Have I mentioned yet here that yet, again, we didn’t find out the sex of the little darling that is occupying my insides like the monster in Alien? Sometimes, I really think something is going to punch and claw it’s way out of my belly button.
That aside, however, now that I’m 34 weeks along, I’m at the place in my pregnancy where people are having fun guessing the sex of my unborn.
“You’re carrying so high- it’s a girl!”
“You haven’t gained any weight in your face – it’s a boy!”
My husband even told me my ass looked smaller than it did with my son. Whatever that’s worth.
Problem is, I think my OB has already given it away. I’m pretty sure when he said, “if and when you get induced we should do it on a Thursday so that the bris isn’t on Shabbat” that he told me I’m having a boy. He’s kind of a planner, so I know he wants me to think ahead to “be prepared for whatever it is,” but now, all I can think is, well, it’s a boy.
It’s kind of the worst-case not finding out scenario. Did he really give it away? Will it still be a surprise? Needless to say, I haven’t picked out any girl stuff.
Good news that it’s only about 6 more (hopefully less) weeks, until I figure out for sure the gender-bender mystery.
Are you dying to know how I’m doing ensconced in nylon day after day? Well, on Day 17 I’m finally wearing a pair of long pants as the temperature has dipped below 75 degrees. (My criteria for wearing long pants has drastically changed due to my limited wardrobe options.) And one of my three sweatshirts. So I feel that I now have some more clothing options. Because really, wearing the Bulerias or Power Y tank EVERY DAY was just getting a little nasty.
Luckily the ‘lemon washes quite nicely and hasn’t stretched out into weird proportions considering my stomach is looking more and more like I swallowed a watermelon every day.
But trying to work the ‘lemon into my repetoire every day can be a bit daunting. Especially as I try not to look like a gym rat/ haven’t showered/ only wears sweatpants kind of mama every day.
So today, I paired the wrap pant in charcoal grey with my uber-cute but potentially blister-inducing Tory Burch Bryce Clog.
Because every pair of sweatpants needs a patent leather clog to stay above the sloppy fray.
It’s a wonder what a little T logo can do to the maternity fashion psyche.
Sponsored Link: Maternity Dresses
I’m not a hysteric about making my house an organic haven, or making sure my kid can speak Tibetan by age 4, or worrying about the effects of Dora the Explorer’s shrill voice on my son’s eardrums.
But lately, I have taken to trying to eradicate certain ingredients from our food, like high fructose corn syryp, and after talking to my new BFF, Dr. Harvey Karp, making an effort to rid our lives as best as possible of endocrine disrupting chemicals.
What are EDCs, you ask? Good question. I wrote all about it today on Babble in an interview with the doc.
And he put the fear of freaking g-d in me about all the toxins in all the products we use on our bodies and in our house. Like phthalates in beauty products, insulating agents, chemicals in carpets and flooring. It’s not just the chemicals alone that are scary. It’s the research being done about how these chemicals compound in our bodies and may cause autism in our children. (The Ecology Center published a report yesterday showing test results on various household items in a similar vein. You can find their database of tested products on their site, healthystuff.org).
We all know BPA is the devil, but that’s just the one that gets all the buzz.
Luckily, though, there are things we can do. We can use “green cleaners.” (For a good list go to: Healthy Child Healthy World.) We can use natural beauty products on ourselves and kids (I listed a smattering of recommended products on my article.) We can buy organic foods.
We can vigilant without draping ourselves in hemp all day and living in a tent. And best, we can talk about it, create more awareness and try to get companies to get the toxins out of their products. (And try to get Sigg to give us a freaking explanation for what’s going on with their BPA-laced bottles!)
If you guys have any tips about this topic, I’d love to hear it as well.
If you are one of my few twitter followers, you’ll know that over the past few months I’ve been in contact with one of the country’s leading pediatricians, Dr. Harvey Karp, about his Happiest Baby/ Toddler programs, and his research about scary, scary chemicals in our environment.
The fruits of my labor (read: trying to set up interviews with him is about as hard as birthing a child; he’s super busy) are now appearing. Out yesterday on Chicago Parent magazine’s website is our conversation about raising a happy baby.
I love his advice, and hope you find his insight as appealing as I do. Stay tuned for my scary chemical article appearing on Babble.com (OMG Babble!) this Friday.
I have a problem with fall holiday promotion starting in August, but like her, I conform as well. I start looking for my son’s Halloween costumes just as soon as I feel a cool August night hit. Or when those damn catalogs start to arrive and I worry that I’ll be left roaming the aisles of Party City on Oct 29 with everyone and their mother, father, grand-uncle and step-sister sifting through disheveled piles of green wigs.
Luckily, though, when you start shopping for Halloween in August, you have your choices of costumes. They may be the experts in bad advertising (as Marketing Mommy says, badvertising), but I think I’ve got the market cornered on the worst kiddie Halloween costumes on record. If you’ve seen worse, please let me know.
The Man Eating Shark: “Let’s go to the ocean for winter vacation” has new meaning after you’ve scared the bejesus out of your kid with this costume. (photo courtesy of Sensational Beginnings)
Native American Boy: Because nothing says PC Halloween 2009 like dressing your kid up like an ‘Injun. (photo courtesy of Chasing Fireflies.)
Marie Antoinette: If she can hold her poor little head up from this wig, she can eat her cake. (photo courtesy of Chasing Fireflies.)
Dementor: I don’t even know what this is and I’m not sure I want to. (photo courtesy of Chasing Fireflies)
Baby Yoda: because every kid should wear a costume…
… that matches his dog’s. (photo courtesy of Buy Costumes)
And, my personal favorite:
Baby Elvis: ‘Aint nuthin’ like a Hound Baby. (photo courtesy of Amazon)
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You all know of my love of lululemon.
You all know I’m a faux frugal who really, really likes to shop.
You all know I’m pregnant.
Thus, I’ve put myself up to a challenge. A fashion challenge. Having not bought any “formal” maternity wear my entire pregnancy, and having gone on a serious lululemon bender the past week after my joyous pregnancy news, I’ve decided to see if I can possibly wear a single item of lululemon clothing every day for the next 8 weeks of my pregnancy. Because, well, what the heck else am I supposed to do as I wait out the waning days of pregnancy? (And, I just saw Julie/ Julia and this could make a heck of a book. Ha!)
Behold, The lululemon Maternity Wear Challenge:
4 tanks, 3 sweatshirts, 4 sweatpants, 6 workout pants, 8 weeks, and who knows how many more pounds to gain.
I even made a widget on flickr (who knew I could figure that out!). (edited to add: and I figured out how to make it appear on my sidebar, yay! Check it out to the right.)
I’m now 31 weeks along, and for day 1 of the challenge I wore the Bulerias Tank in Black and Dance Studio II*No Pants in Coal. I felt stylish and swishy while walking down Michigan Avenue.
Here’s to being comfy and ensconced in nylon for many, many days.
