I am a LAME-O

This past weekend we celebrated Memorial Day. Or I should say Brent celebrated Memorial Day and I watched. And cleaned up after him. And cooked. Ok, so I was a slave.

Those of you who know me well know that I tend to enjoy a cocktail or two on a fairly regular basis (ok, so maybe it was a teensy tiny bit more frequently than that. Don't judge!) Well, ever since our blessed event occured, I have been a perfect angel. And honestly, it hasn't been that difficult to abstain from my normal booze consumption considering by the end of most days, I have been so tired, the idea of adding a sedative to the mix would have put me in a coma. However, slowly but surely, I am starting to wake up a bit and the idea of a little drinky poo is sounding appealing again. Unfortunately, I have quite a long haul until I can actually have one.

So, cut to this past weekend. As is our regular custom, Brent and I planned a jam packed Memorial Day weekend, complete with two sets of houseguests (thanks for coming Meg and Ed and Laura and Gregg) as well as a trip to the race and a huge cookout for fifty people. Now typically, this type of weekend would be right up my ally, but things aren't very typical right now. It turns out that sans alcohol, having a party, is well, just a lot of work. Now, don't get me wrong, I absolutely ADORED seeing everyone that came, especially those of you out of towners, but man, I am just now starting to feel recovered from the whole shebang. At least I had the insight to know that the race would not be a pleasurable experience for this pregnant chick. Watching cars drive around in a circle in the hot sun for hours and mocking the fat chicks wearing sports bras and little else just isn't the same without a cold Miller Lite.

So, I have hung up my drinking shoes (and my heels for that matter, I fall down too much, even sober, to risk the babies' lives for my insecurity about being wee). It was a nice weekend, although I have a feeling that the Memorial Days to come will look very different from the ones in years past. Sigh.

The Twinkies Third Ultrasound

Yesterday I had my third ultrasound of the babies. First of all, in the interest of full and fair disclosure let me just admit that the day leading up to the ultrasound I am a hot mess. I just get so nervous thinking about everything that could go wrong. I am so scared that they are going to shove that probe in me and my family will instantly be reduced to 3 or even back to 2.

(Side note, the transvaginal ultrasound probe is absolutely ridunkulous. It is shaped faintly like a penis and they actually put a condom on it! The first time I saw one, I couldn't stop giggling! You can imagine Brent's reaction.)

Anyway, she fired up the ultrasound machine and at first I couldn't see both sacs. I got really scared, but it turns out the babies are getting so big they can no longer fit on one screen. Sort of like Rosanne Barr and John Arnold! We took a look at Baby A first and lo and behold, it no longer looks like a blob but now a cross between a large lima bean and a baby! We could even make out the head and chest! Next thing you know it wriggled its legs around and made little froggie legs for us! So cute!

Then my doctor turned on the Doppler device and we could hear the heartbeat. Now as emotional as I am, I am also fairly skeptical and I guess I just sort of have been rolling my eyes at everyone talking about how amazing it was to hear your baby's heartbeat. Well, you heard it here first. I was wrong. It was so unreal. It sounded loud and strong and sure, and I just fell completely in love. It gave me a little glimpse of the overwhelming feeling of meeting your kid(s) for the first time.

Now onto to Baby B. This little bugger was sort of hiding so we didn't get the greatest look at it first (please forgive the lack of pronouns, until we find out the sex, I don't know what else to do!) But once we finally got a good angle we could see that this kiddo was moving around like crazy! It was wriggling all over the place and just seemed very happy in there. We also got to listen to its heartbeat and it was just as steady as Baby A's. Honestly, the whole thing was just a little moment of nirvana, notwithstanding the probe thingy being shoved in slightly uncomfortable places. But from what I hear, that is just the beginning of many indignities to come.

I say, bring em on if it means I get to see more pictures of my twinkies!

Anxious. Ok, freaking terrified.

One of the things that I have had lots of reservations about so far is how early I spilled the beans about being pregnant. Most of you know that I cannot keep a secret to save my life, so next time you need to confess how much you hate your mother in law, or that your boyfriend's kissing technique resembles a teenage Dungeons and Dragons aficionado, please keep this little factoid in mind. But as bad as I am at keeping other people's secrets, I am even worse at keeping my own. At least I am an equal opportunity offender. Hence the reason I told everyone that we were having twins when I was approximately 6 minutes pregnant.

One of the major pitfalls of this early disclosure is my paranoia of having a miscarriage of one or both babies. Now apparently this is a fairly rational fear and the precise underpinning for waiting to share this joyous news. Lately, every time I discuss my pregnancy with someone, a little voice in my head (in a NY Jewishy Momish accent for some strange reason) says "You'll be sorry when you have to tell everyone you aren't having one or both babies! Baruch Hashem! Puh Puh"
(For those of you non-Jews out there, the "puh puh" is the simulated sound of when a Jewish mother spits on you for good luck. Yes, spits on you. Don't ask.)

This whole phenomenon is exacerbated by the ridiculous pregnancy library I have accumulated. Which is intersting considering I have never read a self help book in my whole life, unless you count "He's Just Not that Into You." But I cannot get enough of these prego manifestos, even though they are brimming with fun little details like 20% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage and that all twin pregnancies are "high risk." Lovely. I have gotten into a habit of reading these books right before I go to bed, and then I have these bizarre dreams all night where I miscarry, or give birth to puppies, or I am in labor in a trash can or something. It is FREAKING ME OUT.

I guess there is nothing to do but hang in there and hope for the best. I am trying really hard to keep a positive attitude and adopt the belief that no news is good news. I have an ultrasound this Thursday that should provide some reassurance that all is well. Until then I will just have to try and skip the parts of the book about "Vanishing Twin Syndrome" and other such nonsense.

I wore a bathing suit coverup to work. Really.

So yesterday was SO frustrating. (Other than getting tons of positive feedback about the blog from everyone! Thanks!) As I mentioned before, it seems like all my clothes stopped fitting me overnight. Now, up until this week I have pretty much been able to wear all of my stuff and feeling quite smug about it. Well, karma's a bitch.

I am one of those people who starts thinking about my next day's ensemble the night before (I know this may come as a shock to many of you, considering I often don't plan out anything else, except maybe meals). So Tuesday night I figured I would wear my old standby black pants from Lucky (that are ingeniously constructed of sweat pant material, but cut like jeans) and my red sweater. Um, no. It looked atrocious and that was after I broke a sweat trying to get the pants to button.

As any girl knows, trying to find something to wear can be traumatic. Note, this condition is always exacerbated by external factors such as the likelihood of running into 1) your high school nemesis 2) your ex-boyfriend or 3) someone who might give you a job. Thankfully, however, yesterday was just a normal day for me, so I was only moderately distressed standing in my closet, naked.

I tore through the racks like a tazmanian devil. Brent got out of the way, as he has witnessed these goings on before and he is liable to be severely wounded by a flying shoe (aimed at his head) when he informs me "to just wear that, you look fine." Watch it buddy.

So in my panic, I had a stroke of genius. I have this cotton bathing suit coverup dress thingy from the Gap that is SUPER comfy. I tried it on and it looked peachy. I added a button down shirt (buttoning it was a pipe dream) and a pair of flip flops and voila! I looked like I stepped off the pages of a J Crew catalog (minus the four foot long gams and beachy tousled hair).

Should I be ashamed that I wore glorified swimwear to work? Maybe. After all, I am an attorney at a publicly traded corporation. But you know what? Desperate times called for desperate measures. Luckily, on my lunch hour I went to Target and got some decent basics from Liz Lange. And the stuff I ordered from Old Navy Maternity arrived and it all fit! So hopefully, I won't be forced into the recesses of my closet again due to my expanding form. But who knows...I have this pair of pajama pants that might look great with a sweater.

New names proposed: Jesus and Mary Joseph

I am announcing this blog to the world (ok, just to my friends) today, so if you are just now reading along, welcome! Please feel free to comment and interact, I want to hear from you guys! I will try my best to add pictures and other interesting content as I go. And if you have any advice or good stories, let me know!

So the news has had a couple of weeks to sink in. We are starting to get used to the idea that we are having twins. You know how sometimes you associate an idea with some random picture or image? Well that is me, and my image is two car seats. I just can't get over the idea that instead of piles of clothes, empty McDonald's bags, and other bric a brac in my backseat, there will be two freaking car seats.

Brent was initially so shocked, I was a little worried that he wasn't happy about the news. But honestly, this type of news requires a range of emotions. All at the same time, I feel excited, terrified, thrilled and impatient. It has taken some time to readjust how I think of the babies, going from "it" to "them".

A few interesting items to note. My pants don't fit. As of yesterday. It is like it happened overnight. I went to bed and could still wear my fav Joe's Jeans and then poof! No longer. This morning it took me at least 40 minutes to find something that would fit! It seems that I am now regretting that I don't have more Mrs. Roper-style frocks in my closet. All those tailored pants I have been wearing to work are now worthless.

Also, I am bone-tired, all the time. I had been warned about this phenomenon from my other friends with kids, but it is difficult to appreciate not having felt it before. The closest analogy I can offer is imagine how you feel after a long day of traveling, lugging bags all through airports, sitting in uncomfortable seats, and dealing with multiple cancellations or delays. Now take that feeling and imagine having it when you first wake up, only to get worse throughout the day. Now double it. And that is how I feel. Everyone is saying I am so lucky I am not "sick" and that may very well be the case, but I am so exhausted, I can hardly put together a snarky comment, so you know I must be in bad shape.

If you see any good maternity cocktail dresses, let me know where. I need a formal outfit to wear to a couple of weddings this summer. It just seems sick and wrong to make a pregnant woman wear black tie.