Kai's Sleeping Habits

3pm.


6pm.


7pm.


8pm


11pm


12:30am


4:00am


10:30am


11:30am


12:45pm (while Derek is vacuuming. If you are wondering, Kai's eyes are closed)


3pm (at the beginning of day time "tummy time," which quickly turns into "nap time.")


And the cycle repeats itself.....

Children of the 70s....

Afros, I mean, perms.
A belt in the middle of my shirt.
A broken nose.
My sister's curled up lip.
Our interlocking stance.
My parents' stylish furniture in the background.

My favorite picture.

Vegas Girls Weekend

Ah, the memories.

My friend Tracey just went to Vegas with her husband, and wrote a brief but humorous little update about the weekend and Vegas. She noted that her favorite breakfast spot was La Village Buffet at Paris. That was enough to transport me to a Saturday morning back in April 2005 ... when, I, too, had breafkast at La Village Buffet at Paris. Was it the best breakfast of the trip? Probably, but that is only by default because I don't think I had breakfast the other morning I was there.

It started with an invitation from my dear Agatha to join her for a girls' weekend in Vegas. She was going with three other women who had made the trip together before. They needed a 5th, and I like to believe that Agatha needed her most fun friend:) And I was game. I always am when it comes to joining Ag or making her join me for events. A night out with my colleagues, only 1 of the 4 I like? Sure, as long as Agatha comes with us as well! A bachelorette party for my sister-in-law in LA with her friends, who I am fairly sure I have nothing in common with? Sure, as long as Agatha comes too! In need of a drink and night out of the house? Usually, I am too tired, but if Ag invites me, I know it will be fun:) A house party at a condo that has been transformed into a Vegas casino, with the full service bar in the garage, but you must wear Vegas clothes? Of course, b/c I am heading over there with Ag! And all these things end successfully, with tons of fun had. We dance, we poll people on the street regarding famous song lines they really should know ("Lend me some sugar, _ _ _ _!" I can't believe not everyone knows this line!). We do, of course, drink. Someimes too much. Sometimes not enough.

So, as I said, I was game. The other three girls drove from San Diego to Vegas. Ag and I took the Southwest luxury flight. We got to the hotel -- The Paris -- after dinner with just enough time to settle in, get ready, and hit the town. The only rule I was supposed to follow -- given by my husband -- was to eat before I drank. Eat before you drink -- easy enough. This "rule" arose after a fiasco where we went to a party at my hairdresser's studio one evening and I hadn't eaten all day (this, trust me, is unlike me) and one of my former colleagues (see above, she was not the one I liked) kept filling up my little red wine glass before I could finish and next thing you know I couldn't see straight or walk straight or remember my husband driving me home. And I throw up all night, the next morning at the Honda dealership while I got an oil change, and realized I couldn't make it to work (the party had been on a Sunday night). And so yes, before Kai arrived, I had missed work due to alcohol. Yes, that is a sign of a problem. Anyway, so "eat before I drink."

And I did. I had a bagel that was stocked in the room. Some fruit. Some other random snacks brought by one of the girls. I ate. Then we all got dressed, me in my infamous Seven jeans that I still miss. And we drank some of the alcohol we had in the room. Then we headed to the club in the Paris hotel. Oh wait, we went to the bar at the top of the hotel and ordered a $20 glass of champagne and took a picture and couldn't time it so we were all looking at the same time THEN went to the club at the Paris hotel. Or wait, was that the second night? Did we go right to the club? I can't remember. Anyway....

We waited in line for like 45 minutes to get into the practically empty club. So we headed to the bar and had more $10 drinks (which doesn't seem so expensive now that I live in NYC again). Then, we danced!!! Or, should I say, Agatha and I danced. All night. More people came, but it never got so crowded that you couldn't bust a move on the dance floor. At some point in the night I decided I must continually, over and over again, do the Beyonce Move. This is when you are dancing and you do a squat all the way down to the floor (ALL THE WAY) and bounce back up, all on one beat, and then keep going as if you never bounced down to begin with. Does Beyonce do this move? I am sure she does -- why else would I call it this? I never make things up. Never.

So I do the Beyonce Move. Agatha does the Beyonce move. Again and Again. We take turns dancing with The Guy in the Pink Shirt. He's cute and harmless. He is with a bachelor party. Was he the bachelor? I do not remember. I think possibly. We dance all night long. The other girls don't dance. Or maybe one does for a minute, but not long. I have vague memories of saving one of the other girls from a freaky dancing guy, then talking to him and his friend with a broken arm (he had a big cast on), and somehow making the guy with the cast scream in pain because I didn't really think touching the fingers of a guy wiht a freshly broken arm in Vegas would hurt him. But it did.

Then we did more of the Beyonce Move.

Then we left, and on the walk back to the room we were talking with the Guy In The Pink Shirt and his party, and we all put in $10 and placed a bet on something. Was it a craps table? Roulette? I don't know. I just know we placed the bet collectively and we all won. So I left the room that night with like $100 and I came home with like $120. Can't beat that.

A successful first night in Vegas for girls weekend.

Saturday morning we all woke up for breakfast and then to lay by the pool. We made our way down to the La Village Buffet at Paris (because, really, who needs to go outside when you are in Vegas? Especially when the ceiling has clouds on it anyway). And as we stood in line -- the very long line that was not moving -- I realized that I fudged following the "eat before you drink" rule. I ate, but not a meal. And I drank too much. And I might pass out or vomit in line.

Somehow I made it through without vomiting. I coached myself. (But am I remembering correctly that Lori, one of our Girls Weekend comrades, went to the bathroom to vomit? Or was that Dara? It was Dara. Who looked like a barbie doll). But I made it in without vomiting. And I realized I needed a hamburger and fries. Or something very greasy. I did not need anything that was offered at the "upscale" La Village Buffer at Paris. Not one thing was going to work for me there.

i picked out some piece of cured meat and a piece of bread, and tried to pretend that would settle my stomach. And I sat down. And Agatha mentioned that her legs were sore. I thought that is weird, why would her legs be sore? Or any of our legs be sore?

Oh yeah. That would be the Beyonce Move. The deep, quick squats. That we did all night long -- because we dance as well as Beyonce. Better even!

After that, the story is much less exciting (if it was exciting up to that point). I slept in the dark hotel room while everyone else basked by the pool. We went to the top of the Eiffel tower later in the day. I felt recovered. We got ready to go out again. I drank a little drink in the room. We went to dinner, I don't remember where. Then we went to the Hard Rock and waited to get into the club there. It was more of a scene. It was crowded. There was no room to dance. There would be no Beyonce Move that night. Agatha took a picture of her foot in the bathroom. Two of the girls did dance, all smashed up against the crowd and the guys they were talking to. I didn't have it in me despite the cool shirt that I had from Forever 21 (the only place to shop for Vegas outfits that you shouldn't spend more than $10 on, even if you are 31 at the time. It is not called Forever 21 for no reason).

Then we slept. Then the other girls drove home and Agatha and I took the Southwest luxury flight home. A couple participants went and bought their own Seven jeans. And that is the end.

(Here are the benign photos from that weekend).

Kai Brennan

Dear Kai:

On the morning of February 16, 2008 (just one week ago), your dad woke me up to let me know he was going to go get tea and a newspaper. He said he wanted to let me sleep because I looked so peaceful, and I kissed him goodbye and rolled over, feeling so content. My life seemed so perfect and full. I intended on sleeping in, taking our dog Deuce to the dog park, and then spending the day with your dad around the house and getting dinner at our favorite restaurant in Manhattan. After receiving nice compliments from my colleagues on my abilities and accomplishments before I started leave, I had had a peaceful week away from work. It was already sunny enough to feel the hope of spring fever in the not too distant future. It is hard to believe I didn't know you yet.

The day did not go according to plan. My water broke shortly after your dad left -- a sign that you were ready to join us. I called your dad and had him come back from his morning tea run. We drove to hospital -- he was nervous and I was calm, which you will come to learn is often the case. But by the time we got to the hospital and he got to socialize with the nurses and my doctor, your dad gained a peacefulness and security I had never seen in him before. He wanted to be my rock that day, and he certainly lived up to his goal.

The daylight hours passed rather uneventfully. I had contractions, but they were not too painful at first. When they became painful, I got the epidural that numbs you from the pain. Your dad and I spent the day talking and laughing, with each other and the doctor and nurses. I watched a movie on television while he ran to take care of Deuce and get a bigger memory chip for our camera. Then, at exactly 8:35 pm, you started your travels out into the world. I pushed you along with all my might. At first, I just wasn't sure that I was pushing correctly. Soon enough, I knew I was doing it right, but I became scared I didn't have the strength needed to get you all the way out. It hurt, I was scared, I was tired, and I wasn't sure I could do it. But your dad kept holding my hand (and one of my feet, exactly like I asked him to), telling me I was a fighter and could do this. The doctors and nurses reinforced to me that you were right there, it would just take a few more pushes, and that I could do it. One hour and twenty-three minutes later, you made your debut. That I almost instantly forgot the pain of labor speaks only to the infinite joy that you brought to your dad and me.

When you arrived, your dad was holding my hand, looking at my face, making sure I was okay. When he heard you cry for the first time, he bent over in tears. The nurses and doctor later joked that they were sure that your dad cried much harder than you did upon your arrival. It hit him harder than anything ever has and likely ever will. He fell in love with you before he even saw you, as did I. As soon as I felt the warmth of your little head making its way out of me, with the curves of your little body following, you had me wrapped around your finger.

At 9:58 that night, you arrived exactly three weeks earlier than expected. Six pounds, 12 ounces, 20 inches long, ten perfect fingers and ten very long toes, a beating heart and a set of lungs you were unafraid to use -- a small package that introduced us to joy that cannot be weighed or measured. At 9:58 that night, I realized that the "perfect" life I had previously known was far from perfect. There had always been something missing. You.

Although your dad cried with happiness right away, my tears didn't come until later that night, as I lay there in the hospital room -- your dad sound asleep next to me -- processing what just happened. I had a son! He is living and breathing after growing inside of me. I am his mom! I couldn't wrap my mind around it without it expanding my heart. Since you arrived, I've shed many tears. But the emotions that accompany them are unlike any I have ever felt before. I am in awe at how much I love you and in awe of your existence. You overwhelm my heart and permeate my core in a way I never expected. You make me love your father even more -- he loves you like I do, and you bring out a part of him that he didn't even know existed and that I have always, unknowingly, longed to see. He usually doesn't like when I cry, but when when he sees these tears come, he smiles. He knows the tears are only helping me feel a love that is too large and powerful for dry eyes. He now knows that sort of love, too.

Neither of us can get enough of you. We watch you as you sleep, and feel giddy when you are wide-eyed. We smile at each expression that your little face makes, and melt when you firmly grip our fingers. When people say that you are beautiful, it makes us both beam with pride. But we know that your real beauty has not yet been revealed to us. It is in your smile, your laughter, your quirks. It is in your mannerisms, your kindness, your humor, your intelligence. It is in all those traits that we will come to know a little bit every day of our lives. And your beauty, Kai, will always be captured in my and your dad's heartbeats.

Love,
Your Mom

Childhood Dreams...

I've got a great job. A very cool job. In moments, I am reminded of it. When my husband basks with pride when asked why he has so many Super Bowl shirts. When I read about my day to day life and the issues I address in the New York Times. When someone visits the office and their chin drops just a little.

It is a dream job, but not necessarily my dream job. Don't get me wrong -- it is in the top 5. Top 10 at worst. But it is not the one.

The dream job -- my dream job -- is being a star in a music video. Not just any music video, but the one that focuses in on the woman. The face of the woman. Her expressions, while some deep, meaningful, slightly melancholy song plays in the background. I would be the face the camera zooms in on, shows from different angles. The face that shows all the different expressions that reflect all those deep emotions embodied by the words and music of the song.

When I was so young I don't remember, I am told I would spend hours in front of my parents mirrored closests, just looking at myself and acting. When I was not so young that I do remember -- for example, junior high and high school -- I would always spend time in the bathroom, with the door closed, doing what Tyra would now call "mirror time." I would investigate the expressions I could make. I would watch the depth of my eyes. I would imagine my favorite love song (we know there are many!) -- and think of the feeling of unrequited love, confusing love, self doubt that I knew so well in life -- and pretend the camera was zoomed in on me. I'd watch the faces that I would use to express the song and my feelings. My faces. My expressions.

This likely explains why these past three days of being at home -- having pushed up the start of my "leave" by a couple days, after having been sick at the end of last week and spending some quality time at the hospital getting fluids with no mirror to pass time in front of -- I find myself playing songs and opening up PhotoBooth and pretending, again, that I am "the face" of the video. I am the face of the video for "If Its The Beaches," by The Avett Brothers (if you watch Friday Night Lights...which you should...you'll recognize the song. If you don't, you'll love the song and realize you should be watching the show). I am the face of "You'll Think of Me" by Keith Urban. I am the face of every song on iTunes (except Derek's techno and electronic music that he uses for his classes, which don't deserve a face).

I laugh at myself. What a silly thing to take pleasure in. But I enjoyed doing this when I was 3, when I was 10, when I was 18, when I was 25 -- and it still brings me pleasure. It is something inside of me -- something that has always been inside of me -- that makes this somehow fun, somehow cathartic. It brings something out of me that my real job doesn't. The romantic in me. The emotional me. The part of me that wants to find the complex in the simple and the simple in the complex. That thinks the eyes really are the window to each person's soul. The parts of me that life doesn't change no matter what I go through, no matter what I learn, no matter where I am. It is those parts of my son -- those that will remain unchanged and untarnished his entire life -- that I am excited to meet and get to know once he arrives and as I watch him grow up.

It will never happen. I know that I will pass through this life without ever being in a music video. I won't be the girl in Chris Isaak's Wicked Games. I know that. But the pretending is something I just can't outgrow.

Photos....

I've had a day....I feel huge, it was raining and I couldn't walk fast enough not to get soaked, Deuce puked on our jute rug in our bedroom last night, my office is 95 degrees and by the end of each day my shirt (and tank top, which I usually have on also) is damp with sweat, the Thai food we had for dinner wasn't that good, Derek had off all day but didn't do anything in the house (which normally doesn't stress me out, but I am pregnant, and annoyed). I can't do the things that I would normally do when I feel all out of sorts (ie, go on a run). And I can't stop eating Snickers ice cream bars.

DESPITE all of this, I am sharing some pictures that contribute to the fact that I feel Huge. I am not begging for compliments (or maybe I am, but am in denial, who cares). But I think I am just being honest:) Nevertheless, the pictures also warm my heart and make me smile because I'm lucky enough to have family and friends (whether in the pics or not) who inevitable make every day a special occasion, and every special occasion a lot of fun!

Some pics from the party thrown for me and Derek by my sister Billi, Lauren & Mike, and my parents. Also some pictures from my shower at work -- which was just the kind of scene I don't exactly feel myself at -- but was really nice nevertheless. The nicest surprise was that Derek re-arranged his schedule to be there, too.


Me and Billi

Hollis and Neesha

My mom, Derek and sister

Mike, Jon, and Manny

Roxanne, Casey, Lauren

Socializing

Me, Neesha, Hollis...Brad, Angela, Sarah, Josh in background

Bocci Ball Courts...two of the our party guests got pulled onto a league!

Ann Marie and James

Me and Derek

Headed to dinner

Chatting with Stephen and Kristi

Dave and Casey

Work Party (in conference room aka sauna)

Everyone's favorite book

Energy is a little different at 3:45 on a busy workday than 3:45 on a Saturday at a bar

Opening Tiffany's Dinosaur China

The China

Derek's grand entrance

The camera took too long to snap my award winning smile.
<

Derek is snoring....

And I have a baby stuck on the right side of my rib cage. Both of these things are, once again, keeping me from falling asleep like I would really like to do. Honestly. I want to sleep.

I was up last night, missing Butter. I miss him most on the days that would have been hardest to take care of him. I miss him on days when it is pouring rain, and our walks would have been slow and miserable. I miss him on the days where my feet and hips hurt, and it would be hard to help him up the stairs like he needed. I miss him most on the days when Derek has to work early, and I would have had to take him on his walk before I left for work, not knowing if we'd be able to make our loop in 15 minutes or 60 minutes depending on how he felt that day. I miss him most when it is thundering, and he would have refused to go outside. I miss him most when Deucey is pulling me and wants to go fast, and Butter wouldn't have been able to keep up. I miss him most when I have no money in my account, but would have needed to buy him food and his Glyco-flex pills anyway. I miss him most when I am bone-tired and would still have needed to find the time and patience to do anything and everything he needed me to. I just really miss him, and I find it hard to believe some days that he really isn't here.

I miss him despite knowing that I would never feel comfortable with any babysitter watching the baby, Deuce and him. No one could have cared for him in his older days like Derek and I, and how could I have found someone I trusted to care for all three of them (Deuce, Butter and Baby) at once? I doubt we will even find someone to take care of Baby like we want. (Anyone who knows the name of Baby....don't write it....we want SOMETHING to be a surprise to SOMEONE when he arrives).

We interviewed someone on Saturday -- a babysitter. She was very nice. She gave us four references, one of whom I used to work with when I was a teacher (small world). She was actually sweet, and something about her was very "pure" and nice to speak with. She has good experience with other families and at daycare centers. With newborns on up. And she loves dogs. And Deuce really liked her and was very peaceful and loving with her. And I had asked him to tell me if he liked her -- and I think he did. However, she was probably the least attractive person I have ever seen. And Derek echoed the thought. I feel like a horrible person for even caring or noticing. Honestly. It is horrible. Maybe there was something else there that I can't put my finger on that makes me nervous, and I am just focusing on that. I wish I could say I knew that was the case for sure. Instead, I am apparently shallow. Even more shallow than my husband, who noticed and cared but got past it. I am not saying we wouldn't hire her -- she was the first person we spoke with aside from our old dog-walker Julia, who we love, but who is not sure she will be able to babysit consistently for us. And maybe as we talk to more people, I'll either have that instinct about who the right one is or confirm that the first one we spoke to really is great. I just have no comparison right now of real people that could do it (which is vastly different from 'resumes' you see of people that may be available, albeit at a cost we likely can't afford). Nevertheless, we will keep looking. And we will have this first one back to hang out with us one day when Baby arrives. But, I still feel nervous that we aren't going to find someone that I am comfortable with.

Work is going very well. It has been so busy, but very rewarding and challenging and fun. That being said, I am looking forward to having some time away from work, regardless of how hard my new job will be.

We have pictures of our "shower" -- aka party -- that was thrown for us by some friends, my sister and parents. It was PERFECT! We had such a great time, as did all of our friends and family that could make it. It couldn't have fit us any better. We had a nice time hanging out at Union Hall for the afternoon, then went to dinner with 14 of our closest friends at Beast (tapas bar). It was perfect. The only downside -- I couldn't have any of the wine that smelled so good:)

Things To Be Happy About....

Some things that make me happy, despite being up at 3:09am with heartburn (which feels like death, not just heartburn) and a mind that won't calm down from work....

1. Agatha's blog.
2. Deuce playing with his toys more and more lately
3. Derek rubbing my feet for the past 2 nights
4. Getting to see my sister this weekend. And my nephews. And my mom. But mostly my sister
5. My obstetrician, who I love
6. The majority of my co-workers, who I really like
7. Our neighbors in 2A, who make me laugh every time we talk
8. Ice cream. I really have to give it up, but I love it.
9. Lauren, my sister and my mom, who have done a lot they didn't have to do to put a party together for me and Derek
10. My second Division Championship Weekend Lunch win in 3 years over Brad and Jon. You have to bet big to win big, men.
11. Thoughts of going to Mexico next April with my sister, Agatha (yes, you are coming), Lauren and other fun females who need a break. For my sister's sake. I promised her I would put it together. Once she's given me a chance to look good again.
12. My ability to joke with Derek. And crack myself up. If I posted the jokes here, they wouldn't be funny, but whenever I say them to my husband, I crack both of us up.
13. The fact that it is now 3:15 and I think I might be able to fall asleep. Soon.
14. Imagining ways to get out of a meeting tomorrow night...or I mean tonight. Now that I am up thinking of it, there is no turning back. I am coming home tonight sans meeting.
15. Derek's new gig at "MonQi" -- a new spin and workout studio in the city. The owner also owns a studio in the Hamptons, where she has "guest instructors." So elite;)
16. Listening to Deucey dream (he is "barking" and running right now).
17. Having deleted 7,000 emails (yes, 7,000) from my work inbox today/tonight. I really wish I could just delete the remaining 245...but thinking of them doesn't make me happy, so...onto other thoughts.
18. Old pictures. Some of them crack me up. All of them make me happy.
19. The new rug in the baby's room. Chenille...so soft.
20. Imagining being a mom.
21. It is 3:21. I am on number 21. I think I can try to sleep. The TUMS are making my heartburn feel a little better, if that is possible.

December Happenings....

My friend Agatha and her family (husband + cutest little girl in the world) came to visit last weekend. After speaking about blogs with her...how awkward/weird/crazy it feels to share anything too personal...I am not sure how much I want to share about the weekend:) BUT, I can say, it was so fun to have them here with us. It went by fast, and we didn't do a ton of stuff, but not doing a lot and just spending quality time together is probably what made it so nice. Lots of laughter, in part thanks to the cute little girl referenced above:) Lots of eating. Lots of talking. I want to live next door to her:(

Today I got my hair cut and highlighted. For the price, I could have flown Derek and I to California to visit. You decide if I am joking or exaggerating or not....I do live in New York. Some things are super cheap, some things not so much. But, it was a better highlight job than the last. In September, I couldn't get in to my regular place before my friend Mieke's wedding, so I went somewhere new. The cut was great, but the highlights came back a little bit orange in certain streaks. It wasn't bad, just not how I like it. But my hair looks all back to normal now and it was soooo relaxing. Then I went and bought a dresser/changing unit combo for the baby's room. I really like it and I should be able to fit lots of stuff into it. When I went to buy it, I walked through the farmer's market at Union Square -- which during the holidays is also a craft market. Literally, they have about 200 booths of stuff set up. Some of it is really nice, other stuff you can definitely pass on. But I realized that I SHOULD have taken Agatha & her family there. Ag -- you would have liked it. Well, as long as we could have gone when it wasn't so crowded. But they have so much stuff that I think you would have liked. And I thought your sister could sell her purses there -- that was my first thought:)

Tonight a close friend of ours is having a Christmas party. We've had one the past two years, but didn't put one together this year. And, it would have paled in comparison to this one. He (our friend) rented out the "Milk and Cookies" bakery in the West Village from 9-12 so we have the whole place to ourselves....cocktails, christmas cookies, and caroling is what he is offering. Hopefully, the caroling he just threw in there b/c it sounded good. I don't mind holiday music in the background, but I don't think I am up for live carols in a small space. But it should be fun. And, I bought new corduroys that actually FIT (they are on me now) that I am actually excited to wear. This is monumental. The past month I have been wearing clothes that cover me, but that I don't particularly love. Hand me down maternity clothes (which I APPRECIATE, given how expensive everything is!) or regular clothes that still fit, but just not quite the same.

My Gestational Diabetes test came back with a reading of 121. The doctor is not going to have me take the follow up 3-hour test, as she says it just as easily could have been 120 or 119 (120 being the cut off). I'll just take the 1-hour test again in a couple weeks to make sure it doesn't change. I explained that between the time I took the test and when I saw her for the results, I think I went on a sugar binge b/c I was afraid I wouldn't be able to have dessert the rest of the pregnancy (or, if my husband has his way, because he would get worried if I had gestational diabetes, the rest of my life). She laughed at me. Hard. She also called me "quite the pisser" -- as during the 24-hour urine test I took produced more urine than any reading she has ever seen. Funny. But this is one reason why I like her. She has a great, encouraging, calming bedside manner, but at the same time she could be a truck-driver if not a doctor. She is a crackup. Anyway, I have 11 weeks to go. This frightens me. We have no car seat, no crib, no BABYSITTER, and basically no clue. But, I do have some really adorable, soft blankets and a burp cloth that is too pretty to use:) Not to mention lots and lots and lots of hand-me-down baby socks.

Deuce played like crazy this morning at the dog park. There were only 2 other dogs there, which is so rare, but one of the dogs he loves. A 2 1/2 year old german shepherd who plays JUST like him. They wrestled and ran like crazy, and talked to each other the whole time. (Laurie, if you are reading this, it was sort of like seeing Bear & Deuce play in California). Deuce is a quiet dog, but he likes to be a little vocal when he plays. This works well when the other dog has the same style. He was so happy. Then, on the short ride home, he fell asleep with his head out the window. It was too cute.

I go to Colorado for the holiday next Wednesday. Derek and I are betting whether my grandmother is going to tell me I look great or that I have "gotten too big" (this was a big concern of hers when I got pregnant). Really, either statement could come out of her mouth but guaranteed it will be the second sentence after she says hi.

Is It Really December?

November flew by. Which is both a bad and a good thing. I am still grieving from the loss of my old puppy, but the moments of uncontrollable tears are fewer. But the ache in the heart of missing someone you love so much is still there. I suppose that doesn't go away, or at least I am not expecting it too.

November was filled with a visit from my mom, our third baby gift from her and my dad (a Micralite Toro stroller -- the first was a baby bather, the second a Baby Bjorn, both from close friends), a trip down to DC to introduce Deuce to our friends' newly adopted dog, Blue (they had a great time on this playdate we traveled 250 miles for!), my husband becoming vegetarian after successfully eating a 20-ounce hamburger in DC (getting his picture on the wall, embarrassing), lots of work, a really really really bad cold, my gestational diabetes test and a 24-hour urine test (please tell me, who said pee-ing into the jug for 24 hours was easy????), birthday parties for a couple friends, hanging out with neighbors watching college football, finding out some close friends' home is on the market as they prep for their move to Canada (they warned me, but I am still selfishly devastated), and finding out where my sister and friends Mike & Lauren are planning the "baby shower" (aka, party) for Derek and I. We knew it was in the works because I knew the date and was helping some family get reservations at the B&B close to our home. But they wouldn't tell me where it was at. But know I know, Union Hall (check out www.unionhallny.com), which I had suspected. And I really appreciate all they have done since I know I am in a pain in the ass with these things. I really didn't want a baby shower ("I am not the kind of girl to sit around opening gifts with other girls"), and really resisted ("Besides, I have more male friends than female friends"), and was adament that they didn't have to do anything ("Honestly, I'll be too hard to please."). But they know me well and seemed to have planned the perfect get together. Both Derek and I are really excited for it. With cocktails and mocktails and appetizers and bocci ball and the first guest to RSVP was my friend who has a major gambling addiction and bypassed Vegas for the party:) What a gift. Something to look forward to after Christmas.

Meanwhile, we get a visit from my dearest friend Agatha this weekend:) YEAH! And her husband and baby girl. And I am hoping the cold gets a little less cold so they can enjoy the trip from sunny SoCal. I can't wait to see them:)

I thought had some pictures to upload....but now none seem too appropriate or good. I did get my favorite picture of Butter (or one of them) on a CD and enlarged, so because I still miss him terribly, here is a picture of my Butter. Oh, and another, of him and my nephew. And one of Baby Boy -- who at 26 weeks is measuring about 2 weeks ahead of schedule. Which is consistent with how large my stomach feels.

Butter

Butter came into our family on December 4, 2000. He lost him on November 2, 2007.

He loved car rides, and hotels, and road trips. He loved other dogs
and other cats, big or small. He loved to lick my ice-cream bowl, and
to chase the white-water at the beach. He wasn't a swimmer, but he
could wade in the water on chest-level forever. There was never a
house he stayed at that he wouldn't try to take over the bed, and when
you walked in the house after being out, he would make sure he kissed
you right on the mouth. The cheek, the hand, the arm would not do --
it had to be the mouth. He loved his toys, and he loved children. He loved to wrestle with your arm, while he lay on his back, making sure to lick it any time it got close to his mouth. He
loved Deuce. And his favorite place to be was with me and Derek.
There was nothing that made him happier than us being all together.

It was sudden. Despite his age, and some minor health issues, we
weren't expecting it. I expected to spend the day at the vet, making
sure whatever was bothering him was fixed. Sadly, he died in the car
just blocks away from our house and blocks away from the vet. I think
he chose his time though -- he was with us both, and his best friend
Deuce was at home chewing on a big bone since he didn't get to come
with us. I think he also knew the vet could maybe help him a little
bit, for a little while, but we would have been faced with the
decision of whether to put him to sleep, and Butter knew better than
anyone I could not have done it.

Despite my panic and my screams -- "Derek, make him breath. He has to breath. He is not breathing. He is supposed to breath. MAKE him breath. Let me do CPR. He is supposed to breath. He is not supposed to die. Make him breath. He is supposed to stay with us. He has to breath...." -- it was peaceful. He was peaceful. There was the smallest sound, and I turned around, and saw him choke just a little. His eyes were open, but I could see that his soul was just barely there. And then it wasn't. He went peacefully. He was a gentle giant, and peaceful was his way with everything.

We had him for the latter 7 years of his long life, and I like to
believe they were by far better than the first 6 years without us.
Every single day we had him, he became more trusting, more open, more
comfortable, more loving. He never stopped learning how good life
really was, and he never stopped enjoying it. Just two weeks ago I
woke up after a few hours of sleep b/c I heard some rustling. It
turned out that Butter & Deuce were playing tug-a-war with a toy. It
was the first time ever -- ever -- that Butter played tug-a-war. He
used to have to hide the toys when we first got Deuce b/c Butter's
food aggression spilled over onto toys, and he didn't quite know how
to share. Eventually, he learned to share but if Deuce tried to play
tug-a-way, Butter would just let him have the toy. He was a little
scared of his old instincts coming back to him. Just two weeks ago,
he discovered that he could do it. I stayed up watching them play for
the next twenty minutes. Never had I felt more proud or more content.

Just two days ago, he was playing with his favorite stuffed animal bone, threatening to take it out on a walk with us. Just last night, he smiled while he asked (by wagging his tail and staring at us) to help him climb into bed. Just this morning I was laying down next to him, trying to get him to eat, petting his sore bones, telling him I loved him. When he got in the car, he was breathing. Two blocks later he wasn't.

My favorite pictures of him aren't on this computer, or any computer. Most are in my mind. The ones that are memorialized are framed, taken with our 35 mm camera. Him at my parents house the summer we got married, looking up at me with a smile on his face, thanking me with his eyes and his tongue for letting him spend the summer with us. With my parents, with their two dogs -- one of whom, Sneaker, he now gets to play with again without the constraints of arthritis or tumors or cancer or whatever they silently and bravely and courageously faced while alive, with no complaints. Another photo was taken two years later, of him in a hotel room in San Francisco, with a more content smile than I had ever before seen. Telling us how fun the road trip was, how happy he was to show Deuce the life of a city dog. How much he loved the heavenly Kimpton Group bed and hotel. It is so close up that you can see every detail of his face, all the expression that he carried. And from that same trip, there is a picture of him on the beach in Carmel, at sunset. He is laying facing me, the wave break to his back. Deuce close to him, but slightly behind him. He is happy, he is content. He knows his life is good. He wants to make ours even better. You see it all in that picture.

There was not a day we had him that he did not make my life happier, more complete, more rewarding. He was the highlight of every day - he was my pride and joy. He was the gentle giant that showed everyone around us what a little love can do, and how much it could change a life. He showed Derek and I that we knew how to love, and taught us that there is nothing more important than being together. I will never forget his determination to stay in one spot if we ever tried to split up and walk separate ways. "I will not move unless you are both together." Even when his backlegs had no muscle, his determination was still no match for us. But as long as we were together, walking next to each other, he would gladly walk miles and travel anywhere. His family gave him all he needed to be happy, to be content. I will carry that with me forever.

And I will miss him forever.

Recovering from a long night....

We had a wedding in Voorhees, NJ -- a little outside Philly, a little outside Atlantic City. If you can imagine what a wedding a little outside south Philly and a little outside Atlantic City would be like - it was exactly that. The place was just about the cheesiest place I have been to -- REALLY cheesy. But the wedding was fun and the bride (my long time friend) very happy. It was the first time I met her husband, and he seemed really really nice. And really really normal. Which, if you knew the bride, my long time friend, you would be surprised as Derek and I were. I am on antibiotics right now, which have really knocked me out, so by the time we got home last night (it is about a 1 1/2 hour drive with no traffic), I was knocked out. And I had to cancel my plans tonight because I am trying to listen to my body and I just am so exhausted.

We also had a wedding reception last week to go to. Whole other story. Maybe the first party I have been to since college that I knew as soon as I walked in that hard drugs would be done by some. And the crowd was split b/t those that would be doing the hard drugs and those that clearly would not -- me, Derek, our friends Mike & Lauren, and two gay couples. If anyone needed to decipher which group was which, my belly was a clear indication. It was the first time we met that groom as well. He was nice enough, although I didn't talk to him that much. There's more to the story of that wedding. Bride is not pregnant, but there is a specific reason in addition to love that the marriage occurred. I won't say more publicly.

Speaking of pregnancy, it is not what I pictured. I always thought I would just keep on working out (although with less intensity). My day to day life would not change that much, at least during these nine months. I'd feel generally fine. HA. I threw up every day through week 17. Some days there after. Once the constant nausea left me, I've had migraines and what was thought to be a UTI (only my second one ever). A bad one. So I am on antibiotics that are making me exhausted. But the doctor called today and she said that while she does think I have a minor UTI, the discomfort is more likely the placement of the baby. If I walk AT ALL -- take 2 steps -- I have to pee. If I am sitting down, it is fairly better. She wants me to do some massaging to try to get the baby to change positions. Because, literally, the past 10 days I have cried twice while walking to the subway just b/c I can't take it anymore (the feeling of having to pee while walking) and I don't cry easily from physical pain or discomfort. Actually, the only time I cried from physical pain was when I tore every muscle in my left hip flexor and hamstring -- and even then I am not quite so sure it was from physical pain. So the thought of the long/moderate walks that would replace my runs? Ha. The thought of getting through a 60 or 90 minute yoga class? Ha. The thought of doing my body sculpting classes, with no or very light weights. Ha. I was giving myself too much credit before, and pregnancy too little credit. Trust me, I know it is worth it in the end. I realize that. But I am missing one of the things I really really enjoy -- short, intense workouts. I can't even do short bursts of activity with absolutely no intensity. Please, please, please baby....move just a little to give my bladder some room.

(Some might wonder if I am still walking Butter and Deuce. Of course. Long walks and then trips to the dog park on the weekend. And help lift Butter up the stairs. It is not their fault that I feel this way....and I won't make them sufffer for it.)

A Little Too Late

Butter and Deuce found a dead dog this morning. I cried. And cried. And cried. Some neighbors helped me.

That is the short story. The long story has holes in it, because we can only presume what happened. I took the dogs to the park for about 1 hour, and then I stopped at Old Navy to get some jeans or pants or something. It took a while longer than I thought it would, since the maternity pants all looked liked crap and then I figured I would just get a bigger size regular pant, but had to find the right fitting jeans. And I was reminded of why I prefer expensive jeans when I could not find any that fit my body type. But of course, I am not going to spend $170 on a pair of expensive jeans knowing I am going to grow out of them quickly, and hopefully only where them for a little while on the way back down. Anyway, so the dogs were waiting for me a little longer than I meant for them to.....But they slept in the car, and it was cool outside, so no worries.

Then we parked outside our home. They both PULLED me to this car across the street. Very unlike Butter at this stage, and unlike them both after a good trip to the dog park. I looked under the car and saw a puppy - probablty 9 monts old? - with its eyes open and mouth open, and tongue kind of hanging out. And even though I knew it was dead, I really really really really wanted it to be alive so I could help.

I rushed the dogs into our building, and then came back out just with my cell phone and car keys. I touched the puppy, and found out what I already knew. I just started crying immediately. It's poor eyes were open. It was not injured -- it clearly was not hit by a car or anything. And it had a collar on -- a new, pink collar. I hoped that there was a number on it that I could call, and the puppy's name. But there wasn't. She wasn't dirty -- she was not a street dog. She was someone's dog.

A man walking his dog helped me, and was very nice and empathetic while remaining detached and composed (how do people remain detached? I can never can.). Two young men on the street also helped. One had seen the dog the night before. A girl had dropped her off to someone's apartment in his building to be taken care of. Another girl who lives in that building came out, and said she saw the dog outside last night, peeing blood. My guess is that the person who was supposed to take care of this dog put it outside because it was sick -- and didn't want the dog peeing blood in the house. I could be wrong, but my gut tells me that is what happened. I wish we would have seen the dog last night. I would have helped it. I would have taken it to the vet. It obviously was sick, and didn't go too far despite being abandoned outside. It kills me to think that it just laid down under this car and died, in pain. I am so mad about it.

So what do you do with a dead dog? What I did was cry, and call Derek's friend Manny, who works for sanitation and would know what to do. And I left a sobbing message on his voice mail. The man who was helping me was able to get a hold of animal control, who transferred him to sanitation, who said they would come get the dog. The two young men put the dog into a bag, and I cried. They tried to make me smile, and in a way they did because they were upset that someone clearly just left the dog out there too. But I just kept crying.

When Butter dies, I don't want to put him into a bag. I don't want to call animal control or sanitation. It felt so inhumane, and so sad. It felt like it was inappropriate to grieve, but the dog deserved someone to grieve for her.

All my energy has been sucked out. I know the puppy was dead for longer than just one or two hours. She probably died in the middle of the night -- so even this morning when I left for the park, had I parked in that direction -- it would have been too late. I still wish I would have found her when she was still breathing. It might have been helpless at that point -- but at least she would have known the touch of someone who really wanted to help her.

Just To Touch Base...

I haven't blogged in a while. To answer the questions -- no, I have not given up on it. Should I add a "yet" to that answer? Probably. Because I probably one day will. But not quite yet.

I have nothing really to post about. But here are some updates and thoughts:

*I saw In the Valley of Elah today. Very good. Very sad. Very insightful. Tommy Lee Jones stepped out of his box - he played an excellent role. In moments, I felt the movie was predictable, but I never felt that was a negative.

*We also saw The Brave One last weekend with some friends, while out in East Hampton. Horrible. Absolutely horrible.

*East Hampton -- very pretty, very peaceful. Very expensive.

*I am approaching 18 weeks of pregnancy. I made a turn about 10 days ago from throwing up every day (numerous times) to only throwing up maybe 3 times total in the past 10 days. This still isn't fun, but it's a start.

*I've read some interesting - almost noteworthy books - recently. Now, I can't remember their names. I am drawing a blank. I am currently reading "Loving Frank" -- historical fiction about the relationship between Frank Lloyd Wright and his married mistress, Mamah Cheney. Just started, but so far it is decent. I've got three others ready to read once I finish this one.

*I read a very good book and I can't remember the title to save my life -- and I am too lazy to go downstairs to find it. Where The Crow Flies? Maybe that is it. It is about a murder that happens in a small military town in Canada during the Cold War, and the numerous families it impacts. Portions of the book on the Cold War were a little tedious -- but necessary to make many of the other events make sense and make them believable.

*Was in Philadelphia for work most of this week. We coordinated a conference for the general counsel of each of the 32 teams. It was nice to meet many them in person - as I speak to many of them on the phone almost daily and do lots of work for them. Interesting to put faces to names, and see if "in person" personalities match up with email/phone personalties. Some don't. Some do. It was also exhausting. I got home last night at 6:45 and fell asleep by 7:00. And slept soundly through the night, first by myself, then for a while Derek was next to me, then when I fully woke up this morning Deuce had replaced him.

*Some days I hate my job, some days it is bearable, other days I thoroughly enjoy it. I have no more insight than that. I am trying to figure out if I can make the enjoyable days occur more frequently.

*Ah, I also read a book (memoir -- am I spelling that right or do I have the o/i reversed?) "First They Killed My Father," about a Cambodian family. It was excellent. Some have said the market has become too saturated with stories regarding the impact of war on family and on children. I disagree. This was an excellent book and excellent story.

*I am trying to pick a place to vacation next summer. Somewhere domestic. The following year I'd like to either go to South Africa or Vietnam. Derek says now he doesn't want to do either, but that will change by 2009. But for 2008 - I am thinking a house on a beach somewhere - probably east coast, although I wouldn't rule out San Diego. We haven't been back to SD since we moved back here in 2005. But I would also like to go somewhere new. Who knows.

*I'm tired of Grey's Anatomy. I felt like I just keep watching the same story. I think I would enjoy going back to CSI more, if I have to watch television on Thursday nights. Which apparently I do.

*At my last doctor appt. (16 weeks), I had gained 8 1/2 lbs total during my pregnancy. Most of that came b/t 12-16 weeks. I still don't look obviously pregnant, just obviously chubby (and I was about 10 lbs. heavier than I have been in 10 years right before I got pregnant). Derek thinks I look beautiful, and he likes to point out that my hips and thighs are starting to "show pregnancy" as well as my stomach. I ALMOST want to kill him - at least with a vicious glance - when he says this, but then I remember how excited he is and how worried he was when I had only gained 1 lb the first doctor appt.

*I read "A Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy." I was not as enchanted with the book as every other woman I know. This worries me, but I don't know why.

*We've got weddings to go to for the next two weekends. One here in the city, one in south Jersey. Both should be interesting, as the brides to be both used to be certified crazy, if not still are.

*Butter and Deuce got baths this week. They smell soooooo good. And they went to the dog park today to play, so are so content. I am going to go downstairs and join them......waiting for Derek to bring home some Thai food.