Taking Le Plunge

Well, folks, we made a decision.

After much consideration, prayer and arithmetic, we have decided to hire Allison as our midwife. The NHS midwife we spoke to was really lovely and had a lot of great things to say (even though she wouldn't be the one to actually deliver or even be present at the birth), and we really were quite torn for a while, but there were just the few wee things that kept nagging away at us, which we weren't comfortable about. We're certain the NHS would've given Schmooker a safe entry into the world, but we just couldn't feel 100% certain it would be the best entry into the world. I know a lot of people will wonder why we are paying for a midwife when we could get one for free, but we feel it is the best decision for our family and that's just the way it is. I've said I don't intend to talk about it to many people - but here I am, posting it on the internet! I think I find the internet safer than, say, the workplace. Maybe because this little snippet of the internet is our territory (that we pay for! Gasp! We think money grows on trees!) and you can step onto our territory if you dare, but if you bother us, we reserve the right to shoot. (At least we would if this were America.)

Anyway, that probably sounds totally unnecessarily defensive, and for that I apologise. We're really, really happy with it. And feel really good about it. And I'm really excited about having a fun pregnancy and getting to know Allison better. And we'll keep you posted on how it all goes.

That said, I promise to TRY to not make this blog All About Schmooker. But I only promise to try, because Schmooker is pretty much the best thing to happen to us since horseless carriages. And Schmooker IS pretty interesting, at least to us, and Schmooker is getting his/her picture taken for the first time on Wednesday, and I can't wait to postttttttttttttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!11111

But on non-Schmooker-related topics, we went to a barbeque yesterday with people from our old church who still kinda make me feel uncomfortable for no real reason, and it was good. It was actually really nice to hang out with some of them. I'm glad we went, even though we were a bit relunctant at first. If only for the chili burgers, it was a well-spent afternoon. I was shattered in the end but felt good having rekindled some old ties (mixed metaphors anyone?). Sometimes the barbeques you think will be the worst end up not being the worst. Words of Wisdom, by Lori McFarlane.

I'm gonna go make chicken-corn soup and banana-nut bread. It's all about the hyphenated nouns tonight.

Kitty-Rearing

My cat is licking the remains from my bowl of porage oats. I know it's a horrible thing to allow them to do, it creates all kinds of bad habits, but it's just so cute! I was finished, so why not let them enjoy a wee tasty treat? She also put her paw in my empty soy milk cup in hopes of getting a taste of that sweet, milky goodness, but there just wasn't enough left. I poured the last teeny drop in her dish so she could taste it, but she didn't quite get it. All she understood was me putting the glass away. No fair!

I'm really bad with the cats. By that I mean I'm way too soft with them. Scott is the authority figure - I am the cuddly figure, ie, pushover. They run in terror when Scott catches them being bad; they purr and rub against my legs when I catch them.

It's just that they are so darn cute! Rem is licking her paw (the one with soy milk on it) and Clem is trying to catch a bug on the other side of the window. And after all, they're cats. They're gonna be naughty whether you like it or not - it's just a matter of if they're going to bother hiding it from you.

Scott thinks this attitude of mine will spill over into our parenting. He imagines he'll be the authoritative one, and I'll be the softy. But I don't think it will be that way. Cats are cats; babies are teeny human beings with souls. I think I'll end up being a lot like my mom. She was kind, fun and sensitive, but whoa nelly, if you were bad, you better hide! (And I did hide, quite a lot, until she'd bellow out, "If you don't come out right now, it's TWO spankings!") My mom never realised this, especially when I was going through my horrible teens, but I always considered her one of my best friends. She was intimate and loving with us but had our respect too. This is how I want to be, and how I really think I will be. Or at least will try to be.

I don't think I'll be such a pushover with our kids. I truly believe in drawing the lines and not letting my children cross them (as much as anyone can, and we all fail). I know letting your cats eat out of your leftover bowl isn't an example that particularly crosses over to children (or is it?) but the principle remains - just because I let my cats develop a few bad habits doesn't mean I intend to let my kids do the same thing.

But on the other hand, maybe my cats are actually better practice than I realise and the leniencies I adopt now will naturally come out with my kids. I don't know. But in my mind there is such a stark difference between animals who live in my den and humans who will grow up to be independent adults who interact with the world at every turn and have eternal souls, which will one day face God. I really think I'll try harder with the humans.

Egg-cellent

I greatly appreciate all the advice I received regarding morning sickness remedies in the comments section. A couple of people recommended eggs for breakfast (for the protein). So today I gave the incredible edible egg a shot. I woke up, got dressed, brushed my hair and went downstairs to scramble an egg (I hate them fried). I put plenty of salt and pepper on them to make them palatable, and I ate about half.

Then I raced upstairs with my hand clamped tightly across my mouth, and the eggs were history.

Schmooks apparently doesn't dig the eggs. I think I heard him/her mutter something about protein schmotein and give me some Girl Scout cookies instead.

Tomorrow I think I'll just stick with the incredible edible bagel with extra lite Philadelphia cream cheese.

Pretty Music

I purchased a CD from Zoë Keating pretty much ages ago, but since it was being sent from the US, it took me until today to finally get it, which is like a month and a half later. It's beautiful. I first encountered Zoë several years ago in Lawrence, KS, when I went to see Belle & Sebastian. She was playing in Rasputina (could I please stop naming new bands that I have to search for links to?) and I LOVED Rasputina after that night. And by LOVED I mean I kinda forgot about them even though I thought they were spectacular. Well, a few months ago when Michaela and I went to see Imogen Heap (gah!), I recognised Zoë immediately as she played the cello as opening act for Imogen. So thus rekindled my flighty love of the cello music, and I finally ordered a CD.

All that to say I like my new CD. It's very pretty and relaxing and methinks the baby will like it too when its ears get big enough to hear outside noises with.

And speaking of The Schmooks, we met with our potential midwife Allison Ewing last night - and without disclosing too much because what if she totally googles me? - we thought she was absolutely lovely as... something quite lovely, like pie, or birds. Or if I were Amanda (what's with me and the frickin' links?), marshmallows. But I have a similar appointment with the NHS midwives tomorrow, and Scott and I have agreed to give them a fair chance, because, heck, they're free! Free as coupons! (Or maybe not that free, because coupons are like negative freeness, like you get the coupons free and then you get freeness on top of the free.) But... we'll see. Free is free, but good is not awesome...

And in conclusion, I bought kinda healthy stuff at the supermarket today like soy milk (yum) and extra lite Philadelphia cream cheese (what? It's EXTRA lite), but then I unfortunately eyed (or maybe it was just predestined) a little 'Buy 2 Get 2 Free' sign on the Cheesy Wotsits, so I also picked up four bags of those. Oops. But! They have jokes on the packages! Like this one:
Q. Why didn't the skeleton go to the party?
A. Because he had no body to go with!

The Joy of ...

Ah yes, the joys of bearing human life within. Finally I can talk about them.

Like the joy of nausea. Waking up every morning to that welcoming feeling that says "Rise and shine! It's time to get out of bed!" Not even a cup of tea can get me out of bed faster. And closely linked is the joy of "being sick". "Being sick" is the polite British way of saying "upchucking" or "vomitting". I've "been sick" a lovely number of times, so many that I now know the exact difference between feeling like I'm going to be sick and knowing it's time to find a proper recepticle NOW. For instance, right now I feel like I'm going to be sick, but I know that I'm not actually going to be sick in the next few minutes.

There's also the joy of exaggerated sense of smell. I can smell anything a mile away. I can smell you right now (and I'm not saying anything, but brother needs to take a shower). This incredible new heightened sense, which is superhero-like in its power, has put me on the brink of sending the cats to a new comfy home. I LOVE the wee creatures, but ohmygoodness could they possibly stink ANYMORE? We've got three cans of Dettol Pure Air neutraliser located around the house for spraying before entering a cat-invaded room. Or rather Scott sprays and I hide my face until the neutraliser has done its job. And unfortunately, Dettol doesn't have a full grip on what "pure air" smells like because it leaves a rather sickly "clean" smell in its wake that is almost (almost) as bad as the cats themselves. And don't even get me started on fried food...

Which leads me to the joy of eating. Or rather starving. There's nothing like a combination of the preceding two points topped with a sudden aversion to EVERYTHING to keep a woman away from the kitchen. I pretty much like mashed potatoes. That's about it. (And I've recently discovered tomato soup, which goes really nicely with mashed potatoes.) But packing a lunch of creamy mash to take with me to work is a bit of a hassle so I kinda just eat carrots.

So yeah.

BUT I've nearly forgotten to mention the very BEST joy of pregnancy!

We're getting a baby. A baby of our very own, that we made. I mean, WHAT?! We MADE a baby. A human being is forming in my abdomen, and that's unbelievably crazy and wonderful. Devon's husband made a comment that telling your kids about the stork is probably more believable than telling them that you made them yourself. I'm thinking that myself right now - surely a stork will drop off a bundle later for us because it's too crazy to think that we created life by just doing our thang. This reproduction thing - God's got amazing ideas is all I can say.

100 Things I Love About My Husband: 81-90

81. He prays with me at night when he tucks me in.
82. He lets me decorate (and re-decorate) the house any way I like (which means he won't mind the new pink summer duvet on the bed when he gets home this afternoon...)
83. He loves Waffle House. (What? I love that about him.)
84. He wore the new tie I bought him to work today even though I found out at lunch that all his mates teased him about it being too bright. He knew it was too bright, but he wore it anyway to make me happy. (It's a freakin' awesome tie, by the way, how could anyone not like it? I'll post a picture.)
85. He brought me home to a clean house after picking me up at the airport from my holiday.
86. He made himself BBQ chicken and rice when I was gone and was dead proud of himself.
87. He quit his World of Warcraft subscription to spend more time with me. (At least that's what he told me. He told his dad he was just tired of it. Either way, he quit.)
88. He tries really hard to make me happy, and he's doing a great job of it.
89. He works really hard to provide for us.
90. He's the father of our baby.

Well, I should be returning to Scotland with some semblance of a nice tan. I've been out swimming a couple of times and have been severly burned. :)

It's really hard to think of something to write while on holiday. Sure loads of things are happening - we had catfish last night and I've been shopping with my mom and sister-in-law Charity and we've had a barbeque - but I don't think I do a lot of real thinking on holiday, not enough to write intelligently about. I know our blog has fallen from grace; it isn't terribly interesting anymore. Yet I don't have the heart to shut it down. Things will change soon enough.

I'd love to be able to say I'd entertain you all with pictures from my brother's redneck wedding, but somehow all the pictures on my camera got deleted. No. Idea. Why. It's incredibly frustrating. I had some really good shots. But my mom took pictures, and though they aren't all absolutely great, there are a few that really capture the redneck heart of it all. So I'll burn her pictures to a CD and post a few. You'll be sure to get a few giggles (or something) when you see them.

Unity rocket. What a brilliant idea.

But since Amanda's pictures from the 4th of July pool party came out, I'll leave you with one of the pictures she posted on her Flickr:


Them are some thighs I got, ya'll! (I can't believe I just posted a picture of my thighs on my blog.)

Adios!

4th of July Day

A one Mr Scott McFarlane had said he would post about how much he is missing me, but as we all can see, this has not happened. Shame on a one Mr Scott McFarlane. ;)

Well, I am here, in the U S of A, and it just happens to be the 4th of July. In about 3 hours we'll be heading off for a 'family get-together' consisting of mostly people I don't know. I don't even think there will be any cheese dip. Hmph.

I'm tired. Stayed up too late last night, visiting with Amanda.

I've done a bit of shopping. Yet haven't bought a single item of clothing. Well, except something I got for Scott. I have, however, bought some fairly useful things. And I'm learning to crochet. And by learning I mean I bought a book about how to crochet. We'll see.

My parents are laying hardwood floors right now so the place is a tip. And my parents are being boring. It should be done soon, though, so I'll get some good time in with them after.

Devon's baby is marvelous. Ella is magnificently gorgeous. And tiny. At least according to me. Apparently she's a 'big' baby. Whatever. She's the size of a seed. Devon and Robert are doing well, too. It's been good to see them.

And the redneck wedding? (What, did I not mention my brother's wedding was such?) Was actually a lot of fun. Not anything like anything I would ever do in my life, but fun. Shotguns, beer, overalls and a unity rocket, it was a good time.

The heat, however, not so good a time. I'm gonna die. I must officially not be Arkansan anymore. I'm seriously dying here. DYING. Who thought this kinda heat was a good idea? (I think the answer might be God so I'll just leave it at that.)