I just got back from Borchers family vacation 2009: Charleston, SC.
Nick and everyone else hit the road while I flew the friendly skies.
I’m exhausted and need sleep, but this is all you need to know for now before I write up about the beautiful south:
my return flight was horrendous. The fan above my head didn’t work. The girl next to me kept farting.
I was gagging into the window, trying not to breathe.
So much for pampered.
Last night I woke up at 5am with a terrible pain jetting across my stomach and the driest mouth in the free world.
I was moaning and wailing and then crying helplessly on my side of the bed, looking pathetically at Nick who was sleeping soundlessly on his side.
I guess after I scooted down the bed like an old lady, holding my stomach like it was going to fall off my body and grabbing Nick’s right leg like a hand rail to guide me toward the edge of the mattress, he woke up.
“What do you need, babe?” He sounded wide awake.
I start practicing deep breaths even though I haven’t taken any birthing classes, “I just need some water.” Nick gets up and tries to help me up but I tell him to get back in bed.
Poor guy.
I trapse to the kitchen and run the water bill into the hundreds as I turn into a camel with a pink bathrobe draped on my shoulders. I drink glass after glass of water. I can’t get enough.
Now I am wide awake.
I think about the past few days. My temper’s been flaring over small things. Then I get weepy. Then I’m elated. Then I am depressed because I don’t know why I’m sad. Then I’m elated again.
So, today at work, I look up, “Symptoms for Week 14 in Pregnancy.”
After reading this is what I text to Nick at work:
“I read today that it’s COMPLETELY normal to have severe mood swings as pregnancy progresses and it’s probably all hormones.”
Nick texts back, “Well, that’s exciting.”
Poor guy.
The pregnancy so far, physically, has been uneventful – just the way we like it. Other than my emotions being everywhere, I haven’t been sick (knock on wood) save a handful of bad headaches, and my energy is returning to where I am able to exercise somewhat regularly without problems or fatigue.
But the belly bulge is peaking and I’m NOT repeat NOT going to be posting any ridiculous pictures of my pregnancy stomach. I think that’s something a former anorexic patient decided to do once she began a healthy pregnancy and gained weight. No…call me reserved or a little shy, the only one who gets the side angles are me and my full length mirror.
Big weekend approaching. Family Borchers is heading south to Charleston for our family vacation. I am looking forward to literature that doesn’t matter, games of Tripoly, and yapping my head off with the Borchers.
Another plus about being pregnant — for this trip, instead of driving the 11 hours and stopping every hour to either use the bathroom or stretch my legs, I’m flying while the rest of the clan hits the road. Ahh, I’m too pampered….
Our 4th of July weekend was terrific. It was terrific in a kind of firecracker way, not big boom fireworks kind of way.
Nick came back from his week long service trip Friday afternoon and we both needed a quiet evening at home before a long weekend of activities. So we made dinner and rented Revolutionary Road and invited our friend Alexis over who brought three boxes of ice cream to share. We feasted on just mint chocolate chip and gave the movie a B rating for compelling themes but mediocre acting. Nick, who obviously read the book, kept commenting how much one loses in cinema as compared to literature. He likes to rub it in that he’s such a book worm.
That night, I think I fell asleep face down in my pillow. I was exhausted.
Saturday afternoon was spent cleaning up the house, running errands, and enjoying the beautiful weather. I know my energy level is depleting as my pregnancy marches on when I have to take a 1 hour nap after mowing the lawn. Apprehensive as my Dad on prom night, Nick wondered if it would be safe for me to mow the lawn. I assured him that as long as he can rev the motor up for me, I can take care of the rest.
The jittering and jostling may have taken more out of me than I would care to admit, but I laid on the couch afterward and fell asleep. Snoring as loud as the mower itself.
Then we headed off to Christina and Brian Emerson’s for a BBQ. Nick dominated at cornhole while I ate a hamburger like I’ve never eaten before. My appetite, to put it lightly, fluctuates. Somedays I can barely swallow three grapes without feeling like a stuffed cabbage. Other days I feel like eating a rhino would not suffice. Saturday was a rhino kind of day.
Then we watched the fireworks and I got all sappy and happy sitting on the lawn and thinking how by next year, we’ll have a little live firework in the flesh of our own.
Sunday afternoon was spent in Canton, Ohio where Nick and I went to a baptism reception. My highschool friend, Becca, married and now lives in England but her son, Logan was baptized here in her hometown and had a gathering to celebrate the little tyke’s induction to the holy Kingdom. I saw a bunch of highschool buds and it was great to catch up after so many years.
And that was our weekend.
Upcoming weekends are going to N-U-T-S.
July 11-15 Borchers’ family vaca to Charleston, SC
July 17-19 Russia bound for Staci Condon’s wedding
July 24 -26 Russia bound for Abby Cordonnier’s wedding
July 31 – Aug. 2 Cincy bound for a wedding I’m shooting (like, for money!)
And if you’re wondering how everything else is going — all I can say is the God honest truth: splendid.
Nick is wonderful.
I am wonderful.
Baby is wonderful.
(You are wonderful, too, in case you need a pick me up.)
As the second trimester of pregnancy is underway, Nick and I have settled (somewhat) into a mental stability together about our impending parenthood. While the baby was a wonderful planned event, there truly is nothing that can prepare you for the words, “We’re pregnant,” “We’re having a baby,” or anything along those lines. Week by week, as the news softens from joyous shock to ecstatic reality, we’ve been sharing the news with more and more people in our lives.
To me, it’s now commonplace to let people know that we’re expecting. It’s been over three months and every conversation tends to revolve around preparing for the bundle of joy in six months. But nothing, I repeat nothing, could prepare us for when we walked into church this morning.
One of our friends came up to our pew to hug us. Since we hadn’t seen Jennifer in a long time, the embrace didn’t feel anything new or strange. But when she pulled away from us she says, “It’s nice to see you guys on the front cover of the bulletin.”
And there it was, for the world to read that we’re expecting.
Now, since Nick works for the parish, it makes sense and it is quite the lovely feeling of having a community of people share the wonder and happiness of our first pregnancy.
It just took me awhile to get used to have people know me inadvertently through Nick. All I know about them is that that they are very genuine and nice people. And it feels great to be supported.
So, we grabbed the bulletin, and scanned the pastor’s notes, I smiled up at Nick and said, “Well, so much for a quiet pregnancy.”
Nick replied, “Like this was going to be a quiet pregnancy anyway.”
Last night I was listening to my iTunes collection and a Christmas song came on. It didn’t even feel odd because I was wrapped up in pants and a sweater and still slightly cool. The weather had dipped into the 50s and I could hear the BOOM from downtown from the fireworks.
Yes, that’s right. It was in the 50s and the fireworks were going off downtown.
The past 4 days I have woken up to chilly, rainy mornings which makes me think more and more of my due date. It’s as if I feel I’m 6 months along because it’s October and January is right around the corner. But, no, it’s July and this weather is just unbelievable.
I actually don’t mind it as much because the cooler weather feels nice and it’s a lovely break from the humidity beating down on the city last week.
Break out the brass band – Nick is coming home this afternoon!
(I yell) Hip! Hip!
(you yell)_______
(hint: Hooray!)
One text and postcard later, here I am, Nick’s pregnant partner eagerly eating raw vegetables and blueberries, waiting for his return. It’s so wonderful to have little reunions in life, don’t you think? These brief (although it sure didn’t feel so brief this week) separations just make us cherish our beloved ones all the more when they come home.
I seriously feel like baking something in celebration.
Ah-hem — I don’t bake.
That’s how joyous I feel.
And so, with this holiday weekend, I must bid you all a wonderful and happy 4th of July. Enjoy the empty calories of all the bbq food you will have and safe travels from place to place. I must send a grateful note to my wonderful sister, Carmen, who stayed with me nearly every night this week because I’m such a chicken to sleep in this huge echoing house by myself and am tortured by thoughts of a break-in.
I hope your summers bring you so much joy you feel like fireworks are going off inside you.
That’s kind of how our growing baby feels inside me these days.
I haven’t watched soap operas in full episodes since high school. Specifically, Days of Our Lives. Before Tivo and DVRing, we had to – can you believe this – TAPE something on tv if you were going to miss it when it was aired. Thankfully, for those who live in 2009, you can watch whatever you want, whenever you want. Nick and I don’t have cable, a flatscreen, or fancy shmancy anything. We just watch basic tv channels and go with the flow of life. We’re content and happy (and cheap) like that.
So, it was quite the rare day today that I – in between jobs and have some free time – got to sit my pregnant butt down and just relax. After a hectic weekend of company, hosting, dinners, and sun, I felt the need – physically and emotionally – to just chill. And chill I did.
Within 25 minutes of watching, I got caught up on Days and started wondering how Nick was doing on his mission trip. Since he doesn’t have phone reception, we’re unable to communicate this week. So you can imagine my surprise when I hear my phone buzz with the receipt of a text message. From Nick, it says he has reception for one hour a day and to text updates. Knowing he meant updates about life and not Days of Our Lives, I tried to tell him in 160 characters that I missed him and all is well with me and Baby.
Out of nowhere, the flood gates break and I’m crying.
My sister, who is kindly staying with me this week to keep me company in the big house while I’m alone, sighs and rolls her eyes at me, “Oh, get a grip!”
I frown at her and blame it on pregnancy hormones.
In addition to missing his overall presence and love…Who’s going to beg me to make popcorn at 10 o’clock at night? Who’s going to leave granola bar wrappers on the counter? Who’s going to mow the grass? Who’s going to make me laugh right before I fall asleep? Who’s going to listen and actually care about my latest rant on life and social justice?
Sometimes when our beloved temporarily vanishes from our lives, it gives us the clarity to recognize the million and one ways they bring joy in the details of daily co-habitation, everyday love. Nick is just one of those people who is just too easy to love and separation can be difficult. Especially when this baby inside me is making me weepy by just watching Days of Our Lives.
Photo taken 6/21/09, Filipino Festival in Cleveland
It’s amazing all that can happen in 10 days when you don’t blog.
In addition to Jan and Rog Borchers coming to visit us in Cleveland, Nick and I attending the Cleveland Filipino Festival, my friend Alexis who I worked with in Boston last year moving to Cleveland last week, having 10th row at a New Kids on the Block concert!, seeing the movie “State of Play” (mildly good, entertaining, nothing great), attending our nephew Zach’s 4th birthday party, watching fireworks in Massillon, having another ultrasound (Baby Plum is no longer a plum and is growing quickly!) on Wednesday, hosting Kelly Borchers Norris this weekend on her way to Abby Cordonnier’s (cousin of Nick and Kelly) bachelorette party, and seeing Nick off for a week long trip to Kentucky — even with all of that going on, what I just can’t believe is that Michael Jackson is dead.
(I’m listening to “We Are the World,” as I write this.)
Trumping MJ’s cardiac tragedy, the biggest heartache is being separated from Nick for a week. Now, I know how that sounds — I was gone for 2 months last summer and globe trotted my heart out — but I’m pregnant now and that means two things: 1) I get to say whatever I want without feeling bad and 2) I’m uber emotional
(My MJ music marathon continues. Now on my ear “You Are Not Alone.”)
Nick will be back Friday afternoon and that seems like eons away.
Sometimes when Nick is gone, I feel like this blog becomes the soggy pillow where I consistently weep into with my sadness that he’s not around telling me a corny joke or trying to work some miracle with our shower’s water pressure.
*sigh* It’s going to be a long week.
(last song for tonight’s MJ’s dedication is Nick’s favorite MJ song: “Man in the Mirror”)
I wanted to be sure.
Six times sure.
Wedding bells brought Nick and I back to Russia, home of the infinite cycle of larger than life weddings. This time it was Eric Rosenbeck who was getting married.
Eric, aka Rosie, is Keith’s best friend, and not a blood relative, per se, but I’ve understood that there are a few people who are just a member of the family. Rosie is one of those folks.
On Rosie’s big day, I proudly listened to Nick as second reader and of course bawled my eyes out during Eric and Tricia’s wedding vows. (It gets me every time when the bride cries…) I was not alone. I saw Kay shedding and throwing Jay, sitting in the pew in front of her, a tissue to control the water damage.
There have been so many weddings and so many receptions that it’s sometimes hard to remember certain characteristics about each one. With the exception of my own, of course, they kind of blend together, particularly if they are in the same place. But Rosie’s wedding was different. Not just because it was held at St. Henry, but for one very sweet reason that I’ve never seen at another wedding: their first dance.
Now, most people don’t really pay any attention to the first dance. It’s so customary that most just turn around and watch for a few seconds and then go back to their dinner plates. Being the sentimental shmuck that I am, I love watching the couple interact. Most couples do the obligatory slow song and occasionally smile at the camera, but mostly they just talk to one another. It’s always a lovely moment, but it never really sticks out in my mind.
Eric and Tricia seemed to be in their own world while they were dancing. They danced as close as possible without damaging one another’s rib cages, and often sang the lyrics as they looked at each other. It wasn’t just their actions either, it was just the feeling of watching a couple very much in love dance for the first time as a married couple. It felt extremely special, rare even, to see the bride and groom make a moment like that shine. I had to dab my eyes with my napkin.
I leaned over to Nick who had a delayed start to his dinner, munching on his buttered noodles, “Did you watch that? That was incredible…” I sniffed.
Nick looked up and needed to wipe his mouth, I frowned slightly at his mess. “What? What’d I miss?”
“That was, by far, the most amazing first dance and I don’t think many people were paying attention.”
As if to prove my point, Nick reached for his chicken drumstick and raised his eyebrows, “Oh no…I wasn’t watching. What made it so great?”
I shook my head at his lack of attentiveness, “I’ve just never really seen a couple look like that. I can’t describe it, but it was really incredible.”
I don’t even think Nick was listening to me anymore as someone launched into another story at our table.
And so the great party went on.
It’s easy to remember things when you’re a sober pregnant wedding guest. And I happened to share a few of those musings with Sue Borchers, one of Nick’s many terrific cousins, who sat next to me when she was taking a break from dancing. We watched everyone gyrate and shake their bodies to the music. All of a sudden, “Love Shack,” lyrics smoothed over the dance floor and, as if on cue, two or three shrieks of delight sounded from some loopy guests. I shook my head at Sue, “You know, Love Shack is not that great of a song, but everyone at weddings LOVES it. And do you want to know why? People love acting this song out.”
Sue laughed and looked out on the dance floor, “I think you might be right,” as she observed the same crowd of folks starting to act out the “BANG! BANG!…ON THE DOOR, BABY! BANG! BANG!” And watched folks pretend to bang on invisible doors while they mouthed the lyrics.
Sue and I turned philosophical with “Love Shack” in the background, “You know,” I said, “I want to write something someday about wedding etiquette.”
Sue nodded, “That would be hilarious. Number one would be, ‘Don’t act out songs. Dance. But don’t act them out.”
We laughed and a new song exploded, luring Sue once again to shake her stuff on the dance floor.
As I rested with my 10 million cups of water, I wondered what I would call the piece I would write…”My Big Fat Country Wedding,” or “Russia Rules,” or maybe, “How to Survive a 500 Person Wedding.”
The possibilities were endless.
As I shared my thoughts with Nick later that night, I was pretty sure he was snoring when I told him my idea. He raised his head one inch above the pillow and reiterated what he always says when I have an idea, “That’s great, babe.” And then fell fast asleep. I could have told him I was planning on robbing the closest bank and I think he would have had the same response. I should probably share my ideas at a more reasonable hour. I squinted at the clock. 2:32am. Yikes, no wonder he thought my idea was great. Everything’s great at 2:30 in the morning.
Since I couldn’t fall asleep right away, I thought of all the weddings I’ve ever attended. I thought that if someday I was to write about wedding etiquette beyond the snooty and boring rules about RSVPing on time, giving an appropriate gift…blah, blah…everyone knows that. I was thinking more along the practical lines of etiquette. I was thinking about the rules we so often forget once wedding day arrives.
1. TURN OFF YOUR CELL PHONES DURING THE WEDDING MASS/CEREMONY. There is nothing more distracting than hearing Usher’s, “Yeah” during the Ave Maria.
2. (This is one of my personal convictions:) During ANY speech, whether it’s the father or mother of the bride or groom, the best man or maid of honor speeches — SHUT UP. Stop talking. It’s unbelievably rude. And if you’re sitting by me, you WILL be SHHHHHSHSHSHSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHed several times until you’re quiet. You will also see Nick burying his head in his arms when I turn around and glare at the talkers.
3. If the bride wears her veil to the reception, guests should be cognizant of the pull an embrace places on her veil. Sometimes I watch the bride’s head snap back so fast and hard, I wonder if it’ll pop off.
4. Remember that although the lights are dimmed, it’s not a total blackout. Seated guests can see where your hands are going when you’re dancing with your date. Keep it G-rated. PG-13 at worst.
5. The inevitable dancing circle that forms in big crowds seems to invite a bar-friendly guest to think it’s a hilarious idea to push people from behind into the middle. AND IT’S ALWAYS THE MOST AWKWARD PERSON ALIVE to raise their hands up and shake their heads that they don’t dance. Tip: If you don’t want to get suckered into dancing, clear the floor. The dance circle will always weed out the most timid person and claim its next victim.
6. Never, ever, EVER is it hilarious to make a spectacle of a wardrobe malfunction while you’re dancing. A button pop off? Too much cleavage from a rip? A shirt lost two buttons to reveal your manly chest hair? Don’t incorporate into your dance moves.
7. Men: it’s never a good idea to interrupt a couple while they’re dancing to practice your grinding moves on her
8. Women: lift your arms in excitement only if you are 10000% confident your dress is not going anywhere and you have applied deodorant to your pits
9. Ties should not be used in any way as a prop to lure someone as your dance partner
10. Ties should not be used in any theatrical manner, especially to demonstrate what butt floss is and how it is done
11. During square dancing, prep your novice partner
12. During “Farmer’s Daughter,” only turn the gent upside down if you are confident you will not drop him
13. During that Wheel Barrel song or whatever it’s called, if someone is nearly strangling him or herself in efforts to untangle the group, have some mercy and let them drop their arms. Don’t yell, “COME ON! YOU CAN DO IT! TWIST! WE’VE ALMOST GOT IT!” while they turn scary shades of blue.
14. If you’re over 5’2 and have a front view of the slide show SIT DOWN, CROUCH DOWN, OR GO TO THE BACK. Have some consideration for people straining for one glimpse.
15. Facetiously offering a pregnant woman a drink and then taking a sip of it yourself to reinforce her inability to drink is really NOT that funny. Don’t do it.
16. Broken glass on dance floor = ladies, keep your shoes on
17. If you use one of those basket items left for the ladies in the bathrooms to help freshen up – razor, toothbrush, floss, deodorant (recommended if you’re sweating on the dance floor) – put it back in the basket or throw it out. It is absolutely grotesque to see wrappers and used items strewn around the lavatory.
18. “Hang on Snoopy” is not the time to get in the face of someone you don’t particularly like with a threatening O-H-I-O.
19. Asking the bride and groom if it’s ok to take one of the centerpieces home as a gift for someone else – unless they are being given away – is not really appropriate.
20. When the managers of the reception facility have turned out the lights and are yelling at you to leave, oblige their request.
But, what makes weddings so gosh darn fun and hilarious are the ridiculous moments of forgotten propriety and whims of the heart (or debauchery). And my number one life rule trumps any wedding rule I can come up with: All rules are made to be broken.