFF Marinda nailed it!

Petunia the goose is my favorite book character.  Most of these are out of print, but she has a way, that little sneak.

These will go in Vivi's library and I am thrilled! 

Tap-N-Run

Trinity participated in a local 4K race on Saturday evening with Tim and Steve.  They formed a team of 3, referred to as a "pint" in entry terms.

This silly race encouraged costumes and gave out small cups of beer in lieu of water to the runners.

T was all in.

Tim had the brilliant idea of wearing their wives' Lululemon gear, since all three men agree that Allison, Jamie and I all have spent way too much money on that stuff.

T posed for Allison in her living room

I love that her antlers look like they are part of his noggin.

My husband's tiny hips look even better in my yoga pants than I do.

Steve engages his gluteus in chair pose, while the two Ts break out their best trees. 

This one is priceless. 

I think they looked pretty hilarious, and were quite the hit at the race.

Trinity enjoys his post race brew, while wearing his medal that doubles as a bottle opener.

I couldn't be more proud.

Newport Beach, CA Vacation

We just returned from our marvelous vacation in California.  We left last Saturday and came back on Friday, giving us just enough time to experience perfection on the West coast.

Why don't we live in Southern California?

Because we live in Indiana, and its glamour outshines that of  the Golden State of California.

Sarcasm.

We lived large for the week.

I do my research when traveling, vacillate greatly over where to stay and eat, remain indecisive, then finally I make a decision.  It's usually a good one.

This choice was a great one.

I chose the Resort at Pelican Hill, where to stay when you want to pretend you are wealthy for a week and be treated like a princess.

The customer service at this place was amazing.  Everyone was friendly, helpful and accommodating.

We had a two queenie bungalow.

That's not because we don't like each other, but rather it's cheaper.

Research, people.

Plus, I snore like a pregnant dragon and Trinity doesn't mind getting away from me.

We had a garden view patio.

Our fireplace was cooking most nights, since the temperatures usually dropped to the 60s and we kept our patio door open. 

The view of the pool. 

The pool at night was glorious with the sun setting.

The Coliseum pool had the circumference of Pluto, that star that was considered a planet when I was in school.

Pregs quickly discovered it was quicker to go through it, rather than around it.

Math figurin' at work during my vacation.

We parked on the opposite side of the circle, which was far from the bathroom.

When I would have to go, which was every 20.3 minutes, I'd jump in the water and water jog the diameter of that pool and be in the bathroom in 30 seconds flat.

Maybe it was more like 3 minutes.

That pool was big. 

We had one celebrity sighting at our pool.

Kobe Bryant sat next to us at lunch one afternoon.

I just wanted to giggle and talk loudly.

Weird, right?

I did neither.

This was our bungalow.

My view from my side of the pool, where I was at the ready to do a hot water jog to the bathroom.

Sometimes I think catheterizing  would be more convenient.

Speaking of views....

This one is certainly not what it used to be.

Check out that ruching!

We, and I mean me, decided to be brave and do 25 week bump pictures in my swimsuit.

Brave, I tell you.

T loves to take a "prep" shot when I'm not ready.

This is my pregnant waddle, or maybe just my poor posture stroll.

A wet pool deck makes for a careful mother to be. 

I can't be busting my tail and wounding my chile.

This is as good as it gets.

I had to crop out my fool spouse's knee, since he is the WORST photographer ever in the history of soon to be fathers.

I may have called him a name or two, which then caused him to dig in his stubborn mule heels and refuse to take another picture.

It wasn't all hugs and kisses on the trip.

My hormones flare up and I can get mean.  

We quickly made up, but a better picture was not procured. 

This was the view from the other side of my chair.

Pelican Hill had a beautiful golf course. 

We went to In-N-Out in Costa Mesa.

I had a cheeseburger.

Our resort was close to Crystal Cove State Park and beach, so we decided to walk down.

Pelican Hill was more like Pelican Cliff/Dangerous Precipice, because this leisurely "walk" to the beach was more like the Bataan Death March.  

My feet were not properly attired and my ankles got very angry.

Trinity was much more content. 

We spent an evening with my childhood pal, Jenny.

She is swanky, lives in Newport Beach with her husband and son, and is all kinds of fabulous.

We laughed our asses off over a delicious dinner that Tony had cooked on the grill of their rooftop terrace overlooking the city.

It was great to see her and I miss her terribly!

We ate at lots of wonderful restaurants while we were gone, but none compared to Tony's grilling.

In fact, T's quote was,

"Nothing was as good as Tony's fancy meats."

Sounds odd, but true.

We went shopping at Fashion Island, clearly Trinity's favorite experience of the trip.

I swooned at my first Jonathan Adler experience.

I made an appointment at DryBar and got my hair did. 

This place is super cool, and they just do different blow outs.

I got a blow out and a "floater" which was a 10 minute scalp massage.

They really like their MoroccanOil there.

I do too. 

In the process...

Voila!

Totally worth it. 

I also had my first Sprinkles cupcake.

or two.

I had banana with dark chocolate icing and while I was in line I started talking to some housewives of Orange County.

Not the famous ones, but some very attractive women in their late 30s wearing tennis outfits and MAC lip glass.

Their lips were really shiny.

Anywho... they were kind enough to tell the "secret" word to this Midwestern bumpkin.

If you  follow Sprinkles on Twitter,  they release a secret word each day, and the first 50 people who say it get a free cupcake.

I thought I might be getting punked by these glamazons, so I approached the counter and said 

"Margarita?" in my best Ron Burgundy voice.

Bingo!

That man dropped a margarita cupcake in a bag for me, right then and there.

Freebie!

The euphoria I felt was intoxicating.

I know why the caged bird sings, Maya Angelou.

Yes, I do.

Moving on, we ate a divine dinner at Javier's, a swanky Mexican joint in Crystal Cove.

Esposo had a margarita.

I had a water with lemon.

Trinity's big pick of the trip was to attend a baseball game.

We went to Anaheim and watched the Angels defeat the Mariners.

I love a professional baseball game. 

I had a hot dog, chips, Diet Coke and a churro.

I then experienced the worst heartburn/acid reflux of my life.

I thought I would die.

I didn't. 

We drove up North to Santa Monica Pier.

LA traffic is not fun.  

The weather was perfect.

I decided to try to wear normal shorts with the belly band.

It made for an uncomfortable day.

I think we're past that. 

Trinity loved the ocean breeze. 

We bought some random shite on our trip, like this owl for Genevieve.

Macarons from Lette, a darling Macaron boutique at Fashion Island.

There were lots of flavors and I just wanted to scream "Feed me, Seymour." as I stood in line.  

I hope I'm not the only one who always wants to scream something. 

I say that a lot.

It's true, though. 

Back at the ranch, we enjoyed pastries on the patio.

T had his first yoga experience.

The fitness center offered classes, and no one attended them but me.

I had a private yoga and pilates instructor all week.

She was darling.

Trinity finally agreed to go.

He was a sport.

I loved the mirrors because they allowed me to watch him the whole time.

What a show.

I likened him to Woody from Toy Story.

A little stiff, but I appreciated the attempt. 

This will be a great story for our daughter one day.

We went to Balboa Island and had frozen chocolate bananas on a stick. 

I saw this tree and loved its color.

I would love a print like this. 

For our last night we went to dinner at The Cannery in Newport Bay, one of Jenny's suggestions.

We had delicious seafood.

The waitress took this and said she thought Trinity's eyes were closed. 

So she took a second one.  Clearly she meant my husband looked like he was getting goosed. 

Attempt #2 wasn't any more successful.

The Bay

Lastly, a running joke all week was our rental car, a pimp Chevrolet Sonic.  

All of the resort employees must have enjoyed our ride, as it was parked next to cars I had never seen before in my life.  Cars like Ferraris, Porches, Bentleys, etc.

This fine car was parked next to us our final day. 

In California, it seems everything is over the top, including cars.

Go big or go home, they say.

We went home.