The clock is ticking

It seems that every life change brings with it a fast-and-furious frenzy to start and finish all the projects you've been meaning to undertake or should have done years ago.

Moving? Time to throw away all the crap you've been keeping in your closets for years.

Selling your house? Better get new windows, new carpet and replace that broken dishwasher.

Having a baby? In our case, that means redo the backyard, get new living room furniture and, oh, figure out the nursery.

First things first - the backyard. We noticed about two years ago that the patio was starting to slope toward the house, which isn't good for all sorts of reasons. Plus, we've always hated the pavers and never spend any time out there because, well, it's not really visually appealing.

So we had a few landscaping companies give us quotes and draw up designs. It took me a year to swallow the idea of spending that much money, but last spring we started having discussions about doing this again. Then I thought I was going to lose my job. Then we thought we were going to move. Then we just decided we'd rather have the money in savings. (And thank God we didn't do any of this earlier because our winter storm would have probably ruined my new plants. Who says procrastination doesn't pay off?)

But Buster's upcoming arrival has put our backyard plans on the front burner. We picked a landscape architect. We approved the plans. We got rid of the pavers ourselves to save money (read: I found someone who wanted them then Chad & Nick took them out and carried them all to our driveway on a particularly hot Saturday). And now the work is finally starting!

In about a week, I hope to show you something a little more lovely, but here's the pre-show along with the dirt pile I'm dealing with now.

The left side of our patio...ugh...
can this be any more drab and brown?

The right side of our patio (Answer to above: Yes, apparently, it can.)

One of my pathetic flower beds (ie: playground for Lucy
since it's been six years and I still can't figure out
what will actually grow in here)

A massive ole dirt pile, but hope that soon we'll have some green!

It's a....!!!

I've written before that we went back and forth deciding whether we wanted to know the baby's gender ahead of time. But when it came right down to it, Chad wanted to find out and I couldn't imagine him knowing without me.

When we went in for our 20-week appointment, we gave the technician a blank note card and envelope to write down whether Baby Davis was a boy or a girl. She didn't have any trouble determining the gender of what she called our "very active" baby, though we were looking at the same monitor that she was and had no idea.

We left the appointment and continued on with our weekend. That envelope taunted me for 36 hours! My trustworthy husband sealed it shut himself because he thought I would peek. Hmph.

On Saturday night, we had reservations at a nice restaurant and planned to open the envelope then. It was a surreal, but very cool, experience. Chad opened the envelope first, made absolutely no facial expression, put the note card back in the envelope, and handed it to me.

At that moment, I was - honestly - terrified! Not because I was hoping for one more than another but because this was such a big deal (though everything to me is a big deal lately).

And this is what we saw:

Of course I started crying.

I do that a lot these days, though rarely in public.

In hindsight, I'm very glad we found out. Yes, it's one part of the equation but we've still got lots of surprises in store - will our little boy have red, curly hair like his grandpa? brown eyes like his dad? - and I think we now both feel a bit more connected to the little dude, especially Chad who hasn't been feeling all of the sometimes wonderful and sometimes nauseating elements of pregnancy. That makes me happy.

As we were falling asleep that night, I turned to Chad and said, "You realize this gives me a whole new set of things to worry about, right?"

What 20 weeks looks like

We're at the halfway point with Baby Davis! All went well for our big 20-week check up. Here's what Buster is looking like now.

We've already got a thumb-sucker

Our little alien baby (4D images are SO weird!)

And me on the way to the doctor's office this morning,
finally starting to show...

Lab lessons

This dog just won't learn. (Though, one could argue, neither do her owners.)

On Monday night while I was at kickboxing, Lucy stumbled upon and opened a bottle of Mucinex. Chad came home about an hour after I left to an open bottle and six pills scattered on the upstairs rug.

We weren't totally sure that she'd had any of them - after all, knowing Lucy, if she ate one she'd eat 'em all - but after the ibuprofen incident a few years ago we learned our lesson on how toxic some medicines are for dogs. So we called the animal poison control hotline. (Of course our vet had already closed for the evening. Murphy's Law says that dogs never have an "incident" when the vet is actually open.)

The folks on the phone took all the info on Lucy, what she - potentially - got into and how much, and tried to understand if she was acting any different (she wasn't). Then they had us induce vomiting which, let's just say, was not a fun experience for any of us. Since she didn't yak up any pills (too much information, I know), we inferred that she probably didn't eat any of them and decided not to take her to the emergency animal hospital.

The poison control folks recommended that we "monitor" Lucy ourselves for the apparently critical four-hour window when she could start to go downhill. Pay special attention for any signs of agitation, they said.

What kind of agitation, we asked?

Well, the woman said, any signs of hyperactivity - inability to sit still, constantly wanting to play or run around, pacing, or getting up and changing positions often when she's sleeping.

We gave each other a look. I stifled a laugh. Chad paused before responding to our new poison control friend, who obviously did not know Lucy well: "I did say she's a Lab, right?"

And, by the way, she's going to be fine. Again.

Celebrity fit club

I don't get too involved in celebrity fashion. Nor do I get too involved in the conversations that start with, "Did you see what she was wearing?" And I've generally been known to defend celebrities when they get taken to the cleaners over gaining a bit of weight.

But Jessica Simpson is really starting to make me crazy.

About a year ago - was that a year ago? - there was a whole controversy of Jessica and her "mom jeans." Very high-waisted and just not cute. They made her look...well, bad. Let's call it what it was: a poor fashion decision.

Part of my irritation with Jessica Simpson is that she complains when people "objectify" her and make derogatory comments over whether she's gained weight - when she literally made a name for herself many years ago in her career by wearing short shorts and skimpy outfits where her top was falling out of her shirt. She seems to want all the great press but none of the bad - and it doesn't happen that way, honey.

No matter what fashion craze is hitting the runways, every curvy woman out there (myself included) just knows that sometimes things don't work with your body type. That's ok! And you can't blame it on your stylist. Every woman I know checks herself out in the mirror at least once before leaving the house, right? If you look like an idiot, well, it's your own fault.

Bottom line: Jessica and her complaining about the mom jeans and placing blame on her stylist and badmouthing the media for talking about her figure - when that's how she's made her living - makes my head spin.

So then tonight I'm on People.com and I see this:

Not. Cute.

Seriously. You'd think Jessica would have learned from the last unflattering, high-waisted, overprinted, pocketed ensemble, wouldn't you?

My favorite things, Part 5

It's been several months since I updated my favorite things list (see parts 1, 2, 3, or 4 for the historical perspective), so here are the things I am loving right now:

Janice and Nick's wedding photos: I've been waiting three weeks for this! (Remember? I didn't take any pictures.) Watch the three-minute video for more shots. I love each of these more than the last. I want to get married again just for the photos. sigh...

A belly band: When all my previously-pregnant friends found out I was expecting, this was the one thing they said I had to get. I've got to say, the concept of pulling this weird little piece of fabric over my pants to hold them up was a bit disconcerting to me. But I'm still not in the maternity clothes stage and I was tired of wearing things with no waist so I picked one up last weekend at Target for a whopping $16. It's the best money I've spent in ages. Now, my old pants are back!

Gatorade G2: The apparent combination of summertime and pregnancy has been giving me the worst headaches I've ever had. I'm talking about constant, sometimes-these-last-for-days headaches. My doctor suggested I was dehydrated, though there was no way I could possibly drink any more water. And then someone - our HR guy whose wife has had four babies - told me that I needed to be drinking something with electrolytes. (As Chad said, "Why didn't we think of that?") So, a little G2 in my day makes the headaches go away. At least some of the time.

My pedometer: A few years ago, I went and got myself a little pedometer and the darned thing slipped off my pants the third time I wore it. But the second one I got earlier this year is even better. This magic little device records your steps and keeps track of them over the past week - based on how many steps you actually take per foot vs. any kind of "standard" or average - and has a latch to keep it from falling off. When it's walk-time for Lucy, I just slap this thing on the back of my shorts (I put a house key on it too so we can travel lightly) and take off. I love this little thing. It's much more gratifying to come home from a walk to see you've traveled three miles than to just come home sweaty and tired.

The song "This Afternoon" by Nickelback - which is basically about a group of friends sitting around in their backyard wasting an entire day. Yes, it's overplayed but it makes me happy. (Unlike "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum which used to make me happy but is so overplayed that these days it just makes me irritated.)

Riesens: I love these darned little things so much, I can eat a dozen at a time! (Maybe that's a stretch, maybe not. I've never really counted.) For those of you who don't like dark chocolate, don't let that deter you. I don't like dark chocolate either, but I loooove these. Though be prepared for them to get stuck in your teeth.

Napping: Why, oh why, did I ever protest this activity? Maybe I can hunt down a person to let me trade in the naps I didn't take in kindergarten for a few during my workday. Wishful thinking?

Men are from Mars...

...And yet another classic example of the difference between men and women. I came home from work on Friday to see this:

Chad's shoes sitting right on the kitchen table, which had been disinfected and scrubbed not 24 hours before. I waited to move them, more perplexed than upset. (Besides, it wasn't like sitting there longer would contaminate the table any more than it already was.)

When Chad got home, the conversation went something like this:

Me: Why are your shoes on my clean kitchen table? Were you worried that Lucy was going to eat them?

Chad looked at me with a blank stare. Clearly, I had missed the very obvious point.

Chad: No. I was trying to flatten the brim of my hat.

Oh, of course! Why didn't I think of that?

Lessons from a sun goddess - among other things

For about 48 hours this week, I'm in Huntington Beach, CA. I really like this place, though I do wonder how on earth anyone who lives here gets work done. (But I really am working - see?) In fact, maybe I've been working so much that I used up all my writing juices for the day, 'cause in re-reading this post, I'm starting to wonder if I'm making any sense.

Anyway, the weather here has been incredible. Today's high is 72 and the low is 65. After the last few weeks in DC where temperatures topped 100 degrees on multiple occasions, I could be persuaded to forgo my love of the four seasons and live in a place like this!

Yesterday when I arrived, I had a few hours before our first event. So I headed to the pool in my gym clothes (I never thought I'd have time to go to the pool so I didn't pack a swimsuit - or sunscreen) and decided to soak up the sun for an hour while reading my People magazine. It was breezy, the sun was warm but not hot, and I got all caught up on the celebrity scoop I've been missing for two weeks.

The problem? I forgot the important lesson that warm sun + cool breeze does not = no rays. Meaning, I came back to my room a peculiar shade of pink. And of course, since I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, the tan lines aren't particularly flattering. They kind of hurt, too. Note to self: Wear sunscreen even if you don't think you need it.

When I was packing to come here and even in the cab on the way to the hotel, I remembered coming to this same conference at the same hotel a year ago. Where I had lunch, where we ate dinner, where we made s'mores and watched the sun set. It wasn't until I'd been here a few hours and was talking to someone else about it that they told me the conference wasn't held here last year - it was two years ago. Yikes! Time flies.

ISO Cliff's Notes for baby things

Earlier this week, I decided I absolutely must sit down and figure out what we need for Baby Davis. I was actually feeling pretty proactive until I started down this road.

A few weeks ago my friend April, one of my closest "mom" friends out here, gave me a whole armload of things that I've been meaning to sift through. One is an awesome book that walks you through everything you need and everything you don't (ie: a changing table = huge waste of money) when it comes to getting ready for a baby.

Problem is, this book is 600 pages long. (And the first 70-some pages are all about cribs. I am not exaggerating.) Now, I never perfected the art of just reading the important stuff that so many of my peers learned in college. Nooo...when I was tasked with a reading assignment, I read every single page. That theory is coming back to bite me in a big way. But, man, after this week I am quite an expert on cribs.

The other problem is that these books do nothing but overwhelm the fragile mindset of the mother-to-be. Not only did my 70 pages of crib reading leave me feeling totally unprepared (and stupid, in many cases), I was also feeling very behind. Chad came home to find me curled up on the living room couch about 65 pages into the book and simply beside myself: "CHAD! We only have two more weeks to pick out a crib before it's too late!" (They say you should order your crib by 20 weeks or it might not make it to you in time for the baby's arrival.) Fortunately, Chad is the sane one of the two of us and talked me off my ledge. But we're still going shopping next weekend.

So, mom friends, if I decide to abandon my remaining 530 pages of reading, can you just tell me please...what should we register for or buy and what's a gigantic waste of cash?

Morning people

No one in our house can be accused of being a morning person, but Lucy's recent lack of desire to get up when the sun rises brings a smile to my face.

Instead of waking us up at the crack of dawn, she's taken to burying her head between her bed and the curtain to block out all light. Even while I'm getting ready for work, I can often find Lucy silently protesting the start of a new day in the corner of our bedroom.

In the morning when my alarm goes off, I half-raise my head and I usually see this:

Clearly she's not ready to get up either! Though she is usually moving around before Chad...

All's quiet on the Western front

It's been a weird week.

We're calling it The Week of Chad. (Actually his phrase, not mine.) What this means is that Congress is in recess. And what that means is Chad's schedule is completely and utterly up to him. He might as well be retired. This partially makes up for working all those crazy hours, for sure.

So this week Chad has headed into work for a couple hours each day, gone golfing at least three times, been to the gym on a handful of occasions, stayed up late to watch movies then slept in, organized a happy hour, and cleaned out our utility room.

He has also walked the dog every. single. day. For me, this has been paradise - not only because walking the dog is one of my least favorite chores, but also because it's topped 100 degrees for the last three days and just the idea of leaving the air conditioning makes me feel kind of sick.

But as I sit here at 6:00 at night with no husband (golfing) and no dog to walk, I'm trying to remember what I did all those nights I lived by myself. I've already unloaded the dishwasher and gone through the mail, it's not a "gym" day, and my house is clean - save for that pile in the study I really must get to before we transition it into a nursery.

So, I sit. And I marvel at the peace and quiet, which I am acutely aware will not be the case about five months from now in this house. I think about which pavers we're going to buy when we redo our backyard, and what I'm going to wear to work tomorrow, and dinner.

And then I realize I have to go find something to do because this sitting around is making me crazy.

It's getting hot in here

Dear Lord:

It's hot. Really, really hot. (But then again, you know that, huh?)

It's so hot, I promise to never complain about how cold it is ever again. Provided you actually send along winter this year. I'm beginning to think you've intentionally turned our nation's capital into hell on earth.

Amen.

Looking back

Janice and Nick's wedding was incredible. I wish I could post pictures but, well, I didn't take any. So I'm waiting on RT to upload her photos and for the photographer to post the highlights on their blog. (Can't wait to share 'em all! And I will...)

Why didn't I take any photos, you ask? Well because, by the time the wedding came around, I was picture-d out. Like I did for Rachel and Paul's wedding three years ago, I gathered all the old photos of Janice and Nick and compiled a little pre-wedding video for friends and family. Since YouTube will only let you post videos up to 10 minutes, I had to break the video into four-minute intervals, but here it is:

Here's Janice - extra credit if you can keep track of the photos where she is absolutely filthy

Here's Nick - some very interesting Halloween costumes from that one!

The two of them together. Aren't they just a darling little match? I should receive bonus points for figuring out how to break into Janice's Snapfish account to find the photo of them on Nick's old motorcycle, don't you think?