OMG OMG OMG

We just got back from our tour of the maternity ward where we plan to have our baby.

(Breathe, breathe. Big milestone!)

It is awesome. Very quiet hospital, and with an excellent reputation (and having worked in insurance, I know the ones that do not have that excellent reputation, trust me). Baby vitals are taken in the same room with the mother whether she has a C-section or not. A labor pool is available, and there are squat bars available for all the birthing beds, and those green balance ball things, and they emphasize having moms get up and walk and change position to labor -- all on my list of things to worry about! Dads can sleep on cots in the mother and baby rooms if they aren't doubled up -- and except when there's a population boom, they feel no need to double up patients. They actively welcome mothers' birth plans, whatever they are. And they have a NICU.

This, plus two bird rescues (seagull -- an easy catch -- and owl in a box, both of which made it alive and lively to the center). What a great day!

Middle o' the Road

I am a fangirl.

Those of you who grew up with me may know some of my, er, stranger obsessions with bands (yeah, I knew every word and note of every America song, when it was produced, who wrote it, which band members were recorded... not that that's weird or anything. I still remember a shocking amount of this stuff. Please don't remind me I'm using brain cells for this.) Or with books (there are numerous "young adult" books I reread every year, and so forth.)

One abiding and intense love is the groundbreaking music of David Bowie. Now, I know he has his performance-art moments and that sometimes they are of questionable taste, but always interesting. But that voice! From throaty growls to ethereal howls, always with a sly wink and an infusion of emotion -- how can you not fall in love with it? And his songs, almost always surreal, cutting-edge, and ... sometimes ... timeless.

So let me confess, I've never been a huge fan of "Boys Keep Swinging." I use the fast-forward on it half the time: its relentless march and zombie choruses really don't do it for me. No biggie.

Well, there are other bands I feel the same way about that I do about Bowie. Muse, absolutely. Blur, yes. And I've got a mix of Muse and Blur and some other stuff in the car.

Blur has this song called "M.O.R." (an acronym for Middle of the Road, which occurs in their lyrics). It's awful. For one thing, it's just awful. And for another thing, IT IS 90% "BOYS KEEP SWINGING."

Wikipedia says it's an intentional tribute to the chord progression that Bowie and Brian Eno devised for "Boys Keep Swinging" AND "Fantastic Voyage" (which is actually one of my favorites). Mmmmmaybe, but I say it's similar enough to the former song to be maddening. If I were Bowie, I'd have sued Blur for sure.

You be the judge!

Here's a decidedly strange video for "Boys Keep Swinging" -- the Thin White Duke is at his most manic and lunatic, complete with intolerable mugging at the camera, but it's worth hanging in there for the wackadoodle ending...

Here's an entertaining video of "M.O.R." -- which, although it does pass in... a Blur (Dr. Evil pinky finger to corner of mouth) ... is probably better than the A-TEAM movie. But their song is still a giant rip-off and still leaves me looking for the FF button.

And as a palate cleanser, a very nice live performance video of "Fantastic Voyage." Ahhhh, that's better.

Group guest post at Perfume Smellin' Things - top 10 of Summer!

Hey folks, go check it out!

By the way, I have fallen even MORE deeply in love with Din Dan since I sent my entry to the blogmistress. It's my favorite thing, right now. Right next to watermelon, clean sheets, and feeling the baby kick. :)

Rwar.

My doctor is using his concern over my blood pressure (seemingly unwarranted, but I'd rather be safe than sorry) to order extra ultrasounds of the baby. Neat! The Obstetrix office called me on Monday and told me to come in Wednesday (today), which seemed a little soon, but okay...

...until I got there today, and the bitchy receptionist kept me waiting for 10 minutes on my feet at her desk while she noodled around with three sets of paperwork, two of which were unrelated to any of the people waiting in the office. This, before she pretended she didn't have the form for me to sign in, so had to go to the other room to get it. She never greeted me or asked me who I was, just had me sign here please.

Then when the other receptionist got in, she triumphantly bragged about having kept someone waiting on the phone for over 10 minutes because, "you know, when it gets busy I can't get to you..."

Well, no shit, Sherlock. If you call that busy.

Then the scheduling receptionist (that's right, the third one) came in and said, "Linda? Are you Linda? Oh! I just tried to call you, but it must be at your home number (as if this were a dirty word). Your doctor wants you to come in every four weeks starting in week 24. He just didn't tell us that before."

Yes, and not before I drove to another freakin' CITY to your office, so I could be ignored and stand on my swelling feet while Miss Look-Busy finds more fake work to do so that she doesn't have to deal with the public all by her poor little lonesome -- argh! Where's my $9 for gas?

So I'm feeling a little bitchy.

On the other hand, I'm not feeling as weird and hormonal as the other day. For those of you who haven't been pregnant... yeah, I'ma sound crazy. For those of you who have been... yeah, I'm REALLY sorry because I always thought you folks sounded crazy before.

The other day: yum, blueberries and cantaloupe (both foods I loathe normally.) Yuck, beloved plums! (And chicken and jicama, but whatever. I don't feel strongly about them normally.) Then, walking down the pet food aisle at the grocery, I was struck by the weird sensation that... the pet food really didn't smell that bad. Almost appetizing. Ugh! And then I saw a newborn baby boy and then I heard a song that always makes me choke up because I associate it with miscarriage grief and then I fell the hell apart while I was driving home, great crazy-person sobs, not sad but certainly hormonal. If you're a Facebook friend you have heard this before, because the first thing I did was to ask people if I was a pod person: thank goodness other moms were able to confirm that this is a normal hormonal thing.

Brother Dave says that pregnant women are legally allowed to kill. I don't know about the law, but I think I shouldn't be encouraged. :D

Freak out!

I had a couple rough days, and very rough nights. About a week ago, the baby kicked the heck out of me all day and I thought, good! But his kicks have been less and less dramatic (possibly because I've adjusted and given him more room -- I seem to have growth spurts, judging by my own discomforts, and who knows if they exactly match his?) He also seems to have changed his sleeping schedule: it was regular as clockwork for 2 weeks, and then ... not. I called the doctor's office yesterday and spoke with his awesome nurse Sonia. She told me to do a kick count, and call if it was low. I didn't have time as I was headed out the door, but the baby treated me to one wiggle and I felt okay about it.

Then, of course, being the stress-monster I am, I had remorse for not having done the kick count... which kept me from sleeping (in concert with my OH so lovely heat rash.) So I was fitfully awake all night. At about 3:20, I decided to do the kick count. Of course, after I drank juice and lay down to pay attention to the baby, I drifted in and out. I noted only one kick, and that was fully two hours after I'd drunk the juice. Nervous-making. So when 10 a.m. rolled around, I did another kick count. Nothing for half an hour. Nothing in 45 minutes. I lost patience, worried about the doc's long lunch hour, and called in again, saying I hoped I was just being paranoid BUT.... I spoke to his awesome nurse Fran and she asked me to come in at 1:30.

The baby decided to kick me as I was headed for the showers right before my appointment. I still went. Heartbeat healthy, baby looking normal, developing well... and the awesome doctor told me not to worry if the next couple weeks are pretty sporadic, as it's still early. Oh. But he didn't let me feel foolish, either, since he encouraged me to come in any time I was worried.

Do I give the impression that my doctor's office is awesome? Because it is awesome.

My mom asked me why I hadn't just leaned against the sink and turned on the garbage disposal -- which was her way to make my little brother wiggle in utero. I told her I thought it was cruel, but of course, um, we tried to scare ours with an air horn. Didn't work. I'm going to have to upgrade to vuvuzela.

Anyway, baby is fine (and kicking like MAD now... he's going to inherit his dad's sense of humor, I think), I can get some sleep now, and this is a glimpse into what it's like to be me and be pregnant. Eeeek!

All else is well. I've discovered uncured all beef hot dogs, which is a great cure to restrictive pregnancy food. On a wheat bun with mustard and a side of something veg, they're positively wholesome. Kind of.

Weather be damned, I think I'm making chicken and dumplings tonight, though. It's that kind of day.

EDIT: hot dogs won. But maybe chicken and dumplings tonight, we'll see. Baby is kicking like crazy this morning, too.