We turned two!

It must have been a stroke of brilliance that led Trevor and I to get married over Labor Day weekend. Seriously. At the time, it was all about the date and numerology according to Deals. But the unintended side effect of a Labor Day weekend wedding is having a built in three day weekend every year for our anniversary. Accidental genius I tell you! What a good call!

It is also helpful to have your anniversary close to (if not on) a U.S. holiday, because it helps you remember that your anniversary is, in fact, coming up. Not that Trevor nor I were paying very much attention. Well, maybe Trevor was. I, for one, kept almost forgetting all week. I'm totally blaming Thor for stealing the blood supply that was so obviously intended for keeping my memory up and running. The little thief.

My favorite "oops, I forgot" moment was when I asked Trevor why he wasn't working on Monday (he works a lot of holidays), and he looked at me like I was a complete idiot. AND I STILL DIDN'T GET IT. It is never a good thing when your husband has to explain that he isn't working because it is your anniversary and he took the time off to be with you.

Pregnancy has turned me into a brainless a$$hat.

Anyway, the second anniversary is technically cotton. So, it makes complete sense that Trevor bought me a diaper bag from Coach and I bought him an electric razor. Hey, at least I BOUGHT him something this year. Last year I followed the whole first-anniversary-paper thing and presented my husband with a sappy, first anniversary card. And Trevor did THIS. Not that an electric razor is an over night stay at the Adolphus and dinner at the French Room, but I'd like to think that it was a step in the right direction.

(Yes, I do realize how that last sentence sounds. But in my defense it is a REALLY nice, top of the line electric razor. AND I let Trevor pick it out before ordering it on Amazon. Who says romance is dead?! And, hey, we traded socks to cover the whole cotton thing. Or we meant to, which is essentially the same thing considering I can't tell his athletic socks apart from mine half the time.)

The strangest part about this anniversary is knowing that this time next year we will have a *almost* nine month old. It never ceases to amaze to me how much life can change in a twelve month period.

I just hope I can find a reputable day care between now and next Labor Day weekend. Because being on multiple waiting lists for months is doing nothing for my sanity! They should tell all couples thinking about trying to conceive to call your daycare of choice NOW. Waiting until you are securely in your second trimester is basically making a public announcement that your really don't care about jumpstarting the education of your baby AT ALL.

There is something about Grammy Pammy...

Get it?!
(Snicker, snicker)

Second anniversary sunset over Lake Joe Pool...

Happy Anniversary, baby!

Sweet Pea...

Have I mentioned that last week I ate a can and a half of peas for dinner? No?

Because last week I totally ate a can and a half of peas for dinner.

Trevor is still stunned. It was pretty amazing.

Guess what Trevor did while I was getting a facial...

HOUSTON, WE HAVE A CRIB!

We don't have much more in terms of functional baby gear, but at least Thor has a place to sleep at night come December.

I never claimed to be rational (especially when it comes to itching)...

Gran always had this incessant itch at the crown of her head. When the family watched her oral history a few days after she passed away, you could see her reach up and give the spot a good scratch on several occasions.

All of a sudden, and for no good reason, the crown of my head started to itch in the exact area that always afflicted Gran. It began around the same time Trevor and I returned from Colorado (immediately following Gran’s passing), and it comes and goes randomly. I’ve tried changing shampoos, and even washed my hair for a week with Trevor’s bottle of Head and Shoulders Itchy Scalp Care Formula. AND IT DID NO GOOD. The itch is still there!

I am now convinced that my erratically itchy scalp is the result of Gran haunting me. Which is unfortunate because I don’t know what lesson I am supposed to derive from being all itchy and irritated.

NOTE: Yes. Randomly itchy scalp seems to be a side effect of pregnancy based solely on the sheer number of internet support groups I found when I Googled “itchy scalp + pregnancy”. I’m still going with the whole Trevor’s-grandmother-is-haunting-me theory, though. It doesn’t seem right to blame everything on poor Thor.

Good night, green tea. I will miss you!

I had a doctor's appointment yesterday to check on Thor, and got an unexpected sonogram.

The most important thing is that everything is fine and Thor still has a penis. That is very critical information to me because we just registered for BLUE bedding over the weekend, and I needed confirmation that Thor was still Thor and not Thorette. I think I now have more pictures of Thor's junk than any thing else. All of the images have arrows pointing to that all important male appendage with "it's a boy" written in big white letters next to it. Next time I get to see Thor, I need to remind myself to get more pictures of his face. I'm starting to feel like some sort of creepy fetal pedophile or something.

In other news, the doctor measured my belly (by locating the top of my uterus, which is now way, way, WAY above my navel apparently) and the bottom. He measured the first time, shook his head and measured again. Then he muttered to himself, “That is going to be one big baby”. Not sure how I feel about that – especially since I am still barely showing at all (save all the fat rolls and the Dolly Parton boobs).

Thor DID look more cramped in there during the sonogram, which might explain why I am finally starting to show signs of distention. He has no where to go but out at this point. Thor was also sleeping, which gave the tech a rare opportunity to capture a his little profile. And, yes, I think there is already enough evidence to suggest that this kiddo will look just like his daddy. Poor Thor.

(I'm KIDDING, Trevor! You are very handsome.)

(I just hope he has my skin pigmentation.)

(But your fabulous hair. Oh, please, let him have YOUR hair!)

I also got confirmation that Trevor was completely freaking out for no good reason about my heart flutters.

Did I mention that I've been having heart flutters? No? Well, they are not that big of a deal, so no need to worry.

I've had them for years, but they were always infrequent. I never got around to telling a doctor about them, because six months might go by between episodes. Plus, my mom has them and her doctor isn't concerned. I just figured it was genetic and almost didn't give them a second thought until Trevor caught me googling "heart flutters" over the weekend.

To be fair, they've been happening more and more often. And by that I mean "all the time". Still, I wasn't worried until Trevor all but dragged me to the ER. Not because I was having said heart flutters, mind you. But because I am the vessel carrying his unborn child and nothing can happen to Trevor's own personal mini me.

Dear Thor, Daddy already loves you more than he loves mommy. Mommy is okay with it as long as daddy keeps cooking, and continues to let mommy go to the gym relatively unsupervised.

Anyway, Trevor made me PROMISE to tell the doctor about them at my appointment. I was worried the doctor would overreact like Trevor, but he just said it was due to my increased blood volume. Not that there isn't any cause for concern. It just isn't unheard of. And for the time being I am under strict orders to avoid any and all caffeine. I can't even have decaf apparently. Throw that in with the heart rate limitations and the potential need to wear maternity support hose in the near future and my life is pretty much over until Thor's big debut.

Note: The lack of caffeine may or may not explain my spontaneous drooling in the last thirty hours or so. Without my afternoon tea, it is hard to counteract the soporific effects of the office. Pregnant women should be allowed to take naps. Especially after eating lunch. Just saying.

Happy September...

...it is still 102 outside. Bleh.

In happier news, here is a quote from my intern's page-a-day calendar that has kept me giggling for days:

Blind Woman: "You're a godsend, a savior."

Postman (Kevin Costner): "No, I'm a postman."

The Postman (1997)

I really need to see this movie. It sounds awesomely terrible. Who wouldn't want to see a film about one man's quest to rebuild civilization by resuming postal service? Yeah, I know! It is brilliant. I should sponsor a screening.