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37 Weeks: What’s Cooking

28 08 2011

With no nursery to go nuts decorating, and no money with which to go crazy buying baby stuff, and without an attention span conducive to white-glove-cleaning, my nesting instincts have been primarily satisfied in a culinary manner.  That is to say that I have been frantically filling my freezer with homemade meals, with the understanding that for some time post-baby, I won’t really feel like whipping up a meal.  Since I barely have the motivation to cook once or twice a week without an infant in the house, I am on board with not cooking once I’m seriously lacking sleep.

Okay, so by “frantically filling my freezer,” I mean that I am cooking when it isn’t too hot (mind you, it’s August in the high desert), when I’m not too tired (mind you, I’m about 9 months pregnant), when there isn’t something better to do (mind you, we have Netflix streaming for several hours a day), and when I’ve successfully brought home all the ingredients from the store (typically by my 3rd trip).

For the record, I do not have any skills in the kitchen.  In fact, I suck at reading recipes and following directions, which is why it takes me 3 trips to the store to gather everything I need for any given recipe.  And I am stymied by seemingly simple challenges.  Like when the whisk got hopelessly coated with a parmesan sauce: it sat next to the sink for two weeks until I eventually (successfully!) chipped the hardened cheese off; the garlic press is still there, because I haven’t found a way to get the squished garlic out of it.

Also, I can only face scenes like this so many times a week:

Okay, that’s not even half the mess I usually make, but what’s special about this particular set of dirty dishes is that they were created just before we went camping for three days.  We were only home for 24 hours before we headed off to the valley for another three days, during which time I did laundry.  Not dishes.  So these are week old dishes.  And that is a depressing sight.

Also, it is somewhat of a deterrent that we keep eating while I’m trying to hoard all this food.  I prepare three different dishes, and when Jason asks if there’s anything for dinner, I kind of freak out a little: “NO!  There’s NO FOOD IN THE HOUSE!  Order a flippin’ pizza if you’re hungry!”  “But it smells like you’ve been cooking…”  “NO.  I HAVE NOT BEEN COOKING.  GET OUT OF THE KITCHEN…. DON’T LOOK IN THERE  – GET AWAY FROM THE FREEZER!  STOP!  STOP!”

But here’s what I’ve managed to get in the freezer so far:

Turkey Chili, Beef Chili, and White Bean Chili

Chicken Nuggets (2 bags)

Spinach Pie x2

Beef Enchiladas x2

Black Bean Enchiladas x3

Beef Burritos x12

Lasagna x2

Chicken Tetrazini x2

Mini Meatloaves x4

Beef and Cheese Stuffed Rolls x24

BBQ Burritos x8

And more on the way… I’ve got at least two-thirds the ingredients for zucchini lasagna (after 2 trips to the store with a grocery list), and a long weekend coming up.

In addition to cooking meals, I’m still cooking this baby, who doesn’t seem any closer to being done than she was a week ago, or a month ago.  However, since I have at most 5 weeks left, and just 3 weeks left until my due date (actually, it took so long to write this post, I am now 38 weeks, with 2 weeks left until my due date), I suppose I am pretty damn close after all.

And I’m totally  ready.  As soon as I get this last recipe done…





Apparently…

19 08 2011

… all that has been standing between me looking like the Michelin Man versus some semblance of my pre-pregnancy self was three days a week in the pool.

Between a camping trip and a visit to family, I skipped a week of prenatal water exercise.  My feet, ankles, fingers, and wrists swelled a little each day.  I had to remove my watch and the hair bands from around my wrists.  Seriously, the hair bands are elastic.  They stretch.

We got home from a three-hour drive yesterday at 5:30.  I kicked Jason, the dog, and the cat out of the car and headed straight for the pool.

Luckily, nobody stopped to ask me any questions about tires.





36 Weeks / 1 Year

17 08 2011

Jason and I have been married for one year now.  Considering that I’ve pretty much been pregnant for that entire year, that we still don’t have a baby, and I have another four weeks left of being pregnant, I think that it’s pretty damn impressive that we’re still on speaking terms.  Most of the time.

 

 





35ish Weeks: Pondering the Milk Industry

12 08 2011

My 35th week of pregnancy is coming to an end.  Okay, well, it’s half over now, so in my own mind I’m in the vicinity of 36 weeks.  And 36 weeks is just one week shy of 37 weeks, and 37 weeks is a milestone because then I am technically full term, though it may be 5 weeks beyond that when I actually have the baby.

Which means there’s hope that I won’t be the first woman in history who really does stay pregnant forever.

At around 32 weeks, I began to feel like I was getting close to the end, and I had a surge of excitement.  I can do baby laundry! I thought.  I should pack a bag for labor!  Then I did the math and realized I still had as many as 8 weeks left.  8 weeks is, like, 2 months.  Which, in terms of pregnancy, is practically forever.

But yesterday, I bought some milk at the grocery store.  It expires on September 28th.  The maximum anyone will let my pregnancy go is September 26th.  Do you see the significance?

I will have a baby before the milk in my fridge goes bad.

Jason and I talked about this last night.

“I’m getting excited about the baby,” I told him.  “I bought milk at the store today…”

“What, like breast milk?”

“No!  I bought milk at the store, and it doesn’t expire until September 28th…”

“Milk stays good for six weeks?”

“Well, actually, that seemed weird to me, too.  And it’s organic milk.  But listen…”

Anyway, it’s just three weeks now (and a couple of days, for you calendar sticklers) until my due date, and I am excited, of course.  I’m so curious to see this little demon who has been terrorizing my body for 9 months!  It just seems preposterous that we’ve created a brand new person.  No matter how many times I look at the crib and the diapers and changing table and the tiny clothes, I still have trouble believing that we’re going to be bringing home a baby.

And not just some time in the future, but possibly before we bring home another half gallon of milk.





34 Weeks: POP!

2 08 2011

A few weeks ago, I was getting sweet little comments from strangers.  You know, the cashier at Trader Joe’s: “You are just perfectly pregnant right now,” and the older gentleman I passed while walking Charlie: “You are looking great, really fit…”

It was, you know, fabulous and flattering.  Until I thought about having, like, two months left of growing.  During which a healthy baby gains about 4 pounds.  That’s 4 pounds added directly onto my belly, mind you.  And then the comments change to things like, “You have how many weeks left?  That can’t be right!” and “You look like you’re going to have that baby right now!” and “Is your water going to break, ’cause that’s kind of gross.”

Today, I realized I’m almost there.

And by “almost there,” I don’t mean almost to having a baby, which is still 3 to 8 weeks away.  I mean almost to the point when people stare at me because I no longer fit the classic dimensions of what we call human.  When my belly button is in a different zip code from the rest of my body.  When I no longer look possible and yet I continue to grow…

In fact, from certain angles, I may have already arrived.

And about the shirt?

Oh, yeah, I did realize part way through the day that I was exposing an inch or two of bare skin – and not the flat, tan belly of last summer, but white and veiny preggo belly.

I’ve seen pregnant women sport that look before.

When Jennifer Aniston did it on Friends, I thought it was kind of a hot look.

When I had my peak rock climbing body and I saw other pregnant women with that gap between their shirts and skirts, I thought it was kind of a matronly look.

When my biological clock was ringing alarms, I thought women showing that belly were smug and self-satisfied.

Ah.  Well.

Now I understand the look.  It is the “It’s 90 f-ing degrees outside, I’ve blown my wad on maternity clothes that are falling six weeks short of covering this pregnancy, my feet don’t fit in any of my damn shoes, and I’m lucky I had the energy to cover this much of myself” look.

It is also the “I’ve spent 3 weeks contemplating perineum massage, and frankly, once you’ve googled that, any amount of belly looks just fine” look.

It is also the “HA HA, not one stitch of this clothing is maternity!” look, although that says more about the elasticity of my pre-pregnancy clothes than it does about me retaining some semblance of a reasonable figure into the third trimester.

I have to say, though, with about six weeks left to go… still loving it.





Baby, You’re Getting On My Nerves

27 07 2011

My sciatic nerve, specifically.  You seem to have mistaken it for a drum or some other object you can abuse at will.  Don’t get me wrong: I am happy to have you right where you are; I just want you to understand that I might not be quite so well rested as I would like if something doesn’t change.

Speaking of change… My honeymoon with pregnancy ended dramatically as week 32 came to a close.  I am still thrilled to feel you move around, I still spend plenty of time staring at my belly in the mirror because I want to see  you move.  I am still frantically preparing for your arrival, and daydreaming about who you will be, and eating very expensive nitrate-free lunch meat so as not to expose you to cancer-causing preservatives.  But, Baby, things did get tough this week.

Here’s how the week is shaping up:

– pick up packages from the post office

– attend yoga to deal with sciatica/carpal tunnel

– shop at Target

– attend water fitness to deal with sciatica/carpal tunnel

have wedding ring cut off of finger

– midwife appointment

– schedule chiro appointment to deal with sciatica/carpal tunnel

You see how things have gotten a little tough.  I would totally stay 30 weeks pregnant for 9 months.  33 weeks pregnant?  Nope, not a chance.

 

First I did this to my wedding ring. Then I told Jason I had to move to a different bed because my sciatica is so painful at night. Oh, sacrificing our marriage for our child began in earnest this week...

But, Baby?  While this hasn’t been the best week of my pregnancy?  You still make me happier than I’ve ever been.








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