5772! A Year and Post Dedicated to My Family!

Before I begin my post, I would like to wish all my Heebros and Semitic Sistas a heartfelt Shana Tova!
5772 is going to be an amazing year filled with love, excitement, and new beginnings. I can't wait!

I love this time of year.
The weather finally cooled so that I can sleep at night without air conditioning; the harvest is upon us; and this is a time for new beginnings.
For most of us, we make our New Years resolutions in January. This makes sense to me, obviously because of the new calendar  year, but here in Canada, January sucks. If we haven't already been hit with a snowy bitchslap in December, we are guaranteed at least six in January. Bundling up in your snow suit and braving the cold weather and armpit deep snow is never a good way to start the new year.
Being apart of the fitness industry, I know that most people fail their New Year's resolutions if they start in January. I tell my clients to start their resolutions in March instead. The method to my madness is that the weather begins to get a little nicer by March and there is more sunlight. Also, if you stick to your plan in March, you will be fit and fabulous by summertime.

That being said:

September/October is a fantastic time of year to reflect on ourselves and the kind of people we want to be and who we are most appreciative of.
(Trainer's note: Feel free to want to start a fitness regimen now. By the time the snow falls, you will be strong enough to dig yourself out of any predicament Mother Nature throws our way).

This year, Alex and I decided that we couldn't afford to go to synagogue for Rosh Hashanah. The price of synagogue membership compared to our usage doesn't make the investment worthwhile for us. Also, high holiday tickets would actually cost us our first born. As you all know, our first born hasn't been born yet so we can't sacrifice it for things like high holiday tickets, forbidden donuts, or (wait for it) a mystery box.
Being first borns ourselves, Alex and I are thankful we were not sacrificed by our parents however; a mystery box could have anything. How could anyone resist the allure of a mystery box?

There were a few years where I didn't go to synagogue for the high holidays. I was living in Halifax and I was not feeling super connected to the Jewish community. I missed it.
When I came home, we went!
This year, I miss it.
I don't miss waking up early for services and getting to Shul an hour before services because my parents' want a good seat. I miss spending the mornings with my family and my community. I even miss going to Bayview Village in my Shul clothes to find every other Jew who attended morning services also there for lunch or finding replacement pantyhose because the seats at Synagogue caught them and you are left with a run. (This needs immediate attention because you only own one pair of hose and you are going to need them for Yom Kippur). <-- Correct me if I'm wrong ladies!

So, instead of griping about how much I miss spending Rosh Hashanah services with my family, or about how I miss the fresh pair of pantyhose on this the "hole-y-est" (ha ha) day of the year, I think I'm going to reflect on the good I have and the good to come.
The best thing I have is my family. ( This includes my whole family--you too Crandalls!).

I'm going to my parents' house for dinner. My Dad is making rotisserie chicken. My parents' cooking is something I am forever thankful for. My Mom loved the post about how my Dad's turkey tasted like the bastard child of Swiss Chalet and Unicorn tears. His chicken is pretty amazing. I'm sure when God was thinking about delicious Rosh Hashanah dinners, God looked to my Dad and said, "Sid, thou shalt sacrifice not one, not two, but three of Costco's finest Kosher Chickens. You shall add the holy 'Sid-Spice' consisting of a blend of aromas which are pleasing to God (but not to Emma after they are digested by her husband, Alex). You can spin said spiced chickens for an hour over your Weber flame. This will create a pleasing odour to all who pass and remind all my children of the glory of God's work through Sid's cooking. You will share your bounty with your family, even if your son-in-law has terrible farts resulting from the delicious meal. I will pass-over your daughter's house this evening to ensure that the odour is fowl. Then I will know you have completed your Rosh Hashanah meal." (Sorry Alex. I'm sure these are God's words. Take it up with God). 

My childhood was amazing. My parents are incredible people. 

They worked their asses off so that my sister and I could have everything we could have ever dreamed of. I swam as an elite athlete and my sister chased (and still chases) her dreams of being an actor. Everything we ever wanted or strived for, my parents were there, chasing after us with their chequebooks and unwavering support.
We were very tight-knit (mostly because we all lived on top of each other in a tiny house). We are all still very close.
The one thing my parents could not supply were ample grandparents.
My Gramma (My Mom's Mom) is still alive but suffering from Alzheimers/Dementia. It breaks my heart to see my Mom struggle with the realization that my Gramma has been and still is mentally slipping away from her. I am thankful for my Gramma's presence in my life and my great memories of her (I'll save the best story for the post about Grandparent Corruption. You guys will love it). Both my Grandparents on my Dad's side died before I was born. They say you can't miss something you never had, but I do.
I understand that this is no one's fault and I by no means blame anyone for not having a load of Grandparents around me for hugs and kisses. My parents hugged and kissed Wendy and I, I'm sure, enough for a truck-load of Grandparents. There was no shortage of love in our house.

Alex is so lucky to have all of his Grandparents in good health. I'm REALLY happy about that.
'Peanut' is going to have not only two healthy and wonderful sets of Grandparents but the added advantage of five Great-Grandparents. Holy Cow! Lucky kid!

In keeping with the time of year and my "condition" (ha ha--> I love calling pregnancy that!), I would like to look forward to 5772 as being a year dedicated to my family. I am proud to have them and so so so lucky. Every single member of my family is amazing and wonderful. I can't thank everyone enough for their love and support through everything (i.e. almost flunking out of University, my decision to go to New Zealand without my husband for a month, and my pregnancy). Life is not easy. If it were, we wouldn't learn anything or have any fun.
I can't wait to welcome a new member of our family into this world. I know that with an incredible family like this, 'Peanut' will be lavished with unconditional and unwavering love and for that, I thank you all.

Shana Tova!

Shiny New Things Are Always In Danger of Cat Barf

As many of you know, we found, bought, and assembled 'Peanut's' furniture last Friday.

The room looks great.
Everything fits and better yet, the cat hates the rug. I did buy it to match him so that when he rolls around on it his fur would blend in and we wouldn't be stuck with a funky rug covered in grey cat hair. Ick.

Decor.

Alex and I debated decor for a while. We had a few good ideas and themes but nothing seemed to jump out at us. I originally wanted to paint a whole bunch of weird animal hybrids (like the famed 'hippo-croc' or the 'ant-aroo'), and frame pictures of these bizarre looking critters. It was going to be a lot of work and Alex didn't want to screw up the baby from the get go. He figures we have the next eighteen years to mess with 'Peanut'. Let's hold of the crazy until 'Peanut' can actually talk.
I didn't want anything too gender specific. I was thinking kitty cats or woodland critters.
You can actually buy baby room decor and everything can match! As much as I love matchy-matchy, this was not going to suffice. I'm way too nuts to have a cookie-cutter room.
That being said, we needed a theme.

We were at one of Alex's frisbee games a few weeks ago and it was soooooo buggy. Mosquitos are strange. I would have figured that by the middle of September, they would have all died off. Apparently not. Usually when we are being eaten by mosquitos, there are dragonflies nearby to snack down on the mosquitos for us. There were no dragonflies.
After a successful frisbee game and umpteen mosquito bites we came home and realized exactly what the baby's room needed. MORE COWBELL! Just kidding. Dragonflies!

I went to Umbra with my Dad and tried to buy 3D wall decals of dragonflies that I had previously seen on their website. They didn't have them in stock! Grrr.
Instead, I had a brilliant idea for a mobile. They had a photo hanger with tiny clips to hold the photos (or whatever you wanted to hang). I bought that instead.
It looked easy to assemble and came with all the hardware. The real debate was how we were going to make 59 dragonflies.

My Mom is a textile artist so I enlisted her help to figure out how to make 59 dragonflies. Neither of us though of the most obvious...Origami.
Eventually we did think of it, and after a few 'trial' dragonflies, I got it. Alex, in the meantime, had the origami dragonflies not only figured out, but improved from the original design. Leave it to an engineer to show us all how its done and improve on the design.
We made a swarm! After three days of dragonfly sweatshop we finally finished the masterpiece.
There won't be any mosquitos near 'Peanut'!

Last Friday, when I was shopping for furniture, I found the Umbra dragonflies I was looking for. I picked them up too. We have yet to put them up.

Overall, the room looks good. So good in fact, I had a hunch that something was going to mess it up and last night, it almost did.

I have been fiercely thirsty over the past few days. I get it. I'm pregnant. I also really kicked ass in my Attack class yesterday and I'm sure I sweat out moisture from my body that wasn't supposed to come out. Needless to say, I drank TONS of water yesterday. This made for multiple bathroom trips (especially when 'Peanut' changed positions to sit right on my bladder).
Alex and I went to bed about 11 and I went to the bathroom about four times before we were jolted out of bed by a horrible hacking noise. It was Marley. He was about to hork up a hairball right at the end of our bed. Alex picked up the cat and put him on the floor to continue his attempt at coughing up a hairball. We listened for the ceremonious "splat" to follow his horks meaning success. Nothing! I went back to the bathroom to grab some toilet paper incase we were in for a mess. Turns out, there was no mess. Marley couldn't spew up what was plaguing him so we both rolled over and tried to get back to sleep. Then it hit me!
I had to pee and I was sure that if Marley was going to puke anywhere, it was going to be in the baby room. I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. After, I went into 'Peanut's' room to secure the area from Cat. Luckily, he wasn't in there. I closed the door and hopped back into bed. Alex was so confused. I told him that I was worried that if Marley was going to barf, it was going to be in 'Peanut's' room and he just lay there. I moved over to get comfortable and found a furry body nuzzled against my feet. It was Marley. Thank God!

Marley stopped horking and we all tried to get some sleep. I went back to the bathroom at about 5 and slept until 7:30.
There is still no sign of his "success". I opened the door to 'Peanut's' room for air circulation in the house. We will see what comes of this later on today. At least the dragonflies look cute! Too bad they don't fend of pukey cats and mosquitos. That would be a 'dogongfly'.

Baby Swag: When did a little person get so expensive?

I'm done my cold! Woooooo!

After a very uncomfortable week of sniffling, sneezing, choking, chicken soup, and warm baths, I am finally better.
My cold left me with some unpleasant side effects though. I can't tell if it was because of the cold or if I'm just transitioning into the most uncomfortable stage of my pregnancy.
First of all, I'm zonked. Napping has become second nature again and I feel like I've reverted right back to my first trimester self. It doesn't matter what time I wake up or when I go to bed, I'm still exhausted around 1-2pm.
Secondly, my nose is doing something weird. I can smell smells that don't exist at times and at other times, I can't breathe. It was explained that due to the progesterone and the way the baby is sitting in my body that breathing would be tricky. The new smells are just bizarre. I can smell things that normal people can't (like the cat's litter box two floor levels below me. Yes, Alex does need to clean it out but I don't think normal people could smell that).
Finally, my nesting instinct has officially kicked in. Now that I'm not battling a cold, I have to make myself productive in some way, so I've resigned myself to making 'Peanut's' room a cozy space ready upon arrival.

I woke up yesterday morning and felt the urge to get something done. I'm just under eleven weeks away from the big show and although it seems like a long time, if 'Peanut' makes its debut early, I thought it would be wise for us to at least have the big things ordered so that they would arrive in time. I went shopping expecting a 10-12 week ordering window. I wasn't expecting to have furniture in my house this soon.
I went shopping. This time, knowing full well that I NEED to buy furniture and I NEED to figure out a way to finance it. (By the way, I am accepting donations. This is no phoney campaign. You are donating to a worthy cause and I can offer personal training sessions, delicious and elaborate cakes/cookies, and a really stellar thank you note if you choose to contribute!). :)

So there I was at the only baby store in Toronto where I hadn't looked at the furniture. I waddled upstairs and started poking around. The staff were AMAZING! They knew everything and they took the time to go though their entire product line with me. I was flabbergasted! Truly!
Every other baby store was nice but this store not only had awesome staff but they actually had nice furniture in a decent price range.

One note about buying baby furniture in Toronto.
Toronto is a very expensive place to live. It doesn't surpass places like Tokyo, New York, or Vancouver but it is still ranked among one of the most pricey places to own real estate. This being said, Alex and I bought a home that we could afford and it is by no means large. 'Peanut's' room is 6x10 with a very cute closet.
Baby stores in the heart of the city do cater to smaller spaces (like condos or older tiny homes like ours). Because you are buying something in downtown and it is a specialty item, lots of the products are really expensive.
When you move to the outskirts of the city, the homes are much larger and the baby stores carry larger furniture to accommodate the spaces. If you don't have the space, you can't buy the (sometimes) less expensive, larger furniture.
Thank goodness for Ikea; although we were advised not to buy Ikea baby furniture by a good friend of mine (who previously worked for Ikea). So, to the baby store I went.

I found a few cribs that I liked. So I wondered around and contemplated buying one with a change table/dresser that would 100% fit in our room. I didn't think Alex would mind so much if he came home and discovered that I had bought some that caters to both of our tastes. Either way, I would consult him first. This is a big purchase after all and he may have had some insight. I calmly called him and dragged him into the store later on.
As for his insight into the style or price of the furniture, it turns out, he didn't have any.

After two trips to the 'As Is' store and back to the original baby store, we bought the furniture. It was marked out 70% off and we bought the floor model. It is by a company called Nutart ALDI (Made in Canada!). It is dark stained and looks modern. The crib does transform into a toddler bed and eventually a double bed so we feel confident about our investment. Originally we were just going to buy a change table but the crib came with the dresser and its really nice.
So now 'Peanut' has the only furniture we are ever going to buy it for the rest of its life. Good thing too. I don't think I've spent that kind of money on my own furniture. Have I mentioned that Alex and I are probably sleeping on the bed frame that I was conceived on? That's right! New mattress and box spring. (Still accepting donations for 'Peanut'!)

Alex and I were/are really excited about our furniture. We agreed that if I am set against having the furniture set up in the baby room (due to my superstitions and crazy-pants), we can always set it up as a double bed and make the place look like a guest room until 'Peanut' arrives. Luckily nothing in there screams BABY (yet).
Because it was raining when we brought the furniture home last night, it is currently still sitting in our cars. I have no idea how we are going to manage getting the stuff out of the cars and up the stairs but we will do it somehow. We are strong and resourceful.

Did I mention that I also bought a rug/mat? I did. Until the furniture was purchased, I was really excited for it too. Now it has become old news and not very exciting news at that. I bought the only vinyl rug/mat I could find (for under $300) that Marley wouldn't destroy. If anyone wants a good recommendation for a place to buy a fairly inexpensive rug/mat, Urban Barn has some nice things that will last and not cost an arm or a leg.

We are still in hot pursuit of a gliding chair. I found one in BRIGHT RED at the 'AS IS' store yesterday that I need to own. The red will not go with the purple room we have painted but I don't really care. I love red and I love that chair. My Visa is not loving this shopping spree so the chair is going to have to wait. By then, I guarantee that the chair is going to be gone. This is a risk I'm willing to take in honour of not going into crazy debt.

As for everything else, we are good.
I have my trusty Bugaboo stroller that, as you may recall, I picked out of the trash. My mother has been amazing in refurbishing it for me. Slowly I'm accumulating new, working parts for it. When the new fabric arrives, its going to look brand new.
Other major baby items are going to be registered for and delivered at my Parents' house (except the car seat).
By not having a baby shower, I realize that I have somewhat shot myself in the foot for financing the big things (and little things). The way I see it is that there is no point in accumulating baby swag if I don't know what exactly I need. The crib, carseat, change table, and stroller are all needs (almost) immediately. That we can cover. Everything we will deal with when 'Peanut' arrives. :)

If you were allotted 300 extra calories in your day, how would you spend them?

Duh!
Cheesecake!

Over the past six and a half months, I have been inundated with lots of advice about pregnancy and parenting. I have read tons of books (most of which were full of crap) and listened patiently to everyone's advice about how to deal with various physical and psychological issues regarding pregnancy and childbirth.
I appreciate every tidbit of knowledge people have passed on to me. Most of the people I have spoken to about this journey have been helpful in ways in which they couldn't even imagine. (Jess Gilbert--> you are my pregnancy Yoda. May the childbirth force be with me!).

In sharp contrast, the books and other miscellaneous literature I have inherited have been preachy and aggravating. I would much rather listen to someone pass on their wisdom face to face rather than tell me in a giant book, which generalizes all experiences and quite frankly frightens me.

Over the past few weeks, I have been spending a lot of time in the bathtub. The feeling of being weightless in a warm place has made me feel calm and happy. Also, being sick and having a hard time breathing warranted lots of 'tubby time' because the warm steam would loosen all the goo in my chest.
While in the tub, I've been reading all my pregnancy and baby books. I've completed at least three cover to cover. We aren't talking light reading either. These tomes are at least the size of a dictionaries and the subject matter is sometimes hard to stomach (especially if you are squeamish about the notion of heavy bleeding for three weeks after you deliver your baby. Yikes!).
These books are great for people like me, who have never done this before and don't know what questions to ask. The only problem is that after a while, you read the same nonsense over and over again and begin to worry. My list of worries have grown tenfold since I caught my cold a week ago.
Now instead of fearing that a few sips of red wine or an intense workout is going to harm 'Peanut', I have new fears like whether or not I'm going to be able to breastfeed successfully; or if I'm ever going to have any semblance of a life again. These books have answered these questions as such: Breastfeeding is natural but hard (wha???); and no. Your life is over once you have this baby.
Uh Oh.

If there is one lesson I've learned from watching hours of The Golden Girls it is this:
Cheesecake solves all your problems.

This is the best news ever!
I love cheesecake and now that I'm not lactose intolerant and I can eat an extra 300 calories in my day, a slice of the good stuff is really useful. It doesn't help my phlegm issue but I'm hoping that my cold is on its out. Cheesecake is yummy and Alex and I make an awesome one!
We currently have an orange/cranberry cheesecake in our fridge which I made last Sunday. It is slowly being 'evened out' as concerns or fears arise.
The books tell me that I shouldn't be indulging in too many sweets or high-carb/fatty delicious foods. They say it will be harder to take the pregnancy weight off if I eat too much crap. They are right but what the preachy books don't realize is that they are the reason why I am driven to the calming allure of a slice of cheesecake. Its a vicious cycle!
My take away advice is this: don't let the books tell you not to eat cheesecake! You are growing another human being inside you and if you feel like a slice of comfort food like cheesecake eat it. Don't go crazy and eat the whole damn thing. You will regret it and feel bad and want more. Then you will be out of comfort cheesecake and up shit creek (literally).

In one of my favourite Simpsons episodes, Apu and Mandulla have Octuplets and Marge brings over banana bread. Apu makes a joke that "all [his] problems are solved now that there is banana bread". If anyone wants to make me a GF banana bread and bring it over, I'm sure it would solve my biggest problem; the soon end of my cheesecake. ;)

As mentioned before, food is a huge part of my life. Having Celiac disease is a major bummer but it has kept me on a healthy track for the past few years. As a personal trainer I do not encourage emotional eating for anyone (including myself). I want to make it perfectly clear that although I enjoy a slice of comfort cheesecake once in a while, I'm not overindulging nor have I put on excess weight throughout my pregnancy.

The best advice I have received from my fellow moms and moms-to-be is that everyone is different and that the only person who should tell you what to do is your health care provider. Captain Steve doesn't seem to have any strong opinions about cheesecake or my weight (or anything pressing for that matter. The guy is so calm he may as well be comatose).
Also, taking life advice from the Golden Girls may seem like a good idea but inevitably an out of date TV series about four old ladies living in Miami could come back to bite you in the ass.

A-CHOOOO, A-CHOOOO (must apart of the 28 week torture)

I know I haven't been super sympathetic to Alex when he suffers the 'Man-Cold' in the past.
Seriously though, some sniffles and a cough do NOT warrant three days worth of pity especially if there are drugs available at your disposal to ease symptoms.

I must have angered the 'seasonal-cold Gods' with my lack of sympathy for my poor husband because now I am suffering.
This post is not to make you all feel badly for me. Really! I'm okay.
I can't take any drugs (even though I gummed a lozenge last night because I thought my throat was going to implode). 'Peanut' is still kicking. Probably as a result of all the hot lemon water I've been drinking. Vitamin C has been a staple in my diet ever since I can remember so I'm hoping that its magical healing powers will begin to work soon. I'm on the mend and that's good news. It means that I can finally put this week of torture behind me.

What torture may you ask? Well...

As per my last post, I told you all about the Glucose Tolerance Test.  Here's a recap:
Emma goes to Captain Steve and he orders a test whereby Emma drinks 50ml of orange goo. The orange goo makes Emma feel great for about 30 minutes and after that her blood sugar drops off. Emma is tempted to get cozy with homeless guy on Bloor Street because of her low blood sugar but decides to stumble back to the clinic. Just before her blood test, Emma starts to feel better. Emma drives home and sleeps off any residual feelings of ick. That is when she realizes that she has the beginning stages of a cold.

So that was Wednesday.
Yesterday I had my RhoGAM shot. I mentioned it in the previous post and I think I explained why I needed it. I have O negative blood. The 'negative' part of my blood is my Rh factor and that has potential to hurt 'Peanut' if she is Rh positive. Because Alex is Rh positive, chances are good that 'Peanut' could be too and therefore I get a day of Mount Sinai Hospital nonsense to deal with. The good news is that I'm O negative! I'm a universal donor! Be nice to me, I have rare and delicious blood ripe for donating to everyone. The bad news is that I'm rare and I can only have O negative blood, so give it up if you've got!

Anyway,
I went to the hospital yesterday for my 9:30 appointment. No biggie. I was going to TTC and then hoof it but because my cold was making me feel a little lousy, I decided that I'd fork over my life savings in parking fees instead.
After I checked in with the RhoGAM people I was sent to, they sent me away and said they'd see me at 11:00. First I needed to get sucked for blood. Seriously???!!! I gave a healthy donation yesterday! Couldn't you take from that stock? Are you sure I need to get poked again? I'm here for a shot. Fine! Suck me dry.
I went to the world's most disorganized lab. There were two people working and a whole gaggle of cranky preggos waiting. We all took numbers but no one was being processed. I sat down next to a group of friendly looking ladies and waited. Because I was holding the magic pink RhoGAM forms they took me almost right away. Lucky me. I would have been pretty pissed if I was one of the other women waiting longer though. I did speak up on their behalves but I got priority.
Then I got to wait, and wait, and wait, and wait.

At 11, I waddled back to the RhoGAM people and they said that the shot would be arriving soon. 45 MINUTES LATER the shot arrived and I was poked once again. By now its 11:45. I got out of there around 12 only to find out that the parking station wouldn't accept my visa. I angrily ran over to the bank to take out some cash and finally leave. (I was too mad to waddle at this point!)
At this time I was starting to feel REALLY lousy but I had a prior engagement I needed to attend. Inevitably I was late but getting home after that never felt so good.

Alex felt really bad for me so we got to have pancakes with bacon and whipped cream for dinner. Breakfast for dinner is one of my favourite things. We don't do it often because neither of us want a coronary.

To all the potential preggos and present preggos out there, please note:
28 weeks may seem like a great milestone. You are in your final trimester after all. Do not be fooled like I was. This is a week of unbearable aggravation and you will be a human pin cushion (unless you are lucky enough to have Rh positive blood).
Also, if you happen to get a cold this week too, be ready for some real hormonal shit storms. Nothing is going to make you comfortable and if you thought breathing was tough before you were congested, think again.
My only word of advice is this: be nice to your partner. They don't want to see you sad and uncomfortable. There will be plenty of that during labour and recovering from childbirth. Save it. Who knows? Maybe you will get a week's worth of Breakfast for dinner after the baby comes...it will more likely be because you don't know what time it is and every meal will seem like breakfast time.

Pregnant + Sick + 2 Unpleasant Procedures? Ick.

Hi-o everyone!
I know it's been a while since my last post but I have a good excuse. I'm sick.

Last week Alex was politely excused from work because he was suffering from the sniffles. I was home to witness every tissue and cough. To help the poor guy out, I made a kick-ass chicken soup (which he never got because I ate it all). As Alex would say, "Who's a little piggy?". The answer is me. The truth is that the soup really was too good to share.
Anyway, don't feel bad for the guy.
He got to take a whole cocktail of cold medication to make his symptoms go away. Also, after the snot-monster touched everything in the house, I cleaned the entire structure from top to bottom. It looks great! Our house isn't that big but undertaking a strict cleaning regimen of all three floors is a lot of work for a preggo.

For the duration of his bout with the sniffles, I was within breathing distance, so I caught his cold.
Being sick while pregnant sucks. My symptoms aren't terrible ( I don't have phlegm or a cough); I just feel worn out and have a killer headache and sore throat.
I went to see Captain Steve today for a routine 28 week checkup. While there I asked him if there was anything I could do to ease the suffering of my cold. He said no. BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!
Just when I thought it couldn't get much worse, he told me that I had two routine procedures I needed to get done.
The first one was my glucose tolerance test for gestational diabetes. I knew this was coming.
Basically, I had to drink 50ml of flat orange pop, wait an hour and have some blood taken. No biggie...so I thought.
I wasn't feeling particularly good this morning but decided that the test wouldn't kill me so I went for it. I downed the orange concoction in about a minute and decided that I should get some fresh air for the next hour. I was in the Annex (for those who don't know Toronto, you should note that the Annex is a pretty great place to walk around on a sunny afternoon). I window shopped and debated picking up some goodies for lunch after my blood test until all of a sudden, it hit me. If there was a doubt as to whether or not I felt awful before the orange goo, it was now confirmed that I was in a full-blown sugar spike. I thought I was going to die! First my blood sugar shot right up and I felt good (hence the window shopping) then, after about 30 minutes, my blood sugar dropped off so suddenly that I debated making myself comfortable next to the resident homeless guy outside Lee's Palace. I casually stumbled back to the clinic and sat down in the waiting room. Let me rephrase, I lay down in the waiting room, closed my eyes and prayed that this feeling would pass.
There are many useful skills preggos learn throughout their gestation and the most valuable one for me has been breathing. I focus on controlled breathing anytime I'm in unbearable discomfort. (Yes, this included my 'round ligament on the toilet' fiasco). I breathed in and out until it was time to have my blood collected. The minute I stood up, I felt like I did when I came in to the clinic two hours earlier; suffering from my cold but otherwise fine. Weird.
Blood was drawn and I left.

Apparently this test makes most preggos feel awful around the half hour mark. For me, that was good news because as I lay there in the clinic, I debated the thought that I might actually have gestational diabetes. Yikes!
I've come to the conclusion that if I do have it, then I'll deal with it. There is no point worrying about it now.

The second procedure is tomorrow. I'm scheduled for a RhoGAM shot at the hospital. Apparently it's no big deal. Every time I go to Mt. Sinai for some small 'no big deal' appointment, it turns into a full day commitment and $40 in parking! I'm taking the subway tomorrow and hoping that my 9:30am appointment actually happens at 9:30am.

Until today, I was a little fuzzy as to what a RhoGAM shot was. Thanks to the pharmaceutical company that makes them, all my questions have been answered. Thanks Ortho-Clinical!
So, everyone's blood type is either Rh negative or Rh positive. If you are Rh negative and you mate with someone who is Rh positive, apparently the antibodies in your blood can attack your baby. We don't want that please. If I was Rh positive, then I wouldn't have to go through with this nonsense (or so Captain Steve and the makers of RhoGAM say so).
I don't know if it works the other way or not but Captain Steve seems to think that this is a good idea.

When I spoke to my Mom about this, she said that it is more common to have this done for subsequent pregnancies. I guess we are nipping this one in the bud early so that I don't have to worry about it when 'Peanut #2' is on its way. Or not.
I'll let you all know how it goes tomorrow. Either way, I'm going to Mt. Sinai tomorrow and I'm due for some inevitable aggravation.

That being said, I'm still feeling crappy from both my cold and now the after effects of my sugar-high.
Let's see what tomorrow brings!

Party Time!

As much as it pains me to admit it, I am not having a baby shower until after 'Peanut' is born.
In Jewish tradition, there is a baby naming for girls and a bris for boys shortly after the baby is born. I figure we can combine the post-birth event with a shower but that really all depends on who wants to host it. Either way, no pre-birth baby shower for me. (This is also rooted in Jewish tradition).
This is not so bad. It is going to be Christmas time right around 'Peanut's' arrival. Alex's family will be at the ready with baby things as Christmas gifts.
When it comes to gifts, we are grateful for anything however, no one should feel obliged to spend any money. We know you all care. Even if you don't, I'm believing that you do.

The shower wasn't what I meant in the title, "Party Time".
Alex and I are hosting a nifty little dinner party tomorrow for some friends of ours (who are also conveniently expecting). She's due about a month after I am. The kids won't be in the same year at school unfortunately because they are due in the new year. We could hold 'Peanut' back but by the time kindergarten registration comes around I picture myself making a bee-line for the sign up forms to get this kid off to school as soon as possible. Yay school!

Anyway, we are having a mighty feast tomorrow night. The menu includes bruschetta, french onion soup, strawberry spinach salad, lamb roast and mini cheesecakes for dessert. Om nom nom!
I love entertaining. We get to share a meal with good friends and after our guests leave, Alex and I get to eat all the leftovers while basking in our freshly cleaned house. Life does not get any better than that.
I love entertaining so much that two years ago we hosted our first Passover Seder.
It was amazing. We had incredible food, our good friends and lots of laughter. Also, my sister sang the four questions in two-part harmony with my friend Eric. It was beautiful. The clean-up was no problem and Alex and I were set for the next eight days of meals.

As mentioned before, 'Peanut's' arrival falls very close to Christmas time.
Personally, I hate Christmas. I'm a true grinch.
Without growing up with Christmas traditions in my family home, I don't quite understand why we NEED to buy people gifts because its Christmas. If you want to buy me something, buy me something! I don't give a damn what day it is...neither does 'Peanut'. I will award a more traditional courtesy to all those who celebrate however, I don't really care for gifts at Christmas time.
Like the good Jewish girl I am, I admit that I do love the food! Whatever figgy pudding is, BRING IT! I'll take some egg nog, chocolate, sugar plums and anything else food related that we get only at Christmas (even mincemeat pie).

While I was dating Alex, I would spend every Christmas with his family. Of course I would! Where else was I going to go? My family was busy going to see the latest Christmas flick followed by meeting every other Jew in the city for a traditional Chinese Food chow down. At least at Chez Crandall there was a yummy breakfast of bagels and shmear followed by 'Present-palooza'.
I am so blessed to have such incredible in-laws. They say that you can't pick your family but when you get married, you have that one opportunity to pick the people you are going to be related to from here on out. I honestly couldn't have picked a better group. They are caring and wonderful and I hope they are reading this. One year we all spent Christmas in Australia. They spent two weeks of their vacation-lives with ME! I'm nuts! That's love!
Anyway, Christmas dinner is traditionally served in the mid afternoon (when its still light out). So we usually eat around 3-4pm. Then what? Bed? Play with Christmas toys? Movie? Chinese food with my parents? Well, one year my parents did something that spawned my love of entertaining. They hosted a post Christmas-Christmas dinner.

As mentioned before, I love food. I especially love Christmas food (everything except turkey). I'm picky when it comes to a perfect turkey. The best turkey I ever had was actually in Australia. I ate it with guacamole shmeared all over it. It was the only thing on the table that was going to moisten that dry bird and help it fly into my stomach.
The year of the post Christmas-Christmas dinner was like any other year. We opened our loot at Chez Crandall and ate a predictable meal of turkey, stuffing, potatoes and cranberry sauce. Alex stuffed himself even though he knew we were going back to my parents' house for round #2.
We got to my parents' house and my Dad had put a turkey on his barbecue and rotisserized it. OH MY GOD! This turkey was the bastard child of Swiss Chalet Chicken and Unicorn tears. I could not believe what turkey could taste like. Alex was so full he was rolling around in bed and had to have his tummy rubbed. Poor guy.
My Dad's turkey changed my whole perspective on the bird. I had to have more and I had to try every turkey recipe I could find to not only out-do my Dad's but make something I wanted to eat again and again.
The only problem was that Alex and I couldn't eat an entire turkey. So I started entertaining.
We fed everyone test turkey. I was constantly trying to perfect my turkey making craft.
I've made an herb-infused turkey and two brined turkeys. The brined birds are pretty great. We actually served the brined birds for Christmas last year.
Alex I and hosted my family and his family for Christmas dinner last year (to avoid a repeat performance of Alex's indigestion incident). The food was great. My turkey was great but not hot when served. It's hard to host a big group like that without a chafing dish.

Anyway, I am really excited to have a dinner party tomorrow.
I know that once 'Peanut' arrives I won't be able to entertain as much (or with as much class as I can muster today). We aren't making turkey because I can't physically lift one out of the oven at this juncture but I think lamb is a pretty good consolation prize. Yum!
I'm going to enjoy this while it lasts and maybe for 'Peanut's' first birthday, I'll be ready to entertain again. Turkey for all!

Things Pregnancy Books Should Tell You...But They Don't.

Hi Everyone!

I know my last post wasn't exactly a roll out of your seat laughing experience. For the record, my new shirt is great and I'm staying comfortable and stylish. Not that anyone cared.
This post is a little different. I'm about to share a Too Much Information (TMI) moment. If you get squeamish or don't care for knowledge of the ever-impressive pregnant female body, then hang on until the next post. Other fellow followers, proceed.

I sent this story to my good friend Andrea because like me, she has a good sense of humour about situations where one is left in a physical bind.

Pregnancy books are fantastic for doing two things: 1. They make Pregnancy sound like a blissful time in a woman's life and 2. Scaring the crap (literally) out of our otherwise constipated bodies.
What they fail to do, is answer any of my REAL questions like; "So I've been constipated for about three months now and all the recommendations of drinking water, increasing fibre and getting exercise haven't worked...NOW WHAT?
I know that's what Captain Steve is for but he has the power to prescribe drastic measures like enemas or colonics. Luckily, I'm good and regular thanks to my newfound love of no longer suffering from Lactose Intolerance.
On the topic of being regular, I will begin the story.

Last week I was feeling digestively fantastic. I was so regular that I could time my morning routine so that I knew when I needed to 'move'. For those who have never been pregnant before, take note that this is nothing but miraculous and should be considered as rare and amazing as Unicorns or sighting Bigfoot.
One morning, once Alex was out of the bathroom at about 7:30, I made a quick dash from a comfortable lying down position in bed to my throne.
I sat down and proceeded to witness a truly religious experience.
Just before I was about to get up, I felt a super sharp pain in my right side. OH MY GOD!!!!!!
AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!, I cried.
Alex calmly responded with, "Everything okay, Em?"
I didn't respond. I was thinking.
How was I going to get myself wiped and off the toilet? I couldn't sit there forever and this pain was completely disabling.
I grabbed my legs and groaned.
By now, Alex must have been a little concerned (or not) and I could hear him not far from the bathroom.
That's when the thought hit me. Do I dare ask him to wipe my rear end?
I know that poopy clean up is about to be a major part of our lives but I didn't want to ruin Alex's day (or life for that matter) by having to wipe his wife's ass.
Just before I could answer, he made a clear dash away from the general vicinity. Either he thought that I was dead and that he should call 911, or he knew that the next thing that was going to come out of my mouth was, "Alex, could you please wipe my bum?"
At this point, the pain had dulled to an ache and I could wipe and rise from the toilet.
I washed my paws and hobbled downstairs, still a tad bit uncomfortable.
After about five minutes, the pain went away completely.

So what was Emma suffering from you may ask?
Round ligament pain.
The pregnancy books warned me that I may suffer some tenderness and occasional discomfort from the stretching of the ligaments around my pelvis. What it failed to say is this ,"You will suffer undeniably the most shocking and debilitating ten second pain in your right side. Don't worry. Don't move. Don't get your husband to wipe your ass if you are stuck on the toilet. Relax. This pain should dull and then eventually go away. You probably got out of bed too fast because you were really excited for your morning bowel movement. I repeat, RELAX. If you don't have the other obvious signs of labour, you are fine."

Some of you have commented to me that I should write my own 'down-and-dirty' pregnancy book.
I don't think that I am by any stretch of the imagination a reliable source on the subject of pregnancy. Yes, I'm experiencing it, but that does not make me an expert.
Everyone's pregnancies are different. Every pregnancy is different (except if you ask my Mom. Wendy and I were perfect pregnancies and everything was always sunshine and daisies).

As for writing an actual book, I would love to but it would have to be prefaced to the reader that I am by no means an expert on the subject and that this is more a collection of humorous stories to enlighten even the most terrified of moms-to-be.

My pregnancy books have been helpful. This is not to say they haven't been scary and sometimes a little too 'sucky' for my taste. If you don't believe me, read "What to Expect When You're Expecting". If 'Peanut' is referred to as my 'cuddly bundle of love' one more time, I'm seriously going to puke.
Take the knowledge from these books that you think is important. If you are like me and live in an Urban setting, don't read the part about having to give birth on your own over some old newspaper. Not necessary and frankly a bit graphic. You will make it to the hospital (or at least in the backseat of a taxi cab but you won't be alone in either situation!).
A good pregnancy guide should include humorous anecdotes, decent explanation of what is happening to your body (without terrifying the reader into contractions) and most importantly supportive and reassuring words of wisdom.

Maternity Mu-Mus

Canadian summers are amazing. The food, the sun, the swimming and the heat all can't be beat. I've spent a summer or two out of Canada and I have to say that Canadians really know how to take advantage of a good thing while it lasts.
This summer, as I've previously mentioned, has been bittersweet for me. I love summer but I struggled in the heat. Apparently preggos are hot. I can attest to that. I'm hot and to Wendy, yes, I'm bragging.

Today is the first day of school after the summer vacation for many Canadians. The weather totally reflected it. It was grey and cool here in Toronto. While all the children walked to school hand in hand with their parents today, I sat in my house and realized that I, for the first time in three months, was cold. The air conditioning wasn't blasting, the windows weren't open and I could not for the life of me figure out who turned off the sun and warm.
Like any reasonable person, I went to my clothing collection to find a good sweatshirt. I must have tried on about four reasonably sized shirts and none of them fit over my baby bump. Uh oh!
I also grabbed some long sleeve t-shirts and tried them on in a panic. Not one of them were long enough. Crap.
I grabbed my oversize Mr. Rogers cardigan and ran out the door to train my sister-in-law. Luckily we moved around enough so I would warm up. I was so warm after our session that I was actually sweating; not a real feat for me but it felt nice to be warm. Then my sweat dried and I was FROZEN and cranky.

I'm going to interject a side story here about my shopping habits to help explain the conclusion of this saga.

Many months ago I was wearing a pair of pants that I hated. They were too long and they were just not flattering. I bought them from Adidas as apart of a work uniform and they were not flattering for my body at all. I'm sure if I shortened them, I would like them more but for the sake of the story, they were awful and had to be dealt with RIGHT AWAY!
I was so uncomfortable that I drove to Lululemon and immediately tried on a pair of capris. Because my previous pants were so bad, I bought the pants on the spot. I didn't even take them off after I determined that they needed to be mine. That was that. The old pants went into the bag and eventually came home. I felt much better not to mention that I looked fabulous. Yes, I can still wear them. To date, I've bought almost all my maternity clothing at Lululemon.
If you had asked me previously if I needed new capris, I would have said no.
I impulse buy when I'm pushed to my limit; when I can't stand something about my wardrobe. Luckily, this doesn't happen often but when it does, I make a quick trip to Lulu and walk away with a snazzy new solution to my previous problem.

So, there I was, frozen and cranky.
I did the only thing I could think of; I drove to Lululemon. Here's the catch though: Lululemon designs its clothes for small people who are NOT (I repeat) NOT pregnant. I've been really lucky in the sense that all my Lulu clothing is stretchy and grows and shrinks with me. Some of the things are not malleable...like warm wear.
I went anyway.
I found a wrap sweatshirt that was really cozy. It was also stretchy and can be worn seven ways from Sunday to accommodate a preggo. Thank God!
They didn't have the purple colour I wanted but the dark grey will work fine with my assortment of black everything else.
I put it on, made the guy behind the counter cut off all the tags, jumped up on the counter to remove the security device, paid and left. I am now the proud owner of a flattering piece of maternity wear that can be worn postpartum for breast feeding. Woot!

I'm happy to admit that I am terrified of buying real maternity clothing. It isn't the reality that my body is changing, its the idea that I am going to spend money on something that I will only wear for a short time (and perhaps again in a few years when its out of style). Thanks to Alex, I look at every purchase as an investment into the future. Clothing should not apply. I can't break the habit though. Luckily, I've found that whatever I need, can be fashioned into appropriate maternity and postpartum wear.
My best buddy Zach thinks I should just give up and succumb to the mu-mu. Zach is very fashionable himself but I don't think he's ever been (or will ever be) pregnant. If he wants to start wearing mu-mus then I will fully endorse it however, I will not follow that trend.  I'm not that hip.

Fall weather will be a nice change and now that I'm better prepared for it, I welcome the crisp mornings and chilly evenings with my snazzy new wrap.

"Burping is going to become a huge part of your life"- My Mother

If there is one thing that pregnancy affords women, its the right to be constantly gassy.
I don't quite know why the incubation of another human being promotes such flatulence but apparently it does.
Note: To all my followers who don't think farts are funny, you can skip this post. Farts and burps have been a large part of my upbringing and I will always find gas funny.

Growing up I was always gassy. Back in the swimming days, my burps would put truckers to shame. They grossed out my fellow carpoolers at times but I didn't care. Class was not something I was trying to achieve; kicking ass in the pool was. If 5:30am practices resulted in two hours of my oatmeal bouncing around in my guts and producing monster burps, then so be it. Everyone else could eat my wake (and burpee air).
After I quit swimming, the burps slowed. In fact, I don't remember belching like a trucker after about Grade 10. Much to my mother's request, I conditioned myself to express my burps in a more 'lady-like' fashion. I could still roar one out every now and then but for the most part, I kept my burps to myself. My Sister and Dad still have burp-offs to see who can make the house shake. Although my Dad has over 30 years on Wendy, she can really blow someone over with her high wind. She's got the mad skills I no longer possess. On the other end, I still have her beat. In fact, I have everyone (except Alex) beat.

Farts. A nuisance. Uncomfortable, stinky and an unfortunate side effect of Celiac Disease.
I've always been a great farter. In fact, in grade 4, I ripped one in the middle of story time while the whole class sat on the carpet and listened to the one of many works of Canadian author, Gordon Korman. I defended myself by arguing to the class that gas is natural and although I apologized for the smell, I was not going to sacrifice my comfort so the rest of the group could sit there stink-free. Mwa-ha-ha-ha! No tummy ache for me! I still had swim practice after school and there was going to be even more gas as a result of that.

In University, I was roomed with the BEST roommate ever!
Kristin and I were a match made in heaven. Kris, if you are reading this, I apologize for the embarrassment in advance but I love you and I truly believe that you are still one of the best things to ever happen to me.
During the first week of school, we knew we were going to be instant besties. She was (and could very well still be) vegan; she and I listened to the same music; we loved the same movies and TV shows; and above all else, she was a fantastic listener and a great friend.
Best of all was the fact that she was vegan. Being a consumer of only vegetables and legumes is a wonderful way to live your life. I totally encourage everyone to try it out even if you are a meat lover. I'm not vegan however I have tried the lifestyle .
I digress.
The downfall to being vegan is the gas. There was lots of gas. Between Kristin's diet and the cafeteria food they were feeding us in Howe Hall, we could have powered the entire University on our farts alone. To make light of a 'stinky' situation, Kris and I occasionally played a game called "fart-tennis". The rules are simple. One person 'serves' and the other person has 5 minutes to return. This game was hours of fun until one (or both) of us had to poop. At that point the room was so stinky that we would have to vacate the premises anyway. Luckily we never kept score.

When I was suffering from the beginning stages of my Celiac disease I found the gas unbearably uncomfortable. Everything was uncomfortable.  My intestines were rotting from the inside out and the farts were simply the evidence of it. At the time, I was also diagnosed with Lactose Intolerance. Eww!
Poor Alex.
We were living together at the time and he has dealt with a lot of farts since then.
This is not to say that I was the only guilty party in our stink-house. He can hold a theoretical candle to my stinky-pants. (There will be no real candle holding when there are farts present. Some dorks living on the floor above Kris and I in rez learned that lesson the hard way by setting their bed on fire while igniting their farts). Oh, to be eighteen again.

I love all things gassy. Alex, soda water (which we now have our own carbonator to make our own), my Sister, Kristin, my stove, and soon 'Peanut'.

I was talking to my Mom about babies and what nighttime feedings are like. She told me that she and my Dad had a clever routine for feeding me when I was a baby and it included lots of burping. She then told me that "Burping is going to become a huge part of [my] life". I corrected her that it already has. Professionally burping another human being is going to be a new and nifty experience for both Alex and I. Babies come with spit-up and colic too. That should be a reasonably okay time. The good news is that I'm well trained in all areas gas so I know that having tummy rubs, back rubs/pats and eventually Ovol works really well to calm anything down (except maybe breast milk from five-alarm chill night).

Posting Again. Welcome Trimester #3!

I'm so sorry that I haven't been posting recently. To be honest, the second trimester was really uneventful. All the Preggo-books say that the second trimester is the "Pregnancy Honeymoon". My wedding honeymoon was spent on a melting ski hill in New Hampshire while I lay around groaning from a ruptured ovarian cyst. I actually had a great time! We managed to ski and shop in the little town of North Conway. I guess I have a jaded view of what a honeymoon is really like so I guess I had a fairly nice pregnancy one. Nothing to write about (ha ha, obviously) but good none-the-less.

As for the update, here it is:
I'm now almost 27 weeks and feeling okay.
Thanks for asking.

Everyone always wants to hear good news and I feel badly when I can't deliver good news. The best news I have is that 'Peanut' is fine; Alex and I are fine; our house is in shambles; and the summer is coming to an end.
The last two points would seem to be bad news to some but having a house turned upside down is great for me! It means that I get to nest and get ready for Peanut. Having the summer end is also good news. I'm HOT! I want autumn so I can wear pants again. (Alex wants autumn too because I've taken to a 'clothing-optional' lifestyle here in the house and having your ever-expanding wife strut around almost naked with the windows wide open makes for an uncomfortable greeting by the neighbours).

Today Alex and I painted 'Peanut's' room.
It's a beautiful grey/purple. Don't let the colour spoil your surprise of 'Peanut's' sex, we were going to paint is a greyish purple colour either way. Purple is both my Dad and Sister's favourite colour. I also love it and Alex looks great in it.
We decided to redo the room at the beginning of August.
Peanut's room is 10x6. Teeny tiny!
The best part about it is that when we moved into the house, there was a beautiful built-in bed (unfortunately covering the heat/AC vent...stupids). The bed had to go. Alex and I cleared the room and took the bed apart. My Mom and Sister came over to help demolish and move pieces of said bed into a garbage-like location (my front porch). The room opened up to its true closet size and we began to worry about how we were going to get any furniture into there. Luckily we found some furniture that we will purchase at a later date and it will fit.
As for the paint colour, we knew pretty much what we wanted. I also wanted to paint the room with NO VOC paint. I wasn't expecting it to be an investment. I've spent less on weekly groceries than I did on the paint. Holy Cow! It turned out to be a good choice overall and I do recommend it (even if you have to have a well-organized and profitable financial portfolio to afford it... I don't, but I bought it anyway).
There was no smell and very little mess. The room is now a lovely purple and once we are done with coat #2, we can kiss the pea-green walls a final goodbye and get ready for Peanut.
I still feel fine.
Thanks for asking.
Gone are the days where mama-to-be has to crash at her parents' while the stinky paint dries in her nursery. She just needs to be well invested to afford a good night's sleep with her spouse (in their blazing inferno of a house).

Summer.
I love it every other year but this one. This is not to say that I haven't had a good time; on the contrary! I've had an amazing summer. I spent some time at the cottage (not a lot of time due to the cries-not calls- of nature), I got to see old friends, go to an awesome fitness conference, kick around in the city, and enjoy the ample sunshine. Because of this fantastic weather, I've been hot. The hormones make for a hot-mama but add a few days of +30 degrees and we've got a cooked mama. Oye!
Fall will bring with it more than just cool weather; it will be my last season of my pregnancy and for that I'm super excited.
I don't mind being pregnant so much. I can't say that I love it because then you'd all think that I was full of shit. You'd be right!
I have been really lucky to have a fairly easy pregnancy. Peanut is growing. I'm growing. I feel the same as anyone who is growing another human being inside them: tired, hungry and a tad bit irritable. Lucky for me, I'm not quite at hippo-size yet. At 27 weeks, I'm actually kind of small. Peanut is a healthy size but my rock-hard abs are keeping me compact. Good thing! Finally, all the exercise I've been doing has paid off and I can look like a regular person who just ate too many cheeseburgers rather than Preg-zilla.

So, even though the 'honeymoon' may be over, I'm still hanging in. My wedding honeymoon ended bittersweetly too. I'm happy to welcome the next chapter of my pregnancy but I'll miss the energy and normalcy of trimester #2.