It's raining little girls around here, or so the doc tells us. It is officially official - the Noodle is expecting a sister in October. Actually, the chances are "eighty to ninety percent" that it's a girl but extremely good that it will be our new darling baby.
I'm fifteen weeks along. According to the internet, I'll have gained five pounds (so cute! try eight) and may have "rhinitis" which is fancy talk for a stuffed nose. Check. Also, I'm a total jerk. They don't tell you about that on the internet, but just ask my husband. Around this time my last pregnancy around he told me that he loved me but that I used to be a nice person and now I'm not. This time around he just rolls his eyes and walks away.
Also according to the internet, our dear proto-baby is now the size of an apple. It can sense light, it's legs are longer than it's arms, and apparently this is a great week to start bonding with her (him?) by "narrating your activities," reading to it, or sharing "your secret wishes" for your child.
My secret wish for my child is that she is healthy and grows up to be happy and surrounded by love. My more immediate concern is that she survives this pregnancy without being stomped on by her elder sibling, who is sweetly oblivious to the fragile assembly of sparrow bones and mist that is trying to become a person in her mommy's quickly expanding belly.
Everyone has asked me whether we've tried to explain the situation to Miss Noodle. Well, sort of. Maybe once the belly is more obviously abnormal. And I'll order a few kids books soon, the kinds with titles like "Being a Big Sister is Great!" and "Betty's New Baby Brother is Great!" and "Sharing is Great!" and "Babies are Just So Great!". But for now, it's basically hopeless.
When I got the first good womb shots we tried. We got the Noodle all set up with a bottle of milk.
"Look at this picture, Sweetheart. What do you see?"
"Meine picture. Mine."
"Is this a baby?"
"This Noodle's* milk. Noodle's milk."
"This is a picture of a little baby."
Noodle considered. She pointed at the picture. "Me!"
"No, it's not you. It's a baby."
"Baby!" she said.
"Yes! It's a baby! It's going to be your new brother or sister. Do you know what a sister is?"
"Noodle's milk. This Noodle's foot. Noodle's."
"This baby is inside Mommy's tummy."
Noodle slapped my belly. "Belly!"
"Yes! The baby is inside Mommy's belly."
"Ja. Nava's mommy. Mommy's belly. Nava's milk. Look, cat!"
"Are you going to be a good sister?"
"Yeah. Uh-huh. Katzi!"
"Are you going to be a terrible sister?"
"Mm-hmm. Yeah."
"Do you love babies?"
"Mm-hm. Yeah!"
"Do you hate babies?"
"Yeah!"
So we shelved this conversation for another day. I'm sure Miss Noodle would be totally stoked if she could conceive of the idea of pregnancy, new babies, or having to share everything she owns for the rest of her young life.
As for me and Alex, we can't wait to meet the young 'un, and we can't wait to be the four of us. Well, the four of us plus also two cats, those wh*res. (This is just an aside, but I roasted char siu pork on Sunday and ran out to meet friends and then got a text from Alex who informed me that the cats had dragged this pork loin out from under the bowl, across the kitchen and living room, and had decimated it on the couch. Greedy and sticky, those little s**ts. Obviously, this morning there was porky cat puke all over the place. Greedy, sticky, ungrateful AND they can't hold their pig. Honestly, I don't want to give them away, I don't want them to die, but I do wish they'd just disappear. Not in a punitive way, just in a convenient way. I don't want them to suffer. I just want them to be Elsewhere. Like I wish the cats would just walk with God, like Abraham did in the Bible. Lord knows they've lived long enough. Though Abraham, being blameless, would probably never have stolen anything, much less roasted pork. But I fear I digress.)
So yes. We can't wait to be the four of us! And until then, we'll prepare in our own little ways. The Noodle will continue to plough along oblivious to the silver linings on the horizon, I'll read a bunch of parenting books that say soothing things, Alex will try not to think about it and we can all just pray we'll be ready.
P.S. Thanks to Alex for this remarkably effing awesome video, featuring one of our two revolting animals.
P.P.S. I would never actually want tiny space fighters to descend from the sky and blow up our cat, not even if she stole another char siu pork roast. Right? Right.
*She doesn't actually call herself Noodle. But she finally learned her name and it's been her favorite word ever since. Well, that and "meine" (mine).
I'm fifteen weeks along. According to the internet, I'll have gained five pounds (so cute! try eight) and may have "rhinitis" which is fancy talk for a stuffed nose. Check. Also, I'm a total jerk. They don't tell you about that on the internet, but just ask my husband. Around this time my last pregnancy around he told me that he loved me but that I used to be a nice person and now I'm not. This time around he just rolls his eyes and walks away.
 |
| Black and white photo of forthcoming daughter. Maybe this one will look like me. |
Also according to the internet, our dear proto-baby is now the size of an apple. It can sense light, it's legs are longer than it's arms, and apparently this is a great week to start bonding with her (him?) by "narrating your activities," reading to it, or sharing "your secret wishes" for your child.
My secret wish for my child is that she is healthy and grows up to be happy and surrounded by love. My more immediate concern is that she survives this pregnancy without being stomped on by her elder sibling, who is sweetly oblivious to the fragile assembly of sparrow bones and mist that is trying to become a person in her mommy's quickly expanding belly.
Everyone has asked me whether we've tried to explain the situation to Miss Noodle. Well, sort of. Maybe once the belly is more obviously abnormal. And I'll order a few kids books soon, the kinds with titles like "Being a Big Sister is Great!" and "Betty's New Baby Brother is Great!" and "Sharing is Great!" and "Babies are Just So Great!". But for now, it's basically hopeless.
When I got the first good womb shots we tried. We got the Noodle all set up with a bottle of milk.
 |
| Black and white picture of our what is currently our only child. Enjoy, my sweet. |
"Look at this picture, Sweetheart. What do you see?"
"Meine picture. Mine."
"Is this a baby?"
"This Noodle's* milk. Noodle's milk."
"This is a picture of a little baby."
Noodle considered. She pointed at the picture. "Me!"
"No, it's not you. It's a baby."
"Baby!" she said.
"Yes! It's a baby! It's going to be your new brother or sister. Do you know what a sister is?"
"Noodle's milk. This Noodle's foot. Noodle's."
"This baby is inside Mommy's tummy."
Noodle slapped my belly. "Belly!"
"Yes! The baby is inside Mommy's belly."
"Ja. Nava's mommy. Mommy's belly. Nava's milk. Look, cat!"
"Are you going to be a good sister?"
"Yeah. Uh-huh. Katzi!"
"Are you going to be a terrible sister?"
"Mm-hmm. Yeah."
"Do you love babies?"
"Mm-hm. Yeah!"
"Do you hate babies?"
"Yeah!"
So we shelved this conversation for another day. I'm sure Miss Noodle would be totally stoked if she could conceive of the idea of pregnancy, new babies, or having to share everything she owns for the rest of her young life.
As for me and Alex, we can't wait to meet the young 'un, and we can't wait to be the four of us. Well, the four of us plus also two cats, those wh*res. (This is just an aside, but I roasted char siu pork on Sunday and ran out to meet friends and then got a text from Alex who informed me that the cats had dragged this pork loin out from under the bowl, across the kitchen and living room, and had decimated it on the couch. Greedy and sticky, those little s**ts. Obviously, this morning there was porky cat puke all over the place. Greedy, sticky, ungrateful AND they can't hold their pig. Honestly, I don't want to give them away, I don't want them to die, but I do wish they'd just disappear. Not in a punitive way, just in a convenient way. I don't want them to suffer. I just want them to be Elsewhere. Like I wish the cats would just walk with God, like Abraham did in the Bible. Lord knows they've lived long enough. Though Abraham, being blameless, would probably never have stolen anything, much less roasted pork. But I fear I digress.)
So yes. We can't wait to be the four of us! And until then, we'll prepare in our own little ways. The Noodle will continue to plough along oblivious to the silver linings on the horizon, I'll read a bunch of parenting books that say soothing things, Alex will try not to think about it and we can all just pray we'll be ready.
P.S. Thanks to Alex for this remarkably effing awesome video, featuring one of our two revolting animals.
P.P.S. I would never actually want tiny space fighters to descend from the sky and blow up our cat, not even if she stole another char siu pork roast. Right? Right.
*She doesn't actually call herself Noodle. But she finally learned her name and it's been her favorite word ever since. Well, that and "meine" (mine).
