Smug Marrieds: Getting Rid of His Godawful Bachelor Crap Ed.

*Subtitle: Whoa, Does This Mean She Remembers How to Write a Post About Something Other Than Babies?

Rumor has it that us ladies want nothing more than to ensnare a good man, only to then lobotomize his personality & happiness, including but not limited to ridding him of his godawful bachelor crap strewn about the house.

Nothing could be further from the truth, of course. Tired & sexist cliches aside, I suspect what I desire of the Anonymous Husband is similar to many of you - to not change a hair on his nearly-perfect head, nor an iota of his sparkling (but supremely macho, I hasten to add, just in case AH is reading this) wit & personality, while also ridding him of of his godawful bachelor household crap.

Enter this past weekend, when the AH & I set to reorganizing some rooms here at Pretty HQ in anticipation of . . . uh, that person arriving which we're not going to discuss today because CAPS LOCK OHMIGOD I suspect we all could use a break from the P-word chat. Soooo, around the house we went, Smug Marriedly discussing which furniture to keep and books to toss, the AH helpfully organizing rooms as we went, until I stepped out of the guest room / office for a moment . . . and . . . and, well, this somehow appeared on the desk . . .

(Photo Credit: What do we think - "Architectural Digest" or "Maxim"?)

Seeing my look of what we'll call surprise, the AH helpfully explained that this was not your average Heineken can, converted dorm-room-style for decor purposes. Oh, no - this was a classy Heineken desk cup specially designed to hold office supplies. You can imagine my relief upon hearing this.

Through 3.5 years of marriage, I've steathily, ahem, "forgotten to display" countless college-era posters, endless sports memorabilia, and the like. I'd thought I'd done a reasonably thorough job of "re-homing" or "losing" much of it. While I suspect the AH knows exactly what I'm up to & generally goes along with it - hence that sparkly personality I'm not out to change one bit of - there is a certain bachelor sensibility that must never die.

That, or this is the AH's sneaky revenge for my having persuaded him to paint the, uh, room we aren't going to discuss today, all by his lonesome. In which case, Sir, well played - and I owe you a Heineken (of the tasteful, "Better Homes & Gardens" variety, naturally).

Any godawful bachelor crap you're just itching to get rid of?

Helpful Stuff for Early P-Word

Hello, and welcome to "I Pick Pregnancy", where our theme seems to be, "Let me play this P-Card as an excuse to natter on about myself and generally be as lazy as possible, including but not limited to ignoring Ye Olde Blog."

An excellent post from one of my favorite Invisible Internet Friends has temporarily yanked me back from P-Word Procrastinatory Paradise (and into alliteration Hell, apparently) and reminded me of something I've hoped might be helpful - a checklist of stuff for those you considering this P-Word thing or in the early stages o' same. You know, since I have an entire twenty-seven weeks of P-Word experience under my belt and am therefore the world's foremost expert on this.

But seriously, if you're like me and amongst the first of your friends to get knocked up, it can be challenging trying to figure out what's going on with your body - if by "challenging" I mean "Christ, there's a lot out there on what's happening with my baby, but who can tell me why my chesticles are suddenly at war with my underwire?"*
*With apologies to my late Grandmother, who is assuredly giving me her own postmortem Icy Glare of Judgment for discussing my buhbbies on the interwebs.

And so I've reviewed the stuff I've found useful in getting through the first 20 weeks or so of the P-Word, in the order I'd recommend tackling them. I'm also throwing in those that didn't work for me personally but others swear by. No two of us will agree on all the essentials, but nevertheless, I hope those of you who know more than me about this will chime in with helpful suggestions (so long as they agree with whatever I've said, obviously).

Lifesavers, or at Least Helpful in Making Me Feel Less Awful / Confused /Unstylish:

At Least One Book That Tells You What the Hell is Happening to You: As soon as those two faint lines appear on that magical tinkle stick, my fellow book-readin' hussies out there will be tempted to swan over to your nearest bookstore and arm yourself with every Smug Pregnancy book out there. Don't. Thing is, between the internet and your doctor, much of the information you'll want is readily available for free - that is, stuff about your growing babe is out there.*
*Boring Lawyer Disclaimer: Of course, run any medical questions by your OB/GYN first, but I've particularly liked this site for "what's happening with baby?" questions. And, for the love of all things holy, stay away from Dr. Google during this whole process - do as I say, and not as I've done here. Trust me.

What isn't readily available for free is information on what's happening to you. Not to get too touchy-feely on your delicately feminine arses, but while a matter-of-fact analysis of the changes your body will go through is helpful, understanding how that affects you otherwise - emotionally, with your significant other, etc. - is just as important and yet largely unreported.

So to start off your P-word library, I'd recommend one book for you and one for baby. For the former, try Vicki Iovine's "The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy", a sarcastic and helpful take on what you're going through. Believe it or not (I didn't), Jenny McCarthy also has a decent, if far less comprehensive / grammatically questionable, book on this as well.

As far as one book about baby, I like the latest version of the ubiquitous "What to Expect When You're Expecting"; some find this book too scarily detailed & preachy*, but the weekly updates are just enough to satisfy my Type A Minus needs. It's worth spending some time in the bookstore flipping through the many selections and feeling out which works to you.
*If you think the Pregnancy Police are pushy, just wait until you encounter the Breastfeeding Brigade. I'm on Team Boob and all, but teenage boys have nothing on their worshipful 2nd base talk.
Speaking of ...

Bra Fitting: Consistent with what I've heard from many, but not all, formerly P-Word types, my, uh, Northern Hemisphere was the first area to change physically. The enthusiastically "supportive" padded undergarments filling my cabinets were rendered painful to the point of being unwearable, basically from day 1.

Enter Nordstrom, who has long started on my retail Varsity Team, but has become P-Word invaluable due to their fitting expertise. Whatever your budget, I'd encourage you & your newfound girl parts to do a fitting with your local specialty lingerie store or Nordstrom - ie, nothing with "Secret" in the title. Armed with your new size (for now - your size will likely change yet again throughout this process) and the style most comfortable for you now, you can then buy wherever suits your fancy. Due to said size changes, I'd recommend getting the best you can afford in the minimum number (2-3 for those of us with in-home laundry ability) you can get away with.

Tricks to Avoid Buying Maternity Wear Before You Need It (Subtitle: Although Some of Us Need it Earlier Than Others, and for Different Pieces, Making This All Particularly Maddening): Once you've armed yourself with the right books and undergarments, the first-time mothers amongst us will be tempted to run to the mall and stock up on a sparkly new maternity wardrobe. After all, haven't we all heard how glamorous maternity wear is nowadays? (*cue embittered snickering*)

Stop, breathe, and realize two things before you shop - (1) not only will your precious bump take its sweet time to emerge (again, this generally applies just to us first-timers; I hear subsequent bumpages usually appear much sooner), but (2) your body will grow in myriad directions and areas it just didn't pre-pregnancy. For some of us, the growth is mostly up front in the "B zone" (boobage & belly, giving that chic basketball look), while others of us like to expand a little bit everywhere. Trouble is, not only is there no way to know which direction(s) you'll grow in until it happens, it's a gradual process - no matter how your Aunt Ermintrude insists it will happen, how it went with your best friend, etc.

Besides, (3), duh, you'll only be wearing the stuff for 9.5 months at best, so shopping minimally and inexpensively takes on even greater importance than pre-P-Word. Oh, and (4), the whole "maternity wear is just like normal clothes!!!" propaganda is just that, a Madison Avenue myth brought to you via overpriced rayon & tied with an unflattering back bow. Sure, there are a very few boutiques that manage to bring the style, but they also bring the pricetags only worth considering for special-occasions and/or if Aunt Ermintrude is footing the bill.

So, armed with these two (four) ideas, you'll want to stretch your non-P-word wardrobe for as long as possible. This may sound obvious, but once those Smug Pregnancy hormones start coursing through you, the desire to look obviously, blissfully pregnant can sneak up on you (me) and your (my) wallet. Not to worry - most of us will need the Smug Mummy maternity wear eventually - but milk your existing wardrobe while you can.

First, take a look at your closet and pull anything generally meeting this description - empire waist, stretchy material, non-form fitting, and/or a-line - before heading to the maternity store. If you're like me, you'll surprise yourself with how much of it still works. Every time you're tempted to shop in those 1st or 2nd trimester days, shop your closet first.

There comes a time for most of us when even the loose pre-P-word items just won't work anymore, which is when you turn to the wardrobe extenders - the Bella Band or its less expensive Target sister, which works like a tube top holding up your (now unbuttoned) pants; these didn't work for me personally (more on this below), but many swear by them. Also, try stretchy tanks - they make maternity ones, but any ol' longish ones will do - under your shirts. This will take some trial & error, but again, if you're anything like me, you'll be surprised how long you can stretch some non-maternity shirts.

In case it's helpful, here's how this has all worked for me. I've been one of the "B zone" girls so far; these are exactly the opposite areas than those where I usually gain weight, so maternity dressing has been a, uh, delightful surprise. The Bella Band acted like a vise around my bladder, so after two weeks of restroom sprints, I gave up and graduated to the gloriously stretchy waistband of the maternity jean (one pair of my beloved, splurge-worthy Citizens of Humanity Kellys, 3 pairs Gap on sale) around week 13. On the flip side, I've been able to stretch a few non-maternity shirts and dresses until recently (week 27); ordering up one size in regular Gap Body and Old Navy, with a couple of exceptions, has mostly kept me out of the tented maternity look to date.

Yes, the time will come for many of us when we've stretched and prayed and shaken our fists in anger at our pre-P-word closets, and it just isn't enough - time to finally order maternity. I'll do another post once I'm done with this P-word thing including this, but remember - before you buy, ask / beg /plead of your previously P-word friends first; odds are they desire nothing so much as to never to see those maternity clothes ever again and will only be too happy to share.*
*With thanks to my dear friend & real Real Housewife of the OC, Esquire Mommy.

Macaroni & Cheese: Self-explanatory. I've heard rumors of pregnant women who crave healthy stuff like salads, but surely they fall in that same unicorns-and-rainbows category of women who that swear pregnancy is 40 weeks of nonstop fun.

***
Ladies who've been here before, now it's your turn - what have I missed? I'll come back and update this, as well as putting together a second 1/2 P-word roundup once I've, ya know, finished the second 1/2 ...

(Credit all photos: Amazon)

Oh No He Didn't ...

"All good things must come to an end" goes the cliche, and so it was with the AH.

To date, he had been the picture of the ideal father-to-be - from my perspective (ie, the important one), that is. He's cheerfully accompanied me to doctor's appointments, given a second opinion when asked on baby gear decisions, humored my daily occasional hormonal freakouts, and kept the complaining about our upcoming childbirth classes to a minimum.

So it shouldn't have come as a surprise to me when he went to touch The Bump the other day, looked at me, and smiled as he cooed, "Looking good, Chubs!"

Yes, Chubs. Because nothing says "I love you" to a pregnant woman quite like an affectionate nickname referencing her ever-expanding girth. Alas, having apparently misread my patented Icy Glare for amusement or worse, proceeding despite same with glee of a smug schoolboy who's just discovered your secret weakness, the AH has taken to dropping the offensive name at every given opportunity.

Fear not, fearless ones - not only have I fully embraced the expansion, which is a healthy and normal part of this whole P Word process, I've come up with a tidy solution to this whole Chubs issue. As the AH has been informed, for every cutesy reference to my disappearing waistline, I expect the Push Present to get upgraded.

"Carats" has such a better ring to it than "Chubs", don't you think?

Overwhelmed . . . and a Bump Update

With thanks to kind bloggers like One Fabulous Mom and Slynnro for encouraging me to just get over my fear of boring you to death and get writing again about that which is on my mind - babies. To those who have had it with the kid talk here, um, well ... I figure I've been on your last nerve for long before the baby came along. Please check back here sometime around 2058, by which time I expect the novelty may have worn off for me.
***

It was bound to happen.

After worrying my way through the first trimester of the P Word, as most P-type women do, trying desperately not to think about the possibility of miscarriage, I've enjoyed a few blissful weeks of excitement. No particular planning, no worrying, just, you know, a generally grateful state of being. Wonder that I'd managed not to drink any red wine for an entire 24 weeks mess this kinda miraculous thing up so far.

And then, just as I rounded the six month mark last week, panic hit - um, this kid is likely making a real-life appearance, sooner rather than later. Strollers! Birth plans! Preschools*! Insurance! Nursery furniture! Budget! The list of things I have yet to figure out is now playing on a continuous mental loop, nightmarishly growing as other things I haven't much considered - Pediatricians! Churches! - pop into my mind at all hours, night and day.

*Yes, preschools - here in "laid back" Austin, some decidedly non-laid back parents have created an alternate universe in which one apparently must tour preschools and get on a wait list before child is actually born (???) or shortly thereafter. Uh ...

So I begin this week wanting perspective and/or the return of my sense of humor - whichever comes first . . .

. . . I know Grand Master P will (hopefully) be born regardless of whether I've already figured out the details of his freshman year of college, etc. . . .

. . . I know the major concern is just that he's born healthy, and everything else is just so much peanut butter frosting on the proverbial cupcake . . .

. . . and now if only my hormone-addled, insomniac innards would catch up with the wee, latent part of my brain that knows this.

***

And for those of you clamoring for a Bump picture update, here I am at 24 weeks (or 6 months out of 9.5, in civilian terms):

I've titled this glamorous self-portrait "Picture of a Woman in Deep Denial That She Needs to Graduate to Maternity Dresses Already, Despite the Fact That All But The 3 Most Expensive Ones She Refuses to Buy Make Her Resemble an Estrogen Teepee"