Drum whine

Maddi’s had a busy month. She’s started two classes, figured out how to scale any item of furniture (and nonfurniture) in the house, and had her very first ear infection. We’ll start with the ear infection.

Since she is making an early entree into what is (mistakenly) called the Terrible Twos, we missed a few of the symptoms of her infection — crankiness, whininess, poor appetite and sleeping problems. Of course, these have all been symptoms of her Terrible Twos as well, and she didn’t display any “classic” symptoms like ear-pulling or screaming, so there wasn’t much difference between “happy” Maddi and ear-infection Maddi. That is, until our normally on-schedule little girl stayed up all night, wailing every time we put her back in the crib.

We took her to the doctor the next day and sure enough, at the ripe old age of 17 months, Maddi had finally gotten the ear infection we’d obsessively checked for her entire life and yet somehow missed when it actually happened. Not only did she have an infection, Maddi had a fairly severe double ear infection.

Apparently there has been a virus going around town and a lot of kids have been going into the clinic with ear infections lately, so we kept Maddi home from daycare and swimming for the weekend and made sure she got every drop of her prescribed antibiotics (which of course aren’t usually recommended for mild ear infections, but our poor little girl’s ears were in pretty serious shape by the time we took her in). Sure enough, four days later, her eardrums were healthy and pink again and Maddi was back to her slightly less-crabby self.

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In other news, Maddi is back in swimming class, and enjoying it immensely. She was a little wary at first, having entered her clingy stage, but after a few classes she has become the most enthusiastic participant in the opening round of “Wheels on the Bus” and the part where all the babies make big splashes. Likewise, toddler time at the library was a scary experience last week (until a rousing rendition of “Pop Goes the Weasel” 15 minutes in got her interested) and yet this week, our wee exhibitionist stood in the middle of the story circle and danced maniacally to “I’m a Little Teapot” (let’s remember that the other babies were all sitting in their mommies’ laps).

And now, the moment you have all been waiting for:

Crunch time

It’s that time of the pregnancy again — the time when I start counting the hours until my next chiropractic appointment. Of course, this time I haven’t been going to the chiropractor regularly, having wisely avoided three-week road trips and the like. Up until the past week or so, my workouts have kept my back in tiptop shape and my joints have been, for the most part, pretty comfy.

But lately I’ve begun feeling pregnant. Really, really pregnant. I’ve been having pregnant moments for a month now — getting out of bed, walking around the mall for too long, things like that. But now I feel hugely pregnant all the time. As I well should! Already I have gained 20 pounds, and we’ve still got 11 weeks to go. And what do I have to show for it? A large wardrobe of maternity tops that don’t quite reach the top of my lovely maternity pants. Apparently, my belly has gone over the arbitrary growth limit set by Motherhood Maternity and is now in unknown territory. (This happened with Maddi too, but let me just say that while a midriff-exposing maternity tee is kind of funny in April, it’s much more serious when your bare belly hangs out in the Canadian winter.)

Anyway, all this hugeness has finally gotten to me. My bones have absolutely given up the good fight and are now screaming under the extra 20 pounds they have to carry. My back threatens to spasm if I stay in one position too long. And thanks to our little guy’s low position and the damage already done by his sister, my hips and coccyx loudly insist that they’re going to crack at any second, dumping their cargo unceremoniously on the floor of whatever grocery store is lucky enough to have me as a customer when the inevitable happens.

Chris can tell when I’m arising from a bed or chair, even from another room, because my agonized groans can be heard throughout the house. Clearly, chiropractic treatment is in order here. And my time will come in just six days and 90 minutes.

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In other news, we’ve finally started shopping for our wee boy. In the closet, we now have a baby-blue velour Boppy cover (pink ginham was out of the question!) and a little blue sleeper. We’ve bought new bibs and pacifiers in boy-friendly colors and picked up some blue flannel sheets. We have a favorite crib bedding picked out, although it’s back-ordered and we’re exploring other options. And we are almost decided on a double stroller.

Our little guy even has his own baby registry, although it’s quite sparse and mostly clothing since there are very few baby items we don’t already have. Let’s just say that Mommy will do anything for a goodie bag and $5 off our next purchase at Toys R Us. We’re not sure if they meant to put a brand-new Avent bottle (our favorite kind!) in the goodie bag with all the brochures and samples, but we’re certainly not planning to bring it to their attention.

It’s finally starting to feel as if he’s on his way here. And why shouldn’t it? We’ve got 11 short weeks (maybe less!) before my tired old pelvis gives out and unleashes a new Phillips on the world.

And now, for your viewing pleasure, I present the Week 29 preggie pics:

What’s kickin’?

We are now officially in the third trimester, and as always, I am ready to be unpregnant. Just 13 more weeks!

This past week, our little guy’s activity level has picked up. That is not to say that he’s a crazy little rib-cracking ninja. Au contraire — he is still a very calm little guy. It’s just that he’s started getting a little more active; I’m assuming his quarters are getting a little closer and he’s just pushing back. When Maddi is all squashed up against my tummy, or when my belly’s crammed into my thighs on the leg press sled at the gym, I’ve noticed that the baby will wiggle and poke until he finds a comfy position. And when I flip over in the middle of the night, thanks to those lovely numb arms you tend to get on top of all the other discomforts of pregnancy, the little guy spends a few minutes finding a new position of his own.

I can tell that he’s head-down, and usually his feet are just under my lowest right rib. Sometimes I’ll find his bottom there instead and he will gently kick at various organs, but unlike with Maddi, I’ve never worried about my liver being ruptured. (Thank you, little one!!)

This week, Dr. Goncalves’ office staff helpfully informed me that although I went to the hospital about 10 weeks ago for the triple screen, the hospital not only didn’t get my results but has no record of my blood being drawn (despite my running into Dr. G in the lab right before they took the seven vials of allegedly nonexistent blood). So if there’s anything wrong with this baby, the hospital is in a heap of trouble. This is not something they can redo. I am going to ask Dr. G at the next appointment if we can detect spina bifida or markers for Downs on a more comprehensive ultrasound. I don’t like surprises much to begin with, and I especially don’t like bad surprises.

Anyway, that’s been our week.

And here they are: The Week 27 belly shots!