Dal and I were lucky enough to have an executive suite experience at a Diamondback's home game tonight. The perks?.... no obnoxious fans sitting around us (they were all in the plebes seats); free quality food; air-conditioning; and the most important thing to an 8 month pregnant woman..... a private toilet.
But before I knew about our own "special" bathroom, I figured I would take advantage of the ladies toilets that we walked past as we entered the park. I walked in and took the nearest stall to the door (no time to look for the "best" toilet - and don't say you don't know what I'm talking about... you know you look for the best toilet). Unfortunately the Chase Field architects didn't factor in eight month pregnant women coming to the game. They crammed as many stalls into the available space as they could.
Have you ever seen an overly pregnant woman try to suck her gut in? There's not much change in inches between "relaxed" and "sucked in". The stall door scraped my belly as I tried to close it. I was a little concerned that I wouldn't be able to get back out. It didn't turn out as badly as I thought. But you can imagine my relief when I found out I had my own private toilet.... with enough space for ten of me.
I'm thinking of getting Dal to take a photo of me tomorrow - the only one you'll get of me for this pregnancy. I guess it's just not as exciting the second time around. For pregnancy photos please see my Facebook albums of when I was pregnant with Isabel.
Saturday, 27 August 2011
Tuesday, 23 August 2011
My kind of "Love Language"
Those people who invented the whole love language thing... I think they missed at least one language. What makes my heart pitter patter is the dulcet sounds of this sentence spoken by the sweet love of my life:
"We should have takeout tonight".
"We should have takeout tonight".
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
Tick Tock
Isabel usually wakes up between 6am and 7am each morning.
I have told her that I wont play with her or do anything with her until 7am. That is the earliest I can function and that seems to make sense to her.
Recently, though, she has not been happy to just watch tv or play on the computer while she waits. She sits in between Dal and I and tries to wake me by chattering away or just breathing heavily in my face.
This morning wins the prize. She draped herself over my body looking at my bedside table where the little alarm clock sits. Right in my ear she rhythmically chimed over and over "TICK, TOCK, TICK, TOCK, TICK, TOCK." Unfortunately we weren't even close to 7 o'clock.
I have told her that I wont play with her or do anything with her until 7am. That is the earliest I can function and that seems to make sense to her.
Recently, though, she has not been happy to just watch tv or play on the computer while she waits. She sits in between Dal and I and tries to wake me by chattering away or just breathing heavily in my face.
This morning wins the prize. She draped herself over my body looking at my bedside table where the little alarm clock sits. Right in my ear she rhythmically chimed over and over "TICK, TOCK, TICK, TOCK, TICK, TOCK." Unfortunately we weren't even close to 7 o'clock.
Thursday, 4 August 2011
Boys spit
Last night as we ate our ice cream, Isabel and I were having a little chat.
I said "You know, Isabel, that when you were smaller you didn't like ice cream. You used to spit it out."
Of course she didn't believe me. She had a bit of a chuckle and then proceeded to talk some nonsense about ice cream, boys, girls and spitting.
Finally I was able to interpret what she was trying to tell me.
"Wait, are you saying that you used to be a boy?"
"Yes. And boys spit."
It all came together. Apparently Isabel was a boy when she was younger. I guess she deduced this by hearing me tell her that she used to spit stuff out. But now she's older, she's turned into a girl and doesn't spit anymore.
I'm not sure how she came to this conclusion because I am constantly telling her to STOP SPITTING!
I said "You know, Isabel, that when you were smaller you didn't like ice cream. You used to spit it out."
Of course she didn't believe me. She had a bit of a chuckle and then proceeded to talk some nonsense about ice cream, boys, girls and spitting.
Finally I was able to interpret what she was trying to tell me.
"Wait, are you saying that you used to be a boy?"
"Yes. And boys spit."
It all came together. Apparently Isabel was a boy when she was younger. I guess she deduced this by hearing me tell her that she used to spit stuff out. But now she's older, she's turned into a girl and doesn't spit anymore.
I'm not sure how she came to this conclusion because I am constantly telling her to STOP SPITTING!
Tuesday, 2 August 2011
Sleep
I live for sleep. I am certain I could sleep 20 hours in the day and still be tired after waking up.
That is why I need my morning naps. As mentioned previously, Isabel likes to sit on my bed playing on my laptop while I have a nap. This morning didn't go so well. I gave her a muesli bar to eat while I napped. I while later I heard her rustling in our bathroom.
"Mummy, where's the wipes?"
"What do you need wipes for, Isabel?"
"To wipe the bed."
Alarms bells start clanging in my head. I look over to Dal's side of the bed and find what can only be chewed up and spat out chocolate chip muesli bar.
"Forget the wipes, I'm going back to sleep. Get a towel and sit on it".
A while later I get a hand slapped right by my head.
"Time to wake up mummy"
"NO! You kept waking me up. Give me 20 more minutes"
"Mummy it's 7 o'clock. Time to wake up."
In actual fact it is 10.30 in the morning. I point that out to her. That doesn't deter her. Isabel grabs my bedside clock and winds the clock back to three.
"See. 7 o'clock. Get up".
That is why I need my morning naps. As mentioned previously, Isabel likes to sit on my bed playing on my laptop while I have a nap. This morning didn't go so well. I gave her a muesli bar to eat while I napped. I while later I heard her rustling in our bathroom.
"Mummy, where's the wipes?"
"What do you need wipes for, Isabel?"
"To wipe the bed."
Alarms bells start clanging in my head. I look over to Dal's side of the bed and find what can only be chewed up and spat out chocolate chip muesli bar.
"Forget the wipes, I'm going back to sleep. Get a towel and sit on it".
A while later I get a hand slapped right by my head.
"Time to wake up mummy"
"NO! You kept waking me up. Give me 20 more minutes"
"Mummy it's 7 o'clock. Time to wake up."
In actual fact it is 10.30 in the morning. I point that out to her. That doesn't deter her. Isabel grabs my bedside clock and winds the clock back to three.
"See. 7 o'clock. Get up".
Monday, 1 August 2011
Doidy - At my sister's request
It IS a fairly dormant blog isn't it?
Back when Isabel was learning sounds that didn't mean anything she would repeat over and over "doi, doi, doi, doi". My sisters thought it hilarious and began to call her Doidy. I am certain that Isabel will have the same relationship with that nickname that I did with "Chark" (my dad's pet name for me). A love/hate relationship.
My youngest sister told me today that it was time to hear a Doidy story.
There is plenty that happens each day and that little girl makes me laugh at least three or four times a day. There are just as many times, if not more, that I can't imagine ever being obeyed by this cheeky little thing. I use the old counting to three trick, but most of the time I get to three and she is still doing what she shouldn't be doing. It's only when I begin stalking over to her with a threatening stare that she moves her little butt. I'm not sure what I'll do if I ever actually get to her. I think she knows that and is only pandering to my silly counting and stalking.
Isabel loves to play games on my laptop. My 7 month pregnant body appreciates this particularly when it starts to flag in the afternoons. Isabel perches herself beside me on my bed with the laptop on her lap while I snooze. She likes to copy my touch typing skills, but of course ends up with nonsense lines of letters. I woke up the other afternoon in time to see this:
We did not find results for: kuumba made uhiuhhuihu. Try the suggestions below or type a new query above
I'm impressed she typed an actual word. Poor Google couldn't even think of suggestions for her Google search.
Isabel likes to lick her feet. She likes to lick my arms. She also enjoys eating her shirts. She knows every one of those things creeps me out, but she continues to do it.
I have taken some movies of Isabel that I intend to post here. But I need to get some batteries for the camera .... now that I've typed that, I am certain I can just hook it up to the computer and recharge the battery. I'll get back to you on that one. Stay tuned.
I've been thinking lately of a few different posts that I could put up... so I feel like I'm getting some sort of blog mojo back. But I'm not promising anything at the moment. You'll only be disappointed.
Back when Isabel was learning sounds that didn't mean anything she would repeat over and over "doi, doi, doi, doi". My sisters thought it hilarious and began to call her Doidy. I am certain that Isabel will have the same relationship with that nickname that I did with "Chark" (my dad's pet name for me). A love/hate relationship.
My youngest sister told me today that it was time to hear a Doidy story.
There is plenty that happens each day and that little girl makes me laugh at least three or four times a day. There are just as many times, if not more, that I can't imagine ever being obeyed by this cheeky little thing. I use the old counting to three trick, but most of the time I get to three and she is still doing what she shouldn't be doing. It's only when I begin stalking over to her with a threatening stare that she moves her little butt. I'm not sure what I'll do if I ever actually get to her. I think she knows that and is only pandering to my silly counting and stalking.
Isabel loves to play games on my laptop. My 7 month pregnant body appreciates this particularly when it starts to flag in the afternoons. Isabel perches herself beside me on my bed with the laptop on her lap while I snooze. She likes to copy my touch typing skills, but of course ends up with nonsense lines of letters. I woke up the other afternoon in time to see this:
We did not find results for: kuumba made uhiuhhuihu. Try the suggestions below or type a new query above
I'm impressed she typed an actual word. Poor Google couldn't even think of suggestions for her Google search.
Isabel likes to lick her feet. She likes to lick my arms. She also enjoys eating her shirts. She knows every one of those things creeps me out, but she continues to do it.
I have taken some movies of Isabel that I intend to post here. But I need to get some batteries for the camera .... now that I've typed that, I am certain I can just hook it up to the computer and recharge the battery. I'll get back to you on that one. Stay tuned.
I've been thinking lately of a few different posts that I could put up... so I feel like I'm getting some sort of blog mojo back. But I'm not promising anything at the moment. You'll only be disappointed.
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