crabby days...

I've been really crabby today.

Cranky.

Whiny.

My poor hubby bore the brunt of it as I sought to supervise his efforts to hang drapes this morning. He's such a trooper. Maybe I didn't sleep as well as I thought I did last night? Or maybe it's just one of those days.

"Momma said there'll be days like this..."

Then we went to our old apartment office to turn in the last keys and sign off on the completed lease papers. And the manager took us outside, opened her car door and pulled out a nearly-new Graco baby swing. In our baby room colors!

"My grandson is 9 months old, and has outgrown a bunch of stuff," she said. "Follow me back to the rear garage building - I've got two big plastic containers full of all the clothes he's too big for, and a bag of baby toys!"

I couldn't believe it. Shame on me for secretly having thought that she wasn't very nice the last time we met! *slaps own hand*

As we finished loading up her splendid hand-me-downs, she asked us to please keep in touch with her after the baby is born - 'cause she doesn't have anywhere else to offload her grandbaby's gear.

Wow, God. You're pretty awesome. Thanks for cheering me up on a day when I just wanted to curl up in bed and forget everything.

Now I think I'll go remove that cute (almost identical) baby swing from our gift registry. There's no point in having two!

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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starting early...

Hubby is home from his summer gallivants, and we're sorting through that uber-fun stage of getting back on track and into a routine.

We've always attempted to have morning and evening devotions - at least personally, if not together as a couple. But one of our family identity goals is to cultivate the daily habit of morning and evening family worship. As part of our regular routine that never wavers.

And we're not naive enough to think that these kind of habits will come more automatically or more easily after munchkin's arrival. So we've started reading out loud before we get out of bed in the morning, and before falling asleep at night, praying together, and singing a song to the belly.

We hope that not only will it get us into the routine so we can keep it going in the future, but that it will also being to prenatally familiarize munchkin with how it feels to have quiet spiritual time with Jesus every day.

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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pick a time zone, kid...

It seems that the pregnancy rollercoaster has started finally settling into itself and coming back down to earth. Which is totally fine with me, of course... just in case you had doubts.

Tomorrow we visit the doctor for our 6-month checkup.

Munchkin has firmly settled into a pattern of activity and restfulness. And he's right on cue with his Romanian heritage, too. He wakes up promptly at sunrise - European time. Which happens to correspond with American bedtime. He does his gymnastics while mommy tries to sleep. Then all day long while mommy is busy - he sleeps like a bug in a rug.

Nice.

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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upcoming threads...

To keep myself focused, I've decided to begin posting some book reviews on what I've been reading lately. If you've read any of the books, I'd love to have your input on those posts. If you've read a book you recommend, let me know. If you go and read a book based on one of these reviews - please tell me about it, I'd like to know!

Here's my upcoming review list:

• The Mission of Motherhood: touching your child's heart for eternity, by Sally Clarkson
• Raising a Modern-day Knight: a father's role in guiding his son to authentic manhood, by Robert Lewis
• Child Guidance, by Ellen White
• Adventist Home, by Ellen White
• The New Six-Point Plan to Raising Happy, Healthy Children, by John Rosemond
• A Family of Value, by John Rosemond
• That's My Son: how moms can influence boys to become men of character, by Rick Johnson
• Better Dads, Stronger Sons: how fathers can guide boys to become men of character, by Rick Johnson
• The Man Whisperer: speaking your man's language to bring out his best, by Rick Johnson
• On Becoming BabyWise, by Gary Ezzo & Robet Bucknam
• What Your Doctor May Not Tell You about Children's Vaccinations, by Stephanie Cave
• Parenting by the Spirit, by Sally Hohnberger
  

Ya think that's enough to get started?

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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I'm baaaaack...

Did you miss me?

We are finally unpacked, settled in, and getting real sleep at night. The master of the house is back from his explorations in the Amazon interior, and had a whole new home waiting for him when he returned.

Besides the moving process, the work commitments, and the general efforts to survive pregnancy - wanna see what I've been doing with all my "off-time"?

Check out my recent photography shoots online here. Come back to this post and leave a comment if you like 'em!

© Sarah K. Asaftei, 2009 unless otherwise sourced. Use allowed by express written permission only.

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on father's day...

Another very cute video about just how much kids are watching what their parents do and say.

Dads out there - remember you've got little monkeys that watch and imitate and form their life values based on what you do. (Guess that equally goes for moms, too!)


"I'm Your Buckaroo"
by Rodney Atkins

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thinking about fathers...

This video brought tears to my eyes. We shared it today during our Father's Day program at church (hosted and presented by our Women's Ministries team).

Thought I'd share it in honor of all the dads who take their fatherhood role seriously.

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on second thought...

I've been thinking about the pregnesia post two days ago. I think I should be more accurate about these conversations I keep having. They're not really with multiple personalities.

It's more like listening to an argument between multiple memory banks.

Self: Uhhh, what did I come in here for?

Long-Term Memory: Well don't look at ME! You have to keep something in your head overnight for me to file it away!

Short-Term Memory: Hah. It's not MY fault. I only keep information for between 30 and 60 seconds at a time. Then I just hand it over to File 13 - but if you could remember things you'd know that already. *sniffs disdainfully*

File 13: *laughs in derision* Everybody knows I chuck every shred that comes my way. Usually I don't even look to see what it was about. Call me efficient, but don't expect ME to help you out.

And it doesn't only happen over shampooing my hair. This seems to be a near-daily occurrence. On some days I get to debate these three dear snipes several times in a row.

Lucky me.

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didn't your momma ever tell you it's rude to stare?

A friend recently told me that I look totally normal from behind (whew!). But then you see the front of me and it looks like I'm smuggling a basketball under my shirt.

Ummmm, I think I'll go ahead and take that as a compliment.

What I don't understand is why everyone stares at me when I'm out and about. I mean, 16 pounds and a few great skinny outfits ago, if the same number of people were taking two extra seconds to look - I'd just have assumed that I got lucky with my choice of shoes and was having a grrrrreat hair day.

But we're not talking 16 pounds ago and skinny outfits. We're talking denim maternity capris, basic green tee and flat silver sandals. Oh yeah, and very average on-the-go hair and all that...

Are there so few pregnant women out walking around in public? Are we really such a novelty?

Okay, I get why little kids might stare. First, they don't yet know better. Second, I remember how challenging it was when I could never be sure if a woman was pregnant or just plain fat. So the little munchkins are curious. No problem.

But the MEN! What's their deal? I know I don't exactly look hot. I'm just out doing a little shopping, disturbing no one. You got a problem with that? Did you never see your own wife/mother/sister when she was pregnant? Do you really have to look three times to make sure it's a baby bump?

Besides, you're a total grownup. Way too old for the staring, or for your surreptitious third glance to be waived under the "cute" clause. If your momma was here, she'd scold you for being rude and tell you to mind your own beeswax.

Yeah, I really don't get it. Anybody wanna clue me in?

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on training puppies...

Another tale from the NANNY FILES...

The family recently got two puppies - even-tempered, beautiful and a kind of rare breed (red irish setter) that isn't easily obtained around here.

One day the woman who bred and sold the puppies called to ask if they'd be willing to sell one to a family whose dog had just died. In the course of conversation, the breeder discovered that these two were just turned loose in the backyard, fed occasionally and only rarely got their poop scooped up.

"You mean they're not being trained? Not going to obedience school?"

She couldn't believe it.

Then she asked if she could buy BOTH the dogs back.

Funny how people know instinctively that a puppy needs careful, patient and intentional training in order to not grow into a wild and obnoxious dog that nobody wants to keep around.

But somehow, with kids, the prevailing philosophy insists that they all know what's best for themselves. That any form of training or restraint or discipline will prevent children from reaching their fullest potential. That if you want to ensure your child's happiness, you need to let him dictate what he "knows" is best for himself.

If you ask me, the only thing we're ensuring in this generation is the next crop of holy terrors. And, just like an untrained and disobedient animal, nobody's going to want them around. We're practically guaranteeing that our kids will grow up to be unruly, unpleasant and unwanted -- and it's all in the name of "love".

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pregnesia...

Tonight I decided to shower before blogging. I was almost ready to step out when I remembered that I hadn't washed my wet hair. Pregnancy has brought a new dimension to the term "oil-slick", so I figured a quick scrub wasn't a bad idea. You know, since I was already in the shower and all.

I squeezed the shampoo into my palm, and dunked my head back under the nozzle. Funny though, my hair felt squeaky clean.

I paused for a little conversation with my multiple personalities.

"Did I already wash my hair?"

"It feels like you did."

"But I don't remember doing it!"

"And you've only been in the shower for 5 minutes. How could you forget?"

And so goes an excellent illustration of my new definition of 'normal'. Nothing makes you question your mental fitness for impending parenthood like forgetting your own name, or searching everywhere for the sunglasses safely perched on your head.

But I take comfort in the fact that, if the other mothers I know are any indication - I'll be in excellent company.

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the sympathy of men...

My husband is a jewel. Really he is.

Over the last 5 months I've been convinced that he's a closet nursing professional. He's been kind, caring, patient beyond belief.

There's some inner switch that flips in a truly good man when the woman he loves is carrying his child. He'll do all kinds of things that he'd never dreamed of before. With joy.

Like midnight snack runs. Or holding you upright in the shower when you're about to faint. Or doing all your chores in addition to his own. Or getting your snacks out of the refrigerator because the slightest smell makes you gag and run from the room.

But then there are moments when, like every human, he does something that makes you wonder about his sanity. Or at least, your reaction makes him question yours.

Like coming in from work one night last week, flopping on the couch, and announcing that he's so tired he "feels like he's pregnant!"

I just walked out of the room.

But he's only human, right? Fallible. Bound to fall off his perfectly polished pedestal once or twice over nine months.

I guess I can grant him that. After all, the next morning he scrubbed out the refrigerator with bleach, dumped all the expired food and totally organized the remaining contents. I can almost get my own snacks without holding my nose now.

In my book, that puts him right back up near perfect. Even if he does think he's tired enough to feel pregnant. HAH.

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on daddy's love...

This morning, we spent a few quiet moments just soaking each other in - knowing that my husband was heading to the Amazon jungle for the next couple of weeks.

I'd usually be swinging from trees right beside him, but somehow this whole halfway-through-pregnancy-thing has put the kibosh on my energy level. Bleh.

So, in the sweet early morning hours, the three of us spent a few uninterrupted moments together. Marius sang a little made-up-on-the-spot morning song to my belly. And then he started giving baby instructions.

"Now Tristan, you be good while I'm gone. You take good care of your mommy and make sure nothing happens to her and that she doesn't work too hard, okay?"

I've never heard anything more precious in my life.

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on waving goodbye...

Today my husband left for a mission trip in Brazil. Two weeks in the Amazon Interior. Thirty-six hours up the Rio Negro by boat.

Yeah, I'm not worried a bit.

Okay, a little bit.

Actually, I'll miss him terribly (especially while lugging boxes and sorting out our personal effects in a new (old) house). But I believe he's going on God's errands. And while I did strongly (lovingly) forbid him to go swimming with any piranhas, or swing from any rainforest vines - I choose to put his safety in God's hands.

Besides, he's done trips like this before. He's an old pro.

He'll be fine.

I hope.

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arthritis, dermatitis and the extinction of humanity...

For the last week my left pinkie finger has been hurting like the dickens. As if more than 4 months of straight nausea wasn't enough.

Apparently there really IS such a thing as pregnancy-induced arthritis. Well, if it comes in your wrists, they call it carpal tunnal. Maybe they have another fancy name for it when it's in your pinkie joints.

Whatever they call it, it's a royal pain. Can't bend the finger. Can't wiggle the finger sideways. Middle joint all swollen and puffy. A Google search blames it on all the extra water weight. Whoopee...

And there's this weird red scaly eczema-slash-dermatitis-patch under my nose that won't go away. No luck with hydrocortisone or its many variations. No luck with salicylic acid washes. Fun, fun.

You know, if they told all this stuff to the next generation - I think it'd be far more effective birth control than the lame arguments most people use these days.

Maybe I should write a sex ed curriculum. I could make the planet go extinct in two generations flat.

And I haven't even gotten to the third trimester or the birthing process yet.

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the boppiest investment yet...

I'm a stomach sleeper. Have been for years. Until the last two months, that is.

The doc says that it's best to sleep on my left side for "optimum blood circulation". Yeah, somehow I don't think he's ever tried doing that for 12 hours a night, weeks in a row. With a growing belly that kind of droops heavily to the side and pulls his pelvis out of joint. And a baby kicking inside just when you nod into dreamland.

If he did, he'd know all about that throbbing in your left hip that makes you wonder to yourself if you just busted a bed sore in the wee hours of the morning. And no, the 15 trips to pee per sleep cycle aren't enough to make it go away.

Yesterday I saw my fairy god-pillow on a store shelf. I wasn't there to buy. But there was no way I was walkin' out without this thing:
I was practically dancing on tippy toes. If this Boppy Total Body Pillow thingy works, maybe I can eliminate some of the 7 huge feather pillows that I meticulously arrange down each side and underneath me every night.

And maybe Hubbie can stop tying himself to the headboard to keep from rolling off the 6 inches of mattress that are left for him. (Just kidding, there's at least 8.5 inches.)

What's more, this thing works as a sitting pillow and lap rest, too! Check it out:
I'm using it to keep my laptop radiation from giving little Mr. Asaftei prenatal brain tumors while I type right now. There's plenty of time for him to get wired into the technology waves after he's born, right?

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a bib of nonsense...

I never spent time pondering the range of compliments and insults emblazoned on babywear until now.

I can see why the baby clothing industry rakes it in. I'm totally NOT a sucker for materialistic branding schemes, but some of these baby outfits are so cute I want to buy them just to hang in my closet. Hmmm, pity I'm having a boy and I keep swooning over frilly pink and lavender dresses. Poor kid.

(Really people, where on earth are the equally adorable masculine clothes? Does super cute have to be limited to girls only? Sheesh.)

My favorite bib sayings so far are:

1 spoon
2 spoon
3 spoon
FLOOR!

and...

if you think I'M cute,
you should see my dad!

But then there are the down right idiotic baby bib slogans, like:

my mom thinks SHE'S in charge...
that's so cute.

and

hey dude, your wife
keeps checking me out!

Do people really think that buying bibs and onesies embroidered with "I'm a little tyrant" is going to make a monster child seem less obnoxious? C'mon, you're an adult. Be intelligent already. Do you really think seeing that slogan every day is going to improve your kid's character?

And putting a truthful slogan on your kid's outfit (like "I KNOW I rule the house!") doesn't make you seem any less pathetic as a parent. But hey, at least you're being honest about it.

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on urgent care compassion...

Since Friday, my left pinkie finger has been really bothering me. By Saturday night it was swollen, feverish, and extremely painful to move or touch.

That means that last night I got a whopping 45 minutes or so of uninterrupted sleep, in those magic moments between the heat pack being too hot to touch and too cold and clammy for comfort. The rest of the time it throbbed and pulsated across my knuckles and down the side of my wrist.

Marius is out of state for a wedding. So I got to take up his side of the bed with pillows arranged neatly to keep the arm propped up vertically. Except that every time I fell asleep the wrist would relax and flop to one side and the throbbing would start up again.

This morning I called my doctor's office. It could be an infected knuckle that might need draining with a needle. Or it could just be another lovely byproduct of all the extra pregnancy fluids. The nice part is that I'm allergic to Extra Strength Tylenol, and all sulfa-based antibiotics. Yay.

So they gave me Hydrocodone and told me to sleep it off. And I did - for three dreamless hours this afternoon.

Then we fashioned a home made splint (brownie points for popsicle sticks, cotton strips, and an ace bandage!!), and I decided to go to Urgent Care.

An hour in the waiting room - dizzy and nauseated - got me to a patient room where I could lie down. 30 minutes later the doctor arrived. Same story.

You must have bumped it and didn't realize. Can't give you most antibiotics cause you're pregnant. Can't give you the rest of available antibiotics cause you're allergic to sulfa. Can't x-ray it cause you're in your 2nd trimester. But I'll swab it to rule out a staph infection.

So he grabs my hand, twists my pinkie finger around to face him, takes this long-handled Q-tip thingy and starts literally attacking my finger with it. Like a scullery maid scrubbing floors.

I gasped as pain shot down my wrist and across my hand. The doctor literally snickered at me.

"Oh, this is nothing! Just wait till you go into labor!"

Yeah. Because you've been in labor yourself, mister. So you would totally know what it's all about.

Gee, thanks for nothing, doc.

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10 Symptoms Common to Both New Motherhood and Insanity

1. In the shower, you keep turning off the tap because the water sounds like screaming.

2. You lose the ability to conjugate (e.g. “Good job! You eated a whole bunch!”)

3. You no longer recognize your own given name, speak for other humans as if they are ventriloquist's dummies, and say “thank you!” when other people are complemented on their looks.

4. The sleeves on every shirt in your house are either folded over or sewn shut.

5. You think it's perfectly normal for a person to need to be wrapped tightly in a blanket with their limbs restrained in order to sleep.

6. You've been recently hospitalized and you were happy about it.

7. You have recently either willingly: let someone near you with a scalpel, let someone videotape you while naked in a bathtub, or let someone hold a mirror up to your privates in public.

8. Whether or not there are tears running down your cheeks is not a reliable indication of your actual current emotional state.

9. You regularly stare at feces to try to figure out what it is trying to tell you and see nothing wrong with in-depth analysis of such as a cornerstone of every dinner conversation.

10. You think others are only capable of breathing if you stare at them while they sleep.

Credit to: MomtrolFreak.com

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oh the gizmos, the gadgets... the PRICE TAG!!!

So this week I took an hour to explore the baby section of Target. (I'm planning to browse Babies R Us too, but let's take one thing at a time, alright?)

There's not much I remember about the toys I had as a newborn. But my sister came along when I was almost 6 years old, and I remember her stuff pretty clearly. All three toys she ever owned.

Really, back then we had nothing. She spent her first 2 years in an ancient robin's egg blue crib that we fished out of the heap at some abandoned house along the roadside. And my bed was a rickety plywood bunk that my dad built to fit over the top of the crib. It was the only way we could both fit into that closet they called a bedroom in the trailer house where we lived.

We spent hours playing with discarded cardboard boxes. Or dragging the pots and pans out of the bottom kitchen cabinets and banging on them.

When we needed feeding, we used big people spoons. When we needed bathing we used big people towels. When it was time to go potty, mama helped us balance on the big people seat.

Life was simple. Uncomplicated. Oh yes, and inexpensive.

Have you been to the baby department lately? It's this weird combination of exhilarating and depressing all at once. There's so many choices I feel like I'm from a third world village seeing the boxed cereal aisle in the grocery store for the first time. Can there possibly be MORE?

As if there wasn't enough stuff to battle against the simple life already. Who loses sleep thinking up all these gizmos, anyway? And how many of them are just high-priced filler for every mummy's junk drawer?
We never had a net/sponge sucky thingy for our frozen watermelon. We just either didn't get it until we were old enough not to choke, or mom mushed it into bite-size pieces.
Isn't Tupperware cheaper? Oh, right, it doesn't come in cool colors with snazzy product names. Same deal though: put snack in, give snack to baby, wait for baby to find a way to dump it everywhere. I doubt this one's foolproof.
Now this one, if it works as advertised - looks like a brilliant idea. You put the baby food puree into the big orange part, and then squeeze to dispense one bite at a time. I can see this being a lifesaver on long car trips, or while visiting someone else's house. Less fuss, less mess all the way around. Keep the gruel off both baby AND momma. Especially at church.

On second thought, I'm going back to make a registry. This lil gadget's at the top of my list.

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zofran is a girl's best friend...

I really don't like drugs.

When I've got a headache, I usually tough it out. When I (used to) get PMS cramps, I drink hot tea and take a warm bath. I once took Extra Strength Tylenol and it knocked me out like it was Hydrocodone.

I like keeping my drug sensitivities as low as possible. And using natural remedies whenever I can. Add the knowledge that my mother and her sisters were negatively affected by a drug we believe was given to my grandmother during her pregnancies, and I'm twice as cautious. (Of course the doctors back then had no idea that DES was going to screw up the reproductive system of the next two generations - but that's small consolation decades later!)

But, as I close in on the 5 month mark of this pregnancy - I've finally caved. This Monday I literally begged my doctor for an anti-nausea prescription. I'm so sick and tired of being sick and tired. It's helping. I'm eating better, sleeping better, and heaving less.

And now I just can't wait until I can sleep on my stomach again!

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idiots at the pump...

... the breast pump, that is.

My sister works as a nursetech. And oh the tales she can tell at a family dinner...

Like the one about the 30-something career woman that gave birth to twins, and decided she needed to pump, so she could get right back to work.

So the nurses brought her a double breast pump and showed her how to use it, then left the room -- 'cause she could "do it herself". They'd given all the normal instructions of course - how to put it on, how it should feel, not to exceed 15 minutes of pumping, and so on.

A half hour later, they popped back in to check her progress.

Pumps glued in place. Empty bottles. Pump timer reading 21:00 minutes.

"I just don't know what's wrong with me," she wails. "I must not have any milk!"

The lactation consultant and my sister pry off the pumps. Which weren't even in the right place. Instead, there were massive hickies where normal skin should be - raised up from 21 straight minutes of unforgiving mechanical suction. The nurses could hardly keep a straight face.

"Umm, darlin', it might help if you actually put the pumps where the milk comes out."

Ya think?

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baby names...

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the fish and the baby...

So at the ultrasound this week, they recorded the entire thing and gave us all 12 minutes of it on a DVD. We've watched it at least three times since then, just reveling in the little creature that is our son.

After leaving the doctor's office, I went to have lunch with my parents. Of course they wanted to see the dvd too. We settled onto the couch, with the 3 and a half year old boy my mom nannies in the middle.

He's been asking to see the baby every time I'm around. He can't quite seem to figure out why I always leave the baby "at home". We keeping explaining that the baby isn't born yet, but he just gets this puzzled look on his face and says, "But I want to SEE it!"

So we let him watch the ultrasound with us, telling him how it's a movie of what it looks like inside my tummy. Yeah, he didn't think that made much sense either.

He watched the screen silently for a few minutes. Then he announced, "Nanny, it looks like a fish! The fish is in there with the baby!"

He pondered a couple of seconds more.

"Nanny! The fish is going to bite the baby!"

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camp meeting...

Last week, we went to camp meeting. I love camp meeting.

To me, camp meeting means summer has begun. It means friends and relaxation and all the yummy food I don't let myself eat the rest of the year (you know, whole cans of big franks, and chips and picnicky things), and I don't have to cook it or clean it up! It means spiritual rejuvenation and inspiring speakers.

This year I've been so sick that I was a bit worried about surviving camp meeting. Marius, and all the other pastors, have to work long hard hours to keep the programs running for every age group. So no great support from there.

And honestly, I've been quite depressed the last few months. The nausea, the impending loss of my job, the shrinking horizon of ministry, the financial worries - have all combined to put me in a frame of mind that just doesn't want to get out of bed. I haven't wanted to eat (but an empty stomach increases the nausea x10, so I haven't had much choice). I haven't wanted to go outside, or pick up the clutter, or get any exercise. Just bury my head in my computer and try to forget that the world is spinning without me being out there involved in the process.

Camp meeting was good for me. Whenever I wasn't working I hung out with friends, sat in rocking chairs and breathed the fresh air, walked everywhere, and just soaked up the fellowship. I'm grateful for the friends and companionship that I so seldom get any other time.

Back at home now I feel stronger, happier, more energetic. Less depressed and frizzed out. And of course, having the ultrasound helped too. Seeing our little baby boy makes it feel like there's something more than stomach flu behind it all!

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nightmares be gone!

Yesterday we had our mid-pregnancy ultrasound.

For a few weeks, I've had these vivid nightmares that something is wrong with the baby. I'll get all worried in my sleep, just certain that it's not going to be okay. I've been told that lots of first time moms feel this way, but it didn't do much to comfort me. Lots of moms have nausea too, but that hasn't made mine go away. Go figure.

But, just like Marius has reassured me countless times - everything is fine. Baby A is healthy and strong, and everything looks great. I thought we were just going in to find out the gender. I had no idea they'd do all these other checks - but it made me feel good that they did.
Heart - all 4 chambers, pumping away at 144 bpm
Stomach and bladder - both full of fluid as they should be
Kidneys - not 1, not 3, just the 2 that are supposed to be there
Brain - both hemispheres present and accounted for (thank God!)

They also checked for things like cleft palate and Down syndrome indicators - and all is normal. I slept so well last night, with so much anxiety melted away into peace. It felt nice.

Oh yes, and IT'S A BOY!

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