I finally gave in.

I did something many of my friends do on a weekly basis, something you--or someone you know--probably does every now and then, too.

So then why do I feel like such a failure?

I put my child in the church nursery during mass yesterday.
I know, it's not the crime of the century. It's not even a crime at all. It's a perfectly respectable thing that many parents do every week at church. But the result left me sobbing through the first 30 minutes of Sunday services.

Let me start at the beginning. A looooooong time ago, I wrote this post about G's less-than-stellar behavior at church. Many of you wrote me wonderful pieces of advice to keep her occupied, and DH & I--over the past year-plus--have tried just about all of them. We tried snacks, special books, Crayola Color Wonder markers (I LOVE those things), you name it. Everything worked... for a little while, at least. But there was no "magic pill" that could ever make my two year old sit still (and quiet!) for a full 60 minutes. Short of tranquilizing her (which I am convinced one family in our church must do to keep their five girls under the age of six absolutely silent every week), there was no way.

If I were at the parish in which I grew up (and where my mom still attends mass), I don't think this would be a problem. That church has a children's mass, which gives parents a chance to worship alongside their children and alongside the rest of their church community. Call it the old school Catholic in me, but I think that's pretty critical. I was never shipped off to a nursery--or my mother to a cry room--when I got feisty as a toddler. The same church that frowns on birth control simply understood that kids were a part of the mass, and that sometimes, that meant crying and fussing and singing out of turn were also a part of it.

My current church does not embody that same "we are one body in Christ" mentality when it comes to weekly worship. Instead, there's one body praying in the main church, another worshiping in the cry room (which, I have to say, is more deathly silent than the main church), and a third playing with blocks and eating pretzel sticks down the hall in a nursery, with no idea that mass is even going on!

Instead of giving in to the system, I tried to fight it. But rebel parents like myself (ooooohh, if you really knew me, you'd know I am definitely not a rebel in any stretch of the word) who bring a child into the mass--and that child makes even a small noise--are met with a reproving look and whispered comments of "Don't they know there's a cry room?" Um, don't you know that Jesus loved the little children, not the grumpy old lady who probably gave her kids some archaic version of Benadryl before bringing them to mass?

I even went as far as to email my pastor, asking him to establish a children's mass that would better include our young ones in the Catholic faith. Either our pastor doesn't know how to access his email, or he didn't like my idea.

So, yesterday, I capitulated to parish pressure and enrolled G in the church nursery. She had a great time; she colored me a beautiful picture that is now hanging on the fridge, none-the-wiser that she had missed mass. I, as previously stated, spent half of mass crying my eyes out.

I think this is probably why many Americans are eschewing organized religion.

If you go to church, how do you keep your little ones in line?

If you don't go to church (and I don't judge, believe me, after what I've been through???), what was it that's kept you away?

Yes, I'm quoting that cute little girl from "Poltergeist"... call me melodramatic, but this is serious stuff we're talking about here. Because, just ten weeks after escaping the nausea that plagued the first 20 weeks of this pregnancy, it's returned in full force. Bleh.

Gestation: 30 weeks

Fetal Heartbeat: 146 beats per minute. Baby C's heartbeat has been pretty consistently in the 140s the past several appointments.

Health Concerns: I feel like this section has grown exponentially with each week of my pregnancy. My weight gain is doing pretty well; just as I did with G, my weight ballooned in the second trimester but has really leveled off to start the third. In addition to the return of the nausea, I am also worried about my blood pressure. Not that it's too high, but actually that it's on the low end. At the OB yesterday (after they'd already taken my weight, which usually sends the old BP skyrocketing), my blood pressure was 105/60; the nurse was actually surprised when I answered "no" to her question about being dizzy. This is something I should apparently be on the lookout for.

Other Concerns: It should come as no surprise that I still haven't gotten around to painting Baby C's room. There's a reason for this: neither DH nor I want to do it with G in the house. So, when I hit full term in April, my mom and dad are going to take G on a "mini vacation" to their house so DH and I can get a lot of stuff done around here, including the painting. In the meantime, I'll continue stocking Baby C's closet with the plethora of clothes my incredibly generous friends have given to us... seriously, I won't be buying anything blue until C's at least a year old!

What's Different: It's really been the third trimester where I've seen the vast difference between my pregnancies and, mainly, my energy level. Caring for a toddler while carrying a baby is really taking a toll on my body. I'm ready for bed every night by 9 o'clock. My hips and lower back are aching, and even my weekly pre-natal yoga classes aren't completely alleviating the pain.

Next Appointment: March 9th. Geez, I just realized I have two other appointments on that day, so I may be calling the OB to reschedule. I am on to every-other-week appointments now, which strikes me as odd, because I swear I didn't start going to the OB every two weeks until I was 34 weeks along with G.

I think women are the ultimate planners. In most of the households I know, it is the woman who is in charge of meal planning, playdate planning, vacation planning, and anything else that has the word "planning" attached to it. This goes back to my "Mom In Chief" theory, that in modern America, women--not men--are the head of household, regardless of what we might put on our tax forms.

But even so, when it comes to planning, there are certain things I cannot seem to find the time for. There are the "must do's"--stuff like the laundry, cleaning toilets, and feeding G. Then there are the "should do's"; these are the things that I always say I'm going to do, that I really want to do, but never actually get around to doing.

One of my big "should do's" is organizing my old magazines. Although I am the furthest thing from a packrat (spring consignment sales are coming up, and as DH can attest, if we haven't used it in the past six months, it's about to be sold or donated!), I do keep my old issues of Woman's Day, Ladies Home Journal, Redbook and Good Housekeeping (on a side note--what happened to reading Glamour, Elle and Cosmo? I think my magazine selection alone is a sign I'm getting old).

Why keep all these old issues around? Well, it's not because I'm dying to re-read the feature on Patricia Arquette (who I swear is the most boring celebrity alive) or learn about how Celebrity X managed to lose the baby weight in just 10 weeks (personal trainer? personal chef? let me guess...). Nope, it's because of the recipes.

I love magazines because they often offer simple, quick, minimal-ingredient recipes--along with a shopping list. I find these incredibly useful when I'm meal planning for the week. Unfortunately, I have a tough time locating most of these recipes because I've never taken the time to organize them. Instead, they are still trapped inside dog-eared magazines, which themselves are scattered around my closet floor.

Soon... I mean, one day... I mean, eventually... I will get around to locating those recipes, ripping them out of the magazine (which I will then use for an amazing craft project for G... righttttttt), and cataloging them into a three-ring binder.

Someday.

What's the thing you really want to do, but can't find the time for?

One of my biggest concerns about this pregnancy is something I think just about every pregnant woman has dealt with: losing the baby weight. (And if you never stressed about this, well, I--and 98% of mothers out there--hate you.)

I was blessed to lose the weight rather quickly after having G; I credit this mostly to my fanatical nursing schedule, which seemed to suck the fat--along with any muscle--right off my bones. This time... well, I'm not so sure. A lot of my friends who have already had baby #2 say your body just doesn't recover the same way the second time around.

But I am determined to lose the weight... because of this:


This gorgeous little number is the "Pont Neuf" from Shabby Apple, an online clothing store that is absolutely to die for. They sell everything from women's dresses to girl's dresses. I've been coveting these clothes--especially the company's line of dresses--for years, after my friend "C" started raving about them. But it wasn't until Nancy at Shabby Apple contacted me that I finally got the chance to try one on.

Well, scratch that... because, you see, the dress is not maternity, and my figure definitely is maternity... so the actual act of trying on the dress will have to weight. My goal is to lose enough maternity weight to fit into the dress (which Mary, my "personal style consultant" at Shabby Apple, said is very forgiving to a postpartum figure) in time for Baby C's baptism, which will most likely be at the end of July. That'll give me about three months to lose the weight. Can I do it? I hope so, because I am going to CRY if I can't wear this dress!

BUY IT!

Pont Neuf dress: $78.00 plus taxes and shipping charges

And if blue isn't your color, Shabby Apple also offers the "Le Coeur." It's the same style, but in red/yellow instead of blue/green--a gorgeous color palette for brunettes!

In addition to the company's website, you can also get product updates and information on Shabby Apple's Facebook page.

Did you find it harder to lose weight with baby #2 (or #3)? What did you do to get back into shape post-baby?
Disclaimer: I was provided with the "Pont Neuf" dress from Shabby Apple valued at $78.00 for the purpose of this review. No other compensation was provided. The opinions expressed in this review are my own, and were not influenced by the sponsor company.

I think true friendship is about sharing everything openly and honestly--your hopes, your dreams, your fears, your stuff. But even I worry that my friends and I might have gone a bit too far.

As I sit here typing this, I am wearing my friend "M"'s bra. M had her second child last June, and had a plethora of D-cup bras from her 3rd trimester and nursing days that have come in really handy since a "boob bomb" went off in my chest. Unable to wear any of my own bras, I readily accepted M's offer to borrow hers for the next few months.

But as the Cat In The Hat would say, "That is not all, oh no, that is not all." Because when I take G swimming this evening, I will be wearing my friend "A"'s maternity bathing suit. Despite spending the entire third trimester of my first pregnancy in the summer months, I somehow managed to get by with a single maternity swimsuit. But when I pulled that suit out of storage a few months ago, I saw that time (and mostly chlorine) had taken its toll. As I lamented this to A, and asked her where I could find some inexpensive maternity suits in the middle of the winter, she ran upstairs and grabbed two of hers.

I'm not just on the mooching receiving end of all this generosity. Oh no, I've been loaning my stuff out too... including an item that just might prove my friendships are a little too close. Because when M was at my house a few weeks ago for a moms' night out, she realized she'd forgotten the single most important thing all nursing moms need: her breast pump. Rather than drive home, I pulled down mine from storage, steam cleaned all the parts, and let her use it (and, I have to add as a little anecdote here, use it she did; in the middle of moms' night, while the rest of us continued to hold our conversations as though our friend's boobs weren't on display... well, when you meet in a class designed for nursing mothers, I guess breast-shyness isn't really in your vocabulary!).

I'm still debating whether or not to use the reusable, cotton, organic nursing pads my friend "T" lent me... what do you think?

What's the most unusual--or outrageous--thing you've ever borrowed from or lent to a friend?

Some days, the piles of laundry and the dishes in the sink build up... and so does my level of impatience.

Usually, all that impatience is directed at DH. "Why didn't he push the dishes in the dishwasher?" I'll complain to myself. Or, "Why couldn't he fold the clothes in the dryer?" I'll silently berate him.

It's at those times that I give myself a little self-directed pep talk. It goes something like this:

Elizabeth, I'll say, You were the one who chose to stay at home full time. You were the one who chose to give up your career for full-time motherhood and wifehood. When you did that, you gave up the right to an equal division of labor. So suck it up and do the work yourself.

It's a pretty honest discussion, and it points the finger squarely at myself. Because for all of DH's shortcomings, knowing how and when to work isn't one of them. He eagerly supported my request to leave the TV news industry and stay at home. When that decision was made, I told him that it would now be my job--and I do mean job--to take care of our house and our finances.

Before, when I was working, we subscribed to the theory of equal division of labor. He cooked (ok, ok, he still does, but that's because he won't eat my cooking), I cleaned. He mowed the lawn, I mopped the floors. He ran the laundry, I folded and put it away.

We spent the first five and a half years of our marriage splitting up the work, evenly, right down the middle. I got used to that. I was spoiled by his very modern views on housework (here is where I will thank my mother-in-law for raising such a wonderful son).

And because I was spoiled, it's taken me far longer than it might have to get used to laundry left in the dryer... because I left it there; to understand that I am the reason why the dishwasher was never emptied.; to point the finger at myself when there is nothing to eat in our pantry, refrigerator or freezer.

DH still spoils me, but now it's in other ways. On his days off, he'll arrange a playdate for him and G with one of his buddies from work and their children. Or he'll make me a cup of hot tea or chocolate just before my (obnoxiously early) bedtime. Sometimes, he'll even do my laundry along with his work load (I am strictly forbidden from handling his uniform; he takes great pride in laundering it himself--go figure!).

Most of all, he spoils me by supporting me--my hopes, my dreams and the decisions I've made in the past and will make in the future. He spoils me by trusting me (if you took a close look at our household income, you wouldn't believe we could live on a single law enforcement officer's income... but I know how to stretch a dollar); he spoils me by knowing I always put our family's best interests first.

In what ways--big or small--does your partner spoil you?

Four years ago, it was the best Christmas present ever. Today, it belongs to somebody else.

When we first moved into our house in August of 2006, DH and a neighbor really bonded over something I found absolutely ridiculous--video games. Even now, I don't understand why men like these things, but then again, most men don't understand why women love blogging, so... I guess we're even. Anyway, DH and our neighbor would spend hours repeatedly killing each other in some gruesome war-role-playing game.

A few months later, I got the hint, and bought the same gaming console for DH for Christmas. (To this day, he still says it was the best present I ever got him; I still maintain it was the worst thing I ever did to myself.)

Over the years, DH has used the gaming console to keep in touch with friends from college, coworkers who are now on different shifts and even his brothers and brother-in-law. But in the last six months or so, he's stopped playing it completely (so much so that he forgot about the automatic renewal fee for the console's gaming membership, leaving me to spend a testy 45 minutes on the phone with customer service negotiating a refund).

Then, about two months ago, he decided to break up with video games once and for all: he decided to sell his system--controllers, headset, games and all. He wasn't able to get the price he wanted during the holiday season, but ultimately decided to lower his price and take what he could get for it. (A shocking side note: I didn't play a role in his decision--his choice to get rid of the gaming system was his, and his alone!)

DH blames the "failed" relationship with his video games on a hectic work schedule, a fuller social life, and a two year old who simply demands too much of his attention. It had become obsolete in his adult life.

It got me thinking about this bible verse from 1 Corinthians 13...

When I was a child, I spoke as a child,
I understood as a child, I thought as a child:
but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
...and the childish things I've put away in my own life in recent years.

Before G's birth, I spent most of my free time shopping for high-end clothes. They were my passion. But once G came--along with the need for an endless supply of sippy cups, diapers and apple juice--I put away my credit cards and started shopping more reasonably (as in, retail; the word still makes me shiver a little bit).

Even more recently, I've given up other things that represented my "childish" ways--my XM radio subscription, my pricey gym membership, monthly pedicures... in some ways, even my job could fall into this category of things a more immature version of myself couldn't live without, but the adult in me "gave up" in order to be a better wife and mother.

What things in your adult life (tangible and intangible) have you given up in order to be a better person, wife or mother?

What's "obsolete" in your world?

No matter where we go these days, our first stop upon arrival is always the restroom--it's the single most annoying part of being pregnant, the endless need to pee.

The other day, G and I spent the morning at a local children's museum. As soon as we got there, I hauled her off to the ladies room. Even though the facility had just opened, there was already a line... and an open stall. I was puzzled, until the woman waiting in front of us (probably in her late 50s or early 60s) said:

Her: I wouldn't go in that stall; it's disgusting.

Me: Oh, thanks for the heads up.

Her: Someone forgot to flush in there.

Me: Oh, so it's clogged? I'll go let the staff know.

Her: No, no, it's not clogged. Someone just didn't flush it. (Exasperated) I wish people would learn to flush!

Me: (Looking incredulous) Well, I know how to flush.

Then I grabbed G by the hand, walked into the otherwise perfectly clean stall (at least, perfectly clean as far as public restrooms go) and flushed the toilet. Then, since I had done the dirt work, I closed the stall door behind me and proceeded to go about my business, all the while thinking...

Was it really that big of a deal?
Was that lady being ridiculous? Over-the-top? A complete germaphobe? (Well, that last one goes without saying...)

What would you have done in my place?

More than anything, the one thing I am not looking forward to about Baby C's arrival is the inevitable lack of sleep.

I kept a strict journal of G's habits when she was a newborn; for the first six months (yes, I am aware I am INSANE), I kept track of her every pee, poo, feeding and nap. Looking back on that diary now, I realize how little DH & I slept during those first few weeks... that is, until we stumbled upon a true miracle.

A friend actually gave me an Aden + Anais swaddle blanket when G was about three weeks old. At the time, I didn't know anything about swaddling or its potential benefits. I just knew that this oversized blanket was super soft and breathable (a fact I loved, given all the scary information about SIDS out there). Then another friend (do I have resourceful gal pals or what?) turned me on to the book "Happiest Baby On The Block," which touts the benefits of swaddling. I had the blanket... I had the book... at that point, I decided I had to try swaddling.

My life was never the same after that. Although G kicked and fought as I swaddled her up tightly like a little baby burrito, she immediately calmed down once she was tucked snugly inside. The breathable muslin fabric kept her warm and cozy, but didn't make her sweat (like some of the cheaper blankets I had). DH & I found ourselves washing that blanket over and over and over again; every time G spit up or had a blow out, that swaddle blanket went straight into the wash so it could be used as soon as possible. The seams never weakened, the fabric never wore; the blanket seemed indestructible. In fact, it held up so well that after we finally weaned G from her swaddle habits (at 7 months old; I used to joke she'd go to her first sleepover asking her host's mom to swaddle her), we passed the blanket on to another friend and her new baby.

Of course, that created a problem when I found myself pregnant unexpectedly; I wanted my swaddle back, but by then, my friend and her little boy had moved--and taken the swaddle--to Oregon. I contacted the wonderful folks at Aden + Anais and asked if they'd be interested in doing a review... and they were!

I received this four-pack of muslin swaddles (the print is the "Little Man Swaddle"--how cute!!!), and can't wait to use them. Right now, they are washed and ready to go, one lying askew in C's crib, the other three patiently awaiting his soft baby skin from the comfort of a drawer. I know when the time comes, at least one will come with me to the hospital (I'm tearing up as I write this; blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but I am downright EXUBERANT at the thought of meeting my son in three months!) to welcome C when he arrives. I'm sure that once Baby C and I use them, we'll pass them along to another friend... and the swaddle love will keep on going.

BUY IT!

Muslin swaddle blanket four-pack: $45.00
Two-pack: $29.95 (there's a camouflage option with this size!)
Single: $19.95

If you live in a colder climate--or will be expecting a baby during the winter months--Aden + Anais also has a line of "Cozy Muslin" swaddle blankets, with a double layer of muslin to keep baby extra warm. Or, if you're environmentally-minded, there's the company's organic line.

What are your "must haves" when it comes to baby gear? I'd love your input on the items you couldn't live without, especially when it comes to welcoming baby #2!
Disclaimer: I was provided a four-pack of muslin swaddle blankets by Aden + Anais valued at $45.00 for the purpose of this review. No other compensation was provided. The opinions expressed in this review are my own, and were not influenced by the sponsor company.

I am officially into my last trimester of pregnancy... and I do mean last. DH and I have talked extensively about our future family, and we feel confident that with a daughter and now a son on the way, our family is complete. In the next year, he will--with almost 100% certainty--be getting "fixed." I've told him that if I can go through pregnancy and childbirth twice for him, he can go through an outpatient surgery once for me.

At this week's appointment, I drank the Kool-Aid--literally! It was the dreaded blood glucose test, and I have to admit... I didn't find the orange drink all that bad. With G, I had to drink it room temperature because they'd run out of refrigerated beverages. This time, it was ice cold and a vast improvement. I'm not saying I'd drink it every day (I'm actually crossing my fingers I never have reason to drink it again), but it wasn't worth stressing over.

Gestation: 27 weeks--third trimester! Where did the second one go?

Fetal Heartbeat: 144 beats per minute. I believe this jives with the old wives tale about fetal heartbeats being lower for boys than they are for girls.

Health Concerns: Getting enough sleep; G's sleep habits have changed dramatically over the past few weeks, which mean mine have as well. I am not used to getting up before the sun, but that's her agenda these days... I'm still hoping I can resurrect her old routine before Baby C arrives.

Other Concerns: We still have yet to do any of the painting for C's room, but I'm really holding off on that until it warms up and we can paint with the windows open. I'm currently in the process of tagging a lot of G's old clothes for consignment. My plan is to use the money I make selling all that pink and purple to buy a lot more green and blue.

What's Different: Where I'm carrying this baby, and hence, this baby weight. With G, I was really popping out up front. This time, I'm carrying the weight lower and further back. While I've gained the same amount of weight thus far, it's much more in my hips, thighs and butt. I am already dreading the amount of work it's going to take to lose those pounds once C is born... I think it's abhorrently unfair that any woman should have to give birth less than four weeks before the unofficial start of bathing suit season.

Next Appointment: February 23rd. It's only three weeks away. Then, I move on to every other week appointments. I've got a lot to look forward to between now and then, so I'm sure this time is going to go quickly (let's hope; February is such a DULL month otherwise!).