I know you didn't ask, but still...

Who knew that the never-ending TMI on this blog would result in an award?

My blog friend Tara was kind enough to offer The Late Bloomers the Honest Scrap Award! I knew Tara was a kindred spirit when she wrote this post about watching my favorite movie. I was so moved that I spent entirely too much time writing my own post about it. But oh, it was fun.

To accept this award, I need to:

• list ten honest things about myself
• nominate five other bloggers

10 Honest Things About Myself

Let me start off by saying that I already feel sorry for you that you're reading this list. When you're done, you may curse yourself for giving up 90 seconds of your life that you'll never get back. Consider yourself warned.

1. I could drink Coke by the gallon. While sucking on a lemon. This can be an expensive habit. I was almost shamed into giving it up when I discovered in college that my parents hid Coke from me when I came home to visit. Keyword: almost.
2. I kinda sorta want a Snuggie. When I first saw the commercials, I thought it was the stupidest thing I ever saw. But, somewhere along the way, my heart changed and I began to feel a sense of longing. Shame caused me to keep this longing hidden, especially as Internet ridicule of the Snuggie and its cousin, the Slanket, increased (like here, which made me laugh so much). And I can understand the ridicule. I once counted myself among the hecklers. But then I saw that someone I highly respect gave in to her desire. So I finally got up the nerve to tell my husband. More ridicule ensued, which has so far kept me from running out and making the purchase, but, as in the Coke situation above, I have a feeling that shame will not keep me from fulfilling my desires.
3. I honestly and truly dislike the taste of water. And don't tell me that water doesn't have a taste. With all the chemicals they put in bottled water, there's some kind of after-taste going on. I find Ozarka to be the most offensive. If you can bring me a glass of water straight from a mountain stream, I'll be willing to re-evaluate.
4. I love to watch my husband nap. He just looks so peaceful and relaxed and his mouth does this cute little pucker thing. I would take a picture and post it but suspect that would be crossing some sort of line. So you'll just have to trust me on this.
5. My clumsiness knows no limits. Just this morning as I was making breakfast I dropped a freshly-cooked slice of French toast and a slice of banana on the floor. I've been known to fall down the stairs (three times), walk into a glass door (once), and walk into walls and doorways (countless times). I don't know what's wrong with me.
6. I love sushi. Wait, you don't understand. I reallllly loooove sushi! Seriously. As a matter of fact, I prefer to eat raw salmon over cooked salmon. Spicy tuna rolls, shrimp tempura rolls, and anything with cream cheese and avocado. Oh, be still my heart.
7. I like the smell of gasoline. Hold on a minute - don't picture me sniffing gasoline in a closet somewhere. I'm just saying that when I have to pump gas, I don't hate it. That's all.
8. When I first met my husband, I asked myself, "Could I kiss those lips?" The answer is yes, yes I can. And I have. Many, many, many times.
9. There is no end to my hair. I was born with a head full of hair. Growing up I called it the "mane" (as in lion). Many women look forward to having thick luxuriant hair during pregnancy (because not as much hair falls out), but not me. I neeeeeed for hair to fall out. It is OUT OF CONTROL.
10. I am the anti-athlete. I've tried to be athletic and sporty. I really have. I've thrown myself into Ultimate Frisbee, physical training lessons, and an ill-fated two weeks of Boot Camp at my church. All to no avail. The only things I got out of it was a sprained ankle, a growing awareness of my asthma, and a T-shirt.

Nominations

I don't know that many bloggers, so I'll have to limit this list to four.

Margaret
Cristie
Jennifer
Missy

I know you didn't ask, but still...

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/who-knew-that-never-ending-tmi-on-this.html

Links Worth Following 3/14/09

• The 10 Songs 'American Idol' Finalists Should Avoid Like the Plague - The producers of the show really need to take this advice to heart. What was with the whole Michael Jackson thing this past week?
  
• Mom Jeans and the Dreaded "Long Butt" - May I never make this mistake.
  
• Facebook Made Me Do It - Do people have no shame??
  
• Baking Soda Beauty: 13 Reasons To Move It from Your Fridge to Your Medicine Cabinet - Maybe I can find a use for all of the baking soda I found in my pantry this week. I really need to keep inventory of what I have.
• This word should be stricken from the English language. After all, there are other options.
  

Links Worth Following 3/14/09

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/03/links-worth-following-31409.html

Pregnancy: I wonder if my child is channeling Seinfeld

Welcome to the latest installment of the Vomit Chronicles.

I know y'all have been waiting with bated breath to get an update on my nausea issues, so let's just get that out of the way: I'm in my 22nd week and still throwing up pretty much every day.

Honestly, I don't even care anymore. It's become a way of life. I just always hope to get it over with before leaving the house. I'd hate to have to pull over on some freeway and lean out my car door, only to cause a ten car pile-up due to all the rubbernecking.

On to more pleasant news...

On February 17th we had our long-awaited 20-week ultrasound. This ultrasound was the gating factor for such decisions as nursery decor, onesies color, and the colors of the stripes on the blanket I'm crocheting.

That's right, you read correctly - CROCHETING. Engineer by day, homemaker by night. How "every woman" of me.

So anyway, Garrett and I were sure we were having a girl. Besides always imagining that I would have a girl-child first, time-tested old wives tales also indicated that our first-born would be a daughter.

So you can imagine our surprise, nay, SHOCK, when the ultrasound tech announced that it's a BOY! Little Michael Thomas Maddox is on his way!

Those old wives clearly don't know what they're talking about.

It really didn't matter to me if it was a boy or girl. I just want a chubby baby in my arms. But I was absolutely thrilled for Garrett that he was getting his boy.

While waiting for the doctor to see us, we busied ourselves with phone calls and text messages sharing our news. Now all we had to do was get the ol' "Everything looks great" speech from the doctor, and we could be on our merry way, imagining life with our son.

So the doctor finally comes in, sits down, and starts talking about kidneys, ureters, and bladders. It took me a few seconds to realize that she wasn't saying, "Everything looks great." She said that my baby boy has more fluid in his right kidney than they like to see, so we would have to go for a higher level ultrasound.

I started to panic.

The doctor saw my eyes glaze over with shock, so she scooted a little closer and stressed that this didn't have to be a problem, her son was born with the same issue and he grew out of it by the time he was three. Apparently it's pretty common in little boys due to the nature of their plumbing. And everything else did look great, picture-perfect. This made me feel better, but I'm sorry to say that the damage to my emotions was already done. Garrett was a champ and took up the question-asking after that so that I could just take it in.

I was numb for the rest of the day. I did talk to various family members on the phone, excited that now we could really plan in earnest. But I was glad that I'd decided to work from home that day because I really needed the time to myself. The cubicle farm environment just doesn't afford the privacy necessary to a worried mother.

I held it together for most of the day, but finally had a meltdown that night. Full-fledged worry and panic ensued about everything from the serious to the mundane:

• Worry that my baby's kidneys would get worse.
• Worry that I didn't know how to mother a boy. I didn't realize until that day that I was scared to death to be a mommy to a little boy. Preparing a son to be a man, to be both strong and gentle, seems like such a huge undertaking to me.
  
• Worry about the nursery. I didn't have anything picked out for a boy!

Garrett spent some time talking me down from the ledge, so to speak. I felt better the rest of the week, but I'm still praying like crazy for my boy's kidneys.

We went to another facility for the higher-level ultrasound a week later. Before looking at the kidneys, she checked out the rest of Michael's body and saw that it all looks good. We then asked her to confirm that Michael is indeed a boy, just to make sure.

The tech in our previous ultrasound didn't have any problems checking out his boy part. But this time around Michael got a little shy and kept his legs closed.

And, really, can you blame him for being shy? I don't care what kind of viscous goop he has covering his body right now, being in fluid for months has got to do something to your skin, including the boy part. Sometimes I wonder if little boys in utero want to hold up a sign saying, "I was in the pool! I WAS IN THE POOL!" (Everybody remember George Costanza?)

(Michael just kicked me as if to say, "That's right!")

Just when I was thinking that the doctor would have to give up and move on, she started to pound on my stomach with the ultrasound wand in an effort to get him to move.

I found that particular maneuver to be quite ironic considering how vigilant Garrett and I have been about keeping our pets from jumping on my stomach. And here the doctor is, pounding my stomach like it was a ball of bread dough.

If she had just asked, I would have been more than happy to jiggle my belly for her. And it probably would have achieved the same result. But I'm not the one with the medical degree.

Michael finally did move and reveal the family jewels. So we can proceed with decorating a little boy's nursery with confidence.

The doctor then looked at his kidneys. She found fluid in both kidneys, but said that it wasn't anything that she was too worried about, it was probably just reflux. But she also cautioned that things could progress, so we're going back in two months for a follow-up ultrasound.

Most of my worries have been calmed, but I have to work at it sometimes. I'm comforted by the fact that my son isn't developing randomly, but being formed in my womb by a loving God.

Now the big question is: what's he gonna look like? We're predicting that this short, dark-skinned Puerto Rican girl is going to birth a big white baby boy. Which means that I will forever be mistaken as his nanny.

But I'm cool with that. I'm just looking forward to having him in my arms and looking down at his chubby-cheeked face, knowing that all the vomiting was worth it. I can't wait to meet my son.

Pregnancy: I wonder if my child is channeling Seinfeld

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/02/pregnancy-i-wonder-if-my-child-is.html

Pregnancy: From Gas Bubbles to Little Hands and Feet

Back when Garrett and I decided to try for a baby, I had visions of chronicling our pregnancy journey on this blog with posts discussing the "deep things," like how there needs to be a level of trust with your spouse to conceive a baby, or how physical pregnancy can teach us lessons about a sort of "spiritual pregnancy" where we see the purposes God has placed in us come to fruition over time.

But all the vomiting and nausea pretty much drove the "deep" right out of me.

And I was left with thoughts like, "How many restrooms does this store have?" and, "Larger underwear, I NEED LARGER UNDERWEAR!"

So I'm not having many deep thoughts these days. But every once in a while a tender thought will trickle through the nausea- and pain-related thoughts cluttering my mind and fight its way into my consciousness.

This has been a week of tender thoughts. I am currently in my 19th week of pregnancy and felt my little one move for the first time this past Monday.

I'll be perfectly honest with you and admit that I thought it was gas, but a moment later realized that was probably a funny place to feel a gas bubble.

(There's a tender thought in here somewhere, I promise.)

So then I started paying closer attention. And lo, the little child did move and kick. Wonderment and awe did fill the mother, as no gas bubble could.

My little sweet pea has been moving more and more as each day goes by. And that has helped me so much in really believing that my child is growing inside me. At a Christmas event last December, Beth Moore talked about Elizabeth's pregnancy with the child that would become John the Baptist. Scripture tells us that Elizabeth became pregnant and remained in seclusion for five months. Beth pondered why the five months and came to the conclusion that Elizabeth may have waited until she could feel her child move inside her, in that way knowing for sure that she was indeed pregnant in her advanced years.

(My own pondering would have led to the conclusion that Elizabeth just thought it was best to stay at home when dealing with morning sickness accompanied by sudden projectile vomiting, but hey, that's just me. Ok, back to tender thoughts. Focus, Leslie, focus!)

Now that I've felt my baby move, I can go with Beth's theory and believe that Elizabeth wanted that proof. So much of the earlier part of pregnancy is cerebral. Sure, there's some physical evidence of the pregnancy, but much of that could be explained away with other reasons. We ultimately have to believe in our minds that yes, there's a baby in there somewhere. But when your child moves inside you, stretching those little arms and legs, all of a sudden it's not about the back pain, weight gain, or nausea. It's about cradling a child in your body, allowing your body to expand and change to make room for a new life.

I've been thinking about those little arms and legs. About the first time we'll count tiny fingers and toes. About the first time that we'll grasp the little hand and feel a grasping in return. Little arms wrapped around my neck in a hug, chubby little legs crawling, then walking. I wonder where those little legs will take my child, who those little hands will soothe. When those little knees will hit the ground in prayer for the first time with little elbows resting on a bed.

And then I think about Who those little hands will serve, Who those little feet will follow...

The Same Little Hands
By: Dorothy Brock Holtslander

His mother held Him close
As she gazed at His perfect face
She wondered if He knew even then
That He was the One, the Savior, the Lamb

She counted His toes, as new mothers do
and then tiny fingers
on tiny hands

How could she have know what was to be
That He would change the world for eternity
The same little hands
The same little feet feet
That would one day be nailed to a tree

She watched with a mother's joy
as His little feet took their first steps
She took pride when He was a little boy
and with His little hands built His first toy

How could she have known, how was she to see
the same little hands
the same little feet
would one day be nailed to a tree

His Father knew what had to be
those same little hands
those same little feet
nailed to a tree
for you and me

Pregnancy: From Gas Bubbles to Little Hands and Feet

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/01/pregnancy-from-gas-bubbles-to-little.html

"Pregnancy - 17 weeks" or "A phrase I never want to hear again"

So it's officially been over a month and a half since our last post. Whatever happened to my intentions of keeping family and friends updated on our happenings through this little blog? Especially now, when we're expecting our first little one?

Well, you know what they say about the best of intentions.

But I'll excuse myself by saying that I have been dealing with morning sickness from hell. You know how I said in the last post that my morning sickness was lessening at 11 weeks? Well, it was like I triple-dared the gods of all that is unholy to prove me wrong. Soon after writing those daring words, my morning sickness came back with a vengeance.

And when I say it came back with a vengeance, I mean food became my enemy. I had little appetite for most of the day, and when I did eat, I ate knowing that it would only be a matter of time before I would have to run my pregnant body to the bathroom (praying that I wouldn't trip over a cat or dog) to vomit at least half of my stomach contents.

(Here's where my mother will stop her reading to call me and demand that I do something about the cats and dog. Mom, I eagerly await your call.)

I normally love going out to eat, but after a couple of unfortunate incidents at a Denny's and a Red Robin, I realized that I would have to give up my love of being waited on hand and foot at restaurants for the next few weeks and instead have to be happy with being waited on hand and foot at home by husband.

(And here's where my sweet husband silently curses Eve and that dastardly snake in the Garden of Eden for the pain and suffering we're both dealing with in this pregnancy. Sweetie, I really do appreciate all you do for me. So much so that there's tortilla soup in the crock pot for your enjoyment tonight. Nothing but the best crock pot meals for you, baby. The sour cream and cheese are in the fridge.)

At least once a week someone would tell me, "Oh, it'll get better soon."

• The midwife at my OB's office told me, "It'll get better soon," while prescribing anti-nausea medication that ended up not working for me because even a fourth of the tiny tablet knocked me out. And, like most people, I find it difficult to hold down a full-time job while in a medication-induced coma.
• The doctor at the ER told me, "It'll get better soon," when I ended up there one night after extreme dizziness, causing me to crawl to the bathroom to throw up into the bathroom rug. Turns out I was pretty dehydrated, most likely caused by all the vomiting. I left the ER five pounds heavier thanks to two bags of IV fluids, clutching a prescription for a different anti-nausea medication. It ended up being completely ineffective. Anti-nausea meds, you are dead to me.
• My OB told me, "It'll get better soon," after diagnosing me with bronchitis and prescribing me a heavy-duty antibiotic. Unfortunately, antibiotics do not help the anti-nausea cause.
• After the antibiotic didn't heal me, the internal medicine doctor that my OB referred me to told me, "It'll get better soon," after diagnosing me with the flu. Again, catching the flu was counter-productive to my anti-nausea goals.
• A very sweet girl in our Sunday School class told me, "It'll get better soon," after she heard me whimpering and vomiting in the church bathroom. If only.

Dear readers, if you want me to hang onto my sanity, please do not tell me, "It'll get better soon."

So tomorrow I'll be fully at 17 weeks. I won't tell you that the nausea and vomiting seems to have improved over the last few days because I now know better than to tempt fate.

Here's where a picture of my 17 week belly would be appropriate, but I haven't gotten up the nerve to take a picture yet.

"Why?" you ask. "A pregnant body is a beautiful thing."

I'll tell you why. Because my 17 week belly looks more like a 25 week belly. Y'all, it's embarrassing. You see, I wasn't skinny when I got pregnant. So by the time I took the pregnancy test, I already looked like I was a couple of months along. Add to that fact my short stature and even shorter torso, and you have a recipe for a big ol' belly. No one has said anything overtly rude, at least not that I can prove. (As I was getting a pedicure this weekend, my nail technician was talking in Vietnamese to another nail tech. They stopped to ask me how far along I was, then continued their conversation in Vietnamese. I can't prove it, but I just know that they were saying, "She so big fo' 4 months.") But I'm still paranoid.

I will eventually take pictures since my mother already bought me a Belly Book and has convinced me that I will want those pictures one day. But I can't promise that they will ever appear on this blog since I can't bear the thought that readers of the World Wide Web will also be saying, "She so big." Vanity, thy name is Leslie.

So instead of a picture of my preggo belly, here's a picture of our precious and much-loved little one at 11 weeks. We have our next ultrasound on Feb 17, when I'll be 20 weeks. We can't wait to find out if I'm carrying Isabella Anne or Michael Thomas!

"Pregnancy - 17 weeks" or "A phrase I never want to hear again"

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2009/01/pregnancy-17-weeks-or-phrase-i-never.html

The Most Precious Heartbeat

Yesterday I heard the most precious heartbeat I've ever heard - the heartbeat of the child I'm carrying.

I am currently in my eleventh week of pregnancy, almost done with my first trimester. And the second trimester can't come soon enough! While many women go through their first trimester unscathed, mine has been marked by extreme fatigue, nausea, headaches, aches, pains, and bloating. I finally started feeling more "normal" last week, enough so that I could actually do some cleaning and get through a day at work without wanting to crawl under a table. I'm still running to the bathroom for a bout of nausea now and then, but it's nothing like it was before.

And here's where I need to give a shout out to my wonderful husband. Garrett has been taking wonderful care of me, doing a lot around the house, and even took over clean up duty after an unfortunate incident when I didn't make it over the toilet fast enough.

Now that's true love. You know you've found a keeper when he's willing to clean up the remains of your day, so to speak, without complaining. His only comment was, "You don't know what I just went through in there." You're right, darling, I don't know. And I don't want to know unless you're willing to see a repeat performance.

But I digress.

We're finally at the point in the pregnancy when I'm comfortable telling the world about the baby we're expecting. To say that we're excited would be an understatement. I've been wanting a baby since I was 12 years old, so once you do the math you'll see that's 22 years of longing. Garrett has wanted to be a daddy for a long time, too. We agreed when we got married that we would wait a year before trying. Well, we got the baby itch sooner than that, so we were already in our seventh week of pregnancy on our first anniversary. Which meant that we celebrated a very quiet anniversary since I was absolutely exhausted all the time.

Our families are super excited, too. This is the first grandchild on my side of the family, so my parents are just beside themselves that they don't have to adopt grandchildren, after all. My brother an sisters are ready for a little niece or nephew and have already started buying little presents.

Incidentally, when my brother found out I was pregnant, he called me (which is unusual enough because Eddie, you don't write, you don't call...) and said, "So, I hear Garrett got one past the goalie." Nice.

Yesterday I went to see my OB for a little procedure to check some stuff out. She surprised me by saying that we would get to hear the heartbeat. I knew that Garrett would be disappointed since he wasn't with me, but I just had to hear it. Easier said than done. About 15 minutes, two rooms, two nurses, three Dopplers, and one very sore tummy later, I finally heard clear evidence of my little sweet pea.

What a moment. Those first couple of months of pregnancy you're thinking, "Is there really something in there?" I took three pregnancy tests and still wondered. So hearing the heartbeat was just overwhelming. I started crying, which kind of freaked out the nurse. She asked, "Oh, was I not supposed to find it?" In my head I thought, "Stop your crazy talk, woman! I've been waiting for this baby practically my whole life!" But I just shook my head. So then she rightly guessed that this is my first.

I tried to keep from crying too much so that she could get the baby's heart rate. It was 180 bpm! Pretty fast, but still within the normal range.

Next week we have our first ultrasound. Garrett and I are so ready for it. We want to see our little one and hear that everything is ok.

Then over the Christmas break I'll start cleaning out the guest room, which will be the baby's room. We need to get some painting done, but I'm not planning to buy anything until we find out if our sweet pea is a boy or girl.

Right now we're just praying that the baby is healthy and strong.

The Most Precious Heartbeat

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2008/12/most-precious-heartbeat.html

He Just Can't Keep From Singing

I've owed the two or three of you that read this blog (hi mom!) some music for a while now. In a previous post, I bragged on my super-talented husband and his beautiful voice. He had just given a vocal recital and blew us all away with some beautiful music. If I'd had a bit of forethought, I would have found a video camera and recorded it. But, due to some stuff going on in my life right now that I'll talk about later, I've been a bit scatter-brained. And sickly. But that's another post for another day.

A couple of wonderful readers rightly pointed out that I should post him singing. I envisioned a video of him singing "Bring Him Home" since it brought tears to our eyes. But we would need someone playing the piano. And I'm afraid that my piano skills don't extend much past making the same mistakes in "Fur Elise" over and over again. Considering that's a song easily mastered by twelve-year-old girls the world over, I'm not the person for the job.

And let's not forget the minor issue of not having a video camera. I thought about taking the video with my regular digital camera, but realized that it just would not do. We plan to gift ourselves with a video camera for Christmas, but that doesn't help me right now.

(By the way, if you have thoughts on a good video camera, or even a video camera not worth purchasing, I'd love to hear them.)

Now back to our story...

Garrett remembered that he had an old recording of him singing with the choir at First United Methodist in Austin, Texas. I listened to it and thought that it was real purty, so I'm offering it up to you for your listening pleasure. There's no accompanying video, but this will just have to do for now. It starts out with Garrett singing a capella, then the piano and choir come in. He comes in again later with another solo.

You can listen to the song here. Some lyrics are below, but they're not exactly the same as the version in the recording (there's a verse missing). Enjoy!

How Can I Keep From Singing
My life flows on in endless song;
Above earth’s lamentation
I hear the real, though far off hymn
That hails a new creation:
Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear the music ringing;
It sounds an echo in my soul —
How can I keep from singing?

What through the tempest loudly roars,
I know the truth, it liveth.
What through the darkness round me close,
Songs in the night it giveth.
No storm can shake my inmost calm
While to that rock I'm clinging.
Since love is lord of Heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?

I lift mine eyes; the cloud grows thin;
I see the blue above it;
And day by day this pathway clears
Since first I learned to love it:
The peace of God restores my soul,
A fountain ever springing:
All things are mine since I am loved —
How can I keep from singing?

He Just Can't Keep From Singing

https://thelatebloomersblog.blogspot.com/2008/12/he-just-cant-keep-from-singing.html