Taking Le Plunge

Well, folks, we made a decision.

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

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

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

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

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

Kitty-Rearing

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

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

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

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

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

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

Egg-cellent

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

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

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

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

Pretty Music

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

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

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

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

The Joy of ...

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

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

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

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

So yeah.

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

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

100 Things I Love About My Husband: 81-90

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

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

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

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

Unity rocket. What a brilliant idea.

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


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

Adios!

4th of July Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Great American Pickle Diet

"I think I need a new hea-a-a-a-a-art, oh-oh, I think I need a new hea-a-a-a-a-art, oh-oh!"

This Magnetic Fields' song is stuck in my head, and it made me realise, "I think I need a new po-o-o-o-o-ost, oh-oh!"

So, I'm going to post. About pickles!

See, every so often (like every time I step on a scale) I get on a health-food "kick". Meaning I decide I'm going to start eating this this and this and stop eating this this and this. Or sometimes I go so far as to sign up with WeightWatchers. But these kicks never last, usually falling to pieces upon the temptation of a huge slice of chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream scoops or some other such blessing of the beautiful sugar.

But! Today is different! At least it's different today! I started reading a book - it's not a fad diet book, it's not even a diet book at all, but simply a, what Scott would dub, a Common Sense healthy eating lifestyle book. It's got real, believable ideas in it, with lots of easy, realistic recipes and "instead of" options. Instead of that chocolate bar, have a hot chocolate with skimmed milk. Instead of fried chicken fingers, have a poached chicken breast. Instead of soda, have fruit juice mixed with sparkling water. I can do this, folks!!

But the best thing is all the IDEAS it's giving me. I'm such a boring eater, and this contributes to me and Scott eating the same thing every day (curry, mostly). I don't have a food imagination. I can't come up with new ideas, especially if they are hard and take a lot of time (and ingredients I don't readily have).

For instance, I completely forget about sandwiches. When I think of sandwiches, I think of deli meat and cheese. Ick. Or peanut-butter-and-jelly. Yum! but not healthy. But this book makes you think of yummy things like avocado and melted swiss and tomatoes (which I don't like but like the sound of), etc. And it's got clever ideas about getting fruit and veg in your diet if you're unaccustomed, like blueberries in your yogurt or kiwi and strawberries in your cereal. Yummy!

But. The Number One Best Idea this book has given me, or rather reminded me of, is pickles.

I used to freakin' LOVE pickles. But pickles aren't terribly popular here, aside from spreadable pickle which is basically a dark brownish-purple version of pickle relish, and dude, that's just wrong. But this book just mentioned pickles, and I was ready to change my whole life. In fact, it was on the pickles that made me finally decide to get off my butt and head for the supermarket to begin my new lifestyle. I was a bit worried that I wouldn't find any pickles in the supermarket, until I asked a guy unloading fabric softeners for help. He pointed me to aisle 4, Organic, Sauces, and something else (I want to say Chips, but that doesn't make sense). There at the end of the aisle was a modest corner labeled Pickles.

Most were sweet gherkins, which are okay, but not what I was salivatng for. Then, on the bottom row, I spotted the oversized jar that said The Great American Pickle. Bingo! I placed the jar in my trolley, and seriously, ya'll, I nearly skipped. And I kept thinking how not cool it would be to skip and how I'd totally have to explain myself to myself about the skipping, but even as I thought of how uncool skipping is, I still had to stiffen my legs to keep my feet from skipping. Pickles!!

Maybe you're thinking, "Pickles aren't, like, THE healthiest thing in the world, woman." No, they aren't. But dude. I've been without pickles for YEARS now and had completely forgotten how much I love them. Amanda and I used to stock UP on the pickles. I think we almost bought the enormous skating rink sized jars a few times before calming ourselves and realising there would be no room in the fridge for such a jar.

What else did I get, you ask? (I know, you didn't really, but I'm gonna tell you anyway!) I bought Danone Activia yogurts (kiwi and peach flavours), strawberries, blueberries, bananas, WeightWatchers malted rolls, WeightWatchers ginger and lemon cookies, Go Ahead apple bars (okay, so those aren't fantastic but I needed something for the flight) and of course, the pickles. And two £5 tank tops, what?

And the pickles - I fully intended to eat one when I got home, but I'd bought a new carton of milk and there was just a little left in the old one so I finished that off and by the time I drank that, I realised how totally gross a pickle would taste after milk.

Which makes this moment so much more special. I shall now crunch into the very first Great American Pickle:

* * * * * YUM! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! * * * * * *

Ok so they are SO NOT The Great American Pickle, as they are incredibly sweet and not dill-y at all, but they are so good anyway! And they compliment my Leicester cheddar sandwich on a malted roll perfectly!!

I think this kick is going to last about six pickles longer!

(The banana in my Sultana Bran (yes, Kellogg's over here calls it "Sultana Bran" instead of "Raisin Bran" because British people don't eat raisins apparently, nor do they eat grapes, but blackcurrants. Whatever.) and the handful of blueberries and strawberries made for a fantastic breakfast.)

100 Things I Love About My Husband: 71-80

As I clicked through my Bookmarks Bar this morning to read the (few) blogs that aren't access denied (but will be as soon as the "intelligent filter", ie the IT guys, discover them), I thought, "Man, these bloggers are BORING. No updates in, like, two days?" Then I realised I haven't updated in, like, two years, so I decided I better get off me bum and write something, anything.

One week today is Prizegiving. This, in laymen's terms, means the end of the school session. They have this big, showy private school-type ceremony (I suppose like all schools do to some extent) were they give kids "citizens' awards" and crap. And awards like these:



(...which I made, thanks.)

So the main point of this is to say that one week today will be my last day of work. Then I'm off to the States! I'll be spending two glorious weeks in Arkansas visiting family and friends, and ya'll, I can't wait. I don't know what it is, but once a date is set for visiting home, I suddenly become entirely homesick, whereas I'm fine the rest of the year when a trip isn't planned.

But the terrible thing is I'll be away from Scott that whole time. It hurts my wee heart. We've been apart before for short amounts of time but never two weeks, not since we married. It sucks! So I thought maybe I'd continue on with these:

100 Things I Love About My Husband: 71-80
71. He gets really annoyed at me when I call myself fat, because I'm "insulting [his] wife".
72. He's becoming a big help around the house.
73. He'll say "I love you" on the phone in front of his pals.
74. He lets me take the car to work, even though it's inconvenient for him.
75. He actually (for some unknown reason) thinks I'm sexy.
76. He likes to buy me presents for any old occasion. ("For going to work all week even though you had a cold" or "For sending off a poem to a competition")
77. He doesn't mind eating curry most nights of the week since it's the only thing I like.
78. He supports the right team.
79. He carries my shopping bags (even the ones that say La Senza and Ann Summers on them).
80. He loves his family and is very protective of everyone in it.


[edit] LOLZ, Lori is a noob and left an open bold tag. Fixed [/edit]