As the starting bell rings for a decisive Third-Tri Twenty-Eight, Ski to Sea loses some legs and slips into something more mountain-bikey in time to call in the big Daddy Dubyas for support. Furnishing avengers assemble! And lay waste to the cardboard shanty-town that predates a nestworthy nursery. Toys with wheels whir the daddy genes in a proto-papa, while doe-eyed mini-mama goes dewy in the Target aisles. Feminine factors flux and fashion themselves with unexpected booty from a friendly visit. Grand Parades and a race to write home about are met with flaming ears and little luftmensch dreamers of the Kabocha clan.
Cool Foot Lunatic - Tip-Toeing to the Weekend
In honor of our own little Wrightlett nina, it appears that pesky El Nino is making a big old fashioned Pacifically Oscillating comeback this year. But for real this time, because last time was totally weak man.
Apparently that means plenty of things for plenty of people, but forget them. The most important thing it means is that the Pacific Northwest is once more set to have pointedly "higher than average" temperatures this summer. This will complement our non-winter and precociously unseasonable spring. It is, pretty much, full throttle summer from how my younger self would understand this weather area. Weather in the seventies. A giant ball of bright light in the sky... no rain for consecutive days at a time.
I am beyond perplexed by all of this. This is not the Pacific Northwest Weather I've come to merrily mildew in! This is some freakish hybrid of West Coast/East Coast. And all timed for when I already perceive any given temperature to be about 10 degrees hotter due to the pregnancy shenanigans.
Other impacts include "totally messing with the Ski to Sea." The Ski to Sea is an annual multi-event relay race, fairly notorious around the region and one of the biggest events of any sort hosted by Bellingham. Although "the original" involved single lumberjacks running up Mt. Baker (mostly not dying) and back via train or horseless carriage to Bellingham (if said lumberjacks hadn't died or if a cow didn't get in the way of the train - true story from the first race), the typical format these days looks like this:
1. A cross-country ski.
2. A downhill ski, which actually involves mostly "trekking uphill with your skis desperately trying to reach the apex from which you finally get to ski for real."
3. A running portion that heads directly down the mountain.
4. A road bike across the county.
5. A two person canoe down the river for twoish hours.
6. A "cross-country" bike leg. This was previously called a "mountain bike" portion, but it was repeatedly pointed out that - despite our access to several mountainous terrains - this course had an almost zero elevation and was better attempted on a cyclocross bike.
7. A kayak in the ocean.
...
8. Bell ringing and heavy beer drinking with all the Bellinghamsters who came to party in Fairhaven.
This year, it will be a little different. Due to the absolute dearth of snow our fair state has received, the two ski legs would be well-nigh impossible.
After significant foot dragging, the race organizers decided that the ski legs would have to be cut. And replaced. Perhaps, we speculated, there would be some kind of trail running followed by an actual mountain bike on the Mt. Baker area?
Kind of. There will be a trail run to start things out. That will hand off directly to the downhill runner, however. All the other legs remain the same, except the kayaker is no longer the final racer. They added a "mountain bike" finale, which originally might even have actually included some mountain biking... had the permits worked out. They didn't.
So it's a weird bike leg with one or two conceivably hazardous spots and a lot of getting on and off one's bike to cross roads and wait for trains. Not exactly the epic event it might have been, but Andrew's still all in and will be pulling for the People's Bank Team this Sunday.
Since I'm called off support team for Third Trimester grouchy introverted pregnant lady reasons, Andrew has called in the big guns: his Dad will be here. Actually, Daddy Dubya will essentially be in Seattle the entire summer, house-sitting for a friend. He's arriving this weekend though and will hitch a ride to Bellingham with a friend who is gaga over the idea of seeing the La Conner Quilt Museum. Why not?
Needless to say, despite a spate of ridiculously sunny and unbearably chipper and summery days, it should be raining on Sunday. But warm! Still unseasonably warm, at least! Maybe just overcast on Sunday.
I, for one, am welcoming the rain. Not only does it cool down the house inside, but it also waters our poor little strip of landscaping. And that means we don't have to struggle with our ambivalence 'twixt guilt at letting them languish and distaste for any yard work at all (Plus drought! Can't just throw water around like that!).
28 Weeks Later... The Nictitating Cuke-Kobocha
What last week was maybe, this week is pretty well decidedly (except some intransigent hold outs which I refuse to acknowledge) THE THIRD TRIMESTER! And I've got the bulging belly to prove it! The Fonz doubled in size this last month, and I'm pretty sure my midriff has attempted to exceed that spurt. Poor squished out other-organs...
Our wee little wonder is now roughly 2.5 pounds and 15-16 inches long. Which purportedly makes her:
1. An "average" Zucchini - Average? What the heck is an average size for a zuke? I've seen everything from hand-size to dinosaur-femur size without really noting what I'd call a good average. But hey, in the final stretches of the name game... Courgette?
2. A Large Cucumber - I feel that originality is dwindling here...
3. A Large Eggplant - Seriously. But hey, Courgette Aubergine Wright has a great ring to it, doesn't it?
4. A Kabocha Squash. Alright, now we're at least getting kind of randomly specific! Also known as the Japanese pumpkin apparently. Must have been my background in East Asian Studies...
In addition to blinking up a storm now, her eyes are almost fully developed. They're sensitive to light and gaining their initial pigment. Sounds like we're likely due for a brown eyed girl...if Andrew can remember his parent's eye colors accurately. That should at least cut down on the light sensitivity a little. Not that baby sunglasses aren't adorable. But hard to remember them when you're heading to the delivery room, and those medical rooms can get bright, poor kid.
That's not the only eye fluttering going on. REM sleep definitely is happening by this stage. Do incunabula dream of fetal sheep? The sleep cycle of doom (up all night, cozy all day) is slowly forming. I hear she also is taking routine 20-30 minute naps, which again probably won't last much after birth so I'd best enjoy it.
Apparently fetuses around this age are often seen sticking out tongues. Mocking mommy in between kicks and jabs? Slurping up that amniotic pee water? Nobody knows.
And she's getting big now. Fat is finally filling her out. Her brain alone is going to increase 400-500% in weight before birth (hopefully not with fat). And my body will be pushed and pressed like crazy to accommodate I'm sure.
Other predicted joys? Many of the same of course. Lightheadedness should be surging back. Did we mention that hot weather can trigger that? Great in an El Nino summer that's already unseasonably hot! Fetch me the smelling salts!
Clumsiness. Brain fog. Ridiculously stuffed nose. A bladder that manages to refill itself in the time it takes for me to walk from the bathroom back to the desk. Cramping of all sorts all over. Giggling inanely and at inappropriate times in public, typically brought on by a sharp and odd little jab from the karate master inside...
And pretty soon, I should be experiencing restless leg syndrome and - if I'm (un)lucky - sciatica!
But - knock on wood - so far so good. I'm learning to be more cautious about twisting or taxing my abs too much (not that the snapping sensation isn't an awesome one), and mostly feeling pretty well. Still managing to walk a fair bit at the treadmill desk, which helps with a lot of the swelling and cramping risks I think. And still getting some last sleeping-through-the-night kicks in.
Not too phased to be slowing down a bit and not overly emotionally explosive yet, though I have to say that I'm still miles away from any nesting instincts. Ah well. The house was mostly unpacked when we moved and everything else has sedimented into locked position. The basement will always be some kind of labyrinth of Andrew boxes and random furniture. The library will always have the sofa haphazardly thrown across it by the door. The blinds in our room will always hang diagonally across the window at just the verge of crashing down entirely. The downstairs is the permanent home to piles of paintings and our sofa remains gauchely pressed against a wall in defiance of all principles of Feng Shui and decent taste. Nomad chic, I guess.
Creativity thrives in a slight mess, and I do want our little one to be creative, right?
And possibly a penguin. I've been threatening - in light of news of yet another unseasonably warm summer - to move to antarctica and raise our daughter among the penguins. Andrew has threatened to find her a penguin suit of some sort which I'm all for, although the swim lessons should probably wait a few months...
In the meantime, I'm still mostly able to focus enough to work, so probably should be getting to that now.
Fonzarelli-ina The girlification of the little kicker and MORE BABY STUFF.
Lest anyone worry that the enormous stash of clothing our wee little aubergine inherited from her nephews might subvert important gender messaging and/or suppress our baby's natural femininity... never fear! We've got friends with little girls and minor shopping addictions.
On Friday I snuck out of work to drop in on bestie Molly, who is just now roughly a bajillion times more pregnant than me (nearly 37 weeks and just nearly ready for the whole birthing ritual as far as she's concerned). To avoid going into labor before she's able to give birth at the birthing center, she's actually following her midwife's instructions and backing off the insane nesting previously driving her. Don't get me wrong, she's still painting and sanding a table . Just not taking out walls anymore.
But this means she's bored, staying at home and not getting to do much other than let her stir crazy two and a half year old run wild (and watch the Disney Channel voraciously). This might be manifesting with an increased Facebook presence. But also, perhaps maybe just a little increase in internet shopping. Not sure how much of this stash comes from that, but... boy I dropped in to surprise her and she surprised me with supplies for an infant army! A very adorable and pink infant army. Score!
In other marvelous lucre updates, we picked up Andrew's favorite item ever: the running stroller that my dad bought for us. Nevermind that we shouldn't go running with the baby for eight plus months and that she's not really born yet so we're really talking about a year out... it's already been assembled, I assure you! I'm sure it will make a nice piece of living room furniture for the next spell.
Me: "I love how you're obsessing over something we clearly won't be able to use for several months, but when I mention something we'll need right after the baby is born or stuff to handle before labor, you look at me like I'm crazy and say 'that's three months from now, we'll cross that bridge when we get there.'"
Andrew: "Well yeah, but those are not a toy with wheels!"
Touche, Mr. (W)right, touche...
Before that, there was a parade. After a summer of painfully and unseasonably bright, sunny (cheery - ugh) and hot, of course Memorial Day weekend took a turn for the dreary and ever-so-sightly-bone-chilly. I'm grateful for that though, because otherwise being outside would have been a bit agonizing for me. I'd much rather have horripilation than head-achin'-agony.
The shriners were there. The sikhs. The bands. And a lot of dead space, because they'd really spaced this thing poorly. But the gaps were filled with adorable children running into the street and dancing around, so not a total loss.
And good practice for future Memorial Days, when our adorably pink-glad Girl Genius will be yelling about horsies and fire engines, and demanding inflatable animals from the vendors!!
Memorial Morning to Remember
The weather gods have thrown me a bone this weekend. A nice savory chew-toy of a bone. One that plausibly caused dismay to other long weekend warriors, but one that suits me just fine: a rainy morning! There's a minor green blob on the radar, so I don't anticipate this lasting for too long, but I shall heartily enjoy the respite from happy cheery (head-heating) summer while preparing my white maternity pants (no, no, I will not own such things - black yoga pants or bust baby)
Yesterday the not-so-Ski to Sea happened even in my absence! I did the parade on Saturday. I did the constant reloading of the ever-less-accurate "race results" page. But this is the first year since Andrew began his ringading-ringering in the race that I have not been actively involved as "support person." This year, Daddy Dubya (just up from a long and adventurous road trip for a summer of Seattle house-sitting) did the honors. Mostly. I actually don't know. There were some missed connections, but sounds like the official "hand off" went off smoothly and the race-leg itself was superb. He also went to a potluck that I'd initially intended to attend at well. Alack other Adella sensitivities (we call it the flaming face) intervened. Good news being that now we have a huge bag of vegetables and some fancy bean dip that otherwise would have been squandered on others.
I spent the day in a waddle betwixt household chores, a walk that went too long, and a lot of overheated after-effects. Mostly staring vapidly into the eternal abyss of our air conditioning unit upstairs while holding an ice pack to my left ear. When I get hot flashes, they seem to congregate in one of my ears. Typically the left one. The ear goes scarlet and slowly radiates out from there. If I hold an ice pack to my head like an archaic cellular mobile device (dinosaur ancestor of our smart phone thingamajiggers), then I can stem the the mounting migraine somewhat well. Yes, yes, I have brought this ice pack to a restaurant on a warm date night before. Yes, I expect to be wandering around with a cooler full of ice packs as summer officially breaks upon us.
But for now, I'll be able to enjoy this nice burst of blobby green radar condensation, while the hubba-hubba heals on the couch before a long day of "catching up." Since we haven't had much of that sort of time since March, I imagine he has plenty of things to attack. Most of it of the "putting various bits of furniture together" variety. Possibly with a mountain bike ride outing in there. And several re-checks of the Ski to Sea results page.
Fasten your booster seat straps, it's gonna be a wild holiday!
Daddy (W)right Knows Best - (about assembling massive objects of furniture)
Well after all the Skiless to Sea excitement, there needed to be a day for down-time and catch up (not a lot of ketchup, sadly, though many items of food would have been better for the addition). And our kind of catch up is supersized these days. Sure there are little chores and errands that will - eventually... someday... maybe - actually get handled. But more urgently, there are massive objects of furniture nestled in astronomical reams of corrugated cardboard!
I did my own chores, including a run to Target. I must be pretty obviously a first-time expecting mother. Just the specter of me ambling up and down the baby section with a dewy dazed grin on my face screams "this is a woman addled with hormones into a biological mommy-mien, but one clearly without the exasperation and exhaustion of active parenting." It was a fun jaunt at any rate. And there were cute kids at which to give a gooey grin or twenty.
Andrew's initial excitement over the running stroller ebbed enough for him to move beyond that moment of sheer post-construction bliss. Though not before realizing that - due to another generous gift of a stroller organizer - we actually do have a cupholder for this stroller! Now if we could just get the built in power-stroller-meter, GPS unit, knobby tires, and kickin' stereo system!
Still, having come down from the running stroller triumph, and having survived the mountain bike leg of relay-rip-roarin', Mr. (W)right was ready to tackle the crib! Oh our baby will have so many places to lie down. At least once we also get a crib mattress. But no hurry on that.
The crib is spectacular. Beautiful and it converts into a daybed for future toddlering. The only thing more spectacular, perhaps, was the sheer volume of waste produced by our recent acquisition of baby-swag. Yes, the cardboard recycling dumpster is a five minute walk from our front door. Yes, we absolutely needed to drive all this down. Yes, it took us roughly ten minutes to unpack and tamp down our contribution to the cardboard pile. Hopefully they pick up recycling soon...
We really are blessed to have such an abundance of family and friends helping us acquire all these items. It really brings home to me how hard it must be for those with less financially secure support networks (or just less support) to start out new families. Let's not even start on the actual parenting part, which is several birth plans away from even kicking in.
After setting up the crown jewel of our Baby Cribz, Mr. (W)right naturally decided that he hadn't given himself sufficient punishment on Sunday, and went out for a "recovery ride". This in turn necessitated survival coffee, which apparently did not permit much in the way of recuperative dormancy last night. But it did give him the energy to start tackling some more shelving in his bike dungeon. Perhaps by the time our little ninja is kicking in air instead of my innards, that basement area will actually have free space! Perhaps. Let's not go crazy. But it's on our list of goals.
My goals before the baby are born: having the baby room set up, having actually packed a hospital bag, and having finished our ongoing Angel/Buffy Crossover quest (two more episodes and four or five plus a season of Angel). Priorities here! Oh and watching the Tour de France unmolested.
Andrew's? Get more bike racing in! Well, there are others, but his immediate action plan is to be away on Wednesday night for his very first "track night". Since his dad is house-sitting in Seattle, he figures that he'll stay over there in his ongoing quest to get all his adventures and alone time in before the baby is born and I genuinely start minding that he's away kind of a lot between work and cycling. And in the meantime, I'll be able to turn every fan in the house up and dominate the entire bed on Sunday evening! And sleep is definitely also on my "before baby" list.
Happy back-to-work day. Hope your truncated weeks are starting well and your holidaze is a pleasant and fuzzy one.
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