Shokufeh is... home

Beans?

This morning, I caught sight of my ass in the mirror. I can only conclude that the doctor was wrong when she said I am pregnant with only one child. Had she included my ass in the ultrasound of last month, she would have seen that I am actually pregnant with triplets. Those sneaky beans (let the gooz jokes commence) babies who've taken up residence in my buttocks!

Tom and Katie

Sure, I'm kind of late on weighing in on this, but my theory on Tom Cruise's very public announcements of his status as a smitten kitten over Katie Holmes? Not that I wish this upon him, but I can't come up with any other explanation for his personality transplant - I think he's got a brain tumor. Why else would he spend his time jumping up and down on a couch over a woman? He's Tom Cruise, not Tom Green.

More than you want to know about mind control

Bean is once again controlling my mind. My proof? The things I constantly think about are my breasts, eating, and going to the bathroom. Sure, those first two items are combined in Bean's mind, but you get my drift. In six months, my days and nights will be filled with sore breasts and many a diaper change. So I guess Bean is just preparing me. What a thoughtful child.

Is it inappropriate work behavior to squeeze one's breasts? I guess it's better than squeezing someone else's, but I can't help but think I'm breaking some rule of desk behavior. I try to do it furtively - pressing my arm against my chest to quell the recent throbbing sensation (Another growth spurt? The stress of colostrum production?), but I think I look like an extra from the "Thriller" video.

We've had a visitor the past few days, and yesterday she was commenting that one of the bounties of sightseeing with a pregnant woman is never having to be the one to initiate a trip to the bathroom. This weekend, as we drove around the island, I can't count how many different facilities I took advantage of. Thank goodness for beach parks and the bathrooms they provide.

Housing for the girls

If you're a guy and you know me in real life, you may want to stop reading now. Otherwise, you may have a hard time focusing on my face the next time we talk.

So, I have a question: where do the bountifully bosomed shop for bikinis?
I suspect it is not Old Navy, source of much of my swimwear in recent years.

A friend is arriving this evening, so I anticipate some beach-going in the next few days. (Yes, even though we live in Hawaii, I am sad to report that the beach is not a daily destination.) Yesterday, I thought maybe I should try on my bikinis, since I hadn't worn them in a while and, as you know, my figure is morphing. Good thing I did, as I discovered my growth was more than my bras led me to believe. My skimpy bikini top just sort of sat there, as triangles that didn't do a very good job of concealing the girls. My more sporty top, the one I like to wear on a surfboard, just mushed the girls together, creating some cleavage worthy of the red carpet.

So, last night, though there was cleaning to be done around the house, I went to Old Navy, thinking I could just pick up a top to wear with my old bottoms and board shorts. Since living here, I've become a lot more comfortable with revealing my flesh. But there's a difference between flesh and flesh. That in the latter category does not belong in my comfort zone. It belongs, if anywhere, on Jessica Simpson, in the privacy of her backyard pool (of course with a camera looking on to document it for "Newlyweds").

But, I tried on every style of bikini top, in various sizes, and none of them quite did the trick of covering and stabilizing. So, I was relegated to the maternity suit - basically a modest tankini. It doesn't provide much support, but cover it does. And it's cute. I'm sure I'll eventually appreciate it. Assuming the bottoms don't fall off in the waves. And the girls probably appreciate not being paraded in front of any and all.

I'm reminded of the words that met Elisabeth Hasselbeck upon her return to "The View:"
"It doesn't look like you've had a baby, it looks like you've had a massive breast implant."
Oh, except that I will look like I've had a baby.

Sunday night good deed

How you know you're married to a pregnant woman:
You find yourself in the car at 9:00 on a Sunday night, headed to Burger King, to buy a veggie burger and fries. Said burger and fries makes wife amazingly happy. She is taken to the moon by the three sips of your soft drink - bought as part of the meal that made the purchase cheaper - she allows herself: the potential harm of the caffeine, corn syrup, and other chemicals is overridden in her mind by the intense cravings that have developed after months of deprivation. Wife begins to wonder how many good-spouse points ahead you now are.

Again with the food

My snack of choice lately: plain lowfat yogurt (Alta Dena brand) with a little orange juice concentrate (with added Calcium) stirred in. Mmm, mmm, good. And good for you.

Completely unrelated:
Last week, walking home, I saw the bounty hunter "Dog." At first, it was just a sliver of his face that I could see through the open window of the black SUV. But the guy's black clothing and mullet made me look a little longer - there's just something very distinctive about him - and he turned, and there he was in all his glory. The funny part was that this was behind the main police station, so I wondered if maybe he'd just turned in his latest catch. Such a strange life his must be.
See, George, it's not always the cool famous people I spot.

Pictures from Sunday

Here's my Week 14 belly shot:

I told you I've been eating. My profile looks strangely similar to that of someone a trimester ahead of me, except that I'm not arching my back. Oh well, I'm sure it will be arching soon enough.

Also, I wanted to share this beautiful and amazingly tiny orchid.

I don't think I reveal enough how often and how much I'm bowled over by the abundance that nature offers here, especially in the floral realm. A friend brought these from her yard. Those of you who know me know how small my thumbs are, but even if I had big thumbs, it's still a small flower.

Weekend superlatives

Most exciting/calming thing of the weekend: Going to the obstetrician on Friday afternoon, along with Sam, and hearing Bean's heartbeat. Exciting that such is happening inside of me, calming hearing the regular (and rapid) beat. I think Sam was even more excited than I was - my theory is that it's because he isn't constantly directly getting signals that let him know he's going to be a parent. (You know, he smells my goozes, but doesn't actually marvel that his body is creating them. Yeah, I just ruined the moment, but gas is part of pregnancy. At least mine.)

Most fun part of the weekend: A barbeque on Saturday at a friend's house. Sam got grilled meats, we both got conversation....

Most touching parts of the weekend: Recieving maternity clothes from my parents as a Mother's (I always think that should be Mothers', since mothers across the country are being celebrated) Day present.
Going to a friend's baby shower, only to find out it was also for me - the Baha'i Community had a Mother's Day celebration, which we decided we should do every year, even if there aren't expectant mothers.
Finding out that one of the Baha'is is making a beautiful quilt for our baby. She hadn't quite finished it, but brought the front and the back, and it's gorgeous - made up of lots of colorful fabrics, many of them Asian-inspired. She said she'd try to have it by the next Feast, but I told her to take her time, since we've got another almost 6 months to go.

Most lame part of the weekend: Spending Sunday afternoon on the couch watching Dirty Dancing and hemming pants, instead of going to the beach as originally intended.

Most disturbing part of the weekend: Being privy to a volatile conversation in the reception area of the obstretrician's office. "Okay, fine, you want to keep the baby, we'll keep the baby." "What did she say the due date was? Write it down, so we don't forget." "Okay, we're going to keep the baby, but as long as I don't have to have a c-section. My cousin had one, but she felt it when they cut into her."

Mind control

I never was a thumb-sucker. Pacifier, yes. Thumb, no. But this morning, as I was lying in bed, half asleep, I had this idea that I should stick my thumb in my mouth. I didn't do it, but it made me think maybe Bean was sucking away inside. Can I really be that in tune with my baby? Maybe it's just the power of suggestive reading - knowing that the baby is at a stage where they might be sucking their thumb made me think it was happening?

I can't stop thinking about food

It is 11:00 am. Since awakening at about 7:00, I have eaten:
a bowl of Total cereal with soy milk
2 toaster waffles with peanut butter in between them
~3/4 pint of red grapes
1 large banana

I can't seem to fill the void that is my stomach. I'm contemplating turnip greens or a hunk of cheese, both of which I have as snacks in the fridge. I still have 1.5 hours until a lunch date, where I will eat a Vietnamese tofu sandwich. Dinner will be salmon, choi som, and sweet potatoes. I wish I could fast forward to my next meal. And then the one after that.

Time to make the baby

Given my constant hunger of late, I've determined that Bean's appetite is compliments of Sam. Last night, I kept having to eat one thing after the next, until I ate some fruit leather and it took me over the top.

Lordy, child, aren't you ever satisfied? I know, I know, you're trying to grow another inch, but I just ate 20 minutes ago.

I feel like that old Dunkin' Donuts commercial, but instead of "Time to make the donuts...," it's a feeling of, "Time to eat...."

A complex woman

You may have thought me to be full of contradictions before, but now my personality overfloweth. Last week, I write about having a hard time eating, and then immediately follow it with a love letter to papaya. Today I wanted to write one to Ninja Sushi - but decided there should be a limit to the number of love letters one writes to food. Sure, I'm in a different month, but it was only last week. (Don't worry, there was no raw fish involved - just an ono spicy veggie roll full of yumminess and sesame. And an ume and cucumber roll. And miso soup. Mmm. Ninja Sushi, I love you. If not for my self-imposed restriction, I'd write you a letter, and not just this note.)

Other recent seeming contradictions that come to mind:

PB (Pre-Bean), I drank liters of water every day. WB (With Bean), I developed an aversion to the wonderful liquid that's ever so essential to me and the little one. Thankfully, as the first trimester comes to a close, so has the unhealthy aversion. So confusing to me that I would dislike such a neutral thing that I previously guzzled.

Our parking space at home is against a wall. PB, I would wait while Sam pulled the car out of the space and then get into the passenger seat. WB, I've decided it's more convenient to get in the driver's side and maneuver my way under the club and over the parking brake into my seat. We'll see at what point the belly becomes too large for such gymnastics.

I love this stuff!

Not to brag or anything, but I think I have pretty good skin. It hasn't always been this way, but for the past year or two, with the exception of the occasional blemish, my face has looked smooth and fresh. Since I just replenished my supply, I thought I'd let you in on my secret: Clinque Total Turnaround visible skin renewer. I use it every morning after washing my face, then top with a moisturizer a few minutes later. The Total Turnaround allows my skin to absorb the moisturizer better and evens out my combination skin - controlling the oily areas and refreshing the dry ones. I highly recommend!