In Loving Color

I was drifting off to sleep the other night, mulling life. (This is how I accelerate the unwind/sleep process; I self-ponticate until I get so bored with myself that I drift off.) And I was trying to figure out the inane question "How My Life Has Changed". It's like "What I Did On My Summer Vacation", but not. At first, I approached the standard questions.
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"Do I Feel Different?" Yeeees. Although I feel pretty close, physically, to my old self, with much stronger arms.
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"Am I A Better Person?" Huh. Maybe? Maybe not? I didn't think I was that bad before. Now, I am mostly the same, with more occasional crazy* slipping out.

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*Eg: I got mad because the tin of tea fell off of the shelf in the pantry door & onto my head for like, the 16th time. So I picked it up, marched over to the door, & flung it into the backyard. Then I forgot about it. Until the fateful day when the man was out weeding. "I found this in the yard by the fence." I blushed & explained. "Why didn't you just move it to a different shelf after the first time?" "I never thought of it, that's why." Also, I am crazy around the edges.

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"Do You Have Any Regrets?" Der, of course; I regret not having bacon for breakfast, man. But, instead of dwelling on my bacon-less morning, I vow to have bacon, soon, & relish it thoroughly. I try to apply this to everything in my life. I also regret the horrible gurgling noise that just came out of Amoryn's diaper, & the smell that is even now wafting upwards. Think of bacon! Think of bacon!
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***brief break***
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"What Are You Most Thankful For?" Well, the wonderfully engineered poo-containing qualities of Huggies are close to the top of the list. The top two, though, are my big sweet baby, & my big sweet man. I'm also very glad and very very thankful that Amoryn is as sweet as she is & she's healthy as a rapidly growing miniature horse. That emotion becomes even stronger whenever I hear or read of others who aren't as lucky - this isn't schadenfreude, people; this is just recognition of how very lucky the man & I have been with our girl. If you need something to wake you up & make you realize just how much you have in life, I suggest reading the very courageous & heartbreaking blog of a mother of preemie twins, who loses one. Email me if you want the link - beautiful, heartwrenching.

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"What's The Worst Part?" Hm. The first thing I thought of is the dehydrating scent of tarragon, day three. But that's something I could inflinct on myself at any time, not particularily linked to motherhood. I think the worst part is trying not to be too hard on myself - I get tired, I get impatient, I cry... then I feel guilty for not being stronger, for not relishing every single minute I have with my girl, even if it is minute 1,432 of Howling Inconsolable Purple Faced Rage. Or I feel bad, because the man often bears the brunt of the crazy, and what happened to his regular wife? Who is this evil harridan?

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"What's The Most Irritating?" Endless reminders Not To Shake The Baby. I know, I know! The books, the magazines, the newsletters, the articles, the pamphlets... they all say not to. And I won't! And I tell my sitters not to! And I'm feeling guilty, just because I've recieved so much NTSTB literature, it must be something they think I could do! Ack!

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"What's The Best Thing?" Being a parent, duh; the answer is Amoryn! Amoryn! Amoryn! is the best! The next best part - watching the man be a dad. That rocks.

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Then my brain was all "Meh, enough, change the channel." And I was just drifting along, & I realized that it's like Amoryn has brought a new color into my life. My love & hopes & fears have changed how the world looks to me. It's all different now. Try to imagine a world where you hadn't noticed blue before. Then one day, whammo! There's blue everywhere! There's blue bowls, blue jeans, little blue flowers out in the yard. There's blue on the tv, in the quilt pattern, and blue in the shadows. And then there's the sky, man, my god, the sky. It's almost as mind blowing as my baby's blue eyes.

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That's "How My Life Has Changed".

Oh, all right,

I admit, every two weeks or so isn't the best track record for posting. But! My girl! She smiles, she's fun, she's sweet. As her dad says, "I can confidently say that she is the cutest baby since the beginning of time."

(And I reliably post pics every week or so, so really, who cares what I have to say? All we wants is baby pictures, prescious...)

Want some? Here's the Flickr link:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/7589857@N04/

And I've even found a site for posting videos of Amoryn - Vimeo - still not entirely sure how it works. And I wouldn't bother trying to watch them if you're in a dial-up world...

http://www.vimeo.com/user:208295/clips

That's all for now, going to go & do fun things with my girl!

Really.

The most astounding event of the day:

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Amoryn fell asleep at midnight, and I really believed her & went to bed myself at 12:30. She slept until 6:40 am. The man's alarm clock went off* before she did! Yay!
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Especially since she's being going through a phase/growth spurt where she howls in rage about many, many things when she is awake. Coupled with wanting food every 2 1/2 - 3 hours, with at least a zillion minutes (it seemed) of howling, angry, gum-bared, tongue-vibrating rage before, during, & after each meal. (I know maaaaany mothers have/had it much worse. I'm just trying to explain how exciting this sleep was.) (And Gramma Jeanne, who had 7 babies, did remark that she didn't remember any of her babies being like that.) (Of course, that was a while ago, and after the second or third baby, would you really be focused enough to remember? With the sleep deprivation & mutlitasking & all?) (And yes, we run through the hungry? dirty? burpy? farty? hot? bored? tired? routine. AND NONE OF IT, NOT EVEN GRIPE WATER, WORKS. The girls's just mad, is all, & has to let it out.) (But I digress.)

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Anyways! My beautiful girl gave me six hours of sleep! All in a row!

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We celebrated by having a nap together.

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(We don't co-sleep. Amoryn sleeps by herself nights in her crib, & days in her playpen or swing. But some mornings, forspecial, we nap together in the big bed.)

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*Sign me up for schadenfreude**, but DAMN, it felt good to watch somebody else get out of bed, because they had to, before I had to. Hahaha.

**scha·den·freu·de (noun) satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune.

Definitive Proof

I have a little girl.

The serger thread removes all doubt.

Hee Hee Hee!

I'm just downloading & organizing pics* to make a real, well written post. But until that arrives, I find this intensely entertaining:

(Imagine then as two frames in a video clip. Or like those pages from coloring books that you cut out & layer & then flip through real fast, to make a cartoon.)

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I may have spent too much time in the sun today.

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*Also, the camera is either the electronics version of Jesus Christ, or the cat-bath didn't hurt it. Either way, good. Although I'm not looking forward to meeting the electronic Pontuis Pilate. I bet he's a toaster.)

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And there are new pics on Flickr, see link on sidebar.

Oh Dear.

There has been an unfortunate vase/water/digital camera/cat incident, & I'm horribly afraid for both the camera & the cat... there can't be that much technology in the bottom 2.5mm of a camera, right? So sitting in a puddle of water won't hurt it, right? Ha. Haha.

This is where I feel I should begin wringing my hands, '50s housewife style, and saying "Dear, oh dear, WHAT is your father going to say when he gets home from work..."

The camera is currently drying on a pile of soft napkins. The cat is MIA, & I didn't actually witness the carnage, but we all know who likes to chew the tulip heads off of their stems...

Heads Up, Expectant Moms

Be poised, always, with vigilance, to click "BACK" or "CLOSE" when visiting a new website in a serious search for information. As I have learned before (to my chagrin, regret, & horror*), the Internet can show you many things. In particular, lactation porn. Ewww.

Not that I actually saw anything; but as the site loaded, I could tell from the banners etc that it was going to be one of "those" sites. So I clicked "Back!" "Close!" "Ack!", and was so scrambled that I forgot what the heck I was looking for in the first place.

*Years ago, I heard a teenage boy use a piece of slang I was unfamiliar with. My curiosity wouldn't let it go, & after I had polled all my girlfriends, I asked Google. Google could have just told me, but nooooo, it had to show me. *shudder*. Luckily, Liana introduced me to Urban Dictionary.com, which is a used-compiled dictionary of slang. There are many, many, many things described there, but at least there are minimal images.

Body Fluids Trifecta / "I'm Going To Have To Wash That"

Sadly, despite her best efforts, Amoryn did not win, place, or show in the Body Fluids Trifecta held yesterday. There was an initial strong performance with the suprise "Pee on Momma's Pants" move, executed with precision on the living room floor. This was followed by the equally unexpected "Spit a Mouthful of Undigested Milk into Momma's Nursing Bra". However, perhaps due to momma's increased vigilance, or Amoryn's lack of focus (she is only a month old), she neglected to spit up on any non-designated surfaces, thus failing to complete the third portion of the challenge.

Amoryn does win an Honorable Mention for her drive to soil laundry - she blew through three freshly laundered ensembles (two Amoryn's, one momma's).

Stay tuned for further tales of Sporting Baby Excellence.

One Month Ago...

One month ago, I was just getting into my bathtub, to remain there until 6 pm or so. While part of my brain knew that I'd have a baby to hold in my arms by the week's end (induction had been slated for Friday), a large portion of my brain was convinced that she was never leaving, and she would complete high school via braille correspondence through the skin of my belly.

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Turns out, Amoryn showed up that very day. The festivities commenced just after I got out of the tub, had a snack, & spoke to the midwives.

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"No, nothing. Maybe the odd twinge, but they've been happening all along. I'm going to go & have a nap, & then supper."

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I learned differently.... I laid down for the nap, & wow! Contraction city. Four & three quarter hours later, we had a baby. Huzzah! My darling girl had arrived!

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And with her arrival, she brought a lot with her. Some of which is an interesting array of noises, many that translate to the adult ear as "Waaa". (When really, it's "waa", "Wah", "WAAH!", etc.) I've gotten better at understanding, but I've also developed this list to check & diagnose issues:

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1) Diaper? Fusses, howls? Initial sniff test, peer in diaper, change diaper.

2) Hungry? Howls? Mouth open wide? Binky being rejected? Attempts to latch to father's arm? Offer boob.

3) Gassy? Which end?

3.a) Burpy? Fussy, fidgety, flaily, hungry but still savage despite breast? Burp in upright position.

3.b) Farty? Fussy, fidgety, flaily, stiff belly? Gently massage lower belly, bicycle legs, & lay baby on side. (Adult also has option of laying on side.)

4) Overtired? Fussy, fidgety, flaily, glaringly wide open eyes? Walk, stairs, dance, sing, celing fan, bathroom fan, stroller ride, car ride...

5) Bored? This is new. Still in early diagnosis. Propping upright seems to help.

6) Imaginary Goblins Pinching Baby? Tough one. The IG disappear once adult shows up, but takes time for poor baby to relax. Poor baby is also aggravated by misdiagnosing 1)-5).

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Not to say that all Amoryn does is cry & fuss, but if the crying & fussing isn't dealt with quickly, it escalates, and that makes it hard to savor the deliciousness that is our little mumbley girl.

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I get the biggest kick out of watching her wake up. (So far, anyways.) She screws up her face, stretches, & waves her arms, & in general, channels EXACTLY how I feel about waking up.

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She loves sunshine & ceiling fans. She is taking baths on advisement - the wailing has reduced and she might even deign to enjoy one in the future. She watches things more now, & smiles & chuckles in her sleep, and is starting to make eye contact. We're still waiting for the first full eye contact & smile, but that's okay. Judging by the sweetness of the sleeping smile, the real mccoy is going to knock my socks off & reduce me to a gibbering fool of a mama, trying to get her to do it again.

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I'm already a bit of a gibbering fool, truth be told. She's pretty hard to resist; Am's used her super baby powers to hypnotize parents, grandparents, cousins, & aunties alike. Even Pat's bachelor coworker seemed fascinated.

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All in all, she's fantastic. I wouldn't trade her for a million years, or even 8 hours of sleep all in a row. And for me, that's really saying something.

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I think she's waking up; gotta go & catch the show!

Raving Success!

I am enjoying a small moment of success, in that we a) had our morning nap, then Amoryn had her morning feed, then her morning bath (with only 1 howl! wow!), currently being followed by a post bath nap for the girl...

And then I had a shower! And breakfast! And cooked some stuff for supper! And it's only three in the afternoon! I feel like Tenzig Norgay, with Amoryn as a very small Sir Edmund Hillary. Of course, this glow of success is already being set up for disaster because the next stage is.... THE GROCERY STORE.... (cue ominous music). After she eats & is changed, of course.

I feel fairly optimistic; she had a growth spurt/meltdown day on Sat, so she is more likely to sleep well today & less likely to meltdown. Not a sure thing, of course, nothing I'd take to Vegas, but enough of a probability that I feel safe in attempting to go & get milk & muffin tins.

There she is now! Wish us luck!

Hey Internet, I've got a new girl now.

It's not that I love you any less, Internet, it's just that I love her more. The cats are getting used to it, I know you will too.

Amoryn Opal, now three weeks old! She's got a belly button & everything! She also has a killer case of baby acne, poor thing, so we may slow down on the photos, just foor her poor dignity.

As for all the standard how am I/Amoryn questions, for brevity's sake, allow me to post from emails:

Q: Who, what, where, when? How big, how long, how long?

A: Amoryn Opal, born at 11:28 pm April 4. (8lbs 8ozs, 21" long). Foothills Hospital, 4 3/4hours.

Q: ...what the phonics for pronouncing her name ...

A: ...it's A-mor-in. Or AM-rin, or the little squeaky wheel, who gets what she wants when she wants it - or at least, she gets what she wants, once we figure out what she wants.

Q: Pictures?

A: http://www.flickr.com/photos/7589857@N04/sets/72157600052068210/

Q: How am I feeling?
A: Started off with " Things are going well in the land of the sleep deprived;", moved to "but has really knocked me for a loop. The midwives had me on bedrest for the first 4 days, & I'm still pretty weebly. Improving though" once the adrenalin wore off. Stopped by "... marooned? Sleep deprived? Happy?", and have now settled into feeling physically & mentally very well, and have mostly gotten used to it being mama & babe during the day.

Q: How is Amoryn?

A: ...my girl is gorgeous & such a good baby, ...She's wonderful. And going for her nap,...

Q: How is the man doing with fatherhood?
A: Completely besotted with his girl. Fantastic. Wonderful.

And now, naptime!

At Least We're Not Having A Baby Elephant

Really. We were watching a PBS special, this is why I'm very glad we're not having a baby elephant:
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1) Gestation period - 18-22 months
2) Baby's weight at birth: about 250 lbs.
3) Baby's length - well, they're about three feet tall, not sure how long that would make them. Also? Does the trunk get included in the length measure or not?
4) Babies will drink about 3 gallons of milk a day.
5) Babies aren't fully weaned until they are about 10.
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Also, with a baby elephant, we'd either be in a zoo, meh, or in the wild, which is fraught with natural & human dangers. So all in all, I'm content that we're still carting around what appears via ultrasound to be a perfectly healthy human baby.
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On the other hand, baby elephants are adorable! The video of them learning how to use their trunks - too funny. The man chuckled.

What do we have, if not a baby elephant? Well, here is Pat with his prize from curling on St Paddy's day. His team got picked last for prizes. There wasn't much left, so he picked the classic & sophisticated 'frog with reflecting ball'.

I like it very much. Pat liked this photo of me - barefoot & pregnant. (I was wearing slippers with my housedress, but kicked them off, just for posterity's sake).

Here's a better belly profile, on a different day, but in the same housedress. (I admit, I was looking at the tv, not smiling for the camera.)

Here, I am wearing the same housedress, but I've got my bathrobe on over top. The kitten has been unusually snuggly & an (almost) perfect model of catly goodness.

Suki has also been very good - I deemed him my surrogate baby, as he was curled into such a nice little ball.

And I rewarded his surrogate baby-hood with dumping him into the baby sling I'd made for a test-drive. Suki didn't seem to know quite what to make of things, but overall, he approved. (He's purring in this pic.)

I wasn't as struck with that version of the sling, so I've revamped it. No photos of that yet.

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And now, now I am going to go! And accomplish something! Something like, um, maybe getting out of my bathrobe & into real clothes! Ha!

Ooh, so high-tech!

I've created a "flickr" account, which is basically an online photo album.

Eventually, there will be baby pictures there. And other stuff too. For now, there is the belly progression.

This is the link that you click on:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/7589857@N04/sets/72157600037344442/

I'll post a new link here whenever I update something nifty.

Like baby pictures. Or something.

The (clay) baby is home!

Yes indeed, our clay projects from prenatal classes have been fired, glazed, & fired again. We now have a lovely little clay baby, & a labyrinth that I'll likely use as a trivet to put my teapot full of raspberry leaf tea on. Thanks to cousin Ty for his help.

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The raspberry leaf tea? Yes, we're still waiting for that darn baby. The babe is fine, just slow, and on Monday (assuming we're still pregnant at that point), we'll trundle to an ultrasound lab & check to make sure that the babe is hale & hearty & some other stuff that the midwives explained but I already forget. Essentially, making sure that the fish & the fishtank are both still sound & stable.

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I had intentions of posting pics of the clay baby & labyrinth, however, I've again been foiled by my camera. Shame. I was also going to put up a picture of the excessively awesome meal that the man & I made the other night - I made fresh egg noodles, which he cooked with scallops & tiger prawns in a garlic-infused olive oil. It totally rocked. Of course, the photo wouldn't do it justice anyways. Too bad smell-o-vision never took off - that would give you more of an inkling of the splendour.

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I was also going to post a pic of my increasing profile. As noted, my camera foiled me, so here is a quick self-portrait.

Now I'm going to go & further hone my stunning artistic skills.

Overtime has Begun!

Yes, there is still no baby. And if you call the house, there is still no baby. I even went & checked in the baby's room; still no baby. We're only in our first day of being overdue, which, for my time sense, is practically on time, really, so... maybe there will be a baby later today. Or tomorrow. Rest assured, I promise we'll call when we do find that darned baby.

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Yesterday's funniest event:

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me: "Gee it's super nice. Come help me hang the big hammock up."

the man: "But you can do that yourself."
me: "Yes, but I can't move the planters that are underneath where the hammock should be."
the man: "Oh. Right."

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So we hung the hammock, in the lovely sunlight, & I thought we had it set at about the right height. I cautiously clambered onto the hammock. At the moment the man cautions me not to hurt myself, to be careful, my full weight hits the hammock.

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And I slowly, majestically, sank to the ground. And started laughing. Was it the first hammock stretch of spring that got me? Or the unanticipated extra poundage that screwed with my idea of the appropriate hammock arc?

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Regardless of why my arse hit the brick deck (slowly, majestically), the only harm possible would be a) laughing myself into a hernia b) spraining my ego, or c) trying to get up by myself.

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Luckily, the man helped haul me up. I was still laughing. He thinks I've cracked. We readjusted the hammock & the second run was much more successful.

Regulation Time: 2 Days...

Yes indeed, that's a sports reference. Overtime starts on Sunday.

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I'm well, the man is well, the kid is bigger & stronger every day, just mulling when to make the grand entrance, I suspect. I keep mentioning that there's lots of room out here in the world for all the kicking & arm waving, but so far, still reviewing options.

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Speaking of options, there's all the endless things I can do with my days! So far, I've done quite a bit of sewing, a little baking (you all remember the cookies), a little cooking, cleaning, of course, and a little knitting.

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What did I knit? Well, I made these little mitties so the baby won't be scratching the baby's face with the baby's wee sharp fingernails. (I'm not feeling clever enough to refer to the baby in alternating pronoun genders today, thus, as you may have noticed: third person! The bayyyyyy-bee!)

I find them quite hilarious. Of course, I'm a little more into tattoo culture than some of you: other "knuckle tatt" options included: "ROCK" & "ROLL", "KNIT" & "PURL", "LEFT" & "LEFT". The last one is especially funny if you've ever tried to paddle a canoe or drive through a strange city with me. ("I mean the other left! Crap!")

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What have I sewn? I can't remember. Lots of stuff, all baby oriented. Today's completed project is essentially a big hairnet for the playpen to keep the cats & bugs out. I had something more high-tech & engineered in mind, more tent-fly-like, with zippers & other moving parts, but as I was preparing to commit to that course, it occured to me: a big hair net will be just as effective & much easier & quicker to sew. Thus, hairnet.

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You'll just have to imagine it; I'm using my little (free) (crap) camera, instead of the man's good Canon, as the Canon is getting a little dodgy with the opening & closing of the lens cover. Still takes brilliant pics, but after how many years & vacations, the camera is clearly feeling that it needs some servicing. Reasonable enough; we promise to take it in. After the baby shows up. Until then, we're not using the Canon, & well, I can't hold still in a bright enough light to take a decent playpen hairnet photo with the L.F.C.C.

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(And just to keep the Canon from getting too high & mightly, we've borrowed the man's coworker's super-ultra-mega-snazzy-camera, in case the Canon craps out. Of course, I'm terrified of the S.U.M.S.C., so that's why I put batteries into my L.F.C.C. )

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AND I'm going to put film into the real camera - how's that for kickin' it old school?

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And I'm going to go & eat something. Too bad I can never think of clever closing segues; you'll just have to suffer! Oh wait - a clever clsoing segue that involves suffering! Hah! And also starts with "and"! I can hear english major's brains exploding! Wheee!

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And here's a third person play-by-play: Kourtney (baby included) will be going upstairs, to peruse the fridge, & then Kourtney (baby included) will be eating either leftover lasagna, soup, a fruit/yogurt smoothie, or something else! And the crowd goes wild!

More Bad Habits

All right. I like America's Next Top Model. I love it. I might marry it, but a) I'm already married, & b) they haven't had any polygamists on the show (YET). I get a rush of irrational glee over it. It's so... so... trite? Superficial? Staged? Ridiculous? The man does not even remotely comprehend why I enjoy it so. "It's not even 'reality' tv", he says. That's totally its charm - there's nothing realistic at all about this. I honestly didn't think that there was anything out there that could possibly heighten my enjoyment of ANTM, but I was wrong. You remember the guy who took the funny pictures of his cat? He 'reviews' each episode of ANTM.

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If you've never seen ANTM, you could probably skip this. If you are deeply offended by ANTM, skip this too. If you find Tyra's judgements of the skinny pretty girls weirdly compelling & addictive, check it out:

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http://fourfour.typepad.com/fourfour/2007/03/prude_awakening.html#more

Things That Have Impressed or Entertained Me, Lately

This is, of course, not an exhaustive list. And has no cohesive narrative.

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First: The pinking wheel for my rotary cutter. As God is my witness, I'll never use pinking shears again!* Really. This gratified & amused me.

*delivered with Scarlett O'Hara accent.

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Next: The mortgage burning party! It was awesome fun, well attended, & we only had a lot of leftover food, not a ton. (Excluding the liquids - we don't need to buy hard liquor, mix, or beer for quite some time. Where are all of our hard drinking friends??? Right... Saskatchewan...)

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This is the mortgage, burning. (The mortgage had been tucked into the dessicated arms of our Xmas tree. Hence the inferno effect. Let this be a cautionary tale - check your real Xmas tree's water at least TWICE A DAY when it's inside!!!)

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And here is Pat & I, laughing in relief that the tree did not light the house on fire. Because that would not have been funny. Ironic, yes, but not funny at all.

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As well. This is me, in a sundress that my mom made in '76 or '77, to wear over either my younger brother or I. Of course, if it was '76, for myself, then she wore it over both of us. At any rate, it was plumb GORGEOUS on Sunday, so I sat on the deck in the sun for quite some little time.

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Eh, what's that? You can't see my belly very well in that photo? Hard to tell if the kid has dropped? Well. Here you go then, this is from yesterday:

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And no, it's not a plastic belly - the gleam is because of all the various body butters that I carefully smoosh onto my belly two to three times a day.

See? No stretch marks.

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Now, I'm going to go & do some filing, which while not exactly enthralling, does keep me sort of entertained. It's better than daytime tv, & it makes the man happy.

Dear S_____,

Hi! I hope you are having lots of fun in Turkey with your dad. The emails sound like you are; congrats on not mowing down anything alive in your attempts to find your hotel.

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I have to get something off my chest. You can never, ever leave the country again and at the same time leave me the recipe for your "Dad's Chocolate Chip Cookies".* You see, I miss you, & so last night, I made a double batch. I must say, I knew how long this would take. I made approximately 6 mazillion (or at least 9 dozen) cookies last night.

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The problem is that I'm eating them. Lots of them. Often. With joy. I shudder to admit to the people who read this blog & will scold me, but I've eaten a serious quantity of them. But they're so good! And they've got more oatmeal than flour! And I used whole wheat spelt flour! And dark chocolate! Which makes them practically health food! And coconut, which has to be good for something too!**

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Except that even allowing for all of those "good" things, I still shouldn't eat more than a dozen in any 24-hour period, and well, I'm jonesing. If you were in phone reach, I could at least call you, & think of some way to rationalize increasing my cookie ration, or get you to talk me down.
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But you're not. So at home I sit, with my weak will & at least 7 dozen cookies left (I sent a dozen to the man's office). I miss you. Come back soon. If you're in time, there may be cookies left...

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Love,
K.

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*Really, you being out of the country has nothing to do with this. It's more um, well, okay. It's me. It's all me. And now, with the cookies, there's a lot MORE me.

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**I'm not even going to talk about the cookie dough that I ate. Gleefully.

Oh, If I Knew How,

I would totally be doing this to pictures of the cats. Possibly pictures of myself, the man, & anything else that wanders by too.

My favorite is the mean bunny rabbit/even meaner bunny rabbit.

http://fourfour.typepad.com/fourfour/2007/02/faces_of_winsto.html#more

(And in case you suspected, yes, that's the noise of nothing really noteworthy to blog about. Although I did pick up some cute hand towels from Winners with to kidify the upstairs bathroom. Housewife, you say? Why yes! I had just returned a purchase of my husband's at Costco...)

Developments, Large & Small...

So! I'm finally on mat leave, so exciting. I had a nap today, & I took the man out for an EXCELLENT italian supper last night to celebrate.

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I'm sure there's a clever segue I could use, but I can't think of it, so here's some belly pics.

Does that portray the belly clearly enough? No? Well then:

I particularily like how my arm looks like it's about 10 inches long altogether, & wider than my head. Oh well. And those are from a week ago, so the next post will feature a newer belly pic.

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I think we're sort of all together & ready for the baby. Prenatal classes are done, I'm not going to the office anymore, I am increasingly bulky & awkward, and I went & got the itty-bitty baby diapers that newborns require.

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They're tiny. Here's a 1L jug of milk wearing it, with a roll of duct tape. I could say that the duct tape was included for scale purposes, but it honestly didn't occcur to me to move it. That's all. Thus, "Still Life of Milk in Diaper with Duct Tape".

My pregnancy addled brain is enjoying the irony of this - the diapers will eventually be filled with products created from milk! Ha ha ha! No cows milk, of course - I know. No cow's milk for the baby until for least a year.

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I'm off to create more art now! I promise I will try & post more now that I'm not looking at a computer 9-5 (well, 8:30 - 5, ish), M-F. I can't guarentee I'll have anything to say, but that'll be the subject of another day, right??? Right!

"Clay Sculpture Night At Prenatal Class"

Really, the title does say it all. Last night, at prenatal class (#3/8, we brought the snacks), we learned some pain coping mechanisms, some physiological things about the act of birth, and we made clay labyrinths.

Sorry, labORinths. (Their spelling.)

Now, I know some of the women in the class are embracing this wholeheartedly as a paradigm to encompass their experience of becoming a mother, but I sadly could not subscribe to the idea of tracing the labyrinth as a metaphor for anything. Yes, it was a little diverting. I guess I'm just not that New Age. I was filtering out the mumbo jumbo & having fun getting OCD with the clay. I let the man roll the clay flat & create the shape, but I was in charge of finishing. The man got the trimmed bits off of the edge & made a baby out of it. And also the occasional sotto voce smart ass remark.

I wrapped the baby in moist paper towel & the labORinth & the baby up each in saranwrap. Now they're sitting safely in the microwave, and we are so going to kiln those. I think the labORinth may have more of a future as a trivet than a device for labor.

The pain coping things were good though - there's lots of good information wrapped up in the emotions. What I'm finding most interesting is how everyone else seems to feel about the whole thing - there's a ton of FEAR out there, my goodness! And not just little fear, but big, monster hiding under the bed, world is going to END fear. And some of the ladies in my class should be really congratulated because they're taking steps to deal with & confront their fears.

Of course, scheduling an elective caesarian is also taking steps to deal with fear. And really, who am I to talk? I'm afraid of goldfish.

All right, the kid has just given me the series of kicks that I interpret as "You've been sitting up way to long, Mama, go lay down because I like the night life, I want to boogie."

Why so stabby? Well...

If I ever catch or hear of ANY of you not offering your seat to a pregnant lady, especially a pregnant lady with mulitple bags, on the extremely crowded early morning train, I will skin you alive with a pair of baby nail-clippers.

Which I guess isn't exactly stabbing, but still.

I love the color.

I really do. I've got the paint swatch in my purse, & I stop in to the baby's room at different times through the day to see how the color looks in different lights. We still need to get a mattress for the crib, of course. And a baby monitor. I'm mulling my options for nightlights too. And there's some furniture that I want to grab from Ikea as well.
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Some, perhaps all, maybe even those & MORE! things are scheduled to be accomplished on Saturday. I was leaning towards having individual after-work missions, & gathering things an item at a time. However, the man voted to "just do it Saturday". So we're going in for the mass item hunt - we'll be stampeding baby accoutrements over the edge of the nearest cliff, we will. I wasn't sure it was a good idea, but as a) he agreed to go shopping & b) agreed to go shopping, I'm just going to go with plan "Buffalo Jump".

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And of course, here is a picture of the baby's room - in the interests of keeping the suspense going for Mom & Dad, we've taken camera technology WAY back, & carefully removed the color from each & every pixel in this image. (Well no. The man set the camera to black & white. He actually showed me how to do it to, but given my brain's state these days, I'm pretty sure I'll just get him to do it again, as opposed to me getting lost in the maze of options & setting the camera so it only responds to Portugese. Or something.)
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But I digress! The baby's room, ta-dah!

I really do love the color. I like it in the morning, & in the afternoon - I like it in the evening, underneath the moooon....

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I haven't sat in the chair & rocked my belly yet though. I'm saving that for a day when I need a treat.

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Speaking of treat, we began pre-natal classes last night - we had worked ourselves into a frenzie of hippie paranoia about the whole thing. Oh my god, we said. Eight classes at two & a half hours each? My god. Initial portents were ominously drum circle - our first task (after name tags, which I was glad of - like I'm going to remember ANYONE's name) was to "take some pastels & do a quick sketch of what our image of labour is".

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I carefully avoided Pat's eyes, & thought "Crap! I paid for these! I signed us up! Crap!"*. We each drew pictures & then journalled briefly about what the image meant to us.
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Neither of us wrote "Strike ONE against team hippie." Turns out this was a wise choice, as we turned them in at the end of class.

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Thankfully, the whole thing improved, & my man even said "That wasn't so bad." It really wasn't. Stay tuned, I'll be sure to let you know what we do next week.

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I'm going to go & see if I can teach my serger Portugese. Actually, it's more likely to teach ME Portugese - there are languages in the manual that I don't even recognize. Could be Aramaic, for all I know.

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*-And today, I read a blog that made me feel MUCH better about my goofy prenatal class - check it out; she's a Brit & does swear some, be warned.

http://yetanotherbloomingblog.blogspot.com/2006/10/hippies-at-three-oclock.html

Holy Cat, A New Post!

Other new things (in reverse chronological order):

1) A new color in the baby's room. The man painted it today, & it covered - in one coat! - the noxious picky/mauvey/purple the previous owners had painted it for their little girl. Now, I'm not going to say what color we did pick... but it's very vibrant & I'm pleased by it. But don't assume we're having a boy just because we painted over the pink. If we have a daughter that wants that pink, then we would certainly support her in that. Of course, that particular shade of pink would require a direct request, pleading, etc.

2) New kitchen appliance - waffle iron. Screaming waffle iron, actually - I'm not sure where steam is escaping from, but it consistently creates a high pitched whistle that makes it seem more like I'm boiling lobsters that cooking waffles. I'm sure the waffles don't enjoy it any more than the lobsters, it's just that they're not usually so vocal about it.

3) The last trimester! Yes indeed, time flies when you're gestating. It's been going splendidly. I'm beginning to be exceedingly curious about the Fishy, & what color his eyes will & hair will be, & what kinds of personality trais she'll have from me or her dad or nowhere in particular ("My family doesn't do that!" "Don't look at me - neither does mine!")

3) New Year! Yes, it came, it went, we went out for a marvy supper where people kept missing the fact that I was pregnant. Maybe understable in dim lighting with a front view, but if you catch the side view in a well lit bathroom, it's pretty hard to mistake the bump for "Oh my, that poor woman has already filled up on breadsticks!"

Of course, you REALLY can't miss it in when I'm my pjs. After a big meal.


4) My new job - I am (apparently) the hostess of the All-Night Dance Party, starring Fishy Robinson doing his interpretaion of soft shoe tapdancing, the electric boogaloo, the slide, the shuffle, the charleston, and pretty much everything else, too.

5) Xmas! Xmas had many fabulous things, with most of my arm waving being elicited by the team of co-cahooters, Pat, & Sarah & Coreen. Sarah & Coreen got me a Kitchenaid mixer, & Pat got me a Pfaff serger!!! If you are even the least bit foggy about either machine & what wonders it possesses/can accomplish, please feel free to call & listen to me burble. Assuming that I quit making waffle batter or sewing polar fleece for long enough to answer the phone, that is.
Other good Xmas-ey things - the man got a router, with bits & books too. And he got a case of his favorite blueberry jam, too. So now I can make scones guilt-free ("Do you know how far we have to drive to get more of that????"). And I did. Using the mixer. And they were tasty.

6)My birthday - yes indeed, I'm now all of thirty years old. The kid removed the "drink to celebrate not being any wiser" option for my birthday, so I endorsed the "If one dessert is good, then two would be better, & three would be totally awesome!!!" plan. (Staggered over 8 hours, of course. With a fantastic meal at the Osteria de Medici interspersed as well.) The kid approved, although the next morning was quite quiet. I was a little concerned, & then realized awww, the baby's having it's first sugar hangover! Awwww!

7) The kitten's first Xmas tree - I'd forgotten that any cat's first Xmas is accompanied by sever beating until said beastie realizes that although that may LOOK like one big, sparkly cat toy, it is NOT FOR CATS TO TOUCH. No real disaster - & I suppose it is good practice for next year, when we will need to tie the tree to the ceiling.

And that's all that I can think of - and I'm hungry now, to boot. So, prepend the notes above with "supper", & that's me, caught up until 6:09pm.

Things That Came Out Of My Mouth Yesterday:

Whilst chatting with Lisa, my coworker, in the morning, I mentioned that Pat was out of town until Thursday afternoon.
L: "Where’s he going?"
K: "He’s driving up to… uhhh.. uhh.. um… Big town, *point*, Regina, no, umm."

Lisa is watching me as I flounder.

K: "Uhhhh...ah, uh..."

Lisa is blinking in disbelief.
K: "Edmonton! He’s going to Edmonton!"
L: "Oh my god."

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That afternoon: "Trick-Question" Lisa asks how long Pat & I had been together.
K: "Umm. Uh. Um."

L: "Oh my god."
She even tried to trigger my memory - counting Xmases, etc… nothing. I had to call Pat & ask him. 2003. That’s how long we’ve been together.

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I was also ranting to a coworker who has several children, & is in the "my wonderful grand-baby!**" stage of life.

K: "Why did no one tell me that pregnancy involves so much farting???"

C: *GALES of laughter*

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So. Be aware. I am neither as smart nor as tactful as I used to be. I suspect that the man has already noticed & is just not saying anything. Wincing, maybe, but not commenting.

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*Lisa would like to note that she was not asking trick questions. I have to admit that she wasn’t; it was a perfectly natural conversation. UNTIL MY BRAIN GAVE OUT!

**Lucky woman. She's more than paid her dues.

Hm. Interesting.

Well, today was Day 1 with the new bra. There was (thankfully) no Tony Sporano, Bettty Page, OR Sears Catalogue ca. 1954.

Instead, it put me in mind of walking somewhere as a very small child, hand in hand with my grandmother.

Why? Who knows. Maybe it was that feeling of unconditional, yet slightly old-fashioned support.

Or I could be crazy.

Time will tell :)

Trauma. Trauma trauma trauma.

Okay dad, you might not want to read this, because this post is all about bras. My bras. And it's a LONG post too. I wonder if this is part of becoming a mother - an extended post on bras is the first step on the slippery slope to discussing, with excitement, my child's stool. (And if you think I'm talking about furniture, I won't correct you. YET.)

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All right. Today's Traumatic Pregnancy Experience was bra-shopping. Backstory - my favorite bra comes from Victoria's Secret. I import my bras. Yes I do. Or I will make arrangements with people (my husband, friends in Edmonton, random travelers) to bring me home bras from their vacations. Early on in the pregnancy (like, 11 weeks?), I got a fave in a larger size on spec. I hadn't realized that I had been wearing that bra nonstop for the last, umm, while, until it clicked that I hadn't laundered it since it had come home from the store.

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Of course, my horror at that moment centered on the fact that I'd been wearing an item of clothing - an INTIMATE item of clothing - without washing it for at least a month. Maybe two. *shudder* Another step on a different slope, I'm sure... So I washed it.

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It wasn't until I was at work the next day that what I'd done started sinking in. Or should I say sawing in? My new favorite bra (NFB) was still damp, so I had just thrown on my old favorite bra (OFB)...

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The OFB had obviously been brooding in the basket system I use for my knickers. "Look at her!" it would think. "She's wearing THAT ONE again!" And while I cavalierly ignored my OFB's emotions, it began to hatch a plan. A cunning, fiendish, PAINFUL plan.

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At approximately 9 am, after I had been wearing the OFB for approx 2 hrs, it began to be uncomfortable. At 10 am, the OFB began to try to cut me in half, like some misguided & sadistic stage magician. At 11:45, I hightailed it to several bra stores, with well-endowed bra-wise coworker in tow, in the hopes of finding a new bra, a different bra, just some kind of bra that was not cackling in glee every time I inhaled.

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I didn't find any that day. I did try on at least 47 bras, ranging in price from the clearance rack $3.99 special, to the "I didn't even care, if it fits I'll buy it." Styles varied from skimpy to nursing to matronly. It was like the life cycle of the western woman, I tell you. And of course, nothing fit. .I realized that I didn't know when the Titty-Fairy was going to stop by again either. So I decided to buy a back extender, tough out the day, & not buy any more bras until the NFB was beginning to be uncomfortable.

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Thursday morning, I finally couldn't deny that yea, my cups were runnething over. And not just in a beguiling cleavage way. No, there was underarm boob-spooge too. .And so today, today I bravely set forth to Wal-Mart to find a new bra. Maybe two, one in black, one in white? Not too expensive, because really, that Titty-Fairy, she's a sarcastic woman on the OFB's payroll, & if I spent too much on the bras, I was guaranteed a growth spurt in no time. I knew that Wal-Mart would not be like VS, but that would almost maybe be okay - at least there would be less pink, less chrome, less expectations. I was doing pretty well with the whole endeavor - I selected several handfuls of bras, & with laden arms went over the change rooms. And then it all fell apart...

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Wal-Mart Lady #1: "How many items do you have?"

Me: "I don't know, there's, um, well..." The bras, of course, had wound themselves into a knot around my hands, the hangers, & themselves. It was like a Gordian knot with support & underwire.

W-ML#1: "You can only take six in the change room at one time. How many do you have?"

Me: "I have, well, I have, erm.." The bras were resisting any attempt to fall into rank & file to be counted.

W-ML#1: "Here. " The lady points me to a change room, and then stood over me to ensure that a) I counted the bras & b) I took no more than 6 in the change room. (Impressive, considering that she was at least a foot shorter than me.) The change room had no bench, no shelf, no welcoming hooks... The Gordian bra released one hand, so I tried to start counting them out. I was flustered, & had hoped that Wal-Mart would have some kind of counter I could set the bras, my purse, & my bag full of maternity panties on... but no. I tried to set down my bag, my purse, & my winter jacket. I tried to hang half the knot onto the tiny hook on the outside of the door, in order to free up, well, my arms? My ability to count & untangle knots? Of course, the hooks had been paid off by the OFB, and thus that knot of bras hit the floor. So did my jacket, my purse, & my bag. In a flush of irrational rage, I dumped the other half of the bras on the floor.

W-ML#1: "You use hook!"

Me: "I'm pregnant & I need a new bra & I don't know what size I am anymore and..." Of course, during this sentence, I had sunken to my knees to try & count the bras that I had just willfully strewn on the floor. Once I was kneeling on the Wal-Mart dressing room floor, the enormity of the moment hit me, & I dissolved into tears. (What enormity, you ask? I'm pregnant, I'M enough enormity at any given moment.)

W-ML#1: "Oh, oh, oh, are you ok?"

Me: "I don't know what size I am anymore... I... *sniff*"

W-ML#1: "It's okay, just take six in at a time." (Exit stage right.)

Me: "*sniff*. *sniff sniff*."

Wal-Mart Lady #2: (the heavy) "Is there a problem here?"

Me: (close to a wail) "I'm pregnant & my bra doesn't fit & I need a new one & I don't know what size I am & there are no hooks & I know I only can take in six and...."

W-ML#2, accurately assessing that I am not a violent threat, attempts to reassure me. "That's the great part about being pregnant, isn't it? Getting bigger?"

Me: *blink*

W-ML#2: "I mean your boobs, right? Getting bigger? Isn't that great?" (Yes, she actually said that. Out loud. In the change room. Of the Wal-Mart.)

Me: *sniff* "Yeah." (Same tone of voice that I used to use when listening to Mom put some trivial world-ending thing into perspective.)

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(Somebody hit that little dingy bell they use in boxing, eh? )

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Round one: I had 27 items in that first round. (The speed elimination round.) That was actually 31 bras, because I so counted the 2 three-pack sports bra as one item. Bras, 28 failures. Kourtney, 4 maybes.

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Round two: I collected 8 boxed bras, & another 9 hanger bras, in addition to the slip & the 4 maybes from round one. W-ML#2 was very sympathetic, & gently informed me that boxed bras had to be taken out before I could try them on. (I didn't even realize that that's an ironic statement until just this second.) She let me pile my "keeper" items in her little workroom, AND she let me take all 9 hanger bras in at one time! AND she unboxed the boxed bras for me, because "I was alone." She was right. I was alone, alone in the valley of the shadow of breast. Bras: 15 failures. Kourtney: 1 yes, 1 maybe.
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Round three: Further refinement. Attempted some nursing bras. (Wal-Mart has a WAY better selection that Sears!) Bras: 6 failures. Kourtney: 1 bra, 3 soft sports-bra type things, & an overwhelming sense of shame. Some poor Wal-Mart minion is going to have to put the rejected 54 bras back..So the bra - it's not too bad, really. (Realizing of course, that my standards have slid dramatically in the last 6 hours.) It's black, has wide shoulder straps, the ribcage is secure, features some lace, & my girls, well, they are not excessively bullet shaped. It is the first time in my life I've ever worn a bra that is even remotely like this, and honestly, it's still in its box, lying on my bed. I'm intimidated. My only comfort is the new bra is going to scare the bejeebers out of the OFB. I've got the mafioso Bettie Page of bras, I do.
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And with luck, I will be able to channel Bettie Page more than Tony Soprano OR the Sears Foundation Garment section circa 1954. I'll let you know.

Oh look, a computer monitor!

How shockingly similar to the rest of this week!

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It has been a busy week at work. Which is very nice, but after slaving over a hot computer all day, it does sort of short-circuit the desire to come home & hit the ol' keyboard again...

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The weekend was wonderful, chock full of meat & little girls. Actually, it was little girls, meat, little girls.

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Sound confusing? Well, the man & I whipped home to pick up one half of one cow & one half of one pig that Dad had cut up into assorted pieces for us. Every time I turn around these days, I find more adult questions that I know the answers to... "How do you want your pig done?" "Well, pork chops are so thick, roasts are so big, side pork please, & extra meaty ribs, trim is breakfast sausage." Amazing. So that was the meat.

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The little girls were A's - Z, D, & L were at Mom's, and yea, verily, they made a joyful noise unto the heavens. L was very huggy, in bewteen running around & around & around, D was quite taken with brushing & styling my hair (*wince*), and Z was kicking back all cool like. I think the man saw/heard them all & thought "Let's have at least six little people! So we can get twice that noise!!!"*

This one is still being quiet, volume-wise, but is starting to make his presence known. The occasional gentle little flutters are turning into more regular nudge-like movements... and out & out pokes can't be far away. That's okay, according to my little update book, she weighs one pound this week! Amazing! I know my belly has certainly pushed itself into the world the last couple weeks - I blame the get fat weekend. Or maybe the kid. I'm really quite pleased with my belly. Yesterday, I took my belly button ring out, which I'm sure relieves Mom - she winces every time she sees it. So now, I have a naked & expanding belly button.

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Pictures will be posted over the weekend - it's Pat's Xmas party in Edmonchuk, so I may even remember to get a photo of myself in my fabulous & pretty Xmas dress! With my fabulous & pretty husband! (AKA: the father)

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PS: Speaking of fabulous, the beef roast that the man did in the slow cooker was fantastic. Tender, tasty, awesome. D, can you please pass the good word on to Dad?

*-Ha ha ha ha ha.

Get down! Get funky with your fat self!

All right. My fat self, with a belly picture from Nov 8th - I swear, it's grown since then:
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Hm. Or maybe not. The picture, I mean, not the belly. I spent all of my patience today at work, resisting the urge to throttle ______ in the name of _____, because really, it's a bit far to expect that I will be contect with ______ after ______. Because of this, no belly picture today, but instead, the only picture that the interweb & my computer seem to see fit to upload.

One of my favorite photos from all weekend. Sarah working her rolling pin magic on gingerbread dough (batch 2). The fat weekend was wildly successful, chock full of sugar, spice, & everything nice. Also, some martinis for my girls. (And by that, I mean Liana & Lisa & Coreen. Not some reference to my chestal area. I talked enough about them a couple posts ago. And also, I think I will be talking about them again sometime soon. But not today. No, today is pure, clean, good old fashioned Betty Crocker. With some martinis. But not for me. I drank 8-10 glasses of water a day & juice & milk.)

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Huh. Still no luck with the images. Oh well, another day... Here, as a sop, is a brief & incomplete list of the fat weekend's production:

2 batches nuts & bolts (Donna's recipe, tweaked)

2 batches nutty choc chip cookies (Kourtney's recipe)

2 batches "dad's" choc chip cookies (Herman's recipe)

2 batches sugar cookies (Chatelaine ca 1965, slightly tweaked)

1 batch gingersnaps (Gramma Rouse's recipe)

1 batch gingersnaps (someone Sar know's recipe)

1 batch peanut butter caramel squares (Donna's recipe, but I suspect a creation of Satan or at the very least some nefarious Bond villain)

1 scone (mom's recipe, tweaked)

1 batch pecan praline shortbread (Bev the exec admin asst's recipe)

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Also, last night, window cookies for Dad.

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I feel like I'm forgetting something in the list, but after so many hours of bake time, it all blends into a bit of a blur. And speaking of blur, it's time to sign off! Later, with hopefully more pics.

It's Starting...

This is just the beginning.

The beginning of a wonderful, wonderful thing...
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The Get Fat Weekend: Bakin' One For The Team. When Sar & I do all of our Xmas baking.
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Stayed tuned for more images, descriptions, recipes, & reviews... (Incidentally, people at work still are coming up to me & saying "You're preganat? What?" in a sincere way.) And I've been scolded to eat more vegetables, but not that I've gained too much or too little weight. We'll be working on that over the weekend. Recipes include pecan shortbread, gingerbread men, sugar cookies, nts'nbolts, challah bread, popcorn balls, etc etc.

Awwwwwwwwww....

Is the baby cute? YUP!
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We know that for sure, and also - WE KNOW! WHAT THE BABY IS!!! (APART FROM CUTE!!) And Pat & I are so excited. Not that we weren't before, of course. Don't worry, I'm not going to spoil it by telling you over the Internet!
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PLEASE NOTE: My parents DO NOT WANT TO KNOW WHAT THE BABY IS. DO NOT SAY ANYTHING TO THEM IF YOU KNOW THE FLAVOR OF BABY.
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And now! To the adorable baby pics!

The above is the traditional 2D. Below is the 3D - it reads back from the surface, instead of reading the density of various parts. So above, the bones look white, liquid is black, etc. This is the baby's face.

It was really fascinating. And educational. I learned way more from our private ultrasound appointment (even discounting the boy/girl info) than at the other ultrasound. And now we have a video - of Sim (Symbiote) the Fish Robinson swimming around!
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Man, what an active baby. I saw it, I can feel flutters now, and they're growing more insistent. I'm not sure how long until the baby will graduate from "flutter" to "shove".
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And, like the last image from the ultrasound was labelled,

"GOOD BYE FOR NOW!"

a-hem. Presenting the cravings variety hour...

To open, may I present, Calendar Girl!
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I love, I love Old Dutch ketchup chips.
Yeah……. Ketchupy chips.
I love, I love Old Dutch ketchup chips.
Each & every chip in the bag.
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On Monday, well then there’s ketchup…
On Tuesday, well you know there’s ketchup too..
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And our headliner, the Police, singing Roxanne!
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Ice cream... You don’t have to put on your lid tonite,
You’re almost empty, you won’t go back to the fridge tonite.
Ice cream... you don’t have to put on your lid tonite,
Get all cold & frostburnt, you don’t care if it’s wrong or right.
Ice cream... You don’t have to put on your lid tonite,
Ice cream... You don’t have to put on your lid tonite,
Ice cream... You don’t have to put on your lid tonite,
You don’t have to put on your lid tonite,
Ohhhhh.
Oh so sweet & fudgey…
Even though you make me pudgy… I have to tell you just how I feel,
I’m won’t share you with another boy.
You know my mind is made up,
To lick the ice cream in the bowl up
Told you once, I won’t tell you again,
I’m going to buy another pint.
Ice cream..
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On the off chance that you were overwhelmed by my subtlety, I think I’ve finally had some pregnancy cravings. Ketchup chips, vanilla yogurt, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream & frozen or thawed popcorn balls are all on the list. Also, porridge for breakfast & egg&bacon on brown toast for the second breakfast of the day. The man thinks I'm turning into a hobbit!!