GMQ Makes her Debut: Part 3

If you missed part 1 or 2 (not that you ever would) you can look them up here and here.

The last bump pic.

So, we were waiting at the desk - the empty desk, apparently the only desk in the whole wide world that has staff capable of admitting a labouring woman, even one who is lowing like a cow and terrifying every patient everywhere.  Jimmy was in disbelief and didn't know quite what to do.  I was just glad that I was no longer in a car and could resume my counter leaning and hip swaying routine.  I'm not sure how long we waited, but finally two ladies entered through a door behind the desk wearing their cots and carrying their lunch bags, clearly just arriving for their shift.
"Oh my, have you been waiting long?" They ask.  "Where is Maria?  She is supposed to be on shift now!  No one was here to help you.  Oh my!" They went on and on, until another contraction came and my grunting and groaning prodded them into a very medium paced course of action.
And then the porter, the poor porter arrived.  The man who had to convince me to sit in that wheelchair.  Who came up with this policy?  Don't all the books say a labouring woman should walk and move to bring the baby down?  I tried to explain to him that after this was all over I was pretty sure I'd never sit down again, what with all the busyness of being a parent and the life sentence by hemrhoid I feared was about to be mine.  I told him I was just preparing myself for a life on two feet and would be happy to walk myself to labour and delivery, but he was having none of it.  Sensing I had found a man who wanted to do things by the book, I tried to negotiate.  I said I would get in the chair only if he promised we could pause so that I could stand up if I needed to.  He didn't seem to understand that the world would stop turning if I couldn't stand and sway my hips and he started blathering on about how it would be best to get me upstairs as quickly as possible where there were people who would help me.  Wrong tactic buddy, no one could help me now, no one and nothing but the graceful, hip swaying dance of the tropics.  Clearly he wasn't about to be swayed by a (normally) petite blond, so that's when I went gangsta on him, and he smiled and continued to insist I get in the chair, which I did, like any gangsta would.
Once we arrived in the delivery room, my new obsession began.  Gone was my fixation on hip swaying and here to stay was my fixation on poop.  You're probably thinking I was worried about poop appearing on the delivery table, as so many are, but you would be wrong.  The pressure had become so intense that I felt sure if I could just poop, all my woes would be righted, and we could get on with having this baby.  But no, said the nurse, I can't let you poop, it's not time to push.  She did tell me that I was at 6 cm, and that when it was time to push, the poop would come on it's own, which gave me little comfort, but I was about to find out that "comfort" isn't a word my nurse was familiar with.
To distract me, my doula suggested a nice warm shower, so Jimmy got changed into his swim stuff and we prepared to enter the warm water.  I got in, and tried to do the lean and hip sway, hitting my head on the many safety bars attached to the walls and promptly got right back out.  Jimmy complained about the fact that he had gotten changed for this two second dip, and I felt really, really, bad about inconveniencing him.  Or not.
So, leaving the pint sized shower stall behind, I made my way to the bed where we found we were making good progress.  Nine and a half centimeters!  I nearly leapt with joy at the thought that the poop baby would arrive soon!
I continued to gently murmur through each contraction, keeping my voice at an always pleasant volume.  After a contraction passed, I would exclaim that it wasn't that I was in pain, there was just so much pressure, and when would I be allowed to poop?!  Nurse Comfort, sensing she would have to do something to motivate me to continue, checked things out and confirmed it was time to push.  Halleluah!  So with the next contraction, I pushed.  Nurse Comfort stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.  And she stayed there until the next contraction when I pushed again.  I looked at her, expecting some kind of encouragement or update on the arrival of the poop, and she offered up a real pearl.
"Shelby, I'm going to need a little more oomph," said she.
Even Jimmy, the man who will, by the end of this tale utter words no man should utter in a delivery room knew that was not the most encouraging or instructive thing to say.
Thanks goodness for my doula, because had I only my nurse's directions to guide me, I would still be in that delivery room waiting for my baby to learn how to crawl so she could enter the world under her own power.  As it was, I ended up pushing for about an hour and a half, and I was exhausted. We all thought this would be a fairly small baby, maybe six or seven pounds.  I don't know why we thought this, based on all the DQ Blizzards I ate throughout my pregnancy, but we did.  So while my mom was holding my hand, giving words of encouragement, her thoughts were not so encouraging.  She told me afterwards she was thinking we were in big trouble if I couldn't push this little six pound baby out!
But we slowly made progress, and soon my entourage was exclaiming things like, "I can see the head!" and "Look at that unibrow!" which motivated me enormously.

And all of a sudden, she was there on my chest.  I remember being so surprised when I heard she was a girl.  She looked so big to me!  She proved our hunches wrong again, weighing in at a healthy eight pounds two ounces.  There were many tears and exclamations when she arrived.  And I thought the hardest work was over.  But no, there was a small issue with the placenta.  After waiting about 45 minutes for it to deliver to no avail, my doctor gave me some laughing gas so that she could call in a large man wearing soccer cleats to jump up and down on my abdomen to "help things along".  So, placenta delivered, there was just one small item left to take care of involving a surgical sewing kit.  
I have never had stitches ever in my life.  I hate needles and am afraid of every and any surgical procedure.  So, still high on laughing gas, I began loudly voicing my fears to the room.  Jimmy, proud new father, comfortably seated in the rocker with his daughter offered some words of encouragement.

"Remember the time I had to get ten stitches in my lip? I did just fine, and you will too."
Ahem.
My doctor (bless her heart) threw him a death glare and said in the iciest tone she could muster, "This is just a slightly more delicate area."
Silence.
And I survived her handiwork.  

We settled in to get to know our new daughter, Jimmy and I and my burst blood vessels.  Jimmy had a couple of hours to spend with us before he got back on the road to Calgary to win his playoff game, even scoring a goal in the process.  It was fun to watch online in the hospital, and Gracie got several mentions during the broadcast.  Jimmy made it back to the hospital by about two am to spend the rest of the night with us.  I was very lucky to have my family stay with me during the day, and my sister through most of the night so that I wasn't on my own.

Ready to go home.

So Gracie has known how to keep us on our toes from the beginning, but her timing was perfect! Her dad was there to meet her and still got to his game on time.  And it makes for a pretty good story ;)

Shelby

GMQ Makes her Debut: Part 2

If you missed part one and its cliffhanger ending, check here.  Otherwise, the saga continues.
I'm lying in bed, warm water soaking me, and I can't believe it.  Tonight, of all nights! I'm home alone, and Jimmy is three hours away.  I got out of bed, grabbed my phone and walked like a bow legged cowboy towards the bathroom.  Because in my mind, walking like a bow legged cowboy was somehow going to keep me from getting myself and the floor wet.  Oh-kaaay.  I clearly wasn't thinking straight at this point.  I sat down on the toilet and dialed Jimmy.  It went to voicemail, so I hung up. I couldn't string the words together in order to leave a comprehensible message.  I was shaking like a leaf and could barely hold on to my phone.  Jimmy, woken up in his hotel room in Calgary, of course saw that I had just called, and probably wet the bed a little himself.  He immediately called me back and I told him we may need a new mattress.  I clarified and said that my water had broken, but that I was fine, and wasn't feeling any contractions yet.  He told me he hadn't even unpacked just in case and that he'd be in the car in minutes.  
Next phone call, my mom.  Having been told that my water had broken, my mom uttered words that shouldn't be retyped on a family blog.  Something that rhymes with "Oh, spit, spit!".  I remember that calmed my nerves, because it was kind of funny to hear my mom swear.  She assured me that as soon as she located some pants, she'd be on her way over.  I hung up, still unable to move myself from my perch on the porcelain throne.  As I was trying to gather my resolve, I got a text from Mama Hughes, PR agent extraordinaire, wishing me luck.  Clearly, Jimmy had notified her that he was leaving Calgary for the big event.  (On a total tangent, you could watch this interview with Jimmy's assistant coach early in the day that I went into labour.  Neither Jimmy or I knew about it until after Gracie arrived, so knowing how things turned out, it was funny to watch.)
My mom arrived at my house around 1 am, and I was still feeling fine.  I waddled around, checking my bags and packing the last of the snacks, talking a mile a minute, my mom all the while trying to convince me that I should lay down and get some rest.  Finally I relented, and laid down on Jimmy's side of the bed since my side was a little damp.  Not long after laying down, the contractions started.  I remember thinking, I can handle this!  This was also the beginning of the kazillion trips to the bathroom that continued through the night.  I've never had to pee so much in my life!  Not even after drinking a Big Gulp while 9 months pregnant.  So. Much. Peeing.
Jimmy arrived home after I had made the thousandth trip to the bathroom, right around 3 am.  Things were getting more intense.  He promptly tried to use the hypnobirthing techniques we had been practicing, and I told him to cut that something-that-rhymes-with-spit out.  One of only two times I swore in labour.  It wasn't the hypnobirthing itself that was annoying, it was his voice.  Not his real voice, his hypno voice.  We agreed he could still say the hypnobirthing stuff, just in his normal voice.  Having solved that matter, we moved on.  I tried laying down, and that was a no.  I tried sitting on the exercise ball, and that was a definite no.  Finally, I found a comfortable spot sitting back on the couch, Jimmy rubbing my shoulders, and my mom rubbing my legs.  We had called our doula to come over, and I remember thinking, thank goodness she'll be here soon, because I need a drink, and if either of these two move from their posts, I'm going to get cray up in here. Because when I'm in labour, I get a little thug like that.  I told the porter at the hospital who was ordering me to sit. in. a. wheelchair I was going to bust a cap in his something-that-rhymes-with-glass (second time I swore in labour.  True story. Or is it?).
The doula arrived and I got my drink, scotch on the rocks.  Or just cranberry juice. On the rocks.  The contractions were definitely getting more intense, but I wasn't watching the clock.  I let other people do that for me, because A) it's hard to tell time on an analog clock on an ordinary day, and B) I didn't want to be clock watching. I'm not even sure how long I pushed for, but I do know that it was not a short amount of time.  But I digress.  More on pushing later.
This was the point at which I declared loudly that I didn't want to do this anymore.  A classic hallmark of  transition.  Things were gettin' serious, yo.  It was about 6 am and our doula suggested we start making our way to the hospital.  But I didn't really like the sounds of that either.  Getting properly dressed and having to be in a car sounded about as appealing as spending an evening with at karaoke with the Chipmunks.  But I did it, and we arrived at the hospital, me moaning and swaying through each contraction, ready to be checked in at Emergency as it was around 6:30 am.  
So there I am, gracefully swaying and moaning not at all like a cow, and the teenage girl already being checked in looks back at me, terrified that I'm about to deliver this baby in front of her.  
"Umm," she stammered, glancing nervously at us, "I think maybe they need your help!" She exclaimed to the woman behind the desk.
"No, no," says the kind emergency desk woman without even looking up, "I'll finish checking you in first."
"No, I think she's in LABOUR!" Say the panicked girl, pointing out my bovine song and dance.
"If you're in labour, you go to that desk there," says the ever helpful emergency desk lady, pointing towards a desk where there are no people and no lights on.
Jimmy did tell her there was no one at that desk, but she cared not and told us to wait.  Yes, wait.
As you will have to do for the third and final installment in this epic tale!
Soonish, I promise!
Shelby

GMQ Makes her Debut: Part 1

Let me take you back, waaaay back, 107 days back, to be precise.  What was happening 107 days ago? It was May 4th, my due date.  And it seemed like nothing much was going on.  Which was okay, because Jimmy was hitting the road and heading to Calgary for a playoff game.  We were both nervous about him being gone, but we figured the odds of this baby coming on her due date were low. Which is why we are not statisticians, because it turns out the odds were pretty good.
But back to the story.  We had decided Jimmy would go to the game, and should anything happen, he would only be three hours away by car.  Jimmy spent the morning at work, then came home for lunch.  I made him a delicious steak quesedilla, then waved from the back door as he drove off.  The afternoon was spent doing important things, like napping and catching up on old episodes of Ellen on PVR.  I got a text that afternoon from Mama Hughes, who does PR for Jimmy's team.  I asked her to take special care of Jimmy that weekend, as he was anxious being away from me.  Her response? 
"Don't worry. This baby is a boy and will definitely be late!" 
HA! Oh the foreshadowing! 
So, I was napping and watching reruns, letting the time pass until I could meet up with my sisters-in-law and mother-in-law at a local craft fair.  These ladies are serious craft show browsers.  We go twice a year, and it often takes four or five hours to browse all of the always well made items, after which we have a late dinner out.  I knew I would not last that long walking, and it was very likely in my whale like state that I would pass out long before the late dinner began, so I planned to give them a head start on their browsing.  When they phoned to say two hours of browsing had passed with less than half of the wares seen, I decided to pass on the crafting and join my parents for dinner and then join the crafters for dessert.  After some fortifying chicken fingers and ceasar salad, and one call from a nervous expectant father, I finally met up with the crafters.  I had felt a couple of sharp kicks throughout the evening, but didn't think much of it.  Jimmy called again just as I was getting in the car having finished a delicious chocolate sundae.  I assured him nothing was going on and headed home to bed.  Having locked the doors, gone to the bathroom for the millionth time, and said a prayer, I laid down, surrounded by the three million pillows required to support my girth for a comfortable night's sleep, when my water broke.
Cliff hanger, or what?
Shelby

She's Here!

And I was wrong!  Our little bundle has arrived wrapped by the stork in a pink blanket rather than a blue one.  Don't fault my mothers' intuition for my mistaken prediction of male offspring - these things take time to develop.  And news travels fast!  Do you think the 151 page views on the day of our girl's arrival is coincidence? Me thinks not!  Sorry not to have updated you sooner, but I've been fairly pre-occupied.  Besides, the media have taken care of updating you for me.  

You can read about our little celebrity here, here, there, over here, and also there. And much like Beyonce and Jay-Z's little arrival caused some name confusion at first (was it Ivy Blue or Blue Ivy?) the media has once again reported a baby name with some inaccuracies.  So let me set the record straight as I know this detail matters much to the world out there.  Allow me to introduce Gracie Marlowe (not Marlo or Marlow) Quinlan.  Born at 10:24 am on May 5th, weighing in at a somewhat hefty 8 lbs 2 ozs.

Tonight's another big game for proud papa Quinlan, so keep your fingers crossed out there.
Go Rush, go!
Shelby

Nursery Sources

And now, in case you have some nursery decorating of your own to do but don't have a mother who will do it for you (I don't know how you survive, you poor thing), here are the sources for all of the finds from our lovingly designed room.

First up, the wall decal, the only thing in the room I had anything to do with.When this room was the guest room, we had one branch (the lower one on the left) on the wall anchored by a bookshelf.  We had purchased the branch at our local Rona.  When we took the bookshelf out of the room, the branch was lonely, floating in the middle of the wall.  So my mom came up with the idea to turn it into the tree of life.  I took to Etsy to find someone who could custom design a tree around our existing branch, and Wilson Graphics was up to the challenge.  After sending many pictures and measurements, they designed this beautiful tree for us.  See how it even wraps around the corner on the right?  I just love how it turned out!

This unbearably cute lamp came from Home Sense.  After I bought the elephant piggy bank (which came from Indigo online) on the dresser below, my mom wanted to incorporate some other jungle animals, and this fit the theme perfectly.

I love the shapely legs and the pulls on this dresser that came from Ikea. Unfortunately for you, it is discontinued.  The Q in the window, the yellow hippo book ends, and the white tray all came from Home Sense.  The sheer curtains, curtain rod, and all of the fabrics for the bedding and chair came from Fabricland, and were sewn by my mom (alas I cannot sew on a button).

The crib and change table were hand me downs, having housed my younger sister in her babyhood, then used by my niece and nephew in more recent years.  They're made by Stork Craft, a company still in the baby furniture biz.  The chair is the best find in the whole room, in my opinion.  My mom found it at Home Sense for, are you ready?  30 dollars!  It was on clearance, but there was absolutely nothing wrong with it, except that the fabric didn't match our room.  The price and the size (you can see we don't have a lot of room to work with) meant my mom couldn't turn it down, and spent several torturous hours recovering it by hand.  The storage baskets on the change table came from Ikea as well.

Isn't it gorgeous though?  I love, love, love the nail head detail.

The rug was another Home Sense find, and it was the only thing I got to see before the room was put together.  My mom wanted to make sure I would like the rug because it would give the room the vintage French nursery feel she was going for. And . . . I didn't love it when she showed it to me!  It just seemed so grown up for a baby's room!  But she explained more of the vision, and of course I trusted her.  I knew I didn't want a room with a total kid-like feel (no Disney characters for me) so the rug stayed, and of course I love the results.

The drum light was from Home Sense again and it was another steal at 13 dollars! Since Home Sense can be hit or miss (in that no two stores have exactly the same stock, and what you see one day could be gone the next) it took several trips to many Home Sense stores in our city and even down highway 2 in Calgary to find this light.  But it was worth it! 

The art work are a set of oversized counting cards that my mom found at Home Sense.  Because of the aforementioned difficulties in shopping at Home Sense, you should know that these cards can also be found at Chapters and Indigo.  When I looked online, I saw that they even have different sets featuring different animals. My mom framed them with white frames from Ikea to turn them into the room's art work.
And there you have it!  
Guess what?  Today marks my 80th blog post!  An odd milestone, but a milestone nonetheless.  It's also the bébé's due date, but I need all you readers to keep your fingers crossed that labour holds off until late tomorrow evening at the earliest to Jimmy can make it home!  And it wouldn't hurt if you sent winning thoughts to Jimmy's team as they play their first play off game.
Much appreciated,
Shelby

The Pay Off

Well, it turns out whining via internet pays off.  A lovely friend took pity on me after my moaning and groaning as seen here, and delivered the most thoughtful of gifts. Knowing how I love Pinocchio's Royal Vanilla ice cream, she made a special delivery complete with blackberries and a trashy magazine.  What more could I ask for, really?  The blackberries are long gone, so I've moved on to strawberries and bananas, with a little chocolate sauce I had in the fridge for just such an occasion.

Healthy, right?

No wonder this baby isn't in a hurry to go anywhere.  He or she knows that there will be no ice cream for them on the outside.  

Shelby

The Big One

Today is my dad's birthday.  And it's a big one.  I'm sure he'll be ecstatic that I'm mentioning not only him, but making vague reference to his age, so let me bolster his ego with this:
Last week my sister and I were getting pedicures for her birthday, and my dad stopped by to bring birthday smoothies.  After he left and we were discussing our appreciation for our dad, the esthetician said to me, "Your dad?!  I thought he was your husband!".  And that is not the first time such a mistake has been made. Yikes!

Unfortunately it doesn't look like he will be sharing his birthday with the newest grandchild to hit the block.  Sigh.   Oh well.  Happy birthday dad!
Speaking of husbands (it was two paragraphs back - try to keep up!) my real husband has been very sweet as my grouchiness clouds up our house waiting for peanut to arrive.  But there were a couple gems from a few weeks back I thought worthy of sharing.
In regards to his inability to attend our prenatal class during which we'd learn infant CPR:
"It's just two fingers, right?"
When I asked if I should contact the trainer who works on the bench if I go into labour while he's playing out of town:
"Yeah, because that would help me play real well!" 
We have since worked out a plan that satisfies all parties involved - worry not!  And know that he always says things with the intent to tease.  We're both sweating a little bit over the fact that the bébé may decide to arrive on the scene while he's out of town.  It would make a good story, and blog post I guess . . .
Shelby

Mall Mania Photo Shoot Part Three

I figured I should post the final fashion shoot installment before I am no longer actually pregnant.  And so we return to the blurry soft focus pics my mom snapped in the Forever 21 dressing room.

The story:  A stretchy skirt provides the comfort and expansion room needed to enjoy a coffee date with friends.  Clasping your hands firmly under your belly will prevent others from noticing that your shirt is straining to cover the miracle of life housed within your person.

The story:  Show some leg in a dress inspired by Charlie Brown's t-shirt.  If I could change one thing about this outfit in retrospect, it would be to add 3/4 length gloves.  They would've hidden the super attractive veins enhanced by all that prenatal pumping iron.

The story:  Another stretchy skirt/roomy top combo.  Thanks to the long top though, you won't have to keep your hands clasped around the bell, making this the perfect outfit to wear to a cocktail party where you can double fist sparkling apple juice.

The story:  Some might say that horizontal stripes are a risky venture during pregnancy.  Not so in this buttery yellow number, perfect for a final movie date before house arrest begins.  After all, any butter stains from the popcorn will be cleverly hidden.

 The story:  A boldly printed tunic will leave you feeling sassy enough to stay up past 10 PM for a night out with the girls.  Just try not to get too wild and drip gelato on your belly.  This is a poly/viscose blend!

I'm not kidding when I talk about house arrest, though.  I'm reading Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child by Marc Weissbluth, MD, as recommended by my sister-in-law and sister.  This guy is telling me that up until 12 months old, my baby will likely need to sleep after 2 hours or less of wakefulness, and that after about 3 months old, all of this sleeping should take place at home and not in a stroller, car, or baby carrier in order to be truly restful.  If I mess that part up, says he, I can kiss any hopes of consolidated night time sleep goodbye.  Sleep begets more sleep, he claims.  I guess I can be okay with never leaving the house, ever.  I am already a house marm, and I really don't function well on little sleep.  If it's night time sleep he promises, I'm willing to try his crazy methods.  But he needs a better editor.  Just saying!

Shelby

Seasonal Affective Disorder

It is April 27th today, in case you lack a calendar.  Even if you are in possession of a calendar, you may still be confused because it is SNOWING here in Edmonton. Not only that, but this bébé is still very comfortable in utero.  I don't know why this surprises me, what with the snow and the due date being a week away, but it does! This waiting is killing me.  And so are the many phone calls and texts of well meaning family and friends "checking in".  The nesting has come to an abrupt halt, and yesterday I spent all morning napping and all afternoon feeling bad about napping all morning.
I know what you're going to say: "Enjoy it, soon you'll be run ragged!"
Somehow that doesn't help!  So for now, it's just me and my anxieties waiting and waiting.  Latest anxiety?  My weight gain has slowed from a steady two or three pounds a week down to one pound two weeks ago, and a pound lost last week. Also, my fundal height has stalled out at a 37 week measurement for the past three weeks.  My doctor says it's not a cause for concern, and I guess I can be glad that the baby won't be a nine pounder.  Still though, the snow, waiting, and anxiety do not a happy combination make!  I'm just going to bundle up in a blanket and watch this commercial on repeat.  And on mute.  One of my friends pointed out that while easy on the eyes, his voice is actually quite annoying.  And she's right!  Also, my mom doesn't like his hair.  Quit ruining my simple pleasures, people!   

Shelby

Nursery Reveal!

You know that my mom is the fashion and art director here at Chez Quinlan, but did you know she is also the fashion and art director of my life too?  Well she is.  And she does a fabulous job.  Her latest project?  The nursery, bien sûr.  The theme? Vintage French Nursery.
The nursery used to be our guest room - of which I have no pictures.  I do have some kind of before pics through which you can see the amazing transformation.

Blah . . .

Floating branch that used to be anchored by the guest room book case.

The old chair and artwork from the guest room.

And now . . . the end result!  It's so full of sweet little touches and details.  My mom did a beautiful job.

As you come in the door, on your right.  More details on the artwork in a post to follow.

A view of the chair, painstakingly re-covered by my mom. You won't believe the deal she got on the chair - sources to come soon!

Notice the nail head detail.

The très French looking dresser.

A view of the chic rug and hand sewn crib skirt and mama's blanket for those late nights.

More of the custom created linens - and yes, I know the bébé can't actually use them.  It's for the look people! The little pillow (which also won't be used - yet- was mine.  It's printed with French poetry, and my mom turned it into a mini pillow for the little one.

The custom made wall decal we plan to use as a growth chart.

My mom calls it the tree of life.  Worry not - sources are coming!

The unbearably cute giraffe lamp and sleek and stylish side table.

The of the moment drum light, lovingly installed by James, after my dad taught him how to do it with our dining room lights.

 My mom slaved over this room.  She did all of the shopping, sewing, and pounding of upholstery nails, not to mention trying to figure out how to fit all of that furniture into a not so big room.  All I did was find a designer for the tree of life then help my mom put it on the wall.  Jimmy of course risked life and limb with the electrical and moved the old furniture out.  Other than that the room was a total surprise fro me and Jimmy, which was so fun to come home to after yoga one afternoon.  And now we wait . . . 10 days to the due date.  Jimmy told me the other day it might be time to tell his boss that we're having a baby seeing as he may need to leave work in a hurry any day now.  
"What?!" I said. "You still haven't mentioned it?"
His reponse: "I like to keep my private life private."
Clearly.
I'll be back soon with all the details on where my mom found all the goods!
Shelby

I am Cray - Cray

Today's nesting project brought to you by the chicken farmers of Canada.

Step 1: Grill chicken

Step 2: Take a picture of grilled chicken for your blog

Step 3: Slice and package chicken in meal sized portions to be frozen.

I'm getting tired of nesting.  Does that mean the baby is coming soon?  When I told my mom about my efforts (as if she didn't suspect based on the overpowering scent of charcoal emanating from my person) she said I was crazy.  I explained that a new mom friend had told me about this trick so that when the last thing you feel like doing is making dinner, you can thaw your pre-grilled and pre-sliced meat to throw in a salad, stir fry, or pasta dish.  Finally my mom agreed that planning ahead did sound like a better strategy than the one she used after my sister was born.  I'm not sure what she means.  I have fond memories of eating nothing but Chips-a-Hoy for weeks on end when my screaming sister came in to the world.
Yours in ever lessening sanity,
Shelby

Uh Oh!

I really made Blogger mad with my not so kind comments yesterday.  Now it won't show me my Reader of all the other blogs I religiously follow, nor will it allow me to obsessively pore over my stats page.  I can't believe it's still letting me write a post. I'm off to buy it some flowers to try and make amends . . .

While we routinely wake up to weather like this (just last Saturday was the latest storm), I know that spring will come eventually.  It may be time for summer when it arrives, but still, I know it will come at some point.  You only have to look to this past September when summer arrived for about a week to know that I'm right.  So while the weather here may not follow conventional time lines, you can create a spring like feeling by baking up a batch of these award winning bites of sunshine that I found on Pinterest.  They turned out crinkly just like the picture showed, and are perfectly tart and chewy-crisp.  I LOVED them.  No surprise they took the top prize at LDS Living Magazine's website, a site I have to admit I would never have been exposed to if not for Pinterest.

Lemon Crinkle Cookies

Award Winning recipe by Lauren Brennan 

Ingredients:

½ cup butter, softened
1 cup granulated sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
1 whole egg
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon baking powder
⅛ teaspoon baking soda
1½ cups all-purpose flour
½ cup powdered sugar

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Lightly spray cookie sheets with non stick spray and set aside.

2. In a large bowl, cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy. Whip in vanilla, egg, lemon zest, and juice. Scrape sides and mix again.

3. Stir in all dry ingredients slowly until just combined, excluding the powdered sugar. Scrape sides of bowl and mix again briefly. 

4. Pour powdered sugar onto a large plate. Roll a heaping teaspoon of dough into a ball and roll in powdered sugar. Place on baking sheet and repeat with remaining dough.

5. Bake for 9-11 minutes or until bottoms begin to barely brown and cookies look matte (not melty or shiny). Remove from oven and cool cookies about 3 minutes before transferring to cooling rack.

Jimmy turned his cookies into what he calls a "chip-wich", even though there are no chips in these cookies.  I would have made mine a chip-wich too, if he could've found Pinochio's Royal Vanilla ice cream for me to sandwich in between.  Alas he could not, and came home instead with cocnut ice cream.  Blech.  He said it was good, so if you go for coconut, you might like to try it.  I'll wait until I can get my vanilla. 
Meanwhile, Ellen has issued a pregnancy dance dare to all expectant mothers who should really be dancing for two.  She wants them sent in for mothers' day.  Should I do it?  I don't know if I can compete with this guy.

Until next time,
Shelby

Guess Who's Back?

Back again?  My cousin Wyatt and his ukulele, that's who.  He's got a cute band mate too.  And of course my stellar skills as a videographer are on display.

Family dinners aren't just an opportunity for Wyatt to wow us with is musical talent. It's also a time for us girls (and one boy) to strike a pose.

Don't look directly at the belly.  Those lines can make you dizzy.

And just when I said "Pontifications from Paul" wouldn't become a regular feature, Paul goes ahead and delivers more material for me to make use of.  As I mentioned, Paul lives out of town, and as he was preparing to hit the road the other day, he told me he'd be back in nine days.

Me: You never know, the baby could be born by then!

Paul: What? No!

Me: Yeah!  We're only two and a half weeks from the due date.

Paul: Really?  Wow!  You look great, then!  I didn't realize it was so close.

Thanks, Paul.

Shelby

PS. Sometimes uploading videos and pictures and the formatting on Blogger makes me really mad.  Do you see how one of my paragraphs above is actually a part of the picture caption?  And do you think I could fix it?  Also, I had to create my own YouTube channel in order to upload that video.  Just saying . . . a post that should've taken me 20 minutes to publish has taken an hour and a half.  I'm done my complaining for the day.  Now you can go and complain to someone else about how you wasted six minutes of your life listening to me complain.  You're welcome.

Feathering the Nest

. . . or preparing for the apocalypse.  I have this fear that once the baby is born neither Jimmy nor myself will be able to visit a grocery store ever again.  

To be fair though, there are two loaves of bread in there somewhere that I picked up for my Nana and haven't delivered yet.  Once those are out of there it will really free up some space.

I've mentioned before that James hasn't been spouting many gems lately.  I think my late third trimester grouchiness has really put him off his game.  You know how I know?  He volunteered to clean the kitchen tonight.  Volun.  Teered.  As opposed to voluntold.

Luckily, his brother Paul is in town and has provided me with some fodder.

Paul: So Shel, do you find that you're really a lot warmer carrying all that extra fat, I mean body weight, around?

Even Jimmy shot him a look that warned him he may have only moments left to live.

Seeing as Paul lives out of town, the lovely little tidbits he says aren't likely to become a regular feature here at Chez Quinlan, but if that changes, I think I'll call it "Pontifications from Paul". 

One can only hope!

Shelby

Mall Mania Photo Shoot Part Two

Before getting to the photos, let me say that these photos are four weeks old, so the baby bell no longer looks quite so diminutive.  I really fooled my aunt, a faithful reader.  When she saw me IRL at Easter dinner, she pointed out that the bump looked much smaller on the interweb.  I had to admit that my pics aren't always au courant. 
On to the photo shoot!  This time the fashions come to you hot off the racks at Old Navy.  And while Old Navy does have a maternity section, I've voiced my complaints about the cramped and disorganized quarters it occupies, not to mention the rather limited selection.  Happily, though, we found many items in the "regular" section that worked well.  And while we did not receive a warm welcome at Forever 21 and had to hide our photo shoot in the dressing room, the fine folks at Old Navy didn't bat an eye, and even offered to get me a chair when I got a foot cramp during the arduous work that is a photo shoot.  I kid you not!

The story: Walking shorts and a cotton shirt, buttons straining, is the perfect look for a labour inducing waddle around the block.  Just don't forget your straw hat with coordinating band for that pesky melasma.

The story: Brights are hot this spring, and layered over black, the bump virtually disappears.  Wear this while riding in your drop top and cranking Black and Yellow.

The story: A casual look you could wear while strolling the boardwalk and channeling a pregnant mermaid.  As an added bonus, the stretchy waist band will allow you to indulge in a churro or two.

The story: Another hot spring trend, this floral dress might be just the frock to enhance your glow at your baby shower.  Or to highlight just how pale your legs are.  Either way . . . 

The story: Another feminine floral paired with pearls.  And while sandals and flip flops may seem like a pregnant woman's best friend, squeezing your toes together to fit through the straps may lead to intense foot cramps.  I know first hand.

The story: Stretchy skirt and elastic waisted shirt.  Enough said.  Really, this should be your uniform.

The story: A roomy denim skirt with such interesting details at the neckline requires very little accessorizing.  Aside from a jaunty hat of course.  Wear this while strolling the beach on your babymoon.  Or just on your imaginary babymoon.

And while these outfits might fool you into thinking spring is here, it isn't.  At least not in Edmonton.  Snow, rain, grey skies and wind have been our spring time companions.  Luckily, I can see light at the end of the tunnel.  I've bought a plane ticket and will be escaping to Arizona about a month after the baby is due with my mom and sisters.  Should be interesting, to say the least!  Now I just need to find the baby a temperature controlled bubble so that I can enjoy the hot, hot, hot temps by the pool uninterrupted.  

Until next time,

Shelby