Once upon a time, there was a beautiful post, a letter to my six-month-old son Ducky.

It was whistful, and thankful, and cute. And then Wordpress ate it. Arg.

That’s the thing about motherhood. I don’t get time for do-overs. I don’t get time to fix errors, or update regularly. I could *try* to remember the details of the last post, but that’s why I wrote it down in the first place; the details are getting harder and harder to remember.

I want to blog to remember his quarks, but I can’t think over the Bellyaching from the Bouncy Seat. I want to call friends and talk on the phone, but I can’t hear over The Bellyaching.

There was something else I wanted to post. “Aaaaah, Aaaaaah.” The only way to keep him quiet is to put him on my lap, but then he “types” with me. “Aaaaaah, Aaaaaah.”

I just for once, want to complete something. From start all the way to finish. I can’t even manage to cook dinner and get all the way through the dishes, let alone retype a lost post.

Up. Again. In the middle of the night.

I’ve got a rant stuck on loop in my head so I may as well get it out.

Ducky turned six months old on Friday. It’s portrait time. We got dressed up for family pictures yesterday, and went to The Mall Store (or should I say SEARS PORTRAITS WHITTIER CALIFORNIA at the WHITWOOD MALL). I’ve taken the baby to this store, at another location, and had wonderful results. We were going to be in town, so I made the appointment in Whittier.

The staff was friendly enough. We had an appointment, and recieved a suprised comment when we arrived on time. The receptionist was very attentive and wrote down every pose that I said I wanted. I wanted enough pictures to fill a 10×10 collage of the family. I wanted six-month pictures of the baby. Please stop trying to sell me Easter Pictures with plastic eggs. I’ve done this a few times; I brought outfits, blankets and props. I know exactly what I want. Thank you.

We met the photographer, I reiterated the specific poses that I wanted for the baby, and we got started. She took maybe ten pictures of the baby, and then she asked us to sit down on stools.

She took Two Whole Pictures of the “family,” and then prounounced us *done*. “Come back in 35 minutes!” She *left the room* before I could muster the nerve to speak up and say that knew I was making a face in one picture, and I saw That Guy make a face in the other one.

We had lunch, and came back. We sat down. I tried to be polite about the speil that she’s required to give us, even though I’ve heard it several times before. It went something like this:

“Oooooh, Ahhhhhhh… Look at the ENHANCEMENTS.
See, and now we have THIS enhancement.
And now we have this SPECIAL ENHANCEMENT.
And see look at the extreme close-up of (she called Ducky by That Guy’s name) nostrils in SEPIA TONE!
And we have SPECIALS on PACKAGES!
And we have 25% off on collages!
And look, we have EASTER CARDS! With BORDERS!”
And isn’t this special lighting SO FANCY!?
Look, this one says HAPPY EASTER LOVE THAT GUY, BLOGGYMOMMER, and DUCKY!

Am I the only person who went to school long enough to learn that it’s ___BACKWARDS to spend 14 minutes taking pictures of THREE PEOPLE and then spend 35 minutes on the digital foofy poop!?

Let’s see how far I can get into this post without cursing…

NO AMOUNT OF DIGITAL ENHANCEMENTS will fix the fact that That Guy is talking to the baby and making a face at the baby while kinda-sorta looking at the camera. There isn’t an enhancement that will fix the fact that the baby is still CRYING in the ONLY Daddy and Me photo. There’s no enhancement that will fix the Half-Smile-On-One-Side-Of-Mom’s-Face pose.

The point of getting portraits done is to take SEVERAL DOZEN PICTURES so that we can PICK from the best PICTURES, not the best ENHANCEMENTS!!!!!!

Ugh. I’m up in the middle of the night, and I’m just SICK when I think about how long we spent getting ready, getting dressed, picking outfits for the baby, and getting out the door! That Guy got up EARLY and got a HAIR CUT! I even made an APPOINTMENT! And, we even managed to get there ON TIME without wrecking our marriage.

I actually spoke up for myself. I waited until she was halfway into her speil. I looked over all the pictures carefully and then I admitted that I didn’t like *any* of the pictures enough to pay for them. There was one cute picture of me and Ducky. There was *one* cute one of Ducky by himself.

There were NO OTHER CHOICES because she only took 12 picures. Twelve: minus That Guy making a face twice, minus my half-smile, minus two of the baby being propped up and posed with his elbow twisted around funny, minus the four raw photos that she wouldn’t even show us because she didn’t ENHANCE THEM, minus the baby crying in the last two. ONE PICTURE worth paying for. ONE.

The whole point of dragging my husband to a studio on a Saturday was to get a good picture of HIM with the baby. The whole point of paying for a family portrait is so that everyone looks their best together. The whole point of making an appointment is so that we actually have TIME to get a picture nice enough to hang in the livingroom.

I made it clear that I wanted a retake, I want the poses that I want, and I want her to spend more than 15 minutes taking a decent picture of THREE PEOPLE, that is what the SITTING FEE is for. “Well, I can spend maybe an extra five minutes, and then it takes 35 minutes to do the enhancements.” No, she can not spend more time taking pictures and less time doing the stupid, magic enhancments.

And then my head imploded and we walked away. “Come back at 5pm and we’ll retake them…” No. Just No. That Lovely Guy I Married agreed to reschedule and cancel the appointment.

And now, I’m upset. I would be happy to pay the money for a nice family portrait. I would be more than happy to buy the expensive CD with ALL of the pictures. I usually buy at least the $130 package… SPEND SOME TIME TAKING THE PICTURES!!! You’re a portrait studio. That is your JOB.

Alright, so how do you Mommybloggers do this?

The baby is on my lap, dictating while I type. He likes the back button several times before I can hit submit, so here goes.

I”ve gone back to work, one morning a week. Having that weekly event has made the weeks fly by quickly. I blink, and it’s time to go teach again.

I’ll never be able to be one of those parents who can schedule her children. It’s nice to have a schedule for myself. Somewhere to go, someone to be. I get up way-before-dawn in the morning, it takes me three and a half hours to get from bed to the classroom.

The days of rolling out of bed are over. No more “get dressed and drive to work.” It is an odd feeling having one foot in both worlds, wearing both hats at the same time. I can’t take off one hat, to trade for the other.

The Teacher Hat is an easy hat to wear. Teaching is simple. Sit quietly and prepare the lesson, pack a bookbag full of supplies, make copies, get to work on time, welcome the students, and start class. As long as everything from last week is still in the bag this week, I’m ready to go. Instant, Portable Teacher. We call ourselves Freeway Flyers: Have bookbag, Will travel.

The Mommy Hat, guarantees that two-thirds of my weekly income goes to paying the babysitter for the time that I need to prepare for class, drive to class, teach, and get home. The Mommy Hat wants me to spend three hours in class talking about my baby. The Mommy Hat requires that I pump if I leave the baby for more than a few hours. The Mommy Hat, which won’t come off of my head, requires that I carry the breastpump, ice packs, empty bottles, tubing and other related supplies. Every-single-time-I-leave-the-baby.

Both hats are fighting for room on my head. I spend all week stressed out that I have lesson plans that need to get done. I’ll get to the lesson plans after I feed the baby. I’ll get to the lesson plans after I pump. I’ll pump after I drink some more water. I’ll drink some more water when the baby lets me have two free hands to pour from the pitcher. Maybe the baby will let me have two free hands after I nurse… It never ends.

I carry both hats on my head, and both bags on my shoulders. Two weeks ago, I got ready for work, laid out all of my clothes, packed both bags, set my alarm, and went to bed. I slept (for a minute), jumped out of bed and dressed, forgetting that my basic black work flats no longer fit. My Postpartum Hat dictates that even my shoes don’t fit. I didn’t have time for an entire outfit change, so I grabbed the only pair of black shoes that fit. A pair of heels from my past life (last year).

I thought it would be smart to grab a pair of slippers to wear after class. I knew my legs would be tired. I hadn’t worn heels in a year. Not smart enough.

I carried both bookbags, two bottles of water, and lunch, to and from my car. Two weeks later, my heels still hurt. Now my knee hurts from favoring one heel. I’m not sure which Hat to blame it on. Both Hats are hard to balance, and a little bit heavy.

That Guy I Married just couldn’t resist. Our very own Lolcat picture:
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The baby came Friday. Internet, meet Ducky.

A few more pictures below the fold.
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In a flurry of “we almost didn’t make it”, Ducky has joined The Douglas Clan!

Born at 12:28pm Friday October 3rd, at 7lbs 13oz and 20.5 inches of all-boy, this little fella is gonna break a lot of hearts!

Elizabeth said I was allowed “one freebie” to get back at her for anything she’s said about me on her blog. Aww, just one?

In all seriousness, being a part of the action, seeing everything she went though, seeing the pain (despite the incredibly short labor) of a natural childbirth without an epidural, I couldn’t possibly say anything to disrespect my favorite person in the whole world. I’ve got a new-found respect for Elizabeth, on top of the unconditional love and almost-never-ending patience that I try my very best to show every day, that only the circumstance of giving birth to a new human being could bring.

I’ve been speechless at a lot of things in life: sunsets, the Grand Canyon, etc., but THIS… wow, words utterly fail me at the beauty of seeing a new life being born in a bed you stand beside.

Hon, you did amazing! I’m so proud of the way you handled everything, the blood, sweat and tears, and the many months you were impatient with waiting (“is it OVER yet?!”), and comments of “YOU be pregnant, it’s YOUR turn…” and discomfort and lack of quality sleep in the past two months, and all of your organizational skills of getting his stuff together, taking care of your own body, and everything else that has gone into carrying our little Ducky into this world.

I love you with everything in me. Smoochies.

This is a couple of weeks old, but I thought I’d share.

Why is choosing baby furniture harder than choosing our child’s name?

I still have no idea if anybody loves or hates Costco nursery furniture in the US. I’ve found several favorable reviews of Costco baby furniture sold in Canada- but the Canadian Costcos sell different brands than the US.

Here’s my hang up: I hate formica. I never had a single piece of real (wood) furniture until after we were married.

I can remember being seven years old and going with my dad to Levitz because “we” were going to pick out some furniture for ::ahem:: my room. I followed my dad into the store, and couldn’t understand why “we” marched right past the whitewashed wood dressers with interchangable pink drawer nobs, the furniture that said “a girl lives here.”

I ran after my dad as he went straight for the corner of the store that said “I went to the College of Design in 1976.” I grew up with formica furniture that was painted to look like wood grain. In addition to being painted to look like wood, each piece had a facad to make it look like it had fifteen little drawers when it really had five. The pressboard drawers never did line up right, It was terrible.

When I went to college, I saved up babysitting money for rubbermaid tubs and plastic drawer sets because I was not taking that Formica Crap with me when I moved out. With my newfound 18-year-old cockiness, I proclaimed “I’d rather live out of plastic tubs for the next four years, then live out of formica for the next twenty!” The thing is, I left for college eleven years ago, and I still have each and every one of those plastic tubs. Tubs that are now full of baby stuff.

That (eeeeeeeeeew) Formica Set is still sitting empty in my dads house, right where I left it. It talks to me and tells me “I’m right here, waiting for you.” Yes, talking furniture. I have gone insane. Apparantly this IS the ditch I’m going to die in.

Yes, I know: babies, they chew on cribs, they pee on everything. Toddlers color on everything with stray markers and crayon (my prefered colors were purple and green). Small children find imaginative ways to play with furniture. But, a large part of me is still waiting to become a real person who deserves real furniture. My Kid Deserves Real Furniture.

This is all compounded by the fact that my husband is The Son of a Gifted and Amazing Carpenter. He grew up learning about well-made furniture, he is Justifyably Picky.

For a baby set that might get trashed in 3 years, I wouldn’t mind getting a couple of $100 pieces of furniture FOR A $100 PRICE, and just replacing it with good stuff later. Unfortunately, we’re finding all kinds of poorly made furniture that looks pretty but isn’t made well enough to be worth the $300 price tag.

So, do we…

Overpay ($1,000) for the cheap new baby set, hope it lasts through two kids, and throw it out when it falls apart?
Drop $2,000 on the hoity toity gorgeous furniture that would survive armageddon, and tell our teenager to live with the teethmarks because HEY! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO CHEWED ON IT!
Try to find something nice on craigslist, ebay, garage sales, second hand stores (my feet hurt just thinking about it).

Blah blah blah, I’m bored with myself.

Yesterday, we went BACK to Babies R Us(ed to suck money out of parents). Again. We looked around. We shook some crib rails. We knocked on the inside of drawers and the tops of changing tables to see what the wood was made out of. We found the sturdiest set in the store. We compromised to agree on a color. We discussed convertable vs. disposable, combination pieces vs. seperate pieces.

I GOT DOWN ON MY NINE-MONTH-PREGNANT HANDS AND KNEES to examine weather the pieces could be reinforced, if need be. We discussed options for a good 30 minutes and CAME TO AN AGREEMENT THAT WE BOTH COULD LIVE WITH. Then we went to find the salesman.

Who looked at us and walked away.

We sat down at his desk. We stared at him. Eventually, he pulled his finger out of his nose and wandered over.

We asked him questions. He had no answers, just a blank stare.

Apparantly this guy is only getting paid enough to check the store’s inventory in the computer. He checked the stock. THIS ENTIRE SET is no longer in the store, and can not be ordered online.

THE SET THAT TOOK US NINE MONTHS TO AGREE ON!

Then why is it on the floor at full price? Blank stare.
(This is the part where every other Babies R Us sales associate in California offers to check the stock at another store.) Blank stare.

I wasn’t sure if I was detecting hot air or cold air coming out of That Guy’s ears, but we were both pretty deflated after all of that. I’m debating calling the store on Monday morning to see if I can get The Real Furniture Manager at that Babies R Us store to give us the time of day.

ELEVEN (or maybe 25) DAYS TO GO!!!!!

Ack! I am going out of my mind. There was something absolutely CRITICAL and IMPORTANT to blog about yesterday, and now, for the life of me, I CAN NOT REMEMBER what it is.

Is this the part where I’m supposed to start having nightmares about going home and leaving my baby in the shopping cart at Target? I don’t know, I CAN’T REMEMBER!

I have the baby countdown checklist, and I’m forcing myself to not do things “ahead of time” on the list. I washed laundry, interviewed a pediatrician, packed my labor bag, stocked the freezer; all according to schedule.

A month ago, I put on the calendar “Car Seat Installation – CHP,” because the checklist said to do that two weeks before my due date. Bazillions of babies are born every day, I figured this would be a drop in/weekly appointment sort of a thing. So, today, I called, and was told that the next available appointment is on October 31. ACK! THE CHECKLIST HAS FAILED ME, THE BABY COUNTDOWN CHECKLIST DIDN’T TELL ME TO MAKE THE APPOINTMENT ONE MONTH IN ADVANCE OF TWO WEEKS BEFORE MY DUE DATE. What else is noone telling me?

—We now return to my regularly functioning brain—
Speaking of just now being told stuff – I just remembered what was so darn important.

First, I’m due October 9. A couple of days ago (as in the third week of September), That Guy I Married got an email informing him that his employer is changing health plans on October 1. AAAAAACK AAAAACK AAAACK.

We were told that no matter what, we need to CALL the insurance plan on October 1st and make sure we’re set. Nevermind that we spent all summer getting set up with the previous health plan (and checking off of THE LIST). We can’t set this up ahead of time, or deal with it when we come home from the hospital (we’d end up paying cash and hoping to be reimbursed before the kid goes off to college). I’m having visions of laying in my hospital bed simultaneously having contractions and trying to spell my name for insurance providers who can’t find my file because they haven’t finished processing my new account in their system.

Second, the New! and Improved! health care package we’re being switched to when I’m 39 weeks pregnant has three choices. I can:

1. Choose This Plan, change hospitals in week 39 and have the pediatrician that Everyone Under The Sun (including my cousin and midwife) recommended. The pediatrician that we already interviewed and agreed upon. The pediatrician who supports my concerns about meds while nursing, and spreading out vaccinations to not overload baby with eight vaccines all in one day. OR

2. Choose That Plan, lose the Super Nifty Pediatrician, and deliver in the same (brand new, highly rated, faboulous hospital where I’ve already met all the staff and had the hospital tour) hospital that I’ve been planning to deliver in since 20 weeks. Choose This Plan and keep the hospital that basically next door, a fifteen minute bus ride away in a (husband-unavailable) emergency. Choose This Plan and I get to keep my psychological/psychiatric safety net that I’ve been carefully working on all summer. The safety net with the shrink who is not a moron, the new mothers group where I’ve actually made a couple of real, live, human, breathing Mom friends (instead of the binary bloggy kind of Mom friends I’m so fond of).

3. Buy a season pass to Disneyland. Spend a few weeks hanging out the park during park hours. Go hide on Tom Sawyer’s Island during active labor and then have some poor Cast Member cart me off to First Aid to pop the kid out. That way Disneyland can pay for the delivery off their insurance.
M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!

I was born and raised in a Super Huge Mega HMO. I know, everyone hates them, but I know how to use the system to get what I need. We switched to a Fancy Pants PPO when we moved here in May. I’m just getting the hang of the PPO system, and starting to like/trust the services. And NOOOOW I’M BEING SWITCHED to a network where I get my choice between a series of smaller “HMO+” options.

I fail to see what is so New and Improved about having choices between three smaller networks instead of one large network. And HELLO! Did I mention the part about being 39 weeks pregnant on October 1?

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And now for the slightly more fun stuff on the list. The lovely BlogHer Ad contract strongly encourages us to post at least three times a week (I think – my memory isn’t fabulous lately) to meet our obligations to people paying for ads.

Would anyone like to guest post while I’m off delivering Ducky?
I’ve got two weeks to go – give or take two weeks. Not that there are any signs of impending labor just yet. Leave a comment or drop me an email if you’d be interested. I’d like to queue up some posts in the next couple of weeks, so that they’re set to go.

Any takers for the following topics (or pick your own)?
Firstborns
Worst advice ever received
Maintaining friendships with pre-baby, non-parent friends
Dogs and babies
Hobbies for new parents
Including long-distance relatives in baby’s life
Easy Christmas gifts for new/busy parents to give out

Leave a comment or drop me an email. Thanks!

Ok, so I made it all the way through to term. Does that mean that I get to stop taking pictures of the circus tent belly now? Really. This just isn’t cute anymore.

We got the carpets cleaned yesterday, and we’re getting a new couch set delivered today. I’m just a little too excited about having a comfortable place to sit. It’s been hard to sleep, hard to sit, hard to stand. The only thing that doesn’t hurt is walking. We walked around Disneyland for eight hours.