Jars O' Salad

I was perusing Pinterest a week or two ago and came across pre-made salads in glass mason jars. I've been trying to watch what I eat and really tackle my weight loss goal (more on that later). So I went shopping over the weekend and bought a case of fake mason jars (Main Stays brand, $7.97 for a 12 pack at WalMart. The true Mason Jars were either $9.97 or $10.97 - I can't remember, but I couldn't come up with a good reason to pay more money for the same damn thing. So I didn't.) and LOADS of salad veggies. These were a ton of fun to create and have been super delicious ALL week long (the only thing that didn't hold up for more than a couple of days was the avocado). I'm totally going to keep this up and to help you join in on the fun, I've listed my salad creations below. They were all yummy, but I think my two favorites were the Pear Walnut & Southwest. Let me know what you think, or if you have any suggestions for new creations. I get bored w/ food very easily, so I'm always looking for new ideas.

It is VERY important to put the dressing on bottom and lettuce on top, so that the two never touch. Otherwise your lettuce will get all wilty and soggy. Gross. Stack the densest vegetables (onion, bell pepper, carrots, etc.) on bottom, working your way up to the lettuce. When you're ready to eat, dump the jar into a bowl so that the lettuce falls out and is topped with all of the veggies and the dressing pours over the top.

I stacked in this order:

WALNUT PEAR
Light Raspberry Walnut Vinaigrette Dressing (Newmann's Own)
Red Onion (these were almost like candy after soaking up the dressing)
Pear
Glazed Walnuts (you could use plain walnuts, but...why?)
Blue Cheese Crumbles (Light)
Spinach Leaves

SOUTHWEST
Mango Chipotle Dressing (Kraft)
Shredded Carrots
Red Onion
Bell Pepper (I actually sliced up some of the mini sweet peppers)
Cherry Tomatoes (cut in half)
Black Olives
Grilled Chicken (1/2 of a breast)
Avocado
Black Beans (drained well)
Corn
Romaine Lettuce
*I had some seasoned tortilla strips that I packed separately and sprinkled on top right before eating. YUMMMMMMY!

ASIAN
Toasted Sesame Dressing (I think I used Kraft, but I can't remember. Just use your favorite Asian style dressing.)
Sugar Snap Peas
Shredded Cabbage & Carrots
Water Chestnuts
Baby Corn
Bean Sprouts
Field Greens
*This salad was very tasty, but I felt like it could have used some more substance. It didn't fill me up for very long. Suggestions?

COBB
Light Honey Mustard Dressing (Newmann's Own)
Shredded Carrots
Cucumber
Tomato
Black Olives
Grilled Chicken (1/2 a breast)
Avocado
Hard boiled egg
Field Greens

SHRIMP & SPINACH
Lemon Slices
Brown Rice Penne Pasta
Baby Shrimp
Cherry Tomatoes (cut in half)
Spinach Leaves
*I use the lemon slices as my dressing. This is a pretty light salad, but super delicious. If you prefer an actual dressing, just substitute for whatever you like.
**So it turns out this is NOT a good salad for the jars. I forgot that I like my pasta warm and that's hard to do when it's all packed together.

Some salads I'm going to try next time, and will let you know how they turn out:

Ceasar - Ceasar dressing, Chicken Breast, Tomatoes, Lemon Slices, Romaine, Shredded Parm, Croutons
Olive Garden Salad - Italian Dressing, Red Onion, Pepperonchinis, Black Olives, Tomatoes, and Iceburg
Caprese - Balsamic Vinaigrette, Tomatoes, Mozzarella Cheese Balls, Basil, Spinach

Sorry to disappoint you...

So it's 10 days until I get my bar results. I can't go anywhere or do anything without bumping in to somebody who eagerly wants to know how much longer. I know they only ask because they care. These are my friends, my coworkers, my family, my neighbors, etc. But I'm seriously dreading April 28. Not because I'm afraid of getting bad news, but because I'm going to dissapoint all of these people who have invested in me and are anxiously awaiting a big celebration marking the finality of my law-induced torture.

The cold hard truth: I honestly do not think I passed. I don't even see how it's possible. This isn't just a "expect the worst, hope for the best" mantra and I'm not being negative. I'm being realistic. I took a bar prep course and was told on the first night that in order to succeed I would need to invest 8 hours a day, 6 days a week. That didn't happen. That didn't even come close to happening. Between caring for a newborn and a husband who continued to work full time so that we could continue to pay our mortgage and fill our bellies, I was lucky to get 2-3 hours of studying in a day. And those inadequate hours were generally during the middle of the night while Addison was sleeping. I would study as soon as I got home from bar prep course until she woke up for her first feeding, between 1-2 am. Only then would I allow myself to go to bed. I was so exhausted that I'm sure those hours were a complete waste. I was reading and rereading the material but nothing was sticking.

A couple weeks before the bar exam I nearly had a complete breakdown. I was mentally, emotionally, and physically fatigued. One night while I was up studying I did a "worst case scenario" analysis. What if I don't pass? What if I don't even take the damn exam? When I realized the world would not come to an end, that life would go on as normal, I felt a HUGE weight lifted off my shoulders. I was so excited to tell Colt in the morning that I was over it. I know my stress was beginning to take a toll on him as well. He was supportive. So I looked in to pushing off the exam until July. Long story short, it didn't make any sense. I would be out the money and I had already taken the time off of work to study for and take the exam. So I decided to treat it as a "practice" and then take it again in July. Less pressure.

Then came the week of the exam. Even though I had decided not to stress about it, I was secretly praying for a miracle. The thought of having to retake it started to make me sick. I'm not going to rehash the entire 3 days, but each one got progressively worse. Afraid to be away from Addison for so long, I had her in the hotel with me. Colt was there too, but her colic, or whatever it was, was at its worst and no matter how much he tried to help, she only wanted mommy. So my plan to cram each night during the exam went down the drain. I stayed up most of the first night after she went down, but really paid for that the second day and fell asleep at the desk that night. I woke up in a panic at 1:30 am because I hadn't reviewed everything I wanted to. Admitting defeat, I crawled in to bed to catch a couple hours of sleep. Of course, Addison woke up twice for feedings, giving me maybe 2 hours of total sleep. I was in no shape to take the most important test of my life.

The first two days of the exam cover 18 areas of substantive law, some I took in law school and many that I did not. There are 9 essays each day and you must average a 70% overall. I know I did well on the criminal law, criminal procedure, evidence, torts, family law, and constitutional law questions. Unfortunately, I know I did not do enough on several others, like corporations, property, sales, contracts, etc. The third day is 6 essays on professional responsibility only. I'm not really sure how I did on that section. While I spotted numerous issues, I'm not very confident that my analysis was sufficient because I fell short of the character limit each time. My honest, realistic assessment is that I'm 99% sure I failed the substantive portion and 75% sure I failed the PR portion.

Before you start feeling sorry for me, or thinking how pathetic I am, know that I will get through this. Life will go on. I have a job (that I love, by the way) and an amazing baby girl that could really care less if I pass or fail. :) So please don't feel obliged to tell me how great you know I did, or how smart you know I am, or how there is no way I failed. Because it will only make it harder for me to tell you that I didn't pass. I do believe in miracles and I am hoping for one here. But, it would be silly of me to presume minimal studying and sheer exhaustion would lead to success. I know better than that and will have to come up with a better plan if/when I take the exam again.

Johnny Cash Doesn't Know $h!t About The Ring of Fire

Note: I started this post shortly after giving birth...however, I've been a little bit busier than usual between figuring out this whole mom thing, finishing law school and studying for the bar exam (more on all that later). So rather than deleting, reworking, etc. I'm just going to go with it - adding a sentence here or there whenever I find the time. Hoping to post before Addy graduates from high school...or at least college.

You might have heard by now that I'm a mommy!! Addison Grace Robben was born on Sunday, October 16 at 10:45 a.m. She was a healthy 8 lb. 6 oz and 20 in long. Colt and I are absolutely smitten with the little bug. She is a good sleeper, eats well, and exceeds the minimum number of poops as required by the multitude of medical professionals who care about that kind of stuff.

Now for the birth story... let me start by saying Addison will be a very happy ONLY CHILD. I honestly question the mental stability of those women who voluntarily choose to go through labor and delivery a second time. I don't even know what to say about those who do it a third. It must be a case of temporary insanity. I say this with love of course, since I'm the third child and wouldn't be here if it weren't for my mom's questionable mental state in 1983... Anyway, people keep telling me I will forget the pain. I keep waiting... I'm not too optimistic, since many of those same people also told me child birth was a beautiful thing. Let me tell you - there was NOTHING beautiful about it. An out-of-body experience, yes. It was as if I was looking down on myself, the victim of a bloody crime, making the most inhumane sounds, while Colt leaned over me with tears streaming down his face and telling me in his best big-boy voice that it was almost over.

My due date was Saturday, October 15. In the last few weeks of pregnancy, I was diagnosed with pregnancy-induced hypertension (PIH), a really fancy term for high blood pressure. At my 39 week appointment, my doctor decided she didn't want my pregnancy to go on much longer. Although the baby was doing fine, I was at risk for preeclampsia and that risk only increased as time went on. Unfortunately, my body wasn't ready to have a baby and baby wasn't ready to come out. We had made zero progress toward dilation, effacement, etc. So I was scheduled for a cervix ripening procedure on Friday, October 14.

Shortly after checking in to labor and delivery Friday night, the "fun" began. As it turns out, the birthing center we chose was a teaching hospital. This means that instead of experienced doctors you get cute and young medical students and residents eager to poke and prod you. Without going in to too much detail, cervical exams were VERY uncomfortable for me. This was probably because of its uncooperative nature and unfavorable position (high and tight for those of you who speak the lingo). Unfortunately, cervical exams are a common occurrence for someone about to push a watermelon through a grape-sized opening. Each cervical exam was preceded with the attending physician asking if I would mind letting the resident perform the exam. Each time, clearly not learning my lesson from the previous exam, I agreed. And each time, as I squirmed and squealed, squeezing the crap out of Colt's hand, the resident backed out claiming they couldn't reach the cervix (see the high and tight comment above) and asked the attending to complete the exam. So this meant I got TWO cervical exams for each one. BOGO. Awesome.



The McDreamy on call Friday night, who claimed to have long fingers, administered the Cervidil (cervix ripening agent). We were told to get some rest - that I might feel some cramping but that it shouldn't be too bad and with any luck, I would be dilated to some degree in the morning. My OB/GYN came in early Saturday morning to check on progress (yep, another cervical exam!) and found that the Cervidil wasn't even touching my cervix....making it difficult to ripen. So much for those long fingers... She repositioned the device and within 30 minutes I was experiencing intense, painful contractions.

The next 24 hours are a blur, so I won't attempt a play by play. Here is what I do remember... the contractions seemed to be getting progressively stronger and more frequent throughout the morning. I rocked in the rocking chair, bounced on the birthing ball, laid on top of the birthing ball, swayed back and forth, walked the halls and soaked in the bathtub. Colt was with me every step of the way - truly the best labor coach I could have asked for. I had planned on getting the epidural all along, but wanted to wait as long as possible to avoid stalling the labor and any progress we had made. Unfortunately, even with several hours of excruciating contractions radiating through my lower back and abdomen, I had made very little progress. (Colt would remember better than I do, but I think I was only dilated to a 2 at this point.)

As we were walking the halls sometime in the early afternoon, I realized I was feeling much better. I was happy to have found the coping mechanism that worked best for my pain... the birthing ball only worked for a short time and the bathtub was awful (despite everybody telling me it would be the best thing ever). My happiness quickly faded when the nurse came and found us in the hall to see how I was feeling. "Great!" I responded. "Yeah, well that's because your contractions have stopped." I was wearing a portable monitor so that she could keep an eye on the baby and my contractions. Unfortunately, the contractions had fallen off the grid. This put us in a pickle. I had already begun active labor, so they weren't in favor of sending me home (nor did I want to go home without a baby) but my body had basically called it quits long before it was done doing its part of producing a baby.

Next came the word I had been dreading...pitocin. Ugh. For those of you not familiar, pitocin is a drug they administer to speed up the progress of labor. Unfortunately, it causes super intense contractions that come on quickly and progressively get worse. Ideally, pitocin should be coupled with an epidural. However, epidurals generally aren't given until you are dilated to a certain degree. Since I had barely dilated at all, the epidural wasn't an option yet. Instead, I was given a narcotic through my IV. It definitely helped with the pain, but it also knocked me out... for about 45 minutes. Once it wore off, the contractions came back with a vengeance. And still no dilation. So they gave me another dose of the narcotic...for another 45 minutes of oblivion. I figured I would just keep getting a narcotic boost until I was dilated enough for the epidural. That was until the nurse told me I was only allowed to have 3 doses of the narcotic. I had just gone through 2 in less than 2 hours. :(

Having only one narcotic dosage left in my arsenal, I decided to put my big girl panties on and deal with the pain...figuratively of course. Something I learned very quickly in this whole baby producing project is that modesty goes out the window. Not only were there no panties, I wasn't even afforded a gown that covered my entire body. I could choose to expose either my front, or my back. Neither seemed like a reasonable option to me, so I sacrificed my own nightgown and stubbornly kept it on until the very last minute (i.e. as long as the medical personnel would tolerate it). Not that a closing hospital gown would have helped protect my modesty anyway - the nurses, residents, and doctors barged in, pulled back my covers, lifted my nightgown and did what ever they darn well pleased. Every wince and cringe was met with, "Don't worry honey, we do this all the time. We've seen it all." That might be true. However, that doesn't mean I do this all the time nor have many seen my "all." Anyway, I digressed...I'm not sure exactly what time of day it was on Saturday when I learned that I had nearly used up my narcotic tokens, but I want to say it was mid-afternoon. The next several hours were a blur to me.

I was FINALLY granted the wish I had wished so earnestly for around midnight - the epidural!! The anesthesiologist came and as he was getting his magic cart set up, the night nurse was going through the rules with me. They went like this: "DO NOT MOVE." No problem, right? Um, did I mention I was having insanely intense contractions? About every 2 minutes? Radiating from my back to my abdomen to my groin? And the only way to cope was to writhe around in pain, while bitching and moaning about how much I hated being pregnant and was NEVER having sex EVER again? So the one rule standing between me and the epidural seemed an impossible feat. I think this was the second time that day I thought, "please just kill me." The first would have been during the bath, in case I didn't mention that already. I'll never look at a bathtub the same way again. I'm not sure how it happened, but the mission was accomplished. The anesthesiologist slipped the needle in between contractions and I was on my way to utopia... or so I thought. The nurse tucked me in and told me to get some rest - HaHaHa. In order to make sure the epidural was evenly distributed throughout my body, she would be coming in every half hour to rotate me from one side to the other. This is called modern medicine?!?! Right. So from midnight to 3 a.m., she came in every half hour to flip me like a burger on a charcoal grill. Even still, I was pretty happy. I couldn't feel the contractions any more and I thought in a few more hours the baby would just come sliding out. I could deal with being flipped from side to side while nature did its thing.

Turns out nature HATES me. The epidural worked for a whopping 3 hours. At 3 a.m. on the dot, I began feeling the contractions again. The nurse told me about the little magic button connected to the epidural machine that I could push every 15 minutes for an extra dose. I'm pretty sure this was a big fat lie, but my life passed by in precise 15 minute increments for the next hour and a half. I pushed the button with urgency at every 15 minute mark. The contractions were every bit as awful as they were pre-epidural, plus they were showing up in new locations. I now felt as though I was sitting on a butcher knife. Once I had finally convinced the night nurse that the epidural really wasn't working anymore, she agreed to check my progress. Lo and behold, I was nearly completely dilated. Problem was my cervix was still high. So the doctor came in and told me I needed to "labor down" for a while before trying to push. "What does that mean?" I asked, thinking I was going to get to try some cool new birthing method. No. It's just a stupid term for sitting there a while longer, in pain, waiting for the baby to drop. Oh joy.

The benefit of "laboring down" was that enough time passed and my nurse from the day before, Jennifer, came back on shift. She was awesome. The night nurse was nice enough, but she wasn't Jennifer. I was just about to start pushing when Jennifer arrived. During her check of my cervix, I winced in pain. She asked me why. I said because it hurt. She said I shouldn't be feeling anything - that's what the epidural was for. I said, "that's what I thought!!!" Knowing that I was about to start pushing, she quickly called the anesthesiologist to come check on things. I forgot to mention that the epidural machine malfunctioned sometime during the night. While I was trying to "rest," the machine started beeping obnoxiously. The anesthesiologist came in and switched the defective device out with a new one and assured me everything was fine. BS. Anyway, a different anesthesiologist came in when Jennifer called the next morning. He upped my dose, but said it might not take effect before I started pushing. It didn't. :(

Despite the horrendous pain I was in, pushing actually felt good. I don't know why, but it did. At least the first few times. Then I became exhausted. Absolutely exhausted and unable to go on. Jennifer and Colt were by my side encouraging me to keep pushing and I just wanted to pass out. I was hot and sweaty and tired and weepy and really starting to get pissed off. The baby's heart rate was dropping so there was some urgency in getting her out. But I felt like I had just climbed a mountain, in high heels, with a sumo wrestler on my back and a strong down current of gushing water working against me. Between an oxygen mask and washcloth on my forehead, my claustrophobia began to set in. I foresaw this happening and even warned people about it. I do not deal well with crap on and around my face/head. (The story now popularly known as "Victoria's visit to the dentist" will be featured in an upcoming blog.) I kept pulling the oxygen mask off, but Jennifer kept putting it back on. I would shove the washcloth to the side and Colt would reapply it. I was losing control quickly. Finally, the only solution was to rip off my gown and the blanket protecting my modesty. Everything I had done previously in a stubborn effort to keep my privates private was moot. I lay there as naked as the day I was born, dutifully pushing with each contraction hoping I'd stay awake long enough to meet my little girl.

A couple hours in and I wasn't really getting anywhere, so Jennifer went on break. She sent in some chipper, older nurse with a sappy sweet high-pitched voice. Naturally, I wanted to punch her in the face. She stood at the foot of the bed, "watching progress" and kept talking to me about silver dollars. "What the hell?!?," I thought. I wanted to scream, "shut up!!!!!" but that would have taken too much energy. Energy I didn't have. A few more minutes of her silver dollar nonsense and she was pushing the intercom button, calling for the doctor. Word came back that the doctor was in the middle of another delivery. So she tells me to stop pushing. Riiiiight. Like that was going to happen. I was finally making progress! So I kept pushing...even when I pretended like I wasn't. She claimed she wasn't a "baby nurse" and that she "didn't do babies," but hell if I cared. This baby was coming out and she would figure out what to do with it when it happened. I was in control now and I wasn't waiting for any doctor to wrap things up in the next room. If I wasn't so exhausted and preoccupied with my current task of HAVING A BABY, I would have laughed at her when she frantically made a second call for the doctor. Within seconds, Jennifer came running back in, along with several other nurses, doctors, residents, med students and random people in scrubs. Party time!

I have no idea how many pushes it took after the doctor got there, but it didn't seem like very long. All of a sudden, it felt like someone lit a match and...well, you know. Holy crap. We learned about the "ring of fire" in birthing class, but there is no way words can describe the feeling I experienced. Completely torturous, intense, burning, ripping pain. I remember screaming something about the failed epidural, but witnesses to the main event say I never swore. Can you believe it? I think that's amazing. I guess I had some subconscious wish for Addison's first moments outside the nice, cozy womb to be as peaceful as possible and me screaming profanities didn't fit in to that scenario. Anyway, within a couple of minutes (I guess - I completely lost track of time at this point), Addison was being lifted up on to my chest. She was absolutely, 100% perfect. And such a gorgeous baby. My previous fears of a slimy, gooey, gross, wiggly baby touching me melted away as she started to squeak and struggled to open her eyes under the bright lights. I glanced up at Colt and saw tears in his eyes - he might kill me for writing this, but it was soooo sweet and really helped bring me back to earth and the precious moment we were having (despite the crowd of 20, bright lights, blood soaked linens, etc.) We just had a baby!! We're a little family of 3 now!

The feeling of love was overwhelming, and it continues to be. I never thought I could love someone as much as I love my sweet baby girl. I would do anything for her and I can easily spend hours dreaming about her future. What is she going to look like? What will her voice sound like? Will she like to sing? Dance? Play sports? Will she love to shop as much as I do? Will she be afraid of spiders, like me? Or will she talk as much as her daddy? Will she love to swim as much as we both do? What will she be when she grows up? Likewise, I can spend hours thinking of all the ways I can screw this up. And mentally making checklists of the things I need to make sure to teach/show her.

Being a parent is unreal. Fortunately, my body is mostly back to normal. But my mind and heart will never be the same. I'm so excited for the future, yet trying to savor each moment of each day because she's already growing up too fast. She's 3 months old today!! And in case you're wondering, I still remember the pain and horror of labor and delivery as if it was yesterday. People keep telling me I will forget and pop out a second one in no time. They also claim the second one is "so much easier." Call me crazy, but my baby making days are over for the foreseeable future. Some people (Michelle Duggar) are cut out for that kind of stuff; I'm not. Plus, Addison and I have a LOT to accomplish before she hates me (I hear that's coming in the joyful teenage years).

P.S. I'm available for "the talk" if you have an unruly teen who needs a reality check about the glory of making babies. Thinking back, I wish I would have agreed to video tape the birth. I could have made billions showing it at high school assemblies. Unfortunately, I wasn't planning ahead. As a consolation, I will include "Part 2: The Repairs and a Not-So-Hot Mess," which I have consciously omitted from this blog.

Knowledge is Power...NOT

As the pregnancy progressed and it became frighteningly clear that Colt and I really were going to be responsible for a little person, we decided to sign up for a new parents class. It was a four-week course, which met on Saturdays and would cover labor and birth, breastfeeding, and newborn care. We were both looking forward to learning about what to expect. Testimonials on the group's website included things like, "this class totally put my anxieties to rest," and "my labor and delivery went so smoothly and I know it's because of what I learned in class," etc. Of course, I thought "sign me up!!!" I was also excited for Colt to learn about newborn care. I have ZERO evidence to back this up, but: I was convinced that Colt knew nothing about babies and would possibly cause serious harm if left alone with the baby. This was a real concern for me considering I'll be returning to school shortly after giving birth and Colt will be left alone with baby for several hours 3 nights a week. 

This rarely happens, but it turns out I was wrong. Colt handled the class like a champ, was actively involved with the discussions, asked questions, etc. (He only embarrassed me once when responding to a question about how to naturally induce labor by eagerly yelling out, "sex!!")  I, on the other hand, repeatedly glanced at my watch, cringed and looked the other way during birthing videos and swallowed my own vomit when the class instructor brought out a stuffed placenta (think stuffed animal, not stuffed pork chop). For reasons unknown to me, she insisted on swinging the bluish purple prop, complete with umbilical cord and netting ("baby's home!"), in our faces while taking a little baby doll, folding it in half and shoving it in the netting and pulling it out....over and over again.

Somehow I managed to remain seated and keep my mouth shut through this torture...right up until this same overly-cheerful instructor went to pull out the vacuum and forceps (described as "huge salad tongs!"). I was mid-leap out of my chair and heading out the back door of the classroom when Colt grabbed my leg and forced me back into my seat. Apparently the others noticed and decided they could wait until the end to see the tools, that might not EVER be used, outside of my presence.

I guess that's my problem. Why tell/show me something horrifying that might not EVER happen?!? I'd much rather just know the basics and deal with the other stuff if and when it comes up. Of the 10 people in the room, I was apparently the only one who felt this way. Curiously, the others encouraged the process by asking asinine questions. There was one woman in the class who I'll call Nelly. Nervous Nelly. My goodness, she made my blood pressure roar. Just looking at her stressed me out. She always had this awful look of absolute panic on her face.

We had a lighthearted conversation going on the first day about the four most common fears of labor and delivery: peeing, pooping, puking, and pain. Everyone was laughing and joking about how poop means progress (you're using the right muscles to push!) and there was Nelly with that awful look of panic streaked across her face - see above. The class instructor noticed and thought she must be really horrified by the thought of pooping on the delivery table. Just as she was about to address those concerns, Nelly shrieked, "Those aren't my fears!! I'm afraid of giving birth to a STILLBORN!" Talk about taking the life out of a party. Each class featured some manifesto like this from Nelly. Our personal favorite came during the last class when the instructor was quizzing us on natural ways to induce labor - see Colt's "sex!" comment above - and nipple stimulation was mentioned. Nelly slowly raised her hand and looked around the room with the look on her face before sheepishly asking, "what exactly do you mean by nipple stimulation?" Complete silence fell over the room. Colt and I looked at each other and simultaneously mouthed, "how the hell did she get pregnant?!?" I would love to be a fly on the wall when she gives birth...well, not really. But I'd love to hear about it later, from the perspective of the labor and delivery nurses. Ha.

While Nelly was slowly coming to grips and I was using every ounce of will power to stay in attendance, Colt was learning a myriad of new things. The guy who a year ago wasn't so sure he wanted a kid, who didn't know the first thing about pregnant women, learned from our very cheerful and overly informative instructor that he could "catch" the baby. We had previously agreed that he would stay up at my head throughout the entire process. He had no desire in seeing anything below the belly and I certainly had no interest in him being down there. In fact, his BFF - a father of 3 - specifically told him, "Do not look. You will never look at your wife the same way again." Nonetheless, Colt learns he can play an active role and is now ready to suit up. 

The above diagram was drawn by the Artist Guy, Todd Schaefer. 

Check out www.theartistguy.com to see more of his work, none of which is as disturbing as this.

I'm trying not to stress about this, hoping that he'll pass out long before baby makes her grand entrance. But I have been wrong once before... People keep telling me I just won't care in the moment - that I'll be naked and screaming and won't give a hoot who's in the room, above or below the belly - but I wonder how well these people think they know me... Only time will tell. 

I have 11 days until my due date. I was in labor and delivery, hooked up to fetal monitors for 4 hours today, due to high blood pressure. I will now go in twice a week for monitoring. If my blood pressure spikes again, we will talk about inducing.

Do these cankles make me look fat?

This is the story of our pregnancy. From the shocking moment we found out to the present day - less than one month before the rapidly approaching due date.

It comes as a surprise to many people that this pregnancy wasn't planned. Yes, we are nearing our 30's. Yes, we both have good jobs. Yes, we own a home. Yes, we've been married for a few years. However, we had plans. And they didn't include a baby anytime soon. Don't get me wrong. I wanted a baby...or two. But not yet! And I wasn't really committed to having my own baby. The thought of being pregnant freaked me out (and still does) and labor and delivery? OMG, no thanks. As for Colt... well, let's just say he really wasn't ready for a baby.

It all started back in February. I was in the middle of a looooong trial in Pierce County. A stomach bug had been going around and I cursed my pathetic immune system as I began to feel like I was "coming down with something." I was tired and queasy, and as usual, too busy to be sick. Ha. If only I knew what I was really in for...

So it was Super Bowl weekend and we were having some friends over to watch the game on Sunday. But first, I had to dutifully report to my Weight Watchers meeting on Saturday. I went, I weighed in, I lost 3 pounds(!), I sat through the support meeting and I left. I was about half way home when my mouth filled with really sour saliva. WTH, I thought? Not quite sure what was happening, I quickly swerved into the nearest parking lot, threw my car into park, flung the door open, and vomited all over the nicely manicured median in the JoAnn's parking lot. Embarrassed, disgusted, and baffled (prior to pregnancy, I had an average vomit score of once every ten years - it's just not something I handle well), I got back in my car and quickly drove home. I went straight to bed and barely moved the rest of the day.

On Sunday, I was feeling marginally better. I considered canceling on our friends, but didn't want to ruin it for everybody else so I made some snacks and a pitcher of beer-ritas. I should have known something was up when I didn't self-medicate with the free flowing tequila, but it just sounded....GROSS. So I didn't drink anything, I barely ate anything and I disappeared more than once to be sick in the upstairs bathroom.

Come Monday morning, I was back in trial, sitting in the back of the courtroom trying to make it to the next break before running to the nearest bathroom. Much to the judge's dismay (picture Judge Judy - if only she knew my dilemma!), I was never able to make it to the next break. I jumped and ran from the courtroom as if somebody had just pulled the fire alarm...numerous times, each time running past witnesses who wanted to know, "how's it going in there?" "how much longer till I testify?" "what kind of questions is the defense attorney asking?" "can I talk to the prosecutor one more time before I testify?" etc. If I paused and opened my mouth to answer their questions... well that just wouldn't have been very professional. So instead, I ran past them as if on an urgent mission to find a missing witness. Then, I'd return a few minutes later, walking at a normal pace, without the missing witness, my hand no longer covering my mouth...and I'd calmly address each of their concerns. They must have thought I was CRAZY!

After another day of this bizarre behavior, I decided to just pee on a damn stick. I KNEW I wasn't pregnant, but Colt kept telling me to "just do it."  So I did. To get him to shut up. I went upstairs and I peed on the stick. I swear those two pink lines started glowing before I was even done. Wait 3-5 minutes, my ass. Like one of the lines was going to disappear? So with the little stick that would FOREVER change our lives in my hand, I walked back down stairs. I thought he would be anxiously awaiting the results, but he was on the phone. It was our friend Gina's birthday, and he had called to wish her a happy one. If you know Colt, you know he can talk for days. So I waited patiently; a near impossible task for me. I thought about putting the stick down on the counter in front of him...standing in his line of vision and awkwardly rubbing my belly...or finding a rerun of "A Baby Story" on TLC to blare in the background. Unfortunately, I was in too much shock myself. So I just sat down on the couch and watched him talk. And talk. And talk. Geez Pete, can he talk. When he FINALLY hung up, he turned to me and said, "hey babe - why don't you go pee on the stick?" Um, hello?!?! It then went like this:

Me: "Um, I did."
Him: "And?"
Me: "And I'm pregnant."
Him: "Huh uh."
Me: "Uh huh."
Him: "Huh uh."
Me: [with a little bit of irritation in my voice] "Uh huh."
Him: "Are you serious?"
Me: "Yes."
Him: "Seriously?"
Me: "YES! SERIOUSLY, I'M SERIOUSLY PREGNANT."

Then the shock set in. We both sat there wondering... how? when? what now? how? While he was probably wondering how our lives were going to change with a baby, I was wondering how I was going to have a baby during my last semester of law school, while working full time and still graduate, take the bar, get a job, etc. (I'm actually still trying to figure that part out.) To say we were in over our heads is an over statement. Fortunately, he snapped out of it pretty quickly and adopted the motto: "It is what it is. We'll make it work." For me, it took a lot longer. Maybe it was the nausea, or the fatigue, or the incredibly sore milk makers, but I just couldn't wrap my head around how we were going to be responsible for a little person in 9 short months.

The first trimester passed pretty quickly, thank goodness! Those sea-bands were miracle workers, but they certainly weren't fashionable. Ginger gum is awful and I sucked on so much hard candy, it's amazing I have any teeth left. We couldn't go to restaurants for fear of me barfing the minute I walked in and got a smell of whatever was cooking in the kitchen. Always smelled like some kind of roadkill to me. I wanted to harm anybody at work who cooked oatmeal in the morning or popcorn for an afternoon snack. Worst of all, I wanted to harm the jackass who invented the brassiere, thereby forcing me to squish my tender ladies into a torture contraption each and every morning.

The second trimester was bliss. I often forgot I was pregnant and just thought everyone was so nice, always asking how I was doing. I didn't pick up any weird cravings, have uncontrollable crying spells, or gain a ton of weight. I just went about my daily schedule - commute to Seattle, work, school, commute home, repeat - and started to plan for the little person. I received three copies of the book "What to Expect When You're Expecting." Always big on reading and learning, I cracked open a copy and dove in. In less than 7 seconds, I was horrified. I slammed the book shut and tossed it on to the coffee table. I'm a firm believer in knowledge is power; HOWEVER, there are some things you just don't need to know. Especially when it comes to things that might [or might not!] happen to your body.

Since it was too overwhelming for me to think or talk about the logistics of getting the baby out of my body, I turned to more important things. What should we name him/her? How should we decorate the nursery? Picking out a name was actually pretty easy. We each vetoed one name the other person picked out and then settled on the winners pretty quickly. I wanted Paisley Jade for a girl; he hated it. He wanted Elijah for a boy; I didn't hate it (and actually like Eli) but thought it would be a bit too biblical paired with the middle name that we had long-ago agreed upon - Paul, after his grandfather. Plus, he so viciously vetoed my first choice that I couldn't just succumb to him! So Addison Grace for a girl; Ethan Paul for a boy. Done. Picking out the nursery was pretty easy too. We both love Charlie Brown, so we thought it would be fun to follow that theme for a boy. A girl nursery was a little bit more difficult to imagine, but I knew I wanted the focus to be a tree of some sort. Fast forward: we found out in early June (after an unsuccessful attempt in late May) that we'd be having a little girl. Still only half-baked, Addison Grace became the center of our world. And she has a pretty cool nursery to come home to. :)

The euphoric second trimester was gone as quickly as it came. In it's place was heartburn, cankles, unsightly waddling, and sheer exhaustion coupled with inexplicable insomnia. I puffed up like Eddie Murphy in the Nutty Professor, and eating anything more solidified than a smoothie left me feeling like I had run a marathon. Addison was sending her message loud and clear: "I am in charge now, Mom." I am 3 weeks and 3 days from my due date, and I'm beginning to think I might not make it. Addy has dropped, making my gait mimic that of a hippo-penguin. And every time I stand up - a major feat these days - I'm tempted to reach down and check to make sure she didn't fall out. (I know you been-there-done-that-moms are thinking "if only it were that easy!") Let me dream, please. I'm still coping with the concept of labor and delivery. Despite my mom's persistent affirmation that birth is "a beautiful thing," I'm just not buying it. It truly seems archaic. It's 2011 and this is the best the medical community has come up with? Yikes.

To be continued...

My Bucket List

In no particular order, and changing on a daily basis, here is a list of some things I want to do before I die.

• Provide a foster home for needy dogs.
• Be a roller derby girl.
• Skydive.
• Go on an African Safari.
• Write a cookbook.
• Get Lasik.
• Learn to ballroom dance.
• Make a substantial difference for underprivileged children.
• Learn a few languages.
• Own a business - either a dog boutique or salon and day spa.
• Learn to snowboard or ski.
• Participate in a marathon. 
• Learn to play the guitar.
• Take voice lessons.
• Own a beach house.
• Learn to sew.
• See a live taping of the Ellen show.

To be continued...

100 Things

Totally stole this from Allison. Thought it would be a good way to get this blog thing started. And really, what else do I have to do? Sleep? Ha! Don't be ridiculous.

1. I'm married to Colt.
2. Our four year anniversary is in 5 days.
3. We picked the date, 09.08.07, so that it would be easy for HIM to remember.
4. The date has probably saved my butt more than it has his.
5. I met Colt when I was only 13 years old!
6. We met in Oklahoma.
7. We have two dachshunds, Luke and Wilbur, who pretty much rule our lives.
8. Luke and Wilbur have a rude awakening coming in about 6 weeks.
9. We are pregnant with our first baby, Addison Grace, due on October 15.
10. We are anxious about how Luke and Wilbur will react to Addison.
11. Our pregnancy was not planned, but we are excited anyway.
12. I'm horrified of giving birth.
13. I have been pretty lucky with a normal pregnancy.
14. We have been attending a birthing class (my idea).
15. I have hated almost every moment of the birthing class, while Colt seems to thoroughly enjoy it.
16. Colt learned he can catch the baby and now thinks he wants to do this.
17. I do not understand why anyone, including the doctor, would want to catch the baby.
18. I do not share my mom's belief that labor and birth is "a beautiful thing."
19. Maybe I will change my mind.
20. I do not like hospitals.
21. I do not want to stay the night in the hospital.
22. Even though I hate hospitals, a home birth is not an option for me.
23. I am claustrophobic.
24. I do not like my neck to be touched.
25. Because it might lead to strangulation.
26. I hate mornings.
27. I hate bugs. Especially spiders.
28. If I talk about my fear of spiders, I have nightmares.
29. If someone else tells a spider story, I have nightmares.
30. I will probably have a nightmare tonight.
31. Colt hates it when I have spider nightmares. He does not understand my fear.
32. I have a thing for bald men. Not balding, but bald.
33. I am in love with Vin Diesel.
34. Colt knows I am in love with Vin and will actually point him out for me when he's on TV, in a movie, etc.
35. Most of the guys I dated before Colt were bald.
36. Colt has a full head of hair and refuses to go bald.
37. But I love him anyway.
38. I also love Tim McGraw, but only when he has his hat on.
39. Tim's music has an instant calming effect on me.
40. I have seen Tim in concert 9 times.
41. I was supposed to see him in concert for the 10th time in June 2008.
42. I couldn't go to the concert b/c law school started that night.
43. I am in my last semester of law school.
44. Since starting law school in 2008, I have worked full time and gone to school 4 nights a week.
45. I spend most of my weekends reading and studying for law school.
46. I have missed out on a lot of activities with friends and family because of law school.
47. I am really looking forward to having my life back.
48. Even though I graduate in December, I don't get my life back until March.
49. I will take the Washington state bar in February 2012.
50. I am really nervous about the bar.
51. I don't want to take it more than once.
52. I will be studying for and taking the bar exam while caring for and nursing an infant.
53. Breastfeeding is important to me, but I'm worried it will be difficult to maintain with my schedule.
54. I love to read.
55. I love my Kindle.
56. I think everyone should have a Kindle.
57. I love the Kindle app on my iPhone.
58. I think everyone should have an iPhone.
59. I love beaches and the ocean.
60. I love that Colt also loves beaches and the ocean.
61. I hate camping.
62. Colt hates that I hate camping.
63. He is trying to convince me to buy a camper.
64. I prefer hotels, nice cozy cottages in the mountains or beautiful cabins on the beach.
65. I don't like tents (hence the camper idea).
66. I don't like sleeping bags.
67. I like to be able to shower regularly. And brush my teeth.
68. As previously mentioned, I don't like bugs. Or spiders.
69. I want to try camping for Colt's benefit, but I'm afraid it is going to be an epic disaster.
70. I moved a lot growing up.
71. I moved to Washington after high school to be closer to Colt.
72. I have now lived in Washington longer than I ever lived anywhere else.
73. I moved here (by plane) on September 9, 2001.
74. That was two days before 9-11.
75. I love Washington and don't ever plan on leaving.
76. I hate being so far from my family.
77. I wish they would all move out here.
78. I also hate being so far from my BFF Lindsey.
79. She lives in Colorado.
80. We met in 8th grade and maintained contact even after both of our families moved out of state.
81. We were both the maid of honor in each others weddings.
82. I was incredibly drunk at her wedding and don't remember anything I said during my toast.
83. This still makes me nervous because I had the HUGEST crush on her brother (who was bald by the way) all throughout high school.
84. During her toast at my wedding, Lindsey told a story about how we ran from the cops in high school.
85. Many of the people in attendance at my wedding were in the field of law enforcement.
86. My other BFF is Shauna.
87. She is amazing and I'm so glad she lives close by.
88. We met in college while working for the Thunderword newspaper.
89. I remember she had a major crush on this photographer named Chuck.
90. Chuck and Shauna are now married.
91. They were both in our wedding and we were both in their wedding.
92. Shauna and I often get involved in projects that turn out to be much larger and more involved than we anticipated.
93. Shauna just threw me the most amazing baby shower.
94. I have two sisters.
95. I am the youngest.
96. I love Leavenworth, WA.
97. I really miss wine and sushi.
98. I am exhausted, but suffer from pregnancy insomnia.
99. I can't wash dishes because I don't like for my hands to be wet.
100. I am afraid of the dark.