Hare Today, Gone Tomorrow?

So it turns out that either Mama Bunny managed to wrangle all of her baby bunnies and coax them to come back or the bunnies have better instincts than I gave them credit for and made their way back to the nest. Last night, Alan was looking out the kitchen window and said he saw bunnies—plural. I didn't believe him because I only saw one, but I'd been looking at the nest and they were in a tall grassy patch by the nest. Now that I know they're all survivors, I'm ready for them to leave.

Also, what does it tell you about Marti that the bunny decided that our yard was the safest place to raise her family? I guess this face just isn't terrifying enough.

Happy Mother's Day, Mama Rabbit

So I was out doing yard work last week. And since we don't have a weed eater yet, I went around raking some of the long grass around our porch so that I could run it over with the mower. Yes, I am mowing the lawn. Pregnant. I am woman, hear me roar.

When I was raking near our porch, I stopped when I saw a nest of some sort. When I leaned down and saw the nest move, I ran the other direction. I figured it was something cute and tiny, but I wasn't willing to take the risk on the chance that it was a pile of snakes.

So yesterday, Alan came upstairs, hands cupped, proclaiming that he'd discovered what was in the nest. In his hands was the cutest baby bunny ever. He'd been watering some grass seed when about four bunnies went scampering out of their cozy nest. We headed back outside to put the bunny back in its nest. And to gather the scattered bunnies and put them back in their home. Because what if they weren't ready for freedom? What if they couldn't fend for themselves? I couldn't have the deaths of four baby bunnies on my conscience. Plus, what if Mama Bunny (who we'd seen hop into our yard awhile back although we didn't know she was a mommy at the time) came home to no baby bunnies? The day after Mother's Day? Too sad for me to contemplate.

So with one bunny back in the nest, we went looking for more runaway bunnies. One, having the survival instincts of a Marti, was tucked right behind the tire of our car. Two others were huddled by the house behind a bush. We wrangled two of those three, but one wily wittle wabbit ran for the hills. It took going into a neighbor's yard, but Alan managed to return him to the nest as well. Feeling like we'd done our duty, we left them to survive in the wild. When we checked the nest later though, we didn't see any bunnies. We were left to hope that the little ones had learned enough to fend for themselves in the big, bad world.

Tonight, I was at the kitchen sink and who do I see when I look out the window? Mama Bunny (pictured). Sitting just feet away from her empty nest. As she sat there munching on grass, I felt so bad. But then! She jumped away and I saw a little baby bunny that had been sitting next to her! Sweet relief! I was so glad that she didn't have a completely bunny-less nest. I do think it is the only bunny that hasn't jumped the coop, but at least she's got one bunny left to show for her month-long gestation period.


I have a feeling I'll need to be reminded about my sympathy for the "poor rabbits" when there are 20 of them making a feast of my garden.

Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes

Alan and I headed in for the big 20-week ultrasound today. We stayed strong and stuck with our wish to be surprised about the gender, so we'll be continuing on the path of buying baby greens and yellows. The baby got a clean bill of health though, and we're very happy about that. I get butterfly-nervous before every appointment, so it's always good to get confirmation that everything is right on track.

During this scan, they focus on the anatomy to make sure that everything is developing properly. The sonographer spent about 10 minutes looking at the heart. One push of a button turned the blood into vibrant reds and blues so that we could see the blood pumping through the heart, body and umbilical cord. Then she moved on and checked out each bone of the arms and legs. We got to count fingers and toes before heading up and checking out the brain and head.

She elevated the table at one point so that my head was down and my feet were way up to try to move the baby into a better position so she could check out the head. After awhile, she asked if I was doing OK. OK? I could have been hanging from my ankles and I would have done it all day. Who wouldn't want to look at this little one?
In the top one, you can see the profile of the head at the right, the spine at the bottom. That little black spot is the stomach, ready for a Big Mac in 19 weeks or so. In the bottom one, you can clearly see him/her practicing a yell with a wide-open mouth. The tooth buds are even visible on the lower jaw.

On the right: It could be skull, but it could also be a spike of hair at the front of the forehead. A punk-rocker in the making.
I'll be the first to admit that those 3D images that look like molded clay are a little freaky. But our clay baby? Our clay baby is adorable!


That little arm and hand just kill me.

View from head on, head tilted. You can even see where the little belly button will be.

This one is my favorite. He/she looks so warm and cozy. Makes me want to take a nap.

Barring any unforeseen events (me breaking an arm, Alan injuring himself building something or the doctor needing to check the baby's position), the next time we'll head to the hospital is when I'm in labor. And the next time we'll see the baby is when the baby is here. We've got some gettin' ready to do!

Half Baked

This pregnancy is trucking right along; I've hit the halfway point. Those first few weeks seemed to creep by, but now it seems that time is speeding up. And our neighbor from across the street was brave enough to ask if I was pregnant, so I'm looking a little more obviously pregnant. She and her daughter must have been speculating, and both were relieved when I confirmed (and didn't just turn out to be fat and insulted).

Here is me at 19 weeks. I look smaller, lumpier and less photogenic in my 20-week picture, so you're getting me a week ago.

I've really started bumping out since about the 17-week mark, which coincidentally was when I first started suspecting that I was feeling the baby move. It started with just a twitch. Then a few days later another twitch. I'm still waiting for that massive "HEY MOM!" kick to the gut, but the twitches are adding up enough that I'm quite confident at this point that Baby W is saying hello. He/she is definitely using my bladder as a trampoline, so that's fun. I'd read that the incessant peeing was supposed to let up in the second trimester before hitting again in the 3T. And I did get a reprieve for a couple of weeks, but now I'm getting familiar with every public restroom in the NJ area. And ours at 2 a.m., without fail.

On Wednesday we'll be getting our 20-ish week ultrasound, so we'll get to see the wee one wave at us some more. And we would be able to find out the gender, if we were finding out the gender. But we're not. Because we want to make you all sick with anticipation.

Drop It Already

I wanted to be through with reporting on my clumsiness. I really did. Because I know you're all thinking "Yeah, yeah, you drop things, Erin. So drop it." I'll try harder after this. I will.

People always want to know if I've had any cravings during my pregnancy. And until recently, not really. But when the thought of s'mores popped into my head the other day, there was no stopping me. The baby, I'm certain, wanted s'mores. And the baby was going to get s'mores. So after trying to beat the thought out of my head for awhile, Alan and I finally headed to the grocery store at 9:30 one night to get the fixin's. Delish. Hit the spot. The baby was very happy.

The other craving I've had has been for Olive Garden salad. I worked at the Olive Garden for five years, so one would think that I would have ingested enough of their salad to last me a lifetime. But alas, I haven't, so I've taken Alan there a couple of times, as well as my mom and grandma when they visited recently. (During that visit, I rescued a pepper that the server was taking away from me in the salad bowl. You don't steal a pregnant lady's peppers!)

To save Alan and I the hassle of going to the OG for every meal, we bought a bottle of their salad dressing so we could have it on hand. And I bought red onions, roma tomatoes, pepperoncinis, black olives and croutons to make my own OG-style salad at home. So I built my delicious salad and had gobs of leftover black olives. And because Alan loves black olives, I put the remaining ones in a container to put on the table. Do you see where this is going?

On the epic three-foot journey to the table, I managed to trip on my flip-flop and drop the entire container of olives. And they went everywhere. Freakin' everywhere. So there I was, on all fours, picking up tons of olives from under the table and around the kitchen, all the while trying to keep Marti from eating all of the olives. (One success: She didn't get a single one.)

So I hadn't yet regaled Alan of my tale of olive droppage. And I don't think I was really planning on it, as I figured that he, too, was probably tired of hearing of my shenanigans and would like to believe (wrongly) that I'm not a total wreck. But then he went into the bathroom. And came out with a black olive.

"Yeah...so there was a bit of a situation with the black olives..."

I'm pretty sure that I'm about one incident away from earning myself a babysitter.

Can't a Girl Catch a Break?

Only literally, it appears. My latest victim:


At least it wasn't my ankle.

Gliding High

Alan and I have hit our local Bebes R Us several times now, as required by the Law of Expecting Parents. We haven't bought much yet, but we roam around this intimidating land, perusing the aisles, trying to figure out what we need, what we don't, and generally being confused. Ignoring most of the smaller items, Alan and I have decided to aim big and get a few of the big purchases out of the way. Plus, a donation from all of the grandparents to put toward furniture helped spur us on.

We knew one of our major to-buys was a glider and ottoman for rocking Wee Tot. This worked out well because inevitably, when at BRU, we end up in the gliders, too tired to continue around the store. So with money now in hand, Alan and I were ready to make the first major purchase.

We sat. We tested. We propped our feet up. We glided (glode?). And we finally decided on a glider. Expensive, yes, but we had a 20% coupon, not to mention the donations (yay again for grandparental donations!) to defray the costs. We then go to order the glider and learn that is has been discontinued. We thought we were back to square one (not MORE sitting around lazily!) until we were informed that we could buy the floor model for 30% off. Plus our coupon. Intriguing.

We went back to check out the glider to make sure it didn't have any super offensive defects and decided that, who were we kidding, of COURSE we would take the glider! We got our major discounts, and even somehow got 30% off instead of 20 for our coupon. When all was said and done, we got the set for less than $200. After the cushions were cleaned it looks brand new:


And can I just toot our remodeling horns here and say, how much better does this room look than before? That is not a question; that is a fact.

And clearly, my stay-at-home time has made me into a pro vacuumer. Check out those carpet lines.