A few more shower pics

Food. In my world- this is the single most important part of any party. And yes, I know this is a problem.

Can't have a shower for Fester Chainsaw without a chainsaw! Thank you mom & dad (for the shower AND the chainsaw)!

One of two cakes made by Granny Kay for the little chainsaw. And I promise...despite what it looks like, the baby will NOT be named Fester Chainsaw (I fear there will be too many copycats).

My mom and brother. One is drunk, the other is not. I'll let you guess which one is which.

The baby daddy excitedly holding up one of two Charger onesies we received.

The Baby Shower Aftermath

We had the big baby shower this past weekend...and this is what Fester's bedroom looked like afterwards.

Thankfully, mi madre is in town for the week, so she's spent part of the last two days sorting, washing, folding, organizing and doing all the things that will make her anal retentive daughter's heart soar.

PS - Today is the old man's birthday! He's 35! I'll be leaving work a little early to cook him dinner and take it to the hospital since works a 12-hr. shift today.

Life at 33.5

For the last two months I've been happily mosying along, getting larger and larger each day, but for the most part- mobile. However, over the last couple of weeks, I have rapidly started to pop/expand and have officially entered into that territory where I am having difficulty doing anything that requires my bending over- releasing my car's hand brake, putting on socks, getting out of bed, beating Roy while he's on the ground, etc. Thankfully- my baby daddy has plenty of experience hoisting heavy adults out of bed, so he has basically been relegated to serving as a human crane helping to hoist me out of bed each morning. I'm sure it's something he really looks forward to each day- tugging my grunting, sweaty, half-dressed, cottage cheese a** out of bed while I whine the whole time.

However, I'm still okay with this growth. I get that I'm growing a baby inside of me. I also know that little Fester is not so little anymore. He's up to a little over up to four pounds (or six if he you count all the Maui Style potato chips I shoveled down last night). And as he grows another half pound a week, I can't imagine how much larger my stomach is going to get over the next 6.5 weeks.

For those of you (like me) who have either never been pregnant, or never really paid attention to others who got pregnant- pregnancy is 40 weeks, or 9 full months and some change. So I started my 8th month on May 10th, and I start my 9th month on April 10th. And if all goes well, The Big FC will arrive on May 10th. My plan has been to work for as long as I can up until the delivery, and then take off anywhere from 8-12 weeks afterwards. I'm going to return to my same job, but in a part-time capacity (20 hrs a week). I'll work two days out of the office (Roy will watch Fester) each week, with the other three from home. This should work seamlessly (assuming Fester learns how to take a 5-hr naps and changes his own diapers). :-)

Fester's Love Nest

As momentum has started to pick up for Fester's arrival, I've had a lot less time to post. But one pretty cool thing that has happened recently is that we got Fester's bedding set!

A very talented friend of ours at Out of the Box California (who was featured on Martha Stewart last year) designed/printed the fabric pieces for us, and another friend designed/sewed the pillows and blanket. So as a result, we've been lucky enough to score a complete, one-of-a-kind nursery theme that's 100% Out of the Box California! You can only see the bedding, bib and burp cloths in these pictures...so I hope to post a few more pictures that will show the rest of our beautiful Out of the Box gifts soon- like our diaper bag, onesies, booties, nightlight, clothes rack, painting, etc.

And I have nooooo worries about any of the bedding getting messed up- because I've already patiently explained to little Fester that he is not allowed to poop or pee on his nice, pretty new bedding (or mommy will get very drunk and beat daddy out of frustration).

Pregnancy Revelations

Over the last couple of months of my pregnancy, I've had a really good run. However, ever since I started my 8th month, I've noticed some big changes.

1. No more bending over while in the seated position! From the way I start gasping and wheezing for air you'd think I had my head dunked underwater for 30 seconds (and not just bent over to pick up a pen)! Based on my inability to intake deep breaths of air, I was convinced Fester had smashed my lungs down to the size of two kidney beans. However, after intense research (googled it), I learned that normal adult sized lungs are actually about 10-14 inches long (they dominate most of your chest cavity), and they're not hollow tubes, they're more like giant sponges.

2. I'm slow. I mean really, really friggen' slow! I used to trudge along at a 20 min. mile pace. However, while walking to the doctor's office a few weeks ago I smugly challenged myself to catch up with a rather large female lumbering about 50 yards ahead of me. To make a loooong, painful story short that nearly resulted in me suffering severe dehydration and needing psychiatric intervention ("You're not that fat, Josie!!! You're not that fat!"), I never caught up to her. In fact, I believe she ended up gaining 50 yards on me. Since then, I've clocked myself in at about 22 min. miles...at-tro-cious!

3. I look pathetic. But in a good way! I have come to realize that cities fall into one of two extremes- those that are walker/runner friendly, and those that are not. My city falls firmly into the latter category. We also like to shoot at each other and start crack labs in our homes...but that's another story. More times than not, when I'm out running or walking, I have to come to a rather abrupt halt and let cars barrel past me regardless of me having the right of way. But recently...allllll that's changed!!! As I've proudly demonstrated for Roy on more than one occasion, all I need to do is stick my stomach out a little, place one arm behind me on my lower back, affect a painful grimace on my face, waddle a little and BAM! I can part the damned Red Sea!!! Everyone comes to a screeching halt! Lov-ing it!

8 months! And one hot pregnancy tip!

I've been eating a lot more and exercising a lot less the past couple of weeks. I'm not sure if it's the growing sense of entitlement and/or euphoria of starting my 8th month, or I'm just starting to slow down. I still make an effort to try and walk about 2-3 miles each day, with one of those being a 5-miler.

Though these longer walks are quite time consuming, I love them because they not only make me feel great (they're the only thing that can make me feel like the shiz-nit nowadays), but I also tend to get a lot of supportive comments from both pregnant and non-pregnant friends- Are you sure you can walk that far? I never exercised when I was pregnant! Shouldn't you be at home laying on the couch?

Fortunately, I have The Great Equalizer (my brother Joseph) to keep my head from swelling. A few weeks ago I was in the middle of gleefully gloating to Joseph about a recent walk (practically flexing my man-calves while doing so) when he kindly pointed out to me that there are plenty of pregnant women in Africa who walk ten miles a day (in 100 degree heat) while carrying a baby on each hip AND balancing a clay water jug on their head. Sooooo yes....I suppose that is a slightly more impressive feat than my last walk- which involved me walking to Del Taco for a burrito and fries while swigging grape-flavored Dasani bottled water, merrily singing along to my MP3 player.

This week's 'big walk' took place this morning. Roy and I walked 6 miles along a trail, and because it took two hours, I had to pee in the bushes FOUR times along the way. 75% of those roadside stops went well- with one, um...not so well. Without going into too much detail, let me just share a very valuable hot tip- if you decide to wear roll-over-top maternity shorts, be ABSOLUTELY sure that the roll over top stays tightly rolled over (and doesn't unravel) while you go. Otherwise, well...you won't need to even stop and go. You may as well just keep walking and go. Which could result in you having to sadly and awkwardly waddle all the way home (with tears in your eyes), ordering/demanding your poor husband to stay two steps ahead of you the whole time. Hypothetically of course.

Fester's daddy did it!!!

After just ten years of marriage, Roy has FINALLY come through!!! For the first time ever...he remembered Girls Day was yesterday!!! Whoo-hoo!!! I scored a bouquet of flowers, two of my favorite Japanese snacks (he was sweet enough to find an Asian market that carried them) and he took me out to dinner at my favorite restaurant (which happens to be Chilis...because I'm all class, baby....).

Now before any of you females begin sulking and demanding that your husband's fork over years of retroactive Girls Day gifts, I should probably point out that this is a relatively ho-hum day, even in Japan, the country where it's celebrated. In fact, it's not even an official holiday. But the 3rd day of the 3rd month each year is when most Japanese drag out their beautiful doll displays and honor little girls, and the 5th day of the 5th month of each year is when they drag out their carp flags and honor little boys.

My mother always had little treats for us kids on these special days, but sadly enough, Roy has since dropped the ball on this fine, fine tradition. And in his defense, yes, yes...the man is white, so I do cut him some slack. But ten years worth?! Good lordy! I mean, he also never celebrated my birthday before he met me, but he would never forget that date!

But let's get to that picture, shall we? Yes, that picture is of me from back in the late 90s. Roy surprised me in Japan (boy...he's suddenly looking like a champ now, isn't he?) by secretly arranging with my best friend (now my sister-in-law...how cool is that?) to have us go and take 'geisha' photos for my birthday. So a tiny team of ladies spent about an hour or two applying our make up, fitting us with wigs, getting us dressed in layer after layer...then gave us an hour to walk around a nearby temple. It was great fun. Everyone, including the Japanese, thought we were real geisha, and nearly everyone asked to take photos with us.

Though I must admit I am often prone to exaggeration and white lies, I swear I am not exaggerating when I say that the tourists and Japanese locals did appear quite baffled by me- since I was easily twice the size of a normal geisha (I was in the start of my very chubby years), had all the grace of a sumo wrestler (we had to walk on tall wooden clogs) and twice the back hair (I'm guessing on this one). In fact, when one of Roy's 'friends' saw the pictures of my sister-in-law and I all dressed up (he did not recognize me), he pointed at me and said, "Fat." Roy nearly decked him and I pretty crumpled into a heap. And to be perfectly honest, his one stupid, tasteless comment pretty much ruined the experience for me. I didn't want to let it since it wasn't fair to Roy, but it was really hard not to associate that beautiful day with his hurtful comment. And unfortunately, that was not the first, second or third time I was told I was fat in Japan, which I swear- f**ked me up in the head so bad that to this day, I have issues.

But I digress. The point of this post was to say that Roy kicked arse yesterday. He's always been the best damn husband ever, but now he's catapulted himself into super-duper-rockstar husband status. So Richado- domo arigatou gozaimashita! You rock desu!