Blood, Sweat, Tears, Dirt, Whatever

Turns out being pregnant also makes one paranoid.
With my ankles swelling up so frequently I have made it a habit to look at my legs on a regular basis. (I can't reach them anymore, but I look at them.)
This afternoon I saw a dark streak on the side of my calf and started worrying; was it varicose veins already?
A bruise?
A clot?
After a lot of huffing and puffing and contorting I got down close enough to touch it and it turns out...
It was dirt.
Washed right off.

This is me and if only all my worries were that easy to solve.

He Passed

I guess it's a good thing I was never a cheerleader.
Tarzan has been studying most of the summer to take an English credential test so he can be the teacher of record for even more of the online students at his high school. He already is credentialed for the two types of history (US and World) and German.
(Because the man doesn't do enough for the district as it is...)
Anyway, he took the test almost a month ago and had to wait until last night for the results.
He passed - of course - but when the email finally came he was over the moon, grinning like a fool and doing a little dance in the kitchen.
Apparently he had been really worried about the test and concerned that he might not score high enough for the credential.
I kissed him and said congratulations but I had had no doubts that he would pass. It was like confirmation of a known fact.
I'm more like my parents than I admit to, it would seem. Not as demonstrative as others we know.
So just like when we told people we were expecting a baby, Tarzan had to go to his family for the fireworks and the shrieking.
They did not disappoint.

This is me and I am proud of him, just not hysterical.

Anyone For A Conga Line?

Today marks the start of my 26th week of pregnancy.
According to the 'baby books' - with a lot of NICU help - Cheeta could survive if he were born now.
Of course we are hoping he makes it another few weeks and comes out swinging. (Genetics being what they are, I have no doubt he'll bake for at least 12 more weeks.)
The swinging thing he has down cold if the movements in my belly mean anything.
Last week at my doctor's appointment she asked if I could feel him moving and boy can I. At first, it was like 'they' say and I couldn't tell if it was gas, my stomach rumbling or baby.
There is no doubting it now.
When he lets go it doesn't hurt - I wonder if that comes later when he weighs 7 pounds instead of the current 2? - but it's definite.
Sometimes it's like the Loch Ness Monster with the bluuurrp-type rippling movement across the front, other times it's minimal and I wonder if he's facing the other way or not as interested.
I hadn't really noticed until the doctor mentioned it but my uterus is tilted to the right - which is why only one ankle swells up when I'm working at my desk - and most of the kicking does come on in the middle or on the right side.
Sometimes it's a fluttering feeling, like he's poking obliquely, not directly into my side.
Sometimes I pretend it's his head I am feeling. It might be. I can't tell yet.
And I don't know if Cheeta can tell but he sure does stop kicking right as Tarzan puts his hand on me so he's never felt the really big kicks or the rippling motion that's so weird.
I wish Tarzan was home right now because I swear he's doing the samba in there today.

This is me and Cheeta's alive and doing well.

Old & New Shoes

This week was the week that we had scheduled the installation of our new floors.
(We figured 12 years was long enough with carpet we hadn't really wanted in the first place - long story, which will come later - and we figured with the upheaval of all else in our life, let's do a home improvement project too.)
This post is not about that though.
As I mentioned earlier, in anticipation of the project, Tarzan and I have been trying to sort through our junk possessions and see what we truly need/want and what we can get rid of. It can be a challenging task at times.
Especially when one packs as well as I do and am constantly opening a drawer/door/closet/etc. to find MORE STUFF to sort through.
While cleaning out the bedroom I came across a few boxes of, what is affectionately known in my family, "sentimental jazz." Playbills, ticket stubs, programs, art, kitchy presents, dried flowers, the usual.
On the first layer of one box was a pair of baby shoes.
A pair of baby shoes I had been given by the guy who sold me the shoes I wore to my wedding because "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby."
Over the years I have been tempted to throw them out or give them away SO. Many. Times. Then I packed them in a box, they ended up under the bed and haven't been seen in so long, I forgot to even consider giving them to my sisters when they were having babies.
I already used up my vindication speech on the children's books I saved despite Tarzan telling me we weren't having kids, so why should we take up the space?
This was just hilarious:

This is me and he'll have shoes at least.

First Bump Picture

You may have noticed that Tarzan and I are not really devoted to taking pictures of ourselves.
We had a zillion done at the wedding, we're in the family ones that happen every year or so but nothing has really changed for us in 13-1/2 years.
If we were the sort to do Christmas cards, ours would have looked the same - a little more grey in Tarzan's hair maybe - since we got married. Same house, (almost) same jobs, same just we two.
Now that Cheeta is coming - we have to get with the family photo-ing program!
To that end, we have, sort of, started taking baby bump pictures. Now I have never been a thin person and having a camera pointed at my middle makes me mildly uncomfortable.
Tarzan makes a valid point when he said we should have documentation of this moment in time. Especially when Cheeta grows up and wants to know about where he came from - do boys ask questions like that?
So, here we are. A baby bump at 23+/- weeks:

Please ignore my bizarre facial expression. I think I was explaining how to turn the camera focus around from him to me.

This is me, and it's a mind shift.