Barf-O-Rama 2011*

I wasn’t apprehensive about going on a cruise earlier this month while battling bouts of morning sickness. Which is surprising because I’m the type who gets carsick on winding roads. Who pops a Dramamine when going on a 3-hour whale watching trip because I’d rather deal with the guaranteed-sleepy of a pill than the possible-vomitty of seasickness. So it’s a bit funny that the cruise didn’t have me rattled, especially because I didn’t check with my doctor to okay the use of Dramamine, and had it been okayed I’m the type who chooses to “tough it out” rather than pop a pill when pregnant unless absolutely necessary. So I bought some Sea Bands, which I didn’t even use. Cruises are leisure. Smooth sailing over smooth waters. And I was totally fine for the first four days, morning sickness and all. One minor dry heave when the boat lurched while I was in the bathroom, par for my morning course.

The first four days: I was a rockstar seawoman. I started thinking of joining the Navy. Writing Bridget Jones-isms in my head like: I am stud pregnant woman who can deal with open water; must look into buying fishing boat.

And then Day 5 happened.

Oh, Day 5.

We woke up during the night to drawers opening and closing. No, our stateroom wasn’t haunted. Or actually, it was haunted. By a little hurricane named Katia. We remained in the grip of the storm for an eternity. An eternity that made it look like everyone on the boat was drunk, stumbling around, trying not to vomit all over the place. And some people failed in their attempts to hold their vomit. I am one of those people. Here is my story.

Wanting to take advantage of the kids’ playroom, which weirdly limits the times kids under 2 can spend in there, we headed up for a couple of hours of crawling mania and toys that weren’t books. The attendant commented on the rocking, saying that because the room was at one of the highest points of the boat, you really feel the boat sway. I almost told him I didn’t know what he was talking about; I could barely feel it as we were practically flung back and forth as the boat pitched. I don’t know how Avery could even crawl straight.

Avery had a blast. Made friends with another little girl and adorably crawled through a caterpillar. I was fine. Still thinking of captaining a boat some day. Until everything changed. All of a sudden, I stood up, left Avery where she was and headed in Alan’s direction. “We have to go.” And then I put two toys away. Maybe mumbled “Uh oh” and high-tailed it to the bathroom.

I’m sure the attendant saw me turning all sorts of shades of green as I ran toward the bathroom. I’m sure he was hoping that I wouldn’t barf all over the carpeted kids’ room. And I was hoping the same thing, as I covered my mouth just feet from the bathroom. Let’s just say: I didn’t make it to the toilet, but I did make it to the bathroom. Barfing while simultaneously trying to dislodge the door stop that prevents kids from going into the bathroom unsupervised and locking themselves in.

I managed to hit the toilet, eventually, after hitting the diaper pail and oh, the floor. It seemed fitting to puke all over a room that I’m sure has seen its share of puke before. I then had to clean my mess up, which was about as fun as creating it had been. I blew off Alan’s offers of help; I love him for the offer, and I love him enough not to do that to him. He also explained that I was pregnant to the attendant, whom I hope was relieved at the extensive cleaning I had done, even if he would have to restock the non-absorbent paper towels.

I think I was one of the lucky ones who actually made it to a bathroom, kind of. I got the impression that others weren’t as fortunate, as I saw what looked like moist, freshly carpet-cleaned areas throughout the ship the entire day. I felt a ton better after my episode though, and didn’t have another incident the rest of the day. I did, however, carry a barf bag around, just in case.

*If that's not an enticing post title, I don't know what is.

Waving Hi

We've got a little someone—a very little someone—who wants to say hi.

Meet baby No. 2:


That's right, Sherlocks. Alan and I are expecting our second baby. I'm 12 weeks, 5 days along, with a due date of April 3. Avery will be approximately 20 months at that point, and we will be approximately very, very busy.

To say that this pregnancy has been different from my first pregnancy would be the understatement of the year. My "heavy gagging" of pregnancy No. 1 is hi-larious to me, as the nausea this time around kicked into full gear around 6 weeks, and I'm still waiting for it to let up. I feel like I'm being attacked by an alien from inside. An alien who flips my stomach upside down and gets its jollies from making me dry heave* and/or lose my breakfast, depending on its mood. Yet the cute little alien just kicks up his or her heels, relaxing, unaware of the turmoil going on in my stomach.


It's also been a little more nerve-wracking, as this little one has freaked us out a couple of times (troublemaker already), but the heartbeat was strong like bull last week and then again on Friday when we had this ultrasound. And because Avery was an early bird, Baby 2 will get star treatment. Apparently delivering a 35-weeker will earn you monthly ultrasounds to make sure everything is staying where it belongs. But I will not complain about getting extra shots of little baby bums.


Here's hoping that Baby 2 is getting all of the drama out of the way early and that he or she remains strong like bull. And also that I start feeling human again.

*I would think of Sweet Dee from Always Sunny every time I'd gag while going about my day. Watch this if you want to see what this experience might look like.

Funny Girl

Been busy lately with this hilarious girl.

I let her reach for her own snacks yesterday instead of handing them to her one by one. After her first attempt, I had to grab the video, and she gave a great repeat performance. I think she may have gotten even more on her first attempt, but this was still hilarious. And Marti is ever hopeful that one may come flying her way.



Master of destruction. You build or organize something, she wants to tear it down.



She's obsessed with her books and wants to point at everything. Or use our fingers to do the pointing.

We Survived Irene

When tornadoes or earthquakes* hit, there is little to no warning. Just bam, here's a tremendous force of Mother Nature. Afterwards, you survey the damage and move on. When hurricanes hit, you know they're coming. For days. And days. It gives you time to tune into the Weather Channel 24/7 to watch the weathermen talk about how stupid people are who get out in the storm while they're standing in the street during the storm. And sure, you have time to buy canned goods and the last of the water at Walmart, but you also have time to start going through worst-case scenarios in your head. It gives you time to imagine trees through your house, trapping your family inside.

It also gives loved ones time to freak out. Not that any of ours panicked or anything, but I'm sure it happens.

As I'm sure you know if you watched any of the Irene coverage, it had already been raining a ton leading up to the big storm. In fact, it had rained so much that my neglected garden was somehow managing to survive even though I'd given up on it a month ago. So as Saturday night hit and the rain we already had turned into more, harder rain, we knew This Was It. Irene had arrived.

Our main concern with the storm was trees falling over. We live in a neighborhood with some massive trees, and there are three or four within falling distance of our house. Massive trees that would do some serious damage. So we decided to camp out in our main floor office to weather the storm. Then at around midnight or 1, we had yet to go to bed because we had too much adrenaline going. But in fear of overnight pop-up tornadoes (you can take us out of Kansas, but you can't take the tornado paranoia out of us), we took ourselves and Avery downstairs to sleep. Even though it's far from cozy quarters down there, we figured we wouldn't be jumpy at every gust of wind, and if a tree came barreling through, we'd have more layers of house protecting us.

As expected, the power went out at 3:45 a.m. But when we woke up at 8 (Avery slept a little longer thanks to our fitful night), it seemed calm. Raining. Windy. But not bad. No trees down. Just this:


And this (the leaves, obviously):


I make light of it, sure, because that's how I cope with stressful situations, and, well, life. I have nothing but the utmost respect for Mother Nature and the damage she can do. I realize we got extremely lucky. Because you can compare the hurricane to a tornado in that while your street may be spared, a few streets over may not have been so lucky. And a couple of towns over there are entire roads blocked from fallen trees and flooding. We were also lucky in that we only went 26 hours without power and two days without cable and internet. So now we're back in business and thinking of all of the people who didn't fare so well. And thinking of making We Survived Irene T-shirts.

*Alan did feel the earthquake that hit last week. I didn't feel it, although from looking at receipts, I've pieced together that I was walking from the pharmacy to the bank when it struck. The clerk at the post office on the same street didn't feel it either, so I think the street was spared.

Avery's 1st Birthday!

Avery turns one today. I can't even believe it. It seems like just yesterday that my water broke while we were in the middle of a kitchen renovation. That my water broke while Alan was fixing squeaks in the floor by drilling into the basement ceiling. The drill bit in question was left behind and remains in the ceiling today.



Avery was in a big hurry to arrive and I was in such a daze that I barely remember the first time I held her. Here's photographic evidence to jog my memory. And luckily you can't tell how swollen my face was.


She's gone from our teeny-tiny baby who slept all the time...


...to our chubby little munchkin whose cheeks could not be contained. And who was so over sleeping all the time....


...to the girl of today who cannot be contained for a photo session...


...who has a best friend in Marti...


...is a trooper on hikes...


...who sleeps tons better....


...has a stellar blooper reel...


...and is a joy to be around.


She enjoyed her birthday cupcake while we were vacationing with family. She destroyed it, and ate some of it.


Marti helped her open lots of new toys, too. I think they're as much for me as for Avery. I was suffering severe toy boredom.

She makes us laugh and keeps us on our toes. She fills our lives up. I can't imagine life without our little girl along for the ride. Happy Birthday, Stinkerbell!

The Finger

Avery loves her middle finger. It's her favorite finger to use when pointing and touching things. And also when chewing out Daddy.

Outta My Way

Avery is in the expert crawler category now, and it's hilarious. Not only does she crawl at the speed of light, but she will fling items out of her way if they're in her path...and even if they're only sorta kinda in her path. And even if they're not impeding her movement in any way. What can I say, she likes the open road.



I love how she changes her mind and her direction in split seconds. And by the way, she has successfully made it to the dog bowl and really enjoyed splashing around until I got to her moments later. Add her love for the dog bowl to her love for climbing the stairs, and let's just say it's a good thing she's sleeping like a champ these days. The girl runs me ragged!