Lawyerish

Gearhead

Per Alyce's suggestion, here's a list of some of our baby gear, and as -R- noted I'll do an update once the baby is here and we've figured out what works and what we hate with the fire of a thousand suns.  Also, at HeatherM's request I am linking some of our favorite baby-stuff stores here in NYC that also have online shopping so you can join in the fun from home! 

-- As I mentioned before, we got an UppaBaby Vista stroller.  I did a LOT of stewing over stroller choices before we settled on the Vista.  Living in the city and not having a car, the stroller is a key part of our Baby Support Equipment (BSE) arsenal.  We're planning to spend a great deal of time in Central Park and around the neighborhood with the kid, so we needed something that would ride smoothly over uneven sidewalks and be able to go off-road.  We also wanted something that had both a bassinet and a seat option, plus carseat compatibility.  Our stroller needed to be able to fold up easily for storage so it wouldn't dominate our apartment. 

For a while, we were pretty sure we would get a Bugaboo Cameleon.  That is pretty much THE stroller of choice in our neighborhood and I've never heard anyone say a negative thing about it (except that it's expensive).  It's sleek with rugged tires and user friendly features, and it's super maneuverable and smooth-riding. 

But then we looked at the UppaBaby, which is relatively new to the market, and it seemed to have a lot to offer, too.  The tires are foam-filled rather than air-pumped, so they won't go flat.  The suspension is well-made for a velvety ride.  It comes with both a bassinet and a seat, whereas the Bugaboo comes with fabric that you have to change on the frame yourself to create the seat or the bassinet.  The seat faces either way, reclines easily to several different positions, has an adjustable footrest, and sits a bit higher than many strollers (which, as a drawback, makes the Vista look REALLY big next to the Bugaboo, but the upside is that your baby is closer to you and further from the ground).  The basket under the seat is capacious -- plenty of room for a diaper bag and a day's worth of shopping.  It has a big sun canopy with UV protection on both the bassinet and the seat.  And it folds up (and unfolds) with one easy move.  

All that for several hundred bucks less than the Bugaboo.  And, if you care about such things, it's American-designed and made, which is kind of nice in the current economy.  Sold! 

(The link to the stroller takes you to the site for Planet Kids, which is where we got ours.  It's a GREAT baby and kids' store with a couple of locations in NYC and an extensive website.  The salespeople there are extremely helpful and knowledgeable, and they spent a lot of time taking us through the features and relative merits of the Bugaboo and the Vista as well as several carseat options.  They also arranged to have the stroller delivered to us for FREE.)

We also have a Quinny Zapp stroller, which folds up teeny tiny and I think will be good for travel when she's bigger -- you can use it for a smaller infant, but only with a carseat as the seat doesn't recline and there's no bassinet.  We have found it VERY difficult to collapse and unfold -- when we got it out to practice, it took us a good twenty minutes of grunting and sweating to fold it back up.

-- Our carseat is a Chicco Keyfit 30, which we chose because it works with the Vista and, out of the three compatible options, it was the lightest and will last the longest based on the size and weight maxes.  I also thought it looked cute. 

-- Carriers:  I feel like this is where we're going to end up with about five hundred different pieces of gear in our closet.  There are so MANY carriers and such a wide range of styles and functions and positions and user-friendliness among them.  To start out with, we got three different ones, based on the recommendations of various friends. 

First, the Ergo Organic Baby Carrier plus infant insert (that link takes you to Albee Baby, another very well-stocked NYC store with a comprehensive website).  I've heard lots of raves about the Ergo, especially how comfy it is for the parent (whereas I have gotten many tips that the Bjorn killed people's backs).  My only concern with the Ergo is that it does appear...well, a bit complex, so there may be a learning curve at first.  We've watched the instructional video and it SEEMS simple enough, but there are a lot of straps and adjustments and clips, and of course when you actually use it there is also a squirming BABY involved.  I'm hoping it will become intuitive quickly without anyone dropping the baby on her head while trying to get her in there and settled.

Second, for its utter simplicity, we got the Serene Sling by Balboa Baby.  It's ONE piece of fabric -- no rings or clips and no wrapping required.  It's a comfy, soft knit and you just stick the baby in there and slip it over your head and one shoulder, and off you go.  The baby can be positioned a few different ways as she develops and according to the package it is great for discreet nursing.  My only beef with this was that we followed the sizing directions and bought a Medium (they say to follow your t-shirt size), but when we got it home and tried it on, it didn't even come down past our necks.  So Joe took it back and got I think an XL, which seems like it would be too big for us but in fact appears to be just right -- maybe because of our height or longish torsos or his manly pecs?  Anyway, I am hoping this is the sling for us; otherwise, I've also heard very good things about the New Native sling and would give that a whirl next. 

And finally, I am perhaps the most excited about our mei tai.  It is SO CUTE (I got a red dragon print on one side and a floral print on the other) and very easy to put on, and it seems comfortable to boot.   

-- Crib:  the Straight-Up Crib from Land of Nod.  I love the classic-yet-modern, streamlined look of this, and I assembled it in about ten minutes.  This is our crunchy-granola organic crib mattress.

-- Bouncy Seat:  The Baby Bjorn Organic Babysitter Balance.  I like this because it is basic and unobtrusive (for my own sanity, I didn't want anything that made noise, played music or vibrated), but looks comfy and has three reclining positions.  It also folds completely flat, so it stashes right into a closet when not in use.  We got it from Giggle, which is another of our favorite NY baby-stuff stores -- they seem to find the most attractive AND useful things and round them all up into one super-cute boutique, and their website is equally great and easily navigated. 

-- Play Mat:  Also from Giggle, we got the Shangri-La Activity Play Mat.  It's SUPER soft and fuzzy on one side and has bold black-and-white design on the other, and comes with a bunch of toys that attach to the soft arches plus some tummy-time toys (including one with a mirror) that velcro to the mat itself.  It seems like a great variety of textures, colors and shapes to keep the baby entertained (hell, WE were entertained just putting it together), plus you can easily add or change the hanging toys.  It also stores well; the arches lie flat and you can wrap them in the mat and stow them in a bench or closet. 

-- Booster Seat:  We won't need this for quite a while, but instead of a high chair that would have taken up half of our kitchen, we got the Phil & Ted's Me Too Chair to clamp onto the table when she's ready for solids.  It folds completely flat so I'm hoping will be perfect for travel or restaurant outings, too. 

-- Baby Bath:  Since we have ZERO room for a full-sized baby tub and we plan to bathe her in the sink as long as possible rather than crouching over our bathtub, we were psyched to run across the Puj Tub, which is another brilliant product of Scandinavian design and engineering.  It's basically a piece of waterproof foam that folds into this little mini-bath and goes in either your bathroom or kitchen sink and then lays or hangs flat for drying and storage.  Genius!  It's also cheap ($40). 

-- Diaper Bag:  We have the JJ Cole System Bag (in gray and green).  It's compact, comes with a fold-up changing pad and has lots of convenient pockets and compartments.  It's also reasonably gender-neutral, since I didn't think Joe would want to walk around with a big floral tote all the time (and neither would I, frankly). 

Both of us will also use bags that we already have -- Joe has a Banana Republic messenger-style canvas bag he got at least 8 years ago that has gone EVERYWHERE with us (it's been to Vietnam, Italy, Costa Rica, Spain, Montreal, Iowa, Georgia, Central Park...you get the idea) and will serve nicely as a Dad-bag, and I have my Ogio messenger-style bag (the Road Trip) that's large and nicely padded on the inside so should be sufficiently cushioned for me to haul my Rebel DSLR with us for the necessary baby-paparazzi action (although if it turns out not to be ideal, I will soon be in the market for some kind of camera/diaper bag combo, so if you have any leads on that, let me know). 

Those are pretty much the major pieces of BSE that we've got!  I'm hoping the promise of all this cool stuff will entice this child to come on out SOON.  (Full term (37 weeks) in a week!  That's next weeeeeeeeeek!)  Mama's sciatica needs some RELIEF.

Finally, just for Dianna: 

Pleased to Meetcha

Next up, we have Debbie's request for a little biographical info.  This post is probably going to be overly linky, but I figured I'd give you some archive stuff to read if you're so inclined. 

I was born in the Midwest, but I grew up and went all the way through high school in a small town in Georgia, where we moved just before I started first grade.  I did not exactly fit right in, to put it mildly (among other things, I was downright TERRIFIED of my teachers), but early in my first grade year I did meet Allison, who remains my best friend to this day (even though she has the audacity not to live right next door to me, as she SHOULD).  Allison probably sacrificed a lifetime of popularity to be my friend, as I was, well, a gigantic dork.  We were kindred spirits, though, in our love of unicorns, rainbows, "Annie", spying (inspired by Harriet the Spy) and Little House (more the books than the TV series, because we were purists).  We also engaged in light criminal activity on one occasion in fourth grade, in an attempt to make our pioneer reenactments more authentic.

By junior high, I decided to take nerdiness to another level and not only attended Space Camp, but was unofficially voted to be the ugliest girl there.  (Admittedly, I was not the cutest thing around.)  Perhaps to my benefit, I attended the all-girls public junior high that my town had established for seventh and eighth grades, where we were taught useful life skills such as makeup application.  Meanwhile, Allison began to experience some anger issues during adolescence, which led to some memorable moments (I still go back and read that post from time to time, and it always makes me bust a gut laughing.  But then, I am easily amused). 

Things didn't improve greatly in high school.  I went on precisely two dates in all four years and continued to be generally unpopular, if not completely marginalized.  This was partly my own fault, as I was focused on (a) becoming valedictorian and (b) spending about 100 hours a week in a ballet studio.  Although I could have become a professional ballet dancer, my practical side won out and I went to college instead.  It's one of those things I sort of regret, since I loved dancing so passionately and then just...gave it up in favor of taking a much more mainstream path in life, but then I figure that I wouldn't have the life I have now if I'd chosen differently, so there's no sense dwelling on decisions past. 

After college, I decided to go to law school either because I didn't really know what else to do or because of a Guatemalan gypsy curse that had been placed on my father before I was born.  Regardless, it turned out well enough, since I met my husband Joe after I became a full-time law firm associate.  We got married in 2003, and shortly thereafter welcomed a rather adorable Italian greyhound puppy into our lives (my rescued cat was grandfathered into the marriage, much to Joe's chagrin).

After practicing law for a little while, I took some time away from work to try to pursue acting.  Aaaaand then I went back to practicing law.  In 2005 and 2006, I ran the New York City Marathon, which was an amazing and excruciating experience that I'm not sure I'll ever repeat -- having proven that I CAN run 26.2 miles all at once, I'm happy sticking to recreational running, with the occasional half-marathons and 10Ks thrown in for kicks.

In the fall of 2006, my husband and I decided -- because it seemed like a great idea at the time and I wasn't terribly interested in getting pregnant -- to adopt a child from Vietnam.  We'd been to Vietnam before and fell in love with it, and the adoption seemed...well, it just seemed like the right thing for us.  We went through the usual REAMS of paperwork, and then we waited.  And waited.  And WAITED. 

A year after we got on the waiting list (which was about seven months after we'd started the process, so more than a year and a half total of WAITING), we received a referral of an 8-month old baby girl.  We fell in love with her and readied her nursery and had baby showers and did everything that excited, expectant parents do to prepare to welcome their child home.  A few months later, when we thought we were going to be traveling soon to bring her home from Vietnam, we received a devastating call:  our agency had discovered that she had suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and had severe motor, cognitive and developmental impairment as a result.  We made the agonizing decision, after consulting with lots of expert-types in this area based on the new medical information we had, to withdraw from her adoption. 

We were told, even though the Vietnam adoption program was days away from shutting down, that because of our exceptional circumstances we would be permitted to proceed with a second referral.  In September 2008, we received a referral for another beautiful baby girl.  Although we were still grieving the loss of the first child, we felt that perhaps there was a greater reason for this turn of events, and we grew excited to bring this little girl home.  But then, a few months into the pre-travel process, we were informed that the Vietnamese government had changed its position on second referrals, and we (along with other families who'd had similar terrible things happen with their initial referral) would not be allowed to complete our adoption.  We spent months fighting this and advocating for ourselves and for the baby we felt was our daughter.  Ultimately, despite negotiations between the US and Vietnamese governments on our behalf, the decision not to allow second referrals was made final in February 2009, and our adoption "journey" was over.

Pretty much immediately thereafter, we decided to try to have a kid the old-fashioned way, and here we are, a year later, just weeks away from welcoming our daughter into the world.  And that's...it?  I guess?  Or those are some highlights, anyway. 

To close, some pictures of our nursery, as requested (and one of Miles, for good measure):

Training Day

Next up, we have livlaugheat's question about preparing for a half-marathon.  Which, as I sit here with SCREAMING back pain that causes me to hobble around like I'm about a million years old, somehow seems laughable, that I would have anything at all to say about such a thing. 

(I think it's my piriformis muscle, since it's concentrated deep in my right gluteal area and causes the most unbelievable, stabbing, shooting, head-spinning PAIN with every step I take.  I don't know if it's how the baby is situated or my hauling around so much extra weight or what, but...OW.  Oddly enough it's a fairly common injury in distance runners, too, and one that I've encountered in the past myself.  Except right now it's so, so much worse than I've ever had from running.  Do you think they'll offer to induce me early if I tell them I CAN'T WALK due to CRIPPLING BUTT PAIN?)

So!  Half marathons.  Actually, this advice pertains to pretty much any running race, from 5Ks on up (except, perhaps, ultramarathons, since I have never come close to attempting one of those and do not plan to in this lifetime -- I think if you have to sleep as part of a race, it's a tad too long). 

As with everything else, I'd love to hear from others who agree or disagree with these tidbits, because my way might be totally stupid and not for everyone: 

Should you carry a cell phone?  Not during the race, no.  Personally, I cannot stand to have ANY extra stuff on my person beyond my clothing, my shoes, my iPod, an Amphipodwith gummy bears (more on that in a minute), my race number and my running watch, and I think a cell phone would be annoyingly bulky to carry.  Although I suppose if you have an iPhone that doubles as your iPod and has a belt clip, that would be okay.   

That said, I have seen plenty of people running with cell phones on their hip or even talking on the phone while running.  It seems like an unnecessary distraction to me.  If someone's going to come watch you run, have them station themselves at a specific mile and on a designated side of the course.  If you miss them, it's not the end of the world (though I always find it a huge boost to see Joe on the sidelines looking for me -- I usually don't stop, just throw a wave and keep on truckin', but that little moment is still great for morale).  And for AFTER the race, if you need a phone to coordinate a pick-up, then you can pack your cell phone in the bag that you check prior to the race. 

(Side note:  Some races don't allow music players/headphones and are militant about enforcing that rule, so check ahead of time and train accordingly.  I, for one, would probably not make it to the finish line without my running playlist blaring into my ears, but it would be even worse to expect to be able to use music and then have to race without.  The horror.)

Checking a bag.  I am fortunate to live near the park, where most of my races are, so I usually just trot over to the start with everything I need on me (my apartment key and sometimes a $20 bill or a Metrocard in the key pocket of my shorts or in an Amphipod, linked above, which is as streamlined and light as you can get to cram your must-have stuff into).  But for big runs like the marathon, or half-marathons in other boroughs, I'll check a bag with a Gatorade, my phone, a Balance Bar, and an extra shirt if I'm going to be a sweatbag afterward or extra layers if it's chilly.  Sometimes races have rules about what kind of bag you can check, like it has to be a clear plastic bag or a bag they give you when you pick up your packet and number, so again, check beforehand.  Either way, you'll get a sticker or some kind of tag for your bag corresponding to your bib number.

The important thing there is to leave extra time before the start to deal with the bag check.  Usually it's located close to the starting line, but sometimes it's a decent walk away, and you don't want to feel rushed or stressed right before the race starts. 

I usually like to arrive at the race about 15 minutes prior to the start.  That's assuming I DON'T have a bag to check or anything to do before the race.  If you think you're going to need some time in the Port-O-John (which ALWAYS involves waiting in a line), or if you have to check a bag or need to pick up your race number, then get there at least ten minutes earlier.  A lot of races require you to be in the starting corrals by ten minutes prior to the start time and I find that time is crucial to find a decent spot in the lineup, do some light stretching and get my watch and iPod keyed up.  I HATE having to sprint to the start or getting there after they've closed the corrals, which means you have to go allllll the way to the back of the line. 

Water stations.  During the race, as you get to a hydration stop and you DO want water or Gatorade, skip the initial bottleneck at the front of the table, keep jogging to the outside of all the people who are jammed up there (but stay to the left rather than running with those who are passing by the station), and grab a drink where it's less crowded at the back of the table.  Then stay to the left, again out of the stream of runners who aren't grabbing water.  You shouldn't have elbowing problems this way, although sometimes people are just scrappy or the hydration stops are small, in which case it's every person for themselves.  Usually people are decently civil about it, though. 

If you need to take walk breaks -- which is completely cool; you'll see TONS of people walking at various times during the race, so never be afraid to walk or even incorporate regular walking intervals into your run -- the drink stops are the perfect time to do that.  Take your time getting a cup, walk while you drink, then once you've tossed your cup start a slow jog and ramp up to race pace again as you ease back into the pack.  On the other hand, if you don't want to break stride, then only reduce speed to a fast jog, then hold the cup by pinching the top so it doesn't spill as much, take some gulps and race on. 

Food/gels.  I think that running gels are of the devil.  I've never found one that didn't make me want to rip my tongue out, both from the taste and from the lingering icky sweetness that seems to glue your mouth together.  Some of them also make my stomach hurt.  So instead of gels, I carry a baggie of gummy bears in my Amphipod for anything longer than a 10K; they're delicious, easy to chew and they give me a boost of sugar that carries me through the last few miles.  Twizzlers Nibs also work for me.

But I am clearly a minority here, as most people swear by them.  The key is to find what works for you well before race day, during your long training runs.  You may find you love the ones with caffeine in them, or you like the gummy shots rather than the straight gels, or you can only stomach them if you take them with water.  Of course, you'll also want to choose your night-before dinner and your day-of breakfast wisely and have road-tested them beforehand, too.  (I'm a fan of some form of chicken and pasta -- with a sauce that isn't too sodium-packed -- the night before and Balance Bars with water or Gatorade the morning of).

Bathroom, uh, issues.  Stopping to use the john in the middle of a race -- along with walking or pulling to the side to stretch a cramp -- is common and normal.  Some people don't like to deal with the lines before a race so they save their potty break for mid-race (usually there are short lines at the on-course port-os, but it's nothing like the endless pre-race queue).  Some people just tend to have to pee (or more) in a race.  It's not a big deal.  I know a lot of people fear having a Major Intestinal Meltdown in the middle of a run, but I think unless you decided to go for some vindaloo and ten beers the night before, it's not likely to happen.  And you'll know what your peeing and digestive needs will be before race day, based on your long runs. 

I think the best insurance against having a problem is to know your pace and stick with it -- don't go out too fast or push beyond what you've trained for.  Some stomach cramping, by the way, is pretty normal; I tend to get a bit of abdominal pain whhen I run longer than 10 miles, but it's a temporary discomfort and doesn't...lead to anything.  Regardless, it never hurts to know at what miles there will be bathrooms so you can be mentally prepared.  They should show them on the course map on the race website.

Not going out too fast is really key to the whole operation, actually.  It's so easy at the beginning to get caught up in the collective energy of the pack and blow past your normal pace, and to some extent that's good, so long as you can settle into your goal pace before too long.  Otherwise, by the time you hit mile 6 or 7, you may be hating life.  I'd much rather run moderately at the beginning and kick it out for the last couple of miles than be gasping for dear life by midway through.  You should know by then what your pace feels like, so your body will be able to find it; you just have to tune out everyone else's pace and the people passing by. 

Above all, of course, have a great time -- it's a fantastic thing to run ANY race, and I happen to think half-marathons are the best of the long races, since they're not so long that you want to crawl to the side of the road and PERISH (as in the marathon, ugh) but they're long enough to make you feel like a complete badass for finishing.  Good luck and let me know how it goes!

What Can I Do For You?

People really need to stop saying to me, "Oh, you must be due any day now!"  This is the equivalent of the spectators who stand on the marathon course at mile 19 and yell, "You're almost there!" when you still have SEVEN #@*&%$ miles to GO. 

Yes, I'm about 85% of the way through this, but I still have MORE THAN A MONTH left at most (oh, please, please, please let it be less) and I'm learning with each passing day that this last 15% is designed to make you BEG for the pain of labor and delivery because it seems so infinitely preferable to waddling around with your lower back in flames and your belly entering a room five minutes before you do.

I made the mistake of standing in our kitchen barefoot for over an hour yesterday (hey, another pregnancy cliche accomplished!) while making red velvet whoopie pies and Ree's potatoes au gratin for our Valentine's Day feast (which also included brown sugar chicken from the slow cooker and a side of spinach).  This followed two days of working out AND walking all over creation for errands, church, friend-visiting, baby shopping (we have DIAPERS in the house now!  Diapers, people!  Do you know what this MEANS?), and my body was not pleased.  My feet felt like someone had taken sledgehammers to them and my back wrote me a strongly worded letter about wearing supportive shoes AT ALL TIMES. 

It seems that the addition of some forty pounds to my frame is beginning to cause some structural breakdown.  This belly is seriously dense and I just feel HEAVY on my feet.  I still don't feel all THAT big, but maybe my eyes and brain are being kind to me.  In any event, the "any day now" comments -- of which I have now received MANY (usually when I am wearing my winter coat, which is admittedly rather tent-like, but still) -- need to stop.

(By the way, the potatoes and the whoopie pies were totally worth the aching feet and back.  TOTALLY.)

I just looked back at this list, and we've already checked off everything on it!  And still there is much time left!  We've done the birthing class, the hospital tour, the doula hiring, the pediatrician selection, and the photo session; we've been to see the play and had two three-day weekends; and both "The Bachelor" and the Olympics are in full swing (speaking of which: quel quandary as to which to watch tonight; I am thinking Bachelor, because if I TiVo it, I may not get to see it for another two weeks until the Olympics are over, and anyway there is clearly more tension and adrenaline involved in the fantasy dates than in some snowy, potentially dangerous competition for a medal, right?). 

The baby's clothes, blankets, towels and bibs have all been washed and put away.  We've also bought our stroller and carseat and virtually every other essential piece of baby support equipment one can think of that will fit into a Manhattan apartment (I'm thinking I'll do a baby gear post at some point, although since we haven't road-tested any of it with an actual baby, perhaps that should wait? or perhaps it's really boring and no one actually cares?), and all of said equipment has been meticulously set up, organized and, in many cases, labeled for ease of use/finding. 

I do have one piece of art that I need to get framed and hang in the nursery (after which I will do a post with pictures of the baby's room, since some of y'all have asked -- I happen to think it's ever so pretty), and next week I have an appointment at the Upper Breast Side (hee) to assess and purchase nursing supplies.  And starting a week from tomorrow, I will be seeing my doctor every week (to my chagrin, these appointments will now require me to take my pants off; it's been so enjoyable for the past six or so months to visit the OB/GYN and not have to disrobe). 

But other than that, we are READY.  We have been pretty darn ready to house and attend to a baby for, oh, about three years now, but as of today we are, like, REALLY REALLY FLASHING NEON SIGN WITH WHOOPING ALARM READY. 

So basically, in the remaining weeks, left with no more necessities to purchase and nothing to obsessively organize or label, I am going to end up cleaning our baseboards with a toothbrush (after which someone will have to come help me up from the floor, possibly with the assistance of a winch and a tractor), washing vertical surfaces, arranging our bookshelves according to the Dewey decimal system and perhaps knocking on our neighbors' doors to see if they need anything dusted/polished/buffed/scrubbed/baked/organized/labeled. 

I think what I need are some homework assignments.  If there's something you want me to write about, some questions you want answered, perhaps an existential or practical dilemma you need solved or a project I can complete and document, preferably without causing myself any bodily injury (note: I can injure myself just getting off the couch these days), do let me know via comment or email. 

Let's make this time pass together, shall we, so I can get to "any day now" a little quicker.

Whine and Roses

It's happened again.  I have been sucked into The Bachelor once more.  Not that this is surprising to anyone, but before this season started I wasn't sure I could stomach the whole "On the Wings of Love" schtick.  Turns out, I can.  Oh, I always can, who are we kidding?  And it's just as appalling as ever.

Our bachelor this time around has the personality of a sofa cushion.  He seems like a reasonably sincere guy, but I have the distinct sense that he lacks any sense of irony or perhaps any sense of humor at all.  On the other hand, to the show's credit, they have been airing slightly more substantive conversations between him and the bachelorettes, whereas usually you have to suffer through episode after episode of mind-numbing Q&A about the "connection" between each potential couple -- do you feel a connection?  I feel a connection; I also feel a connection with eight other women!; indeed, I am troubled by your connection with eight other women, and on and ON until you want to shoot yourself in the face. 

This time, the conversations are not exactly ground-breaking, but there have been discussions of values and expectations for marriage and lessons learned from past relationships.  In the case of Tenley, a wholesome and earnest young lady who seems to me to be the best match for Jake -- they're equally sweet and bland and almost look alike, in a way -- she takes the past relationship thing to another level, as she is recently divorced and is clearly not over it.  On the hometown date, she must have said "my ex-husband" about 30,000 times, which I am sure is a huge turn-on for Jake.  Also, there was an unbearably painful scene where she danced for him -- he was sitting on a stool in the corner of a dance studio and she was flinging herself around in a tank top and a poufy little skirt, and HELLO, AWKWARD.  You could tell he was just kind of ENDURING it.  Painful.

The hometown dates are always the most difficult to watch, with all these lovely parents and families getting dragged into something so sordid.  And most of them are so NICE and you can tell they've opened themselves up to this random dude who went on a TV show to find his wife (yeah, right) and all they want is for their daughters to be HAPPY.  I mean, Tenley's dad broke down into SOBS at one point about how hard it was to see her go through her divorce, and you just wanted to stab the makers of this gross show because, come on, the likelihood is that his daughter is about to have her heart broken AGAIN, and millions of people will have seen him tearfully give his BLESSING to the freaking Bachelor (just a day or so after ANOTHER girl's parents had given him their blessing for him to propose to THEIR daughter) and oh, are we to be spared NOTHING in this sick farce? 

And then there is Vienna, the horse-faced chick with terrible bleached-blonde extensions and the kind of simpering, spoiled, brainless personality that makes you want to punch yourself in the neck repeatedly.  While Jake is no sparkling wit, he seems so wildly different from her that I can't even begin to imagine what these two have in common or what he finds intriguing about her. 

For me, it became difficult to take Jake seriously (and we're starting with a pretty low bar, here) when he let Elizabeth, the smokin' hot nanny, go a few episodes in.  Sure, she did this weird thing where she announced to him that he wouldn't let him kiss her but then constantly asked him whether he WANTED to kiss her; but STILL, she was infinitely preferable to Vienna (or Gia, the bland swimsuit model, for that matter) and really just extremely attractive.  (I think every new dad in America is hoping that somehow they can convince their wife to hire her as the family nanny.) 

And now that Ali, who seemed like a smart, real, down-to-earth girl (with way more personality than Jake), is gone, I'm left with the sense that he has virtually no chemistry with any of the remaining women.  But I am sure the producers are going to herd him through the usual charade of a fake proposal, even though by now, a few months on, he's probably already broken up with whomever he picked in the end and will soon be dating former Playboy playmates and trying to milk his ephemeral moment in the spotlight.

How do they do it?  How do they suck me in every TIME?  You know, I think it might be Chris Harrison that does it.  He has some kind of Jedi mind control over the viewing audience, or at least over me.  I actually think he's kind of adorable and charming, despite the toolish host role he has to fulfill on the show.  You have to hand it to him for getting through a lot of this stuff with a straight face. 

The Prize You Don't Want

Last weekend, we were on the subway on our way home from seeing "A View from the Bridge" (which was very well done; Liev Schreiber was particularly excellent and also hot enough to distract me from the fact that New York theater seats were apparently designed for people with two-foot long legs, heavily padded butts and limitless bladder capacity (ONE ladies room, TWO stalls, OMG)), and -- actually, we might have been going from work to birthing class, now I can't remember and we're talking about something that happened less than seven days ago; send brain cells, please -- ANYWAY, this old man who was sitting near us stood up and all this change started falling out of his pockets and his bag.  There were coins rolling everywhere and he was frantically trying to pick them up, which only resulted in more change dropping from various places on his person (Joe:  "This guy's like a slot machine!"). 

While bending down in hapless pursuit of his escaping coins, he started dropping F-bombs in rapid succession, which didn't seem all that out of proportion to the situation although perhaps not entirely commendable in a public setting, but then he escalated it and started stomping his feet wildly while shouting obscenities, at which point we got up and moved to the other end of the car.  There's nothing quite like a 70-something year old man throwing a full-body tantrum on the subway, I tell you. 

Joe has a term for sitting next to a nutjob or bum on the subway (or having them come and sit next to you):  the booby prize.  We were on the train a couple of years ago with my parents, and a raggedly dressed man who was carrying about 5,000 plastic grocery bags filled with stuff got on and beelined for the seat next to my dad.  Joe leaned over to me and said, "Uh oh.  Jim got the booby prize." 

I seem to attract the booby prize quite a bit.  We were coming home from work a few weeks ago and a guy came and sat next to me looking reasonably normal, but once he got settled he leaned forward and put his hands on his knees and started rubbing them in a circular motion while rocking back and forth.  He did this for the entire ride, and even when several seats on the other side of him opened up (mostly by people who realized they'd gotten the booby prize too -- I didn't move because there was nowhere else to go and I am sure as hell not standing in my rotund condition), he remained practically glued to my side and continued his rocking, to the point that I was almost laying in Joe's lap to avoid bodily contact with the Knee-Rubber. 

Relatedly, and as an update to an earlier conversation, I have been pleasantly surprised by the number of people who have given up their seat for me on the train.  I'd say from about my sixth month on, this started happening more regularly.  It's still not every day, but maybe slightly more than half the time someone will let me sit down.  The rest of the time, I can tell that the people sitting in front of me are aware that I am there in all my big-bellied glory, but they hold their paper right up in front of their face or become supremely interested in their iPod so they can feign ignorance. 

Young guys in their teens and early 20s are the worst offenders; I could probably pass out or go into labor and they would pretend not to even see me.  (They are also the ones who sit spread-eagled, with their legs splayed and their hands in their pockets, elbows thrust out to the sides, so they take up about three seats, which drives me insane).  Older (50s and up) men are not much better and are the most likely to see me on the platform and then shove or elbow me aside when the train arrives so they can get on and get a seat first.  Women, predictably, give me their seats most often, but occasionally it's a guy of about my age or in his 40s. 

In fact, just last week I got onto a packed car and a guy saw me, stood up and gestured to his seat.  I thanked him and, just before I got to the seat, this middle-aged woman came BARRELING past me, out of nowhere, and wedged herself into it.  The guy and I were standing right there, so she had to have seen us, but what can you do?  We looked at each other and just laughed.  He shrugged and I thanked him again and the woman dug into her tote bag, took out a book and contentedly began to read. 

That's New York for you.

The latest pregnancy news, which I am sure you were all awaiting with bated breath, is that I have begun to experience the Fiery Lava Heartburn of DOOOOOM on a quasi-regular basis.  Tums is the answer, I have discovered, and as a bonus are vaguely SweeTart-esque.  For her part, the baby is getting crowded in there, and she likes to poke her feet into my ribs to stretch out, which is cute and sometimes kind of tickles, but other times seems to cause internal bruising.  She does an enthusiastic side-to-side shimmy a lot, too, and it's rather spectacular to watch my belly violently sway back and forth like there might be a rabid cat trapped inside it.  Then there are the left hooks to my bladder -- always a pleasure; there's nothing like peeing yourself a little in the produce section of the Whole Foods. 

Most of the time I really can't tell what's what -- is that her head or her butt?  Foot, hand, elbow, knee?  It's all very mysterious.  I wish I had a little door on my stomach so I could peek in and see what in the world this kid is up to. 

We've got somewhere between three and a half and six and a half weeks to go, though I am still counting on her to join us on the 37 weeks-ish side of full-term -- in our family, being on time means being early, you know -- and there remains the exciting question of whether she'll end up being a Pisces (before March 20) or an Aries.  We've got pretty much every bit of gear we could possibly need and a tremendous amount of adorable clothes, not to mention blankies and loveys and stuffed animals and books galore, and we've been reminding her of this a lot to entice her into the outside world (not quite yet, but SOON).  We are so ready.

I do need to get a pedicure, though, as we get closer, because I'd hate to frighten the L&D nurses with my gnarly toes.  That might be their version of the booby prize.