I'm glad I ate ice chips for 20+ hours last time

Eating during labor has no ill effects, study says
Wed, Mar 25, 2009 (Reuters Health) — Allowing a pregnant woman to eat during labor does not seem to have any impact on the outcome of the infant or mother, and doesn't increase the risk of vomiting, according to a new study.
The findings come from a study of 2426 pregnant women in labor who were allowed to eat lightly or to have just water during labor.
Researchers failed to see any significant differences between the two groups. Eating lightly during labor had no effect on the length of labor, the need for assisted delivery, such as the use of forceps, or Cesarean section rates.
Forty-four percent of women who ate a light diet during labor had a spontaneous normal vaginal delivery -- a rate identical to the rate seen in their peers who were permitted to have only water, Dr. Andrew Shennan, from King's College London, and colleagues report.
The cesarean delivery rate was 30 percent in each group, and rates of instrument-assisted vaginal delivery were 27 percent in the eating group and 26 percent in the water group.
The average length of labor was slightly but not significantly shorter in the eating group versus the water-only group (597 vs. 612 minutes).
The incidence of vomiting was nearly the same as well, at 35 percent and 34 percent in the two groups. There were no significant differences in any infant outcomes were observed between the groups.
The study appears in the March 24th Online First issue of the British Medical Journal.
In a commentary on the study, Dr. Soo Downe, from the University of Central Lancashire, UK, notes that the results "reinforce what has already been shown in many observational studies" and show that low risk women may eat lightly during labor.-- Reuters

Pink is soo last season.

Olivia: A brother? What do you mean I'm going to have a brother??

That's right folks, it's a boy. A BOY! Imagine that. I was convinced we were having another girl, I'd even dreamed about it. I don't know why, I just figured I was a girl-making machine. I was shocked to see a penis on that ultrasound screen, but it was there, plain as day. We're thrilled.

Oh, and please pass along any name ideas, as we have no clue what we will be calling this little rock star (and while cheese curl, aka "Curly" would certainly be appropriate, seeing as he is made up mostly of them so far, I can't imagine he'd be thrilled with the idea of having the same name as one of the Stooges, but thanks for the idea, Angela :)

A day in the life: A pictorial entry

Here's a typical day in the life of our very energetic one-year-old:

Mid-walk comments (pardon my out-of-shape, out-of-breath heavy breathing):

And when she's finally worn out:

It's bedtime:

The end.

19 weeks...

...and growing strong

Cheese curls make me happy

My last post was informing everyone about how people can once again comment on this blog but I guess it is a little hard to comment when there is nothing to comment on. Oops.

I have plenty of excuses, like I've been sick and Olivia's been sick and I've been trying to be a good employee and work so I don't get fired (which might happen anyway given the state of the newspaper industry these days) and I'm just busy and pregnant and tired and UUUUGGHHGHGHGH I'm so f*&(mailto:$*%5E@#%#ing SICK OF WINTER it isn't even funny and I guess I just didn't think anyone would want to listen to me whine like this. And frankly I'm sick of hearing it myself so I'll try to move on and talk about things that are more exciting.

I'll start with my belly and the little person inside of it. I'm 18 weeks along now. My belly is growing, along with my appetite. The other day, I felt a little tap tap tapping going on in there and I forgot how amazing that feeling is. I took the tapping to be morse code and translated the code as follows: "Mommy, I would like some cheese curls, please."
Now I am not one to deprive my children of the things they need, so I proceded to rush out and purchase some cheese curls. I never buy cheese curls. I don't know if I have ever bought cheese curls before, except for when throwing parties, because doesn't every party require a bowl of bright orange cheesy puffs?
Anyway, I digress. My point is my newest craving is cheese curls. All I can think about right now is cheese curls. I have some on my desk. I can see them from here. They are calling to me. But it is only 10 a.m. and I feel like eating cheese curls before noon is like having a drink before noon. You just shouldn't do it.
But when that clock strikes 12, I'm all over them.
Contrary to what this entry seems to be indicating, I'm actually doing quite well on the weight gain side of things this go-round. I have a feeling that may have something to do with (a) having a stomach flu not long ago and (b) chasing Olivia around the house during every second of our waking hours.
She is getting more and more fun by the day, but also more and more defiant and naughty. I know it is her learning to test limits, judge reactions and just generally be a typical toddler but seriously, that little girl has got a serious stubborn streak. But she's also so unbelievably loveable and silly and fun that I don't mind her occasional tantrums. In fact, they kind of make me laugh because they are just so dramatic. She is a clone of my husband in every respect.
Anyway, in a couple of weeks, I will find out the sex of this little cheese curl in my belly. But for now, I wait. I wait and I wait and I wait. It seems to be the story of my life anymore, waiting. And when I'm not waiting, I'm trying to slow time down. When you want time to fly, it drags. When you want it to drag, it flies.
Is there no normal speed? Why is it all slo-mo or fast-forward? Wtf?
Ok, that's all I've got for now. I can't resist the urge. I'm going for the cheese curls. It is 10:25. But it's not like I'm reaching for a vodka cranberry or anything, it's only a cheese curl. Or 20.

*ed. note: # of times I said "cheese curl" in this entry: 12. That's saying something (it's saying that I'm crazy).

I don't know how but...

I think I fixed my blog so people can comment again. I am not very technologically savvy, but I fiddled around, clicked and unclicked things and think I fixed it.
I also got rid of my old template because I thought maybe that had something to do with it, so I'm back to plain jane. But I'll fix that too, eventually.

Happy *belated* Pukentine's Day

Well, this Valentine's Day was officially a BUST.
It all started last Thursday, when I got a phone call from day care telling me Olivia was getting kicked out because she had two explosions in her diaper in a matter of a couple of hours and it was so nasty that there was no way they were going to change another one (this isn't what they actually said, but it is undoubtedly what they were thinking and if you've ever changed a sick baby's diaper, you know exactly what I mean). Oh, and by the way, if you are prone to queasiness or are uncomfortable hearing about puking or pooping, best not read this entry because it is so NOT about romance and hearts and love and so all about puke and poop, hence the blog title.
Anyway, I left work and rushed to pick up Seniorita StinkyPants and spent the rest of the day at home with her (and her germs). The following day, Russ took a sick day (foreshadowing, perhaps?) and stayed home with her and her germs because she was quarantined from day care for 24 hours.
Then Friday night came. We got take-out because I didn't feel like cooking and I had some cheese fries (healthy pregnancy diet, I know, I was craving them and trust me, I was punished for it). Russ had some fries, too, and also a sandwich of some kind.
That night, all of these things came back to haunt us in what has become the longest, most miserable night that I can remember. I don't know if the food was bad or we got Olivia's virus, but the night was filled with trips to the bathroom, nausea and stomach pain for both of us and a baby who was awake most of that time due to the scary sounds she was hearing coming from mommy and daddy. Feb. 14, 2009 will go down in history as the day we spent lying on the floor/couch feeling like death warmed over while trying to also care for a toddler.
My mother-in-law came over to try to help us with Olivia, but since she decided that it was a good day to start a wicked case of separation from mommy anxiety, she wailed when I moved more than 5 feet out of her sight. This made life difficult when I had to use the bathroom, which was often.
I'm not going to go on and on about what went on in our house while everyone else feasted on champagne and strawberries and heart-shaped chocolates (or at least that is what I envisioned while I felt sorry for myself), but I will say that Cupid owes us big time. I mean, I don't usually expect much for Valentine's Day, I was just excited about a night out with my husband, in a real-life restaurant for once. And I can guarantee you that if that night out actually had happened, I would have definitely not ordered a bowl of chicken soup, crackers and ginger ale (Tums for dessert).
But I suppose it could have been worse -- a friend of mine had a sewage backup in her house on Saturday. There was something in the air at her house, but like at mine, it was definitely NOT love.