Well, he's not shy...

Nope, not this one.

At his debut this little man gave us an fabulous defensive boxing display and showed off his kung-fu kicks all while stubbornly refusing to conform to the exact positions that the tech was trying to get pictures of.

The boxer

The ultrasound was a beautiful experience and a few happy tears were shed, but at the same time I was oddly creeped out by the image on the screen.  I just couldn't shake the feeling that there is an ALIEN in my stomach, and it wasn't helped by this picture:

To be fair, ultrasounds don't make anyone look good.

Regardless of extra terrestrial features, we are thrilled.  Bring on the cars, the trucks, the dinosaurs, the legos, the camp-outs, the wrestling, and the every-stick-is-a-gun mentality.  With a manly man like Zach for a dad we're ready for anything this little dude can throw at us.

 As a bonus, the tech told us we were almost two weeks further along than we thought.  That, or we're simply about to birth an enormous baby (given our joint heritage, not impossible). 
New due date: February 12.

Look Mom, Herpes!

It must come from years of too much chemistry and biology, but for some reason Zach thinks it’s romantic to give me little plush dolls in the form of magnified STDs and other germs for special occasions.  Over our marriage we’ve amassed a collection of six ranging from Chlamydia to Mononucleosis. The dolls all come in the shape of the cell, blown up a million times, complete with a detailed description. They are cheerfully lined up on the top shelf of one of our bookcases and make for great conversation starters.

From left to right: Chlamydia, Mono, Herpes, Black Death, Mange, Egg and Sperm

Until we had one of our new neighbor families over for dinner I didn’t realize that they are the only thing that even remotely resemble toys in our house (we don’t have a super kid-friendly environment yet).  Just our luck, the four year-old in the family is a genius child, the type that memorizes everything he reads: maps, anatomy books, and even video game handbooks.  I was hurrying to get food on the table when I suddenly heard, “Look Mom, it’s Mono!  The kissing disease!”  

Oh no.  While apologizing profusely we quickly gather up all the plushies and shoved them away.  But the damage had been done.

As we ate, Zach looked over to where the kids were drawing on the floor and made the mistake of asking what the genius child was drawing.  Matter-of-factually, he responded,

“It’s a sperm cell, attached to an egg cell.”

It all went downhill from there.

At the end of the night he proudly presented us with a picture of all six of our cells, including a label, small description, and with added accessories that they might need on their upcoming adventures.

I have no doubt that our apartment has now been labeled “off-limits” for all small children in our complex.

The babe: an update

The babe: size of a large tomato
The belly: size of large, squishy, slightly lumpy watermelon

It’s happened.  We are no longer interesting as Zach and Clarissa.  We are now seen merely as producers of a grandchild/niece/nephew/cute baby.  And that is how it should be.  Even at work, the women are constantly asking me “how I’m feeling” while the men go, “hey, how’s all this stuff going?” while motioning in wide circles around their abdomens.  I feel the love, man.

At 18 weeks, I have entered the “fat” stage, where instead of looking pregnant I just look chubby.  The cute round baby bump is missing and in its place a little pool floatie has settled around my waist.  I used to be able to, y’know, suck it in, but it is now unsuckable.  I feel a strong desire to tell everyone that I meet that I’m not normally like this.  No really, I swear I’m pregnant.

Out of some deranged matter of pride, I was reluctant to make the switch to maternity clothes but all that pride went out the window last week.  My jeans were fresh from the dryer and refused to button up, so, in a rush, I grabbed a pair of maternity capris (thanks Tawny!).  As I slipped the wide elastic band over my little inner tube and ran to the car all I could think was, “why on earth didn’t I start wearing these earlier? In fact, why isn’t this all I wear EVER?”  I may never go back to button-up again.

After “how are you feeling?” the next most frequently asked question is “when do you find out if it’s a boy or a girl?”  Well ladies and gents, the ultrasound has been scheduled for Sept 27, so feel free to share your guesses and if you win  I’ll make you cookies.

 And I might just eat them for you too.

Sandy Eggo

It’s been a while since we’ve posted, but that’s what I get for telling Zach that it’s his turn to blog.  I forgot that once Zach starts school blogging falls to the bottom of his priority totem pole so it’s up to me.

 

Back in August we decided to take one last vacation before school started, before work got too crazy and before the baby comes to what as I child I knew only as Sandy Eggo (why anyone would name a town after dirty waffles was always a source of great confusion, much like the “Empty Sea” that my brothers disappeared to when they served their missions).

We were lucky to have the wonderful Marinis as our tour guides, with the added benefit of the fact that Christie was even more pregnant than I was, so we had some source of commiseration.

Time flew by as we kayaked in Mission Baby, boogie boarded at La Jolla, scuba dived (with sharks), acted like typical tourists downtown, and visited the San Diego Temple.

 The kayaks they gave us were supposedly the untippable ones.  Yeah.  You can count on us to rise to THAT challenge.  Good thing the Marinis had all our dry clothes in their kayak.

 White legs and a not-so-pregnant looking belly!  So flattering.

Six hours and two sunscreen applications later, we both looked like cherry tomatoes.  It's all part of the experience.

Shark sighting!  They were EVERYWHERE.  Don't worry, the story
is they don't eat humans.  I think they learned from this episode of batman.

Zach thought the convention center was a cooler picture than the Old Downtown sign/area.  Guess he won the argument.

 Of the dozen or so temples Zach and I have been to together, San Diego is the most beautiful one that we’ve ever seen, both inside and out.  We were lucky to catch the matron in our session and she gave us a guided tour of the inside.  I would move to La Jolla just so this could be my temple.

 On our way home we stopped to hang out with the Magleby Grandparents (see: wonderful, spoilers, makers of delicious food) and catch Hairspray at the Tuacahn  Theater.  What a blast!  

Now it’s back to the grindstone.  Zach is slogging like a determined ox (a handsome, buff ox) through the muddy field that is pharmacy school while TAing and working at the ever-awesome Walgreens.  Meanwhile I, the sugarmama, head to work while incubating the child.

P.S.: We found Waldo at a gas station in Southern UT.