If We Build it, He Will Come

...at least that's what we're hoping. Here are updated nursery pictures. We had the wrong lens on, so there are but a few. More to come.


Jon made the shelf, I made the curtains (Jon helped) and the crib linens. Perhaps if we make the nursery all ready, then the child will be tempted to come out. We're trying.

Pass-on Worthy

I found this interesting article on signs of autism in newborns and infants (suggesting that autism is a life-long disorder, not the result of a post-birth exposure). Researchers found subtle deviations that parents may not pick up on starting as young as the baby's stay in the NICU and growing more and more noticeable as the baby gets older. Finally, parents start to observe differences after children are over a year, "By about 13 months, the development of children with autism started to diverge markedly from those without, according to the study."

Very interesting. Unfortunately, the things researchers notice in autistic infants that deviate from the norm are kind of specific and you'd have to have seen a ton of babies to notice them... meaning it's not very helpful for parents spotting the disorder in their own children. Still, it's progress!

The Other Members of This Family

The main member participated in Mustache July at the squadron. He claims it was due to peer pressure, but we all know that he really just likes having a mustache because it looks funny.

Henry with the monstrous amount of hair we got off him last week.
Henry climbed up and cuddled with a gestating Nate while I skyped the Mother, the Father and Nana. He was probably communicating with the man child, plotting Nathan's escape and their coming misadventures together. Don't let the sleepy eyes fool you. He's plotting.

See? Plotting away like the sneaky yellow dog he is. Yellow dogs have very few morals.

I know you want another picture of Chester (the official name of the 'Stache), so here it is. Don't worry. He shaved it off after taking these this morning.

"...What heights of peace, when fears are stilled..."

I found something today. Two posts by someone I immediately admire after reading only two of her blog posts. She could steal lollipops from babies for all I care. I love her.

As you know (read: "As I continually elaborate"), I prefer research-proven methods. I'm all scientific like that. I'm totally into the CDC vaccine schedule and multivitamins and exercise and the health-promoting benefits of having friends. Because they're proven. So when I discovered the following posts on the evidence pertaining to mom jeans - specifically to their negative impact on the shape of one's butt, legs and entire figure, I just about peed my pants (sorry, Mom, I know you hate it when I say that, but I'll make it up to you).

Please read the following posts and view the following pictures (read them in order) and just try to contain your glee. Let your fears of waking up one day and finding yourself looking like that mom, die here.

Research on Mom Jeans 1
Research on Mom Jeans 2 (note, this is the same post as the link at the bottom of #1)

You know you're a Martha when...

... when in the middle of chores this morning you thought, "Well... I'm not really a Martha... I have 'sitting at Jesus' feet' on my to-do list..."

Baby Class

Baby class is watching videos of babies being born and babies being nursed. Which means baby class is wondering how second babies ever get made if the husband is present at the first birth... and is not blind.

Baby class is practicing contractions with relaxation techniques. Which means baby class can get a bit awkward when 19 women are pretending to be in pain, while holding various birthing positions and breathing in "hee"s and "hoo"s as their partners look uncomfortably on.

Baby class is comparing the size of your baby bump to 18 other baby bumps and trying to calculate how long it will take each one of you to look normal again. And hoping you will look normal again.

Baby class is a tool to show how very immature you and your partner are, because you still follow many of the instructors comments with, "that's how we got into this mess..." whispered in each others ears and you find yourself snickering at videos the rest of the class is taking very seriously.

Baby class is showing up with Starbucks coffee and feeling awkward because all the other pregnant mothers are sipping water and eating fruit.

Baby class is wondering if you can get an epidural just to tide you over until the end of the car seat video.

Baby class is wondering if you can just adopt the rest.

Three Most Recent Pregnancy Comments

During a quick trip to Costco, I was reminded that pregnancy is as good as an introduction in getting people to talk to you. I don't really aspire to talk to people at Costco - I aspire to buy food - so it was a bit awkward for me. The first comment was a compliment. Thank you. I will take those all day long.

The second was from a sleeze-bag who said "Congratulations" in the sleeze-baggiest way possible while staring at my stomach. I don't know. No comment. Except blech.

The third was the most interesting. I was head and arm deep in the milk refrigerator, reaching for the two percent (skim is for people who aren't pregnant) and I hear a high-pitched voice in my ear saying, "Oooh, when is the baby DUE?" Once again, caught up in food purchasing and not expecting strangers to make themselves familiar with me in Costco, it took me a minute before I answered.
"Uh... September 16th"
More mutterings and high pitched squeals (am I the only person who thinks it's weird that total strangers are giddy that I'm pregnant?). Then, reaching out to touch my stomach and quickly pulling her hand back, she says, "Oh! I just want to TOUCH it! But I was in.. hmm... where was I?" More deliberation, "Ah... I think it was the Wal-Mart!"
I didn't say anything, but mentally filed away that she had said "the" Wal-Mart, so that I could complain about people who don't speak correctly, like I do.
She then explained that in THE Wal-Mart she had been talking to a new mom and had reached out to touch her baby. When she did, the mother recoiled and said, "NO! No, touching!" The milk-interrupter gasped and "could not BELIEVE it".
It took many more "I can't believe it"s until I figured out that, instead of being appalled with her audacity in making herself comfortable with other people's bellies and babies, she was appalled that someone would mind a stranger poking at their child. Huh.
Then she patted my stomach (!), thanked me for being pregnant (!!) and walked away.

I wanted to ask her why she didn't learn her lesson the first time. I should have touched HER stomach. Then again, it may not have worked.

I'm not sure, folks. But you're welcome. You're welcome for being pregnant. You are not, however, welcome to my stomach, no matter how round it is.