So I was Google Talking with my brother ("Unka Ern") the other day about the likelihood of us moving to Ohio in the foreseeable future (not calculable at the moment). I told him that we're open to anything that comes our way but that I'd also be happy to stay right where we are until the kid's a toddler. To this he replied, "Well, if you stay in the Hoboken area, the kid can say 'I was jacked up in The City'...that's better than 'I was raised on the mean streets of Cleveland Heights.'"
A double-whammy: classic Papou followed by a quintessential dadism.
Then I got an email from my dad after he read the blog for the first time. His email-- and I can say with certainty that it would have been almost exactly the same even had he not just read the "Two Thing Day" posting-- was riddled with some of the best! I can't believe I forgot these zingers:
"stinker"
"fine combed tooth"
"youthenisms"
"foldo" (as in, "I'm hungry. I'm gonna go make a foldo.")
"halfies" (as in, "I just made a foldo. Wanna go halfies?")
"charged up" (as in, "you're gonna get charged up, you're gonna pile it up, and they're gonna capture you!"
Holy smokes. This kid doesn't stand a chance.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
A Two-Thing Day
My dad is full of Lamprosisms, some that he's coined and some that were made famous by Papou (his dad), but all of which have become a part of my family's vocabulary and are used in casual conversation as though other people might actually understand what they mean. Sometimes the context of the expression belies the meaning (e.g. "Bear ate the last of the smokies and Jess was so pissed, she had a serious heenie! I thought she was gonna blow..."). Other times, the meaning is totally lost on the uninitiated.
I had this experience the other day. I was soooooo tired! I was so tired, I wanted to cry, and I had just gotten to work. I must have been pouting or slamming cash drawers or something, because someone asked me what's "wrong" (a euphemism for "crawled up your ass and died") and I said with an obnoxiously loud sigh, "It's a two-thing day. That's all."
A two-thing day?
Yes. A two-thing day. And it was! I had to go to work AND walk the dog! A prospect that, in my delicate condition, seemed utterly overwhelming. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I was on the verge of tears because of it, either. Poor Sean, because of all months, this month he's out of town three weeks out of four and he feels terrible for it. Anyway, the reasons for the sentiment are beside the point. It's the expression that I'm talking about. And it's such a good one. There really was no other way that I could communicate what I was feeling. "I'm tired" wouldn't have done it, nor would "Sean's out of town so I have to leave to walk the dog," nor would "uh, I'm pregnant, stupid." It was a two-thing day, and that's all there was to it.
The same goes for the aforementioned "heenie" or "heanie" as it is alternately spelled (my dad, as the conceiver of some of these phrases and a ghastly speller has a tendency to change their phonetic spelling regularly), and for the following:
"faat" (fot)
"lay dead"
"get the marmalade"
"gizminkus"
"going halfies"
"who you gonna tell?"
"hotter than Kelsey's nuts"
"how'd I know that? huh?"
"you're the best one"
"what are you waiting for, an invitation?"
answering a phone call with "Telephone?" instead of "hello"
Then there are other Papouisms that were just plain silly. My favorite was always the cheer he insisted that he and his friends actually used back in the day, that goes like this:
"Ra ra ree!
Kick 'em in the knee!
Ra ra rass!
Kick 'em in the....
other knee!"
That one always made me laugh. As did the telling of the only two dreams the man apparently ever had in his life. One was about falling off a very high cliff, and when he woke up, he was on the floor. (Bah-dum-dum.) The other was about eating the biggest, most delicious and fluffy marshmallow! And when he woke up, his pillow was gone. (Thanks folks...I'll be here all night. Try the veal.)
The list really could be a mile long. But a lot is in the delivery, so admittedly there's something lost here on the page. In almost every case, though, the phrase was born of necessity and really is the only way to express that particular sentiment. Funny how so much of the way my family feels has a Yonkers accent. Even my mom, The Jewess (it was affectionate coming from my Papou. Jesus was a Jew, after all. How'd I know that? I'm smart.) still uses Lamprosisms regularly, ten-plus years after she and my dad parted ways.
My Ya-ya had her own list of sayings that we razzed her about, and that we continue to throw around when we're together, mostly I think as a way of remembering her without having to be sentimental or mushy about it. When Sean and I walk into the house late at night after driving all the way from Jersey, my dad asks what he can get us to eat, and says "There's pizza, and I got a roast in the oven. I know, kiddo, that's not enough. Here--I'll put some rigatoni on the stove!" In fact, lots of the Ya-ya jokes are about being force-fed, like when my brother pushes his plate away after eating a full meal and my dad says, "What, you're not hungry? Let me get the sling-shot..."
Other Ya-yaisms were just plain mistakes--innocent ones--that we never let her get away with. The one I remember best is when she was trying to think of the name of a famous baseball player she'd just watched a documentary on. You know, the one who used to wear socks. Or one sock. Or a black stocking. That's it! "Stocking-foot Joe!" No..."Black Stocking Joe!" Wait...that's not it... I got it! "Footless Joe Jackson!"
I'm hoping that this kid ends up learning Lamprosisms by osmosis--just because they're a fact of his/her life, like they were mine. Hell, Sean doesn't need a translator anymore when we go back to Cleveland, and he's even started using some himself. It might sound silly, but it's even better than having pictures of Ya-ya and Papou around.
I had this experience the other day. I was soooooo tired! I was so tired, I wanted to cry, and I had just gotten to work. I must have been pouting or slamming cash drawers or something, because someone asked me what's "wrong" (a euphemism for "crawled up your ass and died") and I said with an obnoxiously loud sigh, "It's a two-thing day. That's all."
A two-thing day?
Yes. A two-thing day. And it was! I had to go to work AND walk the dog! A prospect that, in my delicate condition, seemed utterly overwhelming. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I was on the verge of tears because of it, either. Poor Sean, because of all months, this month he's out of town three weeks out of four and he feels terrible for it. Anyway, the reasons for the sentiment are beside the point. It's the expression that I'm talking about. And it's such a good one. There really was no other way that I could communicate what I was feeling. "I'm tired" wouldn't have done it, nor would "Sean's out of town so I have to leave to walk the dog," nor would "uh, I'm pregnant, stupid." It was a two-thing day, and that's all there was to it.
The same goes for the aforementioned "heenie" or "heanie" as it is alternately spelled (my dad, as the conceiver of some of these phrases and a ghastly speller has a tendency to change their phonetic spelling regularly), and for the following:
"faat" (fot)
"lay dead"
"get the marmalade"
"gizminkus"
"going halfies"
"who you gonna tell?"
"hotter than Kelsey's nuts"
"how'd I know that? huh?"
"you're the best one"
"what are you waiting for, an invitation?"
answering a phone call with "Telephone?" instead of "hello"
Then there are other Papouisms that were just plain silly. My favorite was always the cheer he insisted that he and his friends actually used back in the day, that goes like this:
"Ra ra ree!
Kick 'em in the knee!
Ra ra rass!
Kick 'em in the....
other knee!"
That one always made me laugh. As did the telling of the only two dreams the man apparently ever had in his life. One was about falling off a very high cliff, and when he woke up, he was on the floor. (Bah-dum-dum.) The other was about eating the biggest, most delicious and fluffy marshmallow! And when he woke up, his pillow was gone. (Thanks folks...I'll be here all night. Try the veal.)
The list really could be a mile long. But a lot is in the delivery, so admittedly there's something lost here on the page. In almost every case, though, the phrase was born of necessity and really is the only way to express that particular sentiment. Funny how so much of the way my family feels has a Yonkers accent. Even my mom, The Jewess (it was affectionate coming from my Papou. Jesus was a Jew, after all. How'd I know that? I'm smart.) still uses Lamprosisms regularly, ten-plus years after she and my dad parted ways.
My Ya-ya had her own list of sayings that we razzed her about, and that we continue to throw around when we're together, mostly I think as a way of remembering her without having to be sentimental or mushy about it. When Sean and I walk into the house late at night after driving all the way from Jersey, my dad asks what he can get us to eat, and says "There's pizza, and I got a roast in the oven. I know, kiddo, that's not enough. Here--I'll put some rigatoni on the stove!" In fact, lots of the Ya-ya jokes are about being force-fed, like when my brother pushes his plate away after eating a full meal and my dad says, "What, you're not hungry? Let me get the sling-shot..."
Other Ya-yaisms were just plain mistakes--innocent ones--that we never let her get away with. The one I remember best is when she was trying to think of the name of a famous baseball player she'd just watched a documentary on. You know, the one who used to wear socks. Or one sock. Or a black stocking. That's it! "Stocking-foot Joe!" No..."Black Stocking Joe!" Wait...that's not it... I got it! "Footless Joe Jackson!"
I'm hoping that this kid ends up learning Lamprosisms by osmosis--just because they're a fact of his/her life, like they were mine. Hell, Sean doesn't need a translator anymore when we go back to Cleveland, and he's even started using some himself. It might sound silly, but it's even better than having pictures of Ya-ya and Papou around.
I will be delivered after all.
Praise Jesus (and April). I found an OB/GYN who is in our insurance network, who is a woman, who is taking new patients, who actually delivers babies, and who does so at Hackensack University Medical Center. It's truly a miracle.
Honestly, I had no idea this would be an issue. When I first moved to Jersey, I got a referral from one of Sean's accounts for a female OB who happens to deliver, and whom I've been seeing for a few years. I never though to be concerned with her hospital affiliation, and it never even occurred to me to ask whether she had ultrasound equipment on site until my first prenatal visit, at which point we were given a scrip and told to make an additional appointment on another date at some medical imaging center down the road a piece. So that was a little anticlimactic, to say the least, especially after we'd gotten so pumped up to get our first peek at the babe during that visit. Also, the ultrasound tech didn't allow Sean in the room with me initially (she said it was because she needed to be sure that everything was okay before inviting the father into the room....but that seems so counterintuitive, since the father has every right to be there WHILE that's being found out, doesn't he? Not to mention that if, *spit* *spit*, there actually was a problem, wouldn't that be when you'd most need one another? I really don't think that would have happened at a doctor's office. Whatever. Thank god everything was fine).
So we set out on a wild goose chase to find a good doctor in an effort to minimize the chances of something disappointing, or worse, happening again. We both agreed that we'd prefer a Labor and Delivery center within a hospital, rather than a birthing clinic. The Women's and Children's Pavilion at Hack really stood out to us, and it's a great relief to Sean that they have a stellar children's hospital to boot. All that aside, I'd be lying if I said that the Nicole Miller designer hospital gowns and the BEYOND Spa didn't play a part in my decision making process...
But all the OBs to whom we were referred were either not delivering anymore (not surprising, with the $50k+ malpractice requirement in addition to their regular premium) or weren't accepting new patients (also not surprising, since the pickins are so slim). Aaaarrrrrgh.
After casting a wide enough net we were successful at last, and in the nick of time as my new doctor, Melissa Weinstein, was able to squeeze me in during the window in which the first trimester combined screening needs to happen. This is the ultrasound and blood panel that help to determine the risk of Down Syndrome and trisomy-18 (er...gotta read up on that one).
Sadly, Sean will still be in Arizona (where he is now) for my appointment, which is this Friday. Boohoo. But I'll have an tasteful black and white of our brilliant little bean to show him when he gets home, and to show his brother and sisters when we break the news to them this weekend down the shore. I really hope we get a nice profile shot!
Honestly, I had no idea this would be an issue. When I first moved to Jersey, I got a referral from one of Sean's accounts for a female OB who happens to deliver, and whom I've been seeing for a few years. I never though to be concerned with her hospital affiliation, and it never even occurred to me to ask whether she had ultrasound equipment on site until my first prenatal visit, at which point we were given a scrip and told to make an additional appointment on another date at some medical imaging center down the road a piece. So that was a little anticlimactic, to say the least, especially after we'd gotten so pumped up to get our first peek at the babe during that visit. Also, the ultrasound tech didn't allow Sean in the room with me initially (she said it was because she needed to be sure that everything was okay before inviting the father into the room....but that seems so counterintuitive, since the father has every right to be there WHILE that's being found out, doesn't he? Not to mention that if, *spit* *spit*, there actually was a problem, wouldn't that be when you'd most need one another? I really don't think that would have happened at a doctor's office. Whatever. Thank god everything was fine).
So we set out on a wild goose chase to find a good doctor in an effort to minimize the chances of something disappointing, or worse, happening again. We both agreed that we'd prefer a Labor and Delivery center within a hospital, rather than a birthing clinic. The Women's and Children's Pavilion at Hack really stood out to us, and it's a great relief to Sean that they have a stellar children's hospital to boot. All that aside, I'd be lying if I said that the Nicole Miller designer hospital gowns and the BEYOND Spa didn't play a part in my decision making process...
But all the OBs to whom we were referred were either not delivering anymore (not surprising, with the $50k+ malpractice requirement in addition to their regular premium) or weren't accepting new patients (also not surprising, since the pickins are so slim). Aaaarrrrrgh.
After casting a wide enough net we were successful at last, and in the nick of time as my new doctor, Melissa Weinstein, was able to squeeze me in during the window in which the first trimester combined screening needs to happen. This is the ultrasound and blood panel that help to determine the risk of Down Syndrome and trisomy-18 (er...gotta read up on that one).
Sadly, Sean will still be in Arizona (where he is now) for my appointment, which is this Friday. Boohoo. But I'll have an tasteful black and white of our brilliant little bean to show him when he gets home, and to show his brother and sisters when we break the news to them this weekend down the shore. I really hope we get a nice profile shot!
Thursday, July 24, 2008
My Little Greek Olive
Or, more accurately, my little Greek-Russian-Irish-Welsh-Hungarian-Scottish olive. The "bean" has graduated to "olive" this week, but somehow that just doesn't sound as cute. And plus, it makes me think of martinis, dammit. Grape, maybe? Now I'm thinking of dessert wine, which strangely, I've been craving. Anyway, at somewhere between an inch and an inch-and-a-half, it's really hard to believe s/he can be taking up so much space in there, but my non-existent waistline is proof. I swear it's not that bag of Cheetos or the double order of tiramisu...
Not only has the little bugger been growing up a storm over the last week and a half, but there's been a lot going on around the house too. My mom was in town from Thursday to Monday. The visit was a birthday present to her from me and Sean, and what a thoughtful present it was! If it wasn't enough that she's working at Bray Whaler while maintaining her own business, she's also moving this Saturday. And it's not as though this trip was even a relaxing respite from her daily, crazy life. We did the marathon shopping thing, flipping though hundreds of rugs at ABC Carpet & Home, spending hours planning the interior of the PAX storage wall in the office/baby's room (well, she did, while I crashed on the MALM floor sample), and hitting every bedding and bath store in a 25 mile radius of Hoboken searching for THE curtain rods. We perfected the art of "honing," (driving in increasingly smaller concentric circles around the target while cursing out Emily, whose maps are shamefully out-of-date), and she did an amazing job not punching my lights out when I got cranky. All in all, I think it was a great birthday present.
Even though it took two tries to put it together (thank GOD for Sean on Saturday night), the Great Wall of Storage tripled our closet space and made room for baby and anything else we might acquire in the coming months. There's no way I'd have been able to plan it the way she did. She's also really good at installing hardware like curtain rods, which requires the confidence to make permanent holes in walls that I just don't have. And before her visit, I might have been content with a several hundred dollar "hand tufted" rug from Home Decorator's Collection, whereas now I know better and will be satisfied with nothing less than a hand-knotted Tabriz in the rarest of colors with 110 knots per square inch. Dammit again.
So, her visit really tied up a lot of loose ends around here and got us extremely organized. But there is one dilemma that it raised: what will the baby call her? It's not too early to think about this either, because if we knew, I'd already be referring to her as "_______" in this blog. We went over several options but none of them seemed right. We ruled out "Grandma" and "Nana." Beyond that, we're stumped. Any ideas?
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Pictures?
I'm trying to put together a slide show of pictures to add as an "element" to Lil' B's blog (this whole thing is still rather new to me and I have no idea what I'm doing). I wanted to include pictures of Sean and me sans bebe (obviously) and pictures of all the cool people in our lives who will eventually play an important part in the life of the little bean...
But in compiling this slide show, it became glaringly evident that there's a huge lack of picture-taking going on here! It's like an epidemic. Not only are we guilty of it--Sean and I are know for having had some really fabulous experiences and either forgetting the camera all together, or coming home with one grainy, blurry, wide-angle shot of us there to show for it--but EVERYONE is! With maybe the exception of my mom, who is a picture taking fool. And Pop Len, though most of his pictures are of scenery and the friends he and Patty make on their globe-trotting adventures, rather than of themselves. And Grandma Diana, who is the queen of disposable 35mm film cameras, and Courtney and Sean and Dana and Paul, who are practically or actually professional photographers....
Wait a minute here. There are obviously pictures being taken. We just don't have any.
Hence the montage of pictures from our wedding. Sigh. (Yeah, I am being a little dramatic here because I never really do get sick of looking at pictures from our wedding. It's true.) But I really feel self-conscious about it, much in the way that I feel self-conscious about starting this blog...like it's a little self-indulgent. Or a lot. I will have to keep reminding myself that this is for posterity. In any case, it will hopefully be the kick in the butt that I need to make picture-taking a priority so we have documentation of all the great people we know and things we do and fun we have.
While our friends and family take digital pictures that are easy to share, most of them are posted on those photo-organization websites like Snapfish and Flikr and are shared that way, and I can't get them off there! I suppose that's the point.
Anyway, I guess this is a call to our friends and family: if you have any nice pictures of yourselves or of family gatherings and you find yourselves with a little spare time, can you send them to me? NOT by inviting me to "view your Snapfish album," but as email attachments. Just a couple, so that the most recent pics we have of you are not from two years ago (no matter how I cherish the memory of that glorious day in Mexico.....).
Thank you!! XOXOXO
But in compiling this slide show, it became glaringly evident that there's a huge lack of picture-taking going on here! It's like an epidemic. Not only are we guilty of it--Sean and I are know for having had some really fabulous experiences and either forgetting the camera all together, or coming home with one grainy, blurry, wide-angle shot of us there to show for it--but EVERYONE is! With maybe the exception of my mom, who is a picture taking fool. And Pop Len, though most of his pictures are of scenery and the friends he and Patty make on their globe-trotting adventures, rather than of themselves. And Grandma Diana, who is the queen of disposable 35mm film cameras, and Courtney and Sean and Dana and Paul, who are practically or actually professional photographers....
Wait a minute here. There are obviously pictures being taken. We just don't have any.
Hence the montage of pictures from our wedding. Sigh. (Yeah, I am being a little dramatic here because I never really do get sick of looking at pictures from our wedding. It's true.) But I really feel self-conscious about it, much in the way that I feel self-conscious about starting this blog...like it's a little self-indulgent. Or a lot. I will have to keep reminding myself that this is for posterity. In any case, it will hopefully be the kick in the butt that I need to make picture-taking a priority so we have documentation of all the great people we know and things we do and fun we have.
While our friends and family take digital pictures that are easy to share, most of them are posted on those photo-organization websites like Snapfish and Flikr and are shared that way, and I can't get them off there! I suppose that's the point.
Anyway, I guess this is a call to our friends and family: if you have any nice pictures of yourselves or of family gatherings and you find yourselves with a little spare time, can you send them to me? NOT by inviting me to "view your Snapfish album," but as email attachments. Just a couple, so that the most recent pics we have of you are not from two years ago (no matter how I cherish the memory of that glorious day in Mexico.....).
Thank you!! XOXOXO
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Smarter than the average bear...
I may not have a scanner, but I DO have a digital camera! So I took a picture of the picture of the baby, who will affectionately be referred to henceforth as Lil' B. The print out of the sonogram is high-gloss though, so it was really hard to get a pic without some nasty glare (which is why the annoying angle). At least you can make out the general outline of the little Lima bean chilling in its comfy womb chair.
There really is a baby in there!
I just sent the first Baby Update email to a few family members, having not yet committed to the idea of a blog...and then created a blog. So rather than reinventing the wheel, I'm going to copy and paste the email I just sent.
8:46am July 15, 2008
Sub: Ultrasound--Not ours, but can you really tell?
Hi, guys!
So we had our first ultrasound yesterday and everything's looking good. Actually, looking quite like a Lima bean, but sounding human anyway. We heard the heartbeat, which was really amazing! I sort of wish they didn't make you hold your urine for these things, because I would have enjoyed the experience much more if my teeth weren't floating. In any case, it was certainly memorable and it made it very real for both of us. Until we got proof, I think we were both a little apprehensive. But there it is--hanging on tight, little heart pumping away.
I thought our printer/copier had a scanner option, but alas it does not, so I'm sending a link instead to some stranger's ultrasound that looks remarkably like our baby! Go figure. According to the calendar, the baby's age is 7 weeks 2 days, and according to the crown-to-rump measurements, the baby's age is 7 weeks 4 days, which puts us at a due date of February 27. But I'm sticking with my story that the kid is 8 weeks and just really, really petite. I'm almost positive. Time will tell, as the measurements get more and more accurate the bigger the baby gets. Right now taking the measurements is literally like splitting hairs, but at this stage, just a couple days here and there makes a huge difference! We're talking the difference between toes and NO TOES! Or TAIL and no tail! Huge, I tell you.
So it was really important that Sean and I tell as many people as possible IN PERSON, which is why we are waiting until our weekend down the shore with Sean's family to tell his siblings. Of course, his mom and dad know already. That will mean that most of our close friends and family will know by the first week of August, but we're waiting until the end of the 1st trimester, AUGUST 15th, to make it public knowledge, and at that point you can all feel free to tell whomever. Thanks for keeping it to yourselves in the meantime!
We're toying with the idea of keeping a blog because so many of the important people in our lives don't live near us. I'm still trying to get used to the idea. We'll keep you posted if we do.
Here's the stranger's ultrasound. Seriously, the only difference is that the stranger's baby looks like it's swimming in the middle of the sack, expending a whole lot of energy, and mine is chilling like the sack is a womb chair (huh...), like a smart little bean.
http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://bp2.blogger.com/_OFODEphY20A/RqVs3bves1I/AAAAAAAAABI/SPLDOh8RxEo/s320/baby%2Bcanar0003.jpg&imgrefurl=http://babycanar.blogspot.com/2007/07/our-little-peanut.html&h=236&w=320&sz=16&hl=en&start=14&sig2=RiHplVxUEtV0CZcgoOkDjw&um=1&tbnid=E9n4f7g3bRA_gM:&tbnh=87&tbnw=118&ei=xpJ8SIDXOYXOggL--pGaDw&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dultrasound%2B7%2Bweeks%26ndsp%3D18%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26sa%3DN
And here's a cool picture of what it looks like close up. Much more endearing than the fuzzy gray spot in the ultrasound.
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFYXp_KJ0YM/RlCRKftxZjI/AAAAAAAAAAk/gpzMHpQh9LQ/s1600-h/7weeks.jpg
Hope you're all well and that we get to see you soon!!
Love,
Jessica, Sean & ?
8:46am July 15, 2008
Sub: Ultrasound--Not ours, but can you really tell?
Hi, guys!
So we had our first ultrasound yesterday and everything's looking good. Actually, looking quite like a Lima bean, but sounding human anyway. We heard the heartbeat, which was really amazing! I sort of wish they didn't make you hold your urine for these things, because I would have enjoyed the experience much more if my teeth weren't floating. In any case, it was certainly memorable and it made it very real for both of us. Until we got proof, I think we were both a little apprehensive. But there it is--hanging on tight, little heart pumping away.
I thought our printer/copier had a scanner option, but alas it does not, so I'm sending a link instead to some stranger's ultrasound that looks remarkably like our baby! Go figure. According to the calendar, the baby's age is 7 weeks 2 days, and according to the crown-to-rump measurements, the baby's age is 7 weeks 4 days, which puts us at a due date of February 27. But I'm sticking with my story that the kid is 8 weeks and just really, really petite. I'm almost positive. Time will tell, as the measurements get more and more accurate the bigger the baby gets. Right now taking the measurements is literally like splitting hairs, but at this stage, just a couple days here and there makes a huge difference! We're talking the difference between toes and NO TOES! Or TAIL and no tail! Huge, I tell you.
So it was really important that Sean and I tell as many people as possible IN PERSON, which is why we are waiting until our weekend down the shore with Sean's family to tell his siblings. Of course, his mom and dad know already. That will mean that most of our close friends and family will know by the first week of August, but we're waiting until the end of the 1st trimester, AUGUST 15th, to make it public knowledge, and at that point you can all feel free to tell whomever. Thanks for keeping it to yourselves in the meantime!
We're toying with the idea of keeping a blog because so many of the important people in our lives don't live near us. I'm still trying to get used to the idea. We'll keep you posted if we do.
Here's the stranger's ultrasound. Seriously, the only difference is that the stranger's baby looks like it's swimming in the middle of the sack, expending a whole lot of energy, and mine is chilling like the sack is a womb chair (huh...), like a smart little bean.
http://images.google.com/
And here's a cool picture of what it looks like close up. Much more endearing than the fuzzy gray spot in the ultrasound.
http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_IFYXp_
Hope you're all well and that we get to see you soon!!
Love,
Jessica, Sean & ?
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