All Aboard the NOPE Train

This past weekend Husband Dearest and I got to go on our first EVER over night trip together where I wasn't pregnant. Make note: That was October 2009, ya'll. I'm telling you this just so I can share a couple pictures and then move on to the story you want to hear.

Hip (Hip Hooray! It's OK! ((we think))

Anybody with a four year old, particularly a four year old on the very top of the growth chart knows, growing pains a very real thing. It will take your happy go lucky little guy or gal and turn them into a screamy little thing that Ibuprofen and snuggles can hardly alleviate. Then BAM. It's gone as fast as it started.

According to KidsHealth.org, the average four year old boy is 40 lbs and about 40 inches tall. E2 is 49 lbs and according to the doctor's office, right at 47 inches tall. He has grown two and half inches in five months. If you do the math, he's growing at a rate of an eight of an inch PER WEEK.

S#*t Happens

Today I took E3's nine month photos. There's nothing spectacular about that statement, except, for the first time in his life I was late taking the pictures. Then he was grumpy and wouldn't cooperate to show off his newest skills. Ya know, like standing or whatever. I snapped a few pics, pulled off the stick-on monthly tie (WHY didn't I think of that!?) and wiggled him into an outfit.

A few hours later at the gym I was desperately needing to go to the bathroom. I was doing the pee-pee dance just like a potty training kid with a Big Gulp.  As I was about to pass E3 off to a friend, I felt the spread of warmth on my arm. He had shat himself. And shat himself in a big way. We follow baby-led weaning. A nine month old that mows through some berries, crackers, and an organic baby smoothie in the morning coupled with some nice long drinks off the boob really knows how to blow it out.

Before I messed my own self I hurriedly ran to the back office to change Sir Squirtsalot. You see that nice white onsie in those pictures? He (thankfully) had that on under his cords and button up as a layer of warmth shit protection. I remembered the Pinterest trick to rolling the once off the body as my friend asked how I would get it off of him. Mid process someone else said I should cut it off. Before he finished talking I was reaching for the shears.

That's right, ya'll. E3 shit himself so bad I had to use the Jaws of Life to free him.  Thankfully, I was able to make it to the bathroom without the same happening to me.

Later this afternoon my dear friend JMoo and her darling Kherbear came to play. I told 'Moo all about how close he was to walking on his own, but he was rather stubborn about it. After they left I realized I had missed my afternoon constitutional.

I have this gorgeous, big master bathroom that I can really enjoy a good poop in. Also, since I poop with an audience on the daily, it's got great space. This time, no exception. E3 came squealing in and ripped open one of the unsecured drawers. He loves to find goodies (pull out all my lady products) and toss them about. Right in the middle of me... well, pooping, I see E3 crawl halfway between the drawer to the toilet room in the master bath suite. He then took a football stance and popped himself up, unassisted. I've seen him do this once before.

Then, as I'm three feet away and ass-glued to the porcelain playground I watch my son take his first step.

Shit really does happen when you're a mom.

Um Hai.

7 Months Old! What!?

Ironman Access: Cancelled and Thoughts

WTC is ingenious. Hey, let's pre-charge $1000 to give someone a chance at something, that really isn't all that amazing... and people will actually pay it!? 

I've been reading about this for a few days now, and between SlowTwitch.com, Liz's All Access (which was hilarious), and a few others, I've found something I think is spot on.

http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/pace-of-chicago/2010/10/relax-its-just-the-ironman.html

...Worth 1000 Words. »


Relax! It's just the Ironman.

David Wallach on 10.29.10 at 12:06 AM

David Wallach

I am your typical BOPer. I love to train more than racing. If you have a race, let me know, I'm there!

Yesterday (Thursday) The World Triathlon Corporation announced the launch of the Ironman Access Program. In a nut shell the Ironman Access program gave people a week "head start," to sign up for an Ironman. The catch, it came at a cost of $1000 for a year membership and then $600 for the race entry.



If you have ever tried to sign up for an Ironman event, then you know it can be a test of patience, since most of their U.S. events sell out within 24 hours, this option did alleviate some of the stress of signing up, if you could afford it.



I received hundreds of e-mails from people who were upset and hurt. The Ironman Corporation took an immediate beating on the blogs, chat rooms and on Facebook. A lot of you out there, though this was unfair, that it took away from the "everyman feel of the sport," and was a greedy move by The World Triathlon Corporation.



The end result was a classy move by the WTC. In a video message delivered by a tired looking President Ben Fertig, they canceled the entire program and refunded the money to the athletes who jumped at the chance to get a head start on signing up for their dream at finishing an Ironman. Click here to see the video.



I think what the WTC was a great PR move, but believe it or not, I completely disagree with what they did. The thousands of you who lost your minds when this new program was announced blew a great opportunity to help the sport of triathlon grow. Hold on, before you start your "have you lost your friggin' mind e-mail," hear me out.



The Ironman is just a brand. What you did by running around like a bunch of whiny kids was put them in a bigger position of power. All of the calls, e-mails and blogs weren't making the people at the WTC mad but instead sending the message, " yes, we love you more than anything, we live for you, we love you Ironman, forget Rev3, forget Silverman, all we care about is your brand, please be nice to us. Congratulations you are a monopoly."



That's right, you blew it. Yesterday was a line in the sand, and instead of saying "enough, we refuse to cross this line," you all jumped over it like good lemmings. Instead of getting over the fact that Ironman is just a brand name, and there are dozens of other 140.6 races out there that offer more difficult courses, easier sign ups and better athlete experience, you collectively dropped your pants and took it in the back side. This was the chance to support other races. This was your chance to help triathlon grow, to realize that it's not about the brand name, but the accomplishment. You thumbed your noses at the other race directors and let them know, "you are an after thought Rev3 or Silverman, a cute diversion after we do the Ironman."



The Ironman Corporation is a business, make no mistake about that. They are in the business of making money and growing their brand, just like Coke, Disney and Jay Z. The difference between The Ironman and Coke, is that The Ironman is a lifestyle brand, it effects all of us at such a deep level, that it becomes personal, we are invested in it, it can change your entire life. Coke, you drink it, you burp, it quenches your thirst, the experience is over. As a lifestyle brand when they make a change that seems unfair or greedy, it hurts, you feel betrayed and "left out in the cold," as a lot of you have stated. It's understandable, but at the same token, get over it.





This is not an "everyman sport," as one of you said in an e-mail. This is a rich guy, type A intense sport. The average salary of an Ironman is $150,000 plus. Now there are a lot of you out there(including me) who make much less than that, but this is not "everyman or woman's sport," that would be Social Club Volleyball. If you cross the finish line at an Ironman event you are part of the fittest 1% people in the world. 1% out of 6,697,254,041 people in the world and the Ironman Corporation is trying to make a profit off of that tiny margin. Yes kids, they are a business.



This isn't new, bands have been doing it for years. Yes, membership to the Jonas Brothers Fan Club is only $34.99 and you get early access to pre-sale ticketing before the general public, but then have you have to pay hundreds for the tickets, t-shirts, parking etc. Eventually the t-shirt will fade, the music will be dated, the Jonas Brothers will end up in re-hab and the experience will be gone. With Ironman the memory lasts a lifetime, how much is that worth?



You didn't have to do this. It was an option, like the Community Slots and volunteers getting early entry. Some people spend a lot more than $1000 to travel to a race, rent a car, pay for a hotel and volunteer, so they get an early entry. Should we protest that as well? Should volunteers only be local folks who don't spend a ton to volunteer and cut to the front of the line?



I applaud the WTC for making a smart business move, listening to their customers and staying on top of their game. When the Ironman entries jump to $1000 per race, remember this day and your victory over "the man," you won the battle but lost the war.







Read more: http://www.chicagonow.com/blogs/pace-of-chicago/2010/10/relax-its-just-the-ironman.html#ixzz13lAtShoe

Yo Baby, How 'Bout Some Fries With Dat Shake?

I'm dragging this one over from Figure'n It Out because it's too good not to share.



Tuesday, October 12, 2010     Is That Sound Medical Advice?



I've been killing it with my workouts, and for the last week, have stuck very closely to Coach Lady's meal plans... but then I have this happen.






Le Bebe has been acting strange the last couple days, and I had grown concerned. I called the peditritrician, and was directed to one of the nurses. "I don't think I'm producing as much milk as normal, and I know my baby is trying to eat more," I tell the nurse. "Have you started an exercise routine or changed your diet in anyway?" Duh. "Yes, I'm still eating quite a few calories, but it's cleaner food, not any junk, and I have started working out at the same intensity as I was pregant, and before, just different activities." "I see," she begins, "you know, it takes nine months to put on the weight, so give yourself nine months to take it off."






Bitch, please.






Aside from those nagging couple L-B's, I had that 39lbs' ass whopped in a month. Didn't seem to hurt my milk production then!






"Yes, I know. I lost the weight in a few weeks. I'm actually starting to prepare for a fitness competition." (I say fitness, very few people know what fitness/ figure are, let alone there's a difference.) Ooooh. Oh? Oh. Oh! WTF does OH mean? "Well, that's going to be very hard to continue breastfeeding then." I didn't go into when contest prep starts, and that he'll be close to 6 months, my goal for BF'ing, but REALLY? Then she tells me, and this is verbatim:










"Go to McDonald's and get yourself a quarter pounder and a shake."






... chirp ... chirp...










"I'm serious."


So, nurse's diagnosis; I'm not getting enough fat in my diet. But really, McD's? Is that sound medical advise?


I skipped on the shake, sounds like a good cheat for tomorrow! Instead I opted for FOUR ounces of colby jack cheese and a jumbo dog tonight. Sounds fatty to me, yes?

Eviction Papers

Waiting for the dr at the 39 week appointment.

Yes, I really am this amazing looking.

Eric, waiting oh so paitiently.

37 weeks

Well, here we are.  Week 40.  The end-all be all of pregnancy. Unless you go long.  We're going long. Luckily, we're only going a few days. 

Today, Dr Lady informed us we're still measuring big, as in currently at 42weeks (I say we- that's me, Lil Squid Dude, and Husband Dearest), and that, despite all of our best efforts to dialte and efface, we got nothin'.  Dilation maybe at 2cm., and effacement is the Berlin wall. Effing A. Even that thing got taken down.

Then, she asked the magic words:

How do you feel about induction?

I didn't really have an answer.  I desperately want a thru-the-hoo-ha delivery, and prefer to go no drugs.  However, if the squid is growing at the rapidly expanding rate that he is, my little fatty will be too big to squeeze through these hips of mine.  Thus, induction is our best chance.  Inducing is scary though.  The rates of c-sections do increase.  But having a 9lb baby would also increase the odds of a tummy delivery.  We're gonna take our chances.  Dr Lady feels confident.  We'll go with that.

I have an eviction notice now issued for our Lil Squid. Papers to be served Sunday 8 PM. He can leave on his own anytime he wants.  However, Monday armed guards will be removing him from the premises.  My grandma swears Full Moon means baby deliveries. Look at what I found today:

Full Moon Phase:  2010 Jul 26 01:38 Mon

Either way, I'm gonna be a mom soon.

Weird.

Professional photos courtesy Monika Herbert at MONPhotography.com

23 Miles Straight Down

Either this guy is the biggest idiot ever (120,000 FEET!!!?? that's like, 23 MILES), or has the biggest balls on the face of the planet (or edge of outerspace). Here's a picture of the guy. Yes, he's kinda hot.

http://news.yahoo.com/s/space/skydiverplansrecordbreakingsupersonicspacejump/print

Skydiver Plans Record-Breaking Supersonic Space Jump



Zoe Macintosh





A skydiver is making progress with plans to leap from near the edge of space in a dive that would break world records and the sound barrier.






Austrian daredevil Felix Baumgartner is a step closer to attempting the feat after a series of recent high-altitude test jumps. He plans to make his ambitious jump attempt later this year.






Starting in the stratosphere at 120,000 feet above the ground, Baumgartner will leap from a capsule suspended by a helium balloon near the boundary of space.






Sponsored by the energy drink company Red Bull, Baumgartner's mission — called Red Bull Stratos — seeks to extend the "safety zone" of human atmospheric bailout last set in 1960 by diver Joe Kittinger. This limit defines the uppermost altitude a human being can safely jump from.






"Right now, the space shuttle escape system is certified to 100,000 feet," said the mission's medical director Jonathan Clark, a former NASA flight surgeon. "Why is that? Because Joe Kittinger went there. You've got a lot of companies that are vying for the role of being the commercial space transport provider for tourism, for upper atmospheric science, and so on. These systems, particularly during the test and development phase, need a potential escape system, which we may be able to help them provide with the knowledge we gain." [Graphic: Earth's Atmosphere From Top to Bottom]






Taking the leap






A team of aeronautics experts recently led Baumgartner through a week of testing meant to illuminate any possible weaknesses in his equipment and to familiarize him with the skills needed to navigate the conditions expected to assail him as soon as he opens his vessel door.






Only a few feet above ground in a capsule dangling from a crane on Sage Cheshire Aerospace test grounds in California, Baumgartner practiced exiting and stepping off his hot-air balloon. Even a slight stumble during this step could cause dangerous alterations in his in-flight position only moments later, as well as reduce his chances of actually breaking the sound barrier.






"The team anticipated that the capsule would tip forward when Felix moved his approximately 270-pound self from the seated center position of the capsule to the step-off platform on the edge of the capsule," Red Bull Stratos Aerial Strategist and Skydiving Consultant Luke Aikins told SPACE.com. "What the exercise demonstrated was that the capsule moved only about a foot, which tells us that we don't have to worry about the capsule swinging back violently when Felix steps off."






Baumgartner proceeded to practice his step-off technique from higher up by doing bungee jumps while wearing a pressurized spacesuit and helmet. At 200 feet above ground in an abandoned fairground, the setting was a far cry from a high-altitude jump, but mimicked the sensation of trying to achieve the necessary forward rotation, said mission technical director Art Thompson. After a few leaps, one team member described Baumgartner's performance as "perfect."






"We still have an unknown, which is what happens to my body when I break the speed of sound, but at least we're going to know that I'm able to handle the step-off," Baumgartner said.






Improved equipment






Lastly, the pilot passed several high altitude test dives at 26,000 feet over the desert in Perris, California. Thanks to a new chest pack aligned to one side of his body, Baumgartner exhibited a harmonious passage compared to previous trials a year earlier.






The previous chest pack had jammed his helmet, blocked his vision and constrained his movement during descent and the critical landing.






During the recent tests, body positions and suit deflation went well enough that the team accomplished all of its objectives.






Dive to death






No simple showman, Baumgartner wondered if the dangerous pioneering mission would mean his own death.






"My biggest concern is that dangerous part of the project which we just haven't thought of," Baumgartner said in a statement. "We try to think of every contingency, but there's always going to be something that you would never imagine could happen. And that might kill you."






The possibility has proved daunting enough to impact his decision to invite his own mother to watch the dive.






"If everything is successful, I would love to have her on site, because the first person that I would want to talk with is my mom, of course," he said. "But if something goes wrong, I definitely don't want my mum on site, because I don't want her to witness a fatality. So I still haven't made up my mind."






According to a press officer for Red Bull, the actual experiment will take place somewhere in North America in 2010. Along with a range of experts and test pilots, mentor and former record-setter Joe Kittinger will also be present.

 
So, homeboy's estimated freefall time will be just over 5 min, 30 seconds. I google's some pictures of Joe Kittinger's jumps, and well, it just looks like a bad idea.
 

ELF Says It Best

Like so many of my brain dead moments, instead of coming up with my own material, I'm choosing to plagiarize.

"Shortly thereafter I broke down in tears. I know I need to just last it out a little bit longer and I know that I’M ALMOST THERE. But I’ve got to be honest with you. This is one of the hardest things I have ever done. And I’m not even at the hard part yet! I felt weak for crying but at the same time, it’s kind of like in Ironman training when you find yourself stopped in your long run, 30 minutes away from the end, crying because you’re hurting, because it’s hot, because you know, dammit, that there will be no more relief for another 30 minutes because there is still work to be done. You know you’re going to get back out there, finish up the last 30 minutes and suffer because that’s who you are. You don’t give up. And when you’re pregnant, giving up is not even a choice.






There is no DNF.






Like in training, you’ve got to let yourself hit rock bottom, bounce back and prove to yourself, ok I can do this. I can last it out a little longer, I can push a human out of me, I can take care of that human for life. And the scary thing is that if I can do all of that I know…I can do anything."

To read the full entry, click here for Liz's blog.


Heading to 38 week check up or whatever the feck week it is now.

Sprinkling labor dust to Schwartzie, who's due today. Read about her here.

Crunch Time- 17 days to go

Right now I'm feeling a lot of pressure. Both internally and externally. There's two types of internal pressure: The mygutisgoingtoburstandababyisgoingtoshootoutorImightpoopeverywhere pressure, and the GottaGetItDone running laps in my head. Luckily, everything at home is well taken care of.  It always makes me think of the poem 'Twas the Night Before Christmas when I start to mentally list off what's done.

'Twas the weeks before birthing, when all through the house
Not an animal was stirring, not even my gigantic dog;
The crib sheets were folded, the Halo Sacks washed,
In hopes that Lil' Dude soon would hurry the eff up and get here.

I know, I know. Poet I am not.

However, at work, I feel like I'm struggling to get a head. Budgets and revenue and all that mambojambo is fine. I have great staff that has helped to set up up for a terrific year. We're well ahead of the curve (and most of my peers, thank you very much, not that it's a competition or anything okay okay, everything's a competition) and things should be running smoothly whenever I leave (Now!? ugh, nope not yet). But I still have these little projects- Testing Recertifications and Parents Handbook for the association- that I have to accomplish. Technically this stuff isn't due until the end of August, but I'm definitely going to be unpregnant and sorta busy by then.

Side story: One of my water fitness instructors keeps telling me I'm going to be late. That's fine, but she says I'll be late like her. As in, she swears she was 6 to 8 weeks late with all three of her children. Grant it, she's a little older and kind of senile, but there's no effing way she went 8 weeks overdue. And she swears she knows when she got pregnant: She says the morning after she "did the nasty" (her term, not mine) she woke up throwing up and knew she was pregnant. Okay, so add bat shit crazy to the list of things she is... along with being the lady that stands naked between the double mirrors at the sink in the locker room shudder. This woman also attended BURNING MAN last year. She's 70 something.

Anyway, I'm scrambling to get these months long projects done, and do the day to day things things sometimes take days (I waited for a pool inspector for 6 hours yesterday. That was 6 hours I spent basically twiddling my thumbs instead of getting my normal duties done, which I now get to do today). Something's gotta give somewhere. I once heard the analogy that directors are professional plate spinner's, trying to see how many plates we can have going at once, and eventually, hope the one's that we drop aren't the big ones. I think that's the most accurate description of my job. Not that it's a bad thing, per se, but it makes life very entertaining to say the least.

 

If I can manage to keep the big plates from falling, we're doing okay. At least until I come back in October.

 

I keep telling husband that I wish Lil Dude would just come out.  But he had a valid point last night. "You should be enjoying the moments you have to yourself right now." I have much to learn, Obi Wan Kenobi, because that was so true. Luckily, he's giving me a lot of space to enjoy those moments- yesterday I came home, sat in the glider in the nursery and finished a little light reading (Actually it was pretty rough- Tina dropped off a copy of The Lovely Bones when she was down. It's amazing, but no easy summer read). Then he cooked a Delicious Bass aka Chicken Kabobs and spicy potatoes. After dinner, we set off separately with the dogs to try to encourage a little pelvic-engaging action. I had a woman in the neighborhood actually called out to me from her porch step that I should "Go home and sit down, before that baby falls out." Seriously, lady? I don't even know you.

 

That was the plan, though. Encourage Lil Dude to fall out.

 

Last night, before going to bed, husband asked "Are you going to go into labor tonight?" All I could say was I hope so. No such luck.

 

I did get up to pee five separate times though. I may be approaching a new record.

Yep.

Still pregnant.





Damnit.

If I Were an Oscar Meyer Weiner

* So, Texas gets it's very own full distance Ironman. First race is May 21, 2011. I'm not sure how I feel about all these IMs in the US. There's just so many. I loved it being more exclusive. However, it does provide a lot more options. And, should I ever get to do another IM, a spring one might be the only thing that really works for me. Considering how much I work, specifially in the spring and summer, I don't have the time to devote to training. Not to mention I will need LOTS of time with Lil Dude and Husband, plus household crap, I think spring might be the best option. So, maybe 2012? http://ironmantexas.com/





Off the top of your head, how many Ironman races will be held in the US in 2011? What about in North America? Answer will be at the bottom of the post.





* My dad's 52 birthday this year happens to fall on one of the coolest sporting events ever: Motocross des Nations. And guess where it is: Lakewood, Colorado! http://www.mxthundervalley.com/rev/?page_id=256 This event is usually held in some totally awesome European venue, and this year it's back in the 'States. I know he wants to go. I know husband wants to go. I actually kind of want to go, but not sure if Lil Dude would be into the 10 drive in a motorhome (I wonder if that thing even runs...) at 9 weeks old. I may have to just sent pops and Husband.





*Tomorrow Husband and I are taking our maternity pics. And, of course, I went in to get my nails done, and they were in such bad shape, nail lady said to soak off the acryllics, let them heal, and redo them in a couple weeks. Le Sigh, I really wanted pretty nails. I should take better care of my hands. Then there's this swollen pregnancy face thing. It just started about three days ago, but I have puffy jowels, and a swollen bridge of my nose. It doesnt help I have a honkin' zit right there, but seriously. And my feet and ankles have puffed considerably... but nothing like this lady:





I mean seriously. That's just fat feet, right?

* I have to pee.

* I'm just under 36 weeks now. So, I am giving Lil' Dude until about the 10th of July, and I'm running stairs and doing jumping jacks. He's gonna get an eviction notice soon. To help, I've started taking Evening Primrose Oil Capsules this week. Julie's doula recommended them, then they were on my list of things in birthing class to help induce or ease into labor. Here's something I found regarding the practice:

Evening Primrose Oil and Red Raspberry Leaf Tea
Neither will actually induce labor. While some lay midwives will argue that statement about the Evening Primrose, which is the reason it is not recommended until 36 weeks or "full term", almost all sources with experience agree that it does nothing that the body was not ready to do on its own. I will repeat this at the end of this section, to make sure you understand this, as there is a lot of confusion and misconception surrounding these two substances.
Evening primrose oil is an excellent source of prostaglandins, which we already determined readies your cervix for labor. It can be taken orally as soon as 34 weeks, and can be applied directly to the cervix at full term (36 weeks). The general recommendation is two 500mg capsules per day until week 38, at which time you increase to 3-4 per day. The entire capsule can be inserted vaginally (inserted just before bed, it will dissolve before the first time you wake to use the bathroom), or you can use the oil on your fingers for your perineal massage, then also rub on your cervix (assuming you can reach it). Applying directly to the cervix is optimal, but the beneficial ingredients are absorbed through the external skin or the stomach also.
Red raspberry leaf tea is a uterine tonic used by Native Americans for thousands of years. It tones your uterus by helping to "focus" your Braxton Hicks contractions. Think of its job as helping your uterus do more effective exercising while you are pregnant. It does not "cause" contractions and can be safely used throughout pregnancy. It is contraindicated for those having complications "just in case", however, by most doctors who do not understand its use. Many women safely use it from the moment they learn they are pregnant at six weeks until months after delivery. (It helps to tone the uterus after delivery as well, shrinking it back to size more quickly and reducing bleeding.)
Again, neither of these actually causes labor to start.

Just to clarify: I'm not sticking capsules up my hoo-ha. They are taken orally, thankyouverymuch. Still in search of: Red Raspberry Leaf Tea (Pregnancy Tea). Julie and Chrissy have both found the tea, so I'm going to get them to get me some. I went on an exploration that included Consentino's, Nature's Pantry, and Hy-Vee, all to giagantic fails.

* I may or may not have tried on my boob pump. Yes, it will suck something out. I didnt turn it up high enough to see if it would suck something out right now, but, I'm pretty sure it could. I also stuck the vaccum displayed at birthing class onto husbands arm and pumped. I think he might have a hickey the size of a peanut butter jar. I started laughing really hard because I couldnt figure out how in the hell to release the pressue. We are *that* couple in class.

Answer:

US Ironman events, including Kona: 9.
North American events: 11.

Boob Gate 2010

My boobs are huge. Prior to being pregnant, my boobs were BIG, but not ridiculously massive. I could still race in a swim suit if I wanted to. However, going from a 36 D to a 38 F (as in What The F!) is not exactly taking too kindly to me.

Pull up a chair, and let me illustrate what has now become Boob Gate 2010.

Yesterday morning I got work feeling less frazzled than normal, mostly because I looked cute. I was wearing this super cute green dress, and a black one button cardigan. It's so comfy. However, the tube top part has started to become a little snug. No big deal though. Here's what I think I looked like.

Cute, right? Well, I thought it was a darling outfit.

I had a 9am appointment with a potentional new lifeguard. She's young, and impresssionable. Just the way I like them- makes them easy to train. What's this got to do with Boob Gate 2010? Please, stay with me.

We hold the interview in my office. It's got a long L shape desk that sits up against a window overlooking my pool.

See? Here's my chair, and the chair the interviewee was in. The interview went well, but about halfway through she seemed to get really nervous. Like, Really nervous. And she stopped looking at me. What is with teenagers that makes them all of sudden get weird? I thought maybe it had something to do with my discussing what a tight ship we run, and how I have a zero tolerance for a lot of things. We also discussed appearance and professionalism. That's really important to me, as I put (way too) much emphasis on how I look, as that's how people percieve you.

She was all fine and dandy, but a little weird averting eye contact. Maybe she had a short attention span. Regardless, things went well, I told her I was intrested in having her on my staff. In conclusion, I stood up to shake her hand and thank her for coming in. That's when I turned to my left to look out at my pool.

That's an old picture of my office. I now have a dry erase board on the outside that also acts as a mirror of sorts for me. As I was looking out at my guard, I realized, through the reflection of my window-mirror, I now looked like this:

That's right, ya'll. My super super cute little green tube dress betrayed me, my cardigan, and giant nude colored nursing bra.

The Girls Were Out. The tube part had slide down to right underneath my bra. I hadn't felt a thing.

All of my right boob, and pretty much all of the left. Out. Actually, they weren't entirely alone. You see, I was leaning forward for most of the interview, with my gut hanging... and the Girls just sitting on top.

So, here I am, talking to the new hire about the Christian principles of the YMCA, and I have my tee-tas in her face, three feet away.

Stunned, I pulled my top up and stood there, looking away. I finally turned back towards her, and apologized. I AM SO SORRY. I DID NOT KNOW.

She then says, "I was going to say something but I thought it would be rude."

Ooookay. Let's go back to young and impressionable. If I were interviewing a 30-something, she would have said "Sorry, your top is down." I could have pulled it up and continued. No, teeny bopped Tina didn't have the balls to say to her potential new boss "Ma'am, your tits are out." I politely suggested that it might be rude NOT to tell someone the milk jugs are swinging freely.

I'm going to skip the second interview and send her to training. I don't really want to see her again until I feel less like a flasher.

Awesome.

Goals: To Set, or Not to Set

Goals should be a attainable, achievable. Something that when you reflect on them, you know you can make, no matter how difficult the path to checking them off may be.

When I was 18, I really wanted to do figure competitions. Well, having some cheerleading/dance/gymnastic background, I was thinking more about fitness, than figure. But I'll get back to that. Figure competitions, themselves, are sort of silly. They consist of dozens of women from 18 to Grandmas strutting their stuff, literally, in rhinestone bikinis and clear stripper shoes. The pose, not in the bodybuilding type poses, but more of a "Look at how muscle x is separated from muscle y, but there are clearly no striations, because that would be body building.." I dunno, maybe not. However, these women are the fittest looking ladies you'll ever see. No, they don't look like this all the time, that would be damn near impossible. But, coming up on show time, they cut and lean like it's no one's business. I could be wrong, but I think about 70% of the training is actually nutrition. Eating this meal, at this time, for this purpose. It's amazing.

So here's what I'm kind of thinking about: I'm seven months el pregneato, due in July. I realistically probably wont be doing much of anything athletically for a while. Okay, a couple months. As much as I want to say a couple weeks, we all know that's bullshit. There's stitches and stuff, and ya know, as some friends pointed out, you generally will want to shower and shave your arm pits instead of going for a run. (PS, babies can't go in running strollers when they're a couple weeks old. That means you can't leave unless Husband is available to watch the Little Dude). I digress.

I have found a little information online, most of it about contest prep (looks like a 12 week program). I'm gonna need a pre-pre-prep course, and then a pre-prep. But, it looks like, if I really buckle down, get in workouts when I can and WATCH MY NUTRITION to support myself and the little nipple suckler I hope to have, I may have myself ready to start some type of program come, oh, January or February. Let's do the timeline, shall we?

Give Birth: July 24th ish

Maybe consider some type of workout: September 18th (8 weeks. I also realize this reduces the likely hood of me running the Kansas City Half Marathon in October- at least at any reasonable speed)

12 week prep date: Feb 1, 2011

Prospective date of competition May 2, 2011: I know there's one today, so I'm just setting a year out.

Doable? I dunno. I've emailed a few people, some trainers, some competitors, to get their thoughts. I really need to know what's realistic. I won't do it if it will take away too much time from Little Dude. I want to be healthy and happy. But I also don't want to lose sight of my athletic self. I know training for IM won't be in the cards for a while, and I want a challenge like that.

So, I might have a new goal for next spring. Or I might not. Before I can say yes, I need to know what is achievable. For now though, I'm not telling myself no.

Farmville is dumb.

There, I said it. Farmville is dumb. Please do not send me any Farmville requests on Facebook. Facebooks itself is a big enough time dump, I do not want nor care to see or hear anything pertaining to Farmville.

Old MacDonald was busy at WORK (ya know, on an actual farm), and never would have had time for something so ridiculous.

____________________________________________________

The Facebook games that millions love (and hate)
By Doug Gross, CNN
STORY HIGHLIGHTS
Zynga games like FarmVille, Mafia Wars are played by millions every day on Facebook
Expert says social gaming succeeds by appealing to women, other non-traditional gamers
Zynga founder says key to success was games that can be played during conference call
Backlash leads to FB group of 5 million saying they're tired of seeing games

(CNN) -- Early each morning, millions of farmers around the world rise to toil in their fields. By night, gangs of mobsters scheme and legions of poker players shuffle up and deal.
Sure, none of it's real. But the overwhelming popularity of so-called social gaming -- simple games that let people play with their friends on networking sites such as Facebook -- is changing the face of video games, experts say.
And as the maker of popular titles like FarmVille and Mafia Wars, San Francisco, California-based Zynga has ridden the games' skyrocketing popularity to the top of that emerging market.
For Zynga founder Mark Pincus, the formula for gaming success on Facebook, MySpace and other sites was as simple as it might seem counterintuitive: create simple games that people like but can easily set aside.
"We built the games so they could be played in a tab on your browser while you're on a conference call," said Pincus, a veteran Web entrepreneur who created Zynga in 2007.
Of course, they've been helped by the massive growth of Facebook, where the games are so popular they've spawned "fan" pages devoted to complaining about having to watch friends play them.
Facebook, with its 400 million users, is where the vast majority of people play FarmVille and Mafia Wars along with other Zynga titles like FishVille, Vampires, Café World, YoVille and Zynga Poker.
In all, more than 65 million people play Zynga games every day, according to media tracking company Developer Analytics.
Zynga's top title, FarmVille, is played by an estimated 75 million people each month -- roughly equal to the number who have played the classic arcade and desktop game Tetris during its entire existence.
The massive growth was satisfying but not altogether surprising to Pincus, whose previous startups had included Freeloader, a Web-based information-gathering service; tech-support company SupportSoft; and Tribe.net, an early social networking site from 2003.
He said that starting the game company, which he named after his late English bulldog, was an effort to fill what he considered a surprising void in most people's daily Internet use.
"I thought in 2007 that something had gone oddly wrong with the whole Internet experience," Pincus said. "I would have thought games would have been one of the top two or three experiences people had on the Internet."
What Pincus got right, according to gaming expert Scott Steinberg, was a sort of return to the "golden era" of games like Pac-man and Super Mario Bros.
"Video games actually appealed to a huge cross-section. They appealed to everybody," said Steinberg, publisher of DigitalTrends.com. "What happened is, as we went through the mid-'80s to the mid-2000s, you started to see gaming become more incestuous in terms of 18- to 34-year-old males making games for people just like them."
By contrast, three of Zynga's top five games -- FarmVille, Café World and FishVille -- have mostly female players, with many players outside the traditional 18- to 34-year-old range.
Those games all operate on the same basic premise. Starting with a simple farm, fish tank or restaurant, the player works to make it bigger and fancier, sharing items with friends and helping each other along the way.
Some of Zynga's early titles simply mirrored existing board and card games. It was Mafia Wars -- in which players team up to whack other gangs-- that first exhibited what would become the hallmarks of social gaming: simple, single-player action that's enhanced by teamwork.
With FarmVille, that formula would become complete.
Players plant virtual crops that can be harvested hours, or days, later. Along the way, they invite online friends to become their neighbors and help each other by sending gifts or helping with the farming.There's no way to "win," but players take satisfaction in building big, fancy farms that they can showcase to their friends.
"A farm is something that is internationally understood and known. It's cross-cultural, cross-gender, cross-age," Pincus said. "A great social game should be like a great cocktail party. If you want it to appeal to absolutely everyone you invite, it has to be broad in its content so that everyone gets it."
Not that Zynga's success has come without criticism.
With hundreds of smaller companies vying for a piece of the social gaming market, some rivals have accused Zynga of using its hefty venture capital to crowd out less-financed competitors.
Many of its most popular games, including FarmVille, are similar to pre-existing games from smaller companies, a fact Pincus dismisses by noting that video games have always fallen into genres with similar titles from competing companies.
Psycho Monkey LLC, the makers of Mob Wars, filed a lawsuit claiming that Mafia Wars ripped them off. Zynga settled that case in August, said a spokeswoman for the company.
Zynga also was hit with complaints and lawsuits over its original business model, which let players earn in-game rewards for things like signing up for a credit card or video-rental membership.
Critics said some of the offers amounted to scams, leading players to download unwanted software or unwittingly sign up for memberships that appeared stealthily on their phone bills.
Pincus has acknowledged not being vigilant enough with the automated ads that appeared on Zynga games during the company's early days.
"We were playing whack-a-mole," Pincus said. "Every time we found one of these or got a complaint, we would take them down. Eventually ... we realized we had to take a much more aggressive stance than a normal Web site."
In November, Zynga removed all "lead-generating" ads, relying for revenue instead on the roughly 1 to 3 percent of the player base that pays for in-game items, such as a barn in FarmVille. It has since been putting the advertisements back in, with a new system that lets it more closely monitor what kind of ads show up, Pincus said.
"We'll see where this goes for the entire industry," Pincus said. "It was really important to us to maintain a trusted position with our users. We wanted to do the right thing, and I think we did."
Pincus offers a ray of hope for another vocal group of critics: the social-media users who say they're tired of seeing all of their friends' updates about Zynga and other social games.
On Facebook, a group called "I dont care about your farm, or your fish, or your park, or your mafia!!!" had more than 5.2 million members recently.
"Please. No more of this stuff," wrote one member. "I've had all I can take. About to hang up FACEBOOK. Just want a nice cozy place to talk with my friends!"
Pincus said he hopes that messages from games can eventually be targeted to a more select audience.
"We have to evolve," Pincus said "I think it's heading to a place that's more narrow-casting. I think you'll get to a place where Facebook will be better about showing feeds to people who have a registered interest in them."
For example, he said, there might eventually be a way to send game notifications only to people who play social games themselves.
"It's not just games. It's going to be true for music, for pictures, for status updates," Pincus said. "I think, over time, these networks are going to start to shape more to ... your [registered interests]."
Meanwhile, Zynga will be among the developers continuing to change how people look at video gaming. It's a change that Steinberg, the gaming guru, says will be for the better.
While heavyweights like Electronic Arts and the popular Civilization series are making inroads into social gaming, Steinberg said, the genre is also opening up opportunities for smaller developers.
"We're seeing, in many ways, a second renaissance for games," Steinberg said.
"There's been an epiphany among the developer community saying, 'Look at these millions of users that we've forgotten to speak to for years.' This can only be a good thing for the gaming industry in the end."

Night Terror

The young man pointed at me, shouting "She's wearing a pink shirt! She's a pink shirt!" I ducked underwater and removed my top, putting the salmon colored cloth under the dock upon which the rat stood. "There!" I said, and pointed down at my.. pink shirt. How the hell did I still have one on? I didn't understand. About then, my husband scooped me up and put me back the kayak we had moored at the dock. We were but one of thousands, if not more, kayaks and row boats hiding under the dock, Bimini tops unfolded, trying to conceal our identities. The Nazi like military that hovered over us in their helicopters scanned our group of frightened refugees. The boat next to us inched out from under the safety of the dock's over hang. It was then I realized this was no ordinary boat. This boat was equipped with machine guns and artillery that would have made a 1940's gangster shiver. I heard myself shriek when the man squeezed the trigger aiming at the hovering helicopters above us. They then returned fire.

My eyes snapped open at the sound of my husband's voice, calling to me from the shower asking about a fresh towel. It took me a minute to adjust, and to realize I wasn't under attack from a Nazi regime, and that, in fact, I was cozied up in my sheets on an overstuffed mattress. It's nightmares like these that I keep having. Every night, something else. Before transitioning to the ocean standoff, I was digging bodies out of my back yard.

A few nights ago, I didn't have a head, and had to carry around my eyes in my hands to see.

Weird.

Par for the course, apparently. Studies have shown that pregnant women are more likely to have vivid dreams, often nightmares, brought on by the surge of hormones. What strikes me is how realistic these dreams are.

Twenty minutes after waking, I was in my laundry room ironing Husband's shirts. He had been calling my name repeatedly, but I never recognized it. Instead, I was lost in comparing my dream to the story line of Inglorious Bastards (One hell of a good movie, might I add). I finished my ironing, and came out of the room. As I turned to close the door behind me, Husband came down the stairs to make sure I was indeed still alive, as I hadn't responded once. He hit the bottom of the stairs as I was turning to make my way thru the room.

He looked at me. I looked at him. There was a pause. His expression was confused, but I know it only mirrored mine. Then I heard shrieking. Blood curdling screaming. It was me! WHY!? I jumped back and stopped. He looked even more confused. Then laughed. I laughed. I cried. I cried harder. He didn't understand why. Why did I scream? Why did I laugh? Why did I cry? The only thing I knew for certain is I was crying because I had piss running down the insides of my legs. Seriously. Husband coming to check on my safety scared the piss out of me.

So here's what I know: I have awful scary dreams that I try to rationalize while preforming household chores. Still lost in thought over scary dreams, Husband comes to check on me. I see him and scream. I start laughing. I am laughing over the ridiculousness of my screaming. I am crying. I am crying because I have pee streaming down my legs.

I have 22 weeks left of this!

A Thursday Open Letter

Dear Groundhog,

I hate you. You may be cute, true. You might be fuzzy, yes. However, if you come out of that effing hole and see your shadow EVER again, I will club you like Canadians going after baby seals. I am growing weary of this weather. I don't fit in my slacks, and they are uncomfortable at best, anyway. I am ready to wear skirts in brightly colored floral prints made of cotton. I am up for smothering SPF 40 all over my face and arms so that I may sit outside and guard my spray ground. I want to wear over sized sunglasses, and flip flops again.

Please, Mr. Groundhog, please. I want to have a reason to shave my legs again.

I would like to see a freckle or six on my shoulder. I want my hair to naturally lighten. I will gladly trade in my yoga pants and over sized hoody for a two piece lifeguard suit again. Buddha Belly and all.

I have lost faith in our weathermen. Can they not change the weather as the go? You, Mr. Groundhog, the see-er of all things meteorological, can you not have some influence? Might you possibly come up and say "Nope, no shadow!?"

Because, my dear friend, if we cannot reach a better solution to this wintry weather blues, I may be forced to find a recipe for groundhog loaf (Which I have found similar here and here). And you, particularly you, Punxsutawney Phil, are quite plump. I'm sure you would make an excellent stew.

Now, do not take vengeance in my threats (PROMISES). I will not be happy waddling around 30 some weeks impregnated in July. Do not give 115* temperatures, because, that too, I will blame on you. And then, sir, it will be much easier to bring broth to a boil.

I feel you may think that even if you are gone, your cronies, the local weathermen, will continue on. I have my own plans for them as well. I would like to mention that if I see another forecast such as this any time before December, Tony Soprano will look like a saviour.

With much love,

Corky S.

Fashion Clean Out and Clean Up

I'm not sure whose song I prefer: Fashion, David Bowie style ("We are the goon squad and we're coming to town!"), or Fashion, Lady GaGa version ("I need some new stilettos, can't walk down the street in those!").

Doesn't matter though. I do love me some fashion. Not that I show it. I don't have the cash to spend on the designer labels, or rather I'd prefer to spend it on sporting goods, cars, and home accessories (and a OB/GYN labor and delivery bill).

Well, tonight is the night where I preform my semi-annual closet clean out. I do this about once every year to two years. Usually it's tossing ratty pieces or things I don't love anymore. Often times I hang on to t-shirts and jeans that I really don't wear but think I might again. Since I have a higher purpose of this clean out- to rid the spare room (AKA my giant walk in closet) of all things (seriously, this will be the baby's room so I have to get EVERYTHING gone), I am doing what I am considering a Holistic Cleanse.

Cleanses are usually done with foods or supplements to rid your system of toxins and waste. Well, this closet and dresser seriously need some ex-lax to get things going.

I will pair down a rather large closet filled to the brim of items that are poorly placed and rarely worn, and a huge dresser filled with size 30-32 men's board shorts (OMG, I used to wear those!?) and race t-shirts to the bare necessities.

I am using Tim Gunn's 10 Essential Elements to lay the base of my wardrobe, well, what's left of it. This will pretty much outline my work and dress clothing. I'll keep the majority of my workout clothes, and the 2 pairs of pre-pregnancy jeans I like the best.

As for the rest, we'll, that shit's gotta go. I'm going to need to do some shopping, which my husband so graciously agreed to do with me. I need to buy one nice pair of preggo jeans and a pair of work slacks. I can make do with a couple pairs of yoga pants and a top or two. I truly LOVE spring and summer dresses, especially long flowing ones, so I can pick up a couple that I can sport now and post baby belly.

I really won't have much left for when I get back to a normal size (which better be by November), so I will need to purchase items that fit as I go. Really, I have a lot of clothes that were great when I bought them... two or three years ago, and now I need to toss them, knocked up or not.

What I will NOT be doing, however, is spending $165.00 on maternity cut off jean shorts. Seriously? WTF?

Hold Up, Heeeyy

Hold tight, I have a lot of random thoughts flying around in my brain.

Sticking Stuff Up My Nose
After doing most of KMA Spin last night with a tissue stuffed in one nostril, I decided I had to do something today.
Have you ever tried a NettiPot or Sinus Rinse? I'm having a cold/allergey thing that is apparently preggo related. Doctor and pharmacist agreed, use a high volume sinus rinse, whatever that means. Okay, I just thought that it was like a nasal spray. Right? Wrong! Let me walk you through this. First of all, I purchased the sinus rinse bottle from NeilMed. The pot thing was just a little too weird for me. It's an 8oz bottle that you fill with the packet of solution (pretty much Ph Balanced salt water) and warm water. Then, you bend over a sink and put the bottle against one nostril. Squeeze lightly. Guess what happens next! The stream runs out of your OTHER nostril AND your mouth! This is pretty much what happens: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fWVTuZ8AEf0
I'm not fully breathing yet, but I'm incredibly congested. It's suggested to do this 2-4 times a day, so hopefully by tonight, I'll be breathing better.


Kick My A-Spin Class
Definitely deserving of the name last night. There were several rounds of speed squats, isosquats and leg cranks (these are all things that you do very quickly off the bike before getting back on the pedal away again). My ass is screaming today. Guess that means it's working.


Mustang Sally is Now at a New Home
Sadly, I said my goodbye's to my beloved Mustang this week. After much talk about whether to just keep her or sell her, we decided there just wasnt enough room in the garage, and she could be a great car for someone else. We pretty much had a bidding war (because she's just that awesome), and my ideal buyer got her- a 20 year old girl who starting crying she was so excited. Perfect! So, I bid you adieu my beloved.
However, to add to that, my adoring husband did buy me a new car about a week away. It's a Volkswagon Jetta. SO much fun to drive, and just a beautifully made car (Thank you German engineering and Mexican labor). She's black, so I have thus dubbed her Joan Jetta. Get it? Get it! Damn, I am sooo funny.

I WILL race in 2010: Rock the Parkway!
There's a new 5k/10k/Half in KC! It's a beautiful course the goes along scenic Ward Parkway this spring. I'm so pumped. I can't wait. I'll be 20 weeks and some change, so I won't be too big for it to be painful to train or race. The difficult thing in my training has been following doctor's orders: Keep hr under 145 (!?) and take a short walking or active break every 30 minutes. I mean seriously, 145? That's like not even 70% of a maximum heart rate! But, okay, whatever. I don't want to overcook the munchkin thing.

Where Are This Child's Parents!?

My father would have slapped me and locked me in the basement.





Skimpy Prom Dress Lands Teen in Cuffs
Marche Taylor, 17, Was Denied Entry to Her Prom Because of Her Revealing Dress
By EMILY FRIEDMAN
May 13, 2008 —
For high school student Marche Taylor, the prom may be a night to forget, not remember, after a dispute over her midriff-baring dress ended with her in handcuffs.
When she arrived for her prom Saturday night in an outfit that consisted of a short skirt and straps of material across her chest, the 17-year-old Houston senior was told to go home and change if she wanted to be admitted, according to school officials.
"The young lady came to the prom wearing an inappropriate dress after the students were told what the guidelines were," Houston Independent School District press secretary Terry Abbott said.
Only one inch of an attendants' midsection was permitted to be shown and slits in dresses could be no more than three inches above the knee, according to the Madison High School prom 2008 guidelines obtained by ABCNEWS.com.
Additionally, "see-through fabrics should not be worn in places which reveal private body parts," the document read.
Students planning to attend the function were required to sign the guideline document and return it to their homeroom teacher, school officials told ABCNEWS.com.
If students did not sign the guidelines and adhere to the dress code, they would not be allowed to attend the prom, school officials said.
And, according the prom chaperones, Taylor's dress fit few of the school's guidelines.
Prom Night Ends With Handcuffs
Taylor failed to leave the prom when she was asked to, according to Abbott, and instead began making a scene. Abbott said Taylor began yelling and acting "belligerently."
"After she was told she would not be allowed in unless she went home and changed, [Taylor] became aggressive and belligerent and eventually police were called to escort her from the building," Abbott said. Police hired internally by the school district handcuffed the teen and placed her in a patrol car until she calmed down, Abbott said.
No official arrest was made, according to several local authorities.
The principal of Madison High School, Aubrey Todd, whose prom it was that Taylor was trying to attend, declined to comment to ABCNEWS.com.
Taylor, who could not be reached for comment, told a local television station that she saw no problem with her risqué outfit.
"I actually like the dress," Taylor told Houston's KHOU of the yellow garment that left her belly bare and covered only parts of her chest with a single piece of fabric. "Everybody else likes my dress.
"She shook her head, she was like 'you are not getting into this prom,'" Taylor said of the prom's chaperone, who she said stopped her at the door of the local Marriot hotel, where the event was being held. "We were arguing back and forth because I wanted to know why I can't get into my prom."
Marche admitted to becoming infuriated after being denied entrance and asking for a refund on her prom ticket.
"They didn't give me any options but to go to jail or go home," Taylor told KHOU.
But school district officials stand by their decision, questioning how the teen could have been allowed to appear in public wearing the outfit in the first place.
"[Taylor's dress] was very inappropriate and frankly I'm surprised her parents let her out of the house like that," Abbott said. "The school did exactly the right thing by enforcing the rule."
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