Recently in Lauren Scott Category

It's official.  I'm over it.  Being pregnant that is.  And I believe the worst is about to hit because I'm now officially 30 weeks along.  Which means I still have 10 more to go.

Aside from minor edema, for the first time ever I now have heartburn (my deepest sympathies to regular sufferers - I truly had no idea).  And my hips and back hurt all the time.  What might be the worst for me: I come from a long line of hyperactive folks so facing difficulty in such mundane tasks as, uh, I don't know - moving - is a tad annoying.  Bending over?  Well, let's just say that no one wants to see that, and that it's getting close to a no-go. 

The cherry on top: I've determined that I now look like a bloated snowman.  (Mondo says I'm adorable, but he kinda has to say that).  And while channeling the stunning visage of said holiday character, did I mention, it's soooooo hhhooootttt?!

Ok, ok.  I'm done griping about my current ailments.  Now, for an interesting observation I've made over the past 30 weeks.  Folks sure are squirrelly about pregnancy and babies, and I'm not just talking about the knock-down, drag-out fights over co-sleeping vs. crying it out.  I think I can speak for both Mondo and myself when I say that you can learn a lot about people by how they react to the prospects of baby names and colors.

Names

As many of you may have noticed, I've never mentioned names for Piglet.  There's a reason.  Because we're actually taking some great advice:  We're not telling anyone.  Actually, we haven't decided on a name, but we're also not telling anyone because opinions are like, well, you know the saying . . . everyone's got one.  We do have a list narrowed to 5 names. 

Oftentimes when people ask about names, if we say anything other than we haven't picked a name, they get defensive and sometimes angry.  (Squirrelly I tell ya).  Regardless of if we say that we don't know or that we're not sharing, we get peppered with names, "tips," and of course the list of what we should absolutely not name Piglet.  We really like all 5 of our choices, and each has a very special meaning to us, so we don't want that ruined inadvertently because "So-and-so named their Pekinese that" or "I went to high school with a so-and-so and they were a jerk." 

Mainly, we think the minute we see Piglet, we'll know the right name.  I'll give a hint though:  none of the 5 are in the top 300 names for 2009.  (Disclaimer:  for Piglet relatives who do know the 5 names in consideration, a reminder that you swore an oath).

 
The Pink Nightmare 

While I'm not planning on sharing names, as promised, I will post pictures of the nursery and bedding very soon.  It's just not finished yet.  Here's what I can tell you about both the nursery and Piglet's future attire: there will be limited to zero pink.  Seriously.  Some of you may not be too shocked as I alluded to this before, and we're sticking to it. 

Before folks start going postal, here's the deal:  We don't hate pink.  We're just not fans.  And we certainly don't hate your pink.  We just don't really "do" pink at casa de Mondo.  Ok, ok, so I also bristle at the rapidly increasing commercialization of gender.  (Anyone seen the pink toy vacuum cleaner?  Saw it at our Target recently. For reals). 

Mostly, we just don't like pink.  If at some point Piglet goes gaga for pink, so be it.  For now, she won't know the difference.

For all of our dear friends and family who are overwrought with fear, doubt, and sheer sorrow that we don't want to go all pink princess for Piglet.  Have no fear.   

Historically, pink was the color for boys until roughly - get this- the 1940's!  Apparently pink was all boy back in the day because it was related to the color red, a more masculine, active color.  So, blue was for girls, a more subdued color and related to the Virgin Mary.  I got a good chuckle thinking of some of Gtown's historical grand figures decked out in pink.  (Think Colonel Moody or Ike Kempner).

Oh yeah, and both boys and girls wore dresses back in the day too.  So, she'll be fine.  Pinky swear.

We're not totally militant about it though.  You'll see.  There will be some pink in the nursery. 

I'm quite certain that even if strangers mistake her for a boy because we have not donned her in a hot pink, bedazzled princess fedora, she'll get over it.  I did.  I was pretty much bald until I was three and was clothed in a whole range of hues.

Besides, this is Galveston.  Land of the eccentric.  The accepted.  The avant-garde.  And if Gail Borden could ride around town on a pet bull, then I think we can handle a Piglet without pink.

Last week I mentioned how I wrote Piglet her first letter.  While I'm not going to post it here (truly some things in this internet era are still private), I will share a general sentiment included in my letter.

It seems as though (and some people say) that oftentimes parents project who they are, wish they were, and wish they weren't onto their children.  Perhaps that is so.  I'm venturing that it's all part of the myth of who we are and become.  Predictably, part of my letter considered her looks: who she will look like and what personality traits of her mom and dad she'll inherit. (Yes, Nancy, I remember, she could inherit my most embarrassing traits).  Or I wonder if she'll carry recessive genes that make us joke about the milkman.

I wrote about my wonder and curiosity of her and this wonder's connection to legacy, family, and family myths.  While this letter is certainly addressed to a much older person, I feel as though it's important for her to know where she comes from as that surely will shape who she is to become, whether she likes it or not. 

I grew up with particular family myths about the women in my family, the family name (my maiden name is Spanish), and the interwoven tales of my ancestors and Texas history.  Of course I heard about my Yankee side of the family too (we can trace that side back to the Mayflower), but the Texas history and tale-telling always seemed to light up the eyes of the storytellers.  From my grandfather who in his youth was a curly redhead, a boxer, and a writer - who penned the most exquisite poem on the birth of Texas I'll ever read - to one of my great aunts who was one of the first women in Texas to own her own cotton gin (she also refused to marry and seems to have been her own version of Bettie Brown).  Of course we have a connection to the capture of Pancho Villa as well as a former President. (Doesn't it seem we're all related somehow to a former President?)  Mondo will surely share the stories from his family including that Piglet's great, great grandfather learned to fly from the Wright Brothers.

While growing up, I truly enjoyed these facts and stories but only as much as the storyteller had in reciting them.  In particular, my father's love of history permeated much of my childhood, and I admit, it annoyed me to full-on bouts of eye-rolling.  This love practically dictated every family vacation too.  From trips across Texas to Washington, DC, history was included somehow.  Oh how I loathed my father those hot summers as his long legs lumbered what seemed miles ahead of the rest of us on the way to some other document, battleship, or fort.  But, that all changed somewhere in my mid- to late twenties I would guess.  All of a sudden, a switch was flipped, and history and legacy aligned in my mind in a way that had not happened before - it became personal.

Because that's part of what brought us to Galveston.  While I don't know too much on how my family's history may overlap with Galveston, I felt a deep kinship when we came here (as did Mondo) because of our city's architecture, the gateway to Texas history. 

And what I want to impart to my daughter is truly that the story of her life is all her own, yet will align ever so slightly with those who have come before her.  So, while some may choose another place to rear (Grandma would demand I use the correct verb here) a child, Galveston is our home and provides opportunities, experiences, and perhaps perspectives not available just anywhere. 

Of course, I imagine, Piglet will have much more to bear in the history department than either of her parents:  she'll live in one of the most historic cities in Texas.  In a 140+ year old home.  Surrounded by her parents' architecture and history books on our fair Island.  Perhaps one day, she'll note the myths that were passed down to her, including that the year of her birth, Lost Galveston, written by Brian M. Davis, was released and there's a signed copy in her library, dedicated to her.

FYI: If you haven't planned to attend already, do consider attending the reception/lecture/booksigning and exhibit for Lost Galveston this Saturday, July 31 from 6pm to 9pm at the U.S. Custom House, 502 20th.  Oh, and bring a hanky. 

This past Friday night, Mondo and I embarked on another incubation adventure: the 3D Baby Scan. It all started after our regularly scheduled 2D anatomy scan at UTMB back in May.  That was the first time we got to see Piglet since she was a mere fetal pole (basically a little node with a blinking heart). The experience was amazing after a) I got over the fact that initially she looked like a Sea Monkey, and b) we were so fortunate to discover that she was developing normally. I only wish now I had written down the name of our sonographer - she was fantastic. Equal parts easy-going and informative.

After the appointment, we rushed to the Culpepper's shop and to other friends' offices showing off pictures and announcing that Piglet is in fact a girl (still sorry to those who lost that bet). We were saddened to discover that we would have to wait until her birthday to see her again. I believe that day marked the beginning of offspring addiction that to my pre-pregnancy self seemed totally alien. I could feel the rush of that addiction take hold: I mean, guys, she totally waved at us and surely it looks like she will have ginormous eyes like her parents.

Being the total hardcore father-to-be, Mondo began the 3D/4D Baby Scan search. We were a bit rabid: we had to see our Piglet again before October (fingers crossed as I'd like to keep this little chica in the oven for as long as possible).

As if a sign from above, Heather Martinez, the owner of 4D Baby Scan of Bay Area Houston invited us over for a scan!  Although the office is located in Dickinson, all is right with the world:  Heather, a burgeoning IBC, and her BOI husband just moved to the Island this past spring, family in tow. They bought one of the last homes Nicholas Clayton designed in the East End. It was fate I tell you - seeing Piglet again and supporting local! 

Now, I've read about how you should talk to your baby, read, listen to music, and it's even been recommended to sing. I've done some talking and Kevin and I are reading East of Eden out loud (my fav book), but sometimes I feel a little insane. 

I mean, intellectually I know there's a baby in there, but sometimes it's more of an abstract concept. I mean, who is she? And, that rippling and sometime roiling feeling in my belly could still sometimes be mistaken for gas (those of you who have been pregnant feel me on this). I was hoping to see Piglet again not only because I just needed to see her but also because I needed to re-confirm that there really is a baby in here. Sometimes when I think about it, there is something so Sigourney Weaver a la Alien about being pregnant. (Don't worry, I won't link to that awesome yet gruesome scene, but it's easily found on YouTube if you're so inclined).

So, Heather, Queen of 4D Baby Scan, I have to tell you, you gave me personally, the greatest gift I will have been given, well, until Piglet is born. While I may still have been processing the entire event when we left your shop that evening (I'm a delayed emotional translator - Mondo will confirm), at 6:00 am the next morning, I was downstairs writing the first letter to my daughter. That's the absolute power of my experience. 

I feel as though I met my daughter for the first time (ok, more like a bad version of a one-way mirror but roll with me people). This is truly the greatest gift I was given: to connect with her in a way I was unable to until now.

Truly more important than the 325 pictures on a CD and the 30 minute DVD of Piglet's eye opening, feet eating, and face grimacing, was not just seeing her, but was being in the moment: watching her onscreen (giant onscreen might I add) as she moved in my belly. I now feel connected to her in a way I hadn't before this scan. So, while I may not be singing to Piglet anytime soon (and honestly, she doesn't want me to), talking to her doesn't seem so bizarre. 

On another note, in case you hadn't notice, I totally recommend 4D Baby Scan of Bay Area Houston. Aside from the amazing experience itself and Heather's graciousness, they offer a customized, relaxed, comfortable environment for just you or as many friends and family you want to include. Other cool stuff:  the Tempur Pedic Bed for mom, the massive sofas for friends and family, the complimentary chocolate-covered strawberries. Oh! And the Little Lamb Maternity & Baby Boutique  on site. Might I recommend one the fabulous Born Out of Necessity diaper bags?!

 

Have to admit it: 50% of baby advice is really helpful and the other 50% falls into the "smile and nod" category.  It's a lot to take in especially when it's constant.  Sometimes in all the information, I find I miss the important stuff like "Don't register for baby all at once. Make several trips."  One would think that this would have stuck with me (blame pregnancy brain) considering that I wrote about how the big box baby stores on the Mainland just about took the Mondos out when we were just browsing during the first trimester.

In all fairness to us, we had limited choices in the matter.  We had to register that sweltering Sunday or wait another six weeks or more (we're shockingly busy right now considering our lives as we know it detonate in October). 

So when we started out, list in hand, sensibilities in order, little did we know the land of babies would take five hours - count 'em 5!  I'll try to be positive about the outcome; we left with a fairly good skeleton of a registry list. 

It was insanity people.  It took us an hour to get out of the feeding section!  Walls upon walls of bottles, nipples, nipple butter (I know, I know it makes me giggle too), spoons, cups, bibs, pumps, etc. 

The Best Wish You Were Here Moment:

Mondo: "We need to get you some nipple shields."

Mrs. Mondo: "What?  What the hell are nipple shields?"

Mondo:  "You don't know what nipple shields are?"

Mrs. Mondo:  "You do?!"

But the best was yet to come (okay the crib that was guaranteed in stock that wasn't in stock is a close second).  We finally make it back to our fair Island, psychologically brutalized and ankles the size of cantaloupes but we're still together, still a unit. 

The next morning, I go online to check the registries to make sure all is well.  Kid you not:  almost a quarter of the items we registered for had horrible ratings.  Okay, like a onesie isn't a big deal, but for the love of Bettie Brown, the stroller we spent 35 minutes jacking with apparently is the worst thing ever.  The front wheel falls off!  And let's face it, in Gtown we practically need a Humvee while we wait for some of the City's infrastructure projects to take off.  (Ahem 23^rd Street).  I'm just thankful that this was one of my mentally and emotionally stellar days.  Even the ear thermometer we picked out sucked.  (One might be asking how you go wrong with an ear thermometer - I got nothing).

Again, thanks to friends and family, we're gonna be alright.  In fact my cousin-in-law

(SuperMom of twins) scoured my lists and sent me more items to register for and what items to delete off the list like 4 sheet savers (we got a little crazy with the registry gun towards the end). 

Sometimes I think I just need someone to tell me what to do when it comes to all of this stuff. 

Overall, I'd say it's coming together.

Soooo, I'm gonna address this one head-on, 'cause I know you're thinking it.  Hell, even over at IBC, we've chatted about the irony of it all.  So, here goes. . .

About this IBC/BOI thing.  We're IBC because we chose to move here and make a life here.  (Please see IBC's original, kick-off t-shirt).  Piglet will be a BOI until, well, I guess until she's 18 (or until she graduates college, gets a job, and gets out as my Dad always joked we needed to do) and then she can claim both I guess.  Our whole thing with IBC isn't really an anti-BOI thing anyhow despite what one may think.  We just wanted to be able to proclaim our love of this Island and have a way to claim ownership too in unison with BOIs not despite them.  But, the way I look at it, Piglet will only become an IBC like her parents if she chooses to come back here as an adult.  Hell at this rate she's only a COI.  I'll let you guys figure that one out.  (Let's just say ArtWalk brings out the best in the Mondos).

So, BOI.  How does that work?  Well, you have to be actually born on the Island.  Whether in a hospital or in a pool in your living room or I guess your bathtub (and no, the Mondo's are not choosing that option although we highly recommend watching The Business of Being Born), you are born on the sandbar.  Don't ask me what happens if you're born on the Causeway - I frankly don't know.  One exception I've heard about: a couple of BOIs brought Galveston sand to their child's mainland birth.  From what I understand aside from being BOI, if you were fortunate to be born at St. Mary's, you are truly hardcore and too legit too quit (Yes. That.just.happened.).  Alas, no more St. Mary's.  So, it's UTMB folks. 

Now, I know some of you may have chosen to go off Island for kids for various reasons.  For us, it makes no sense because literally, we live 3 minutes from UTMB - Children's Hospital & John Sealy to be specific.  We have a fantastic OB/GYN who  comes highly recommended and is a super star not only in her clinical practice but is a respected researcher as well (and she lives and works here).  And, well, as funny as this seems even as I type this, we totally shop local.  So, Piglet will be born at UTMB and will forever be BOI.  Now to ensure she's an avid preservationist . . .

"Of course, every novel is a kind of dream you're asking the reader to have along with you. A book's not an object, it's an event."  Justin Cronin

Mondo and I are avid readers.  In fact, we're both in the middle of a couple of books each including the newly released Infinite Monster.  I grew up with avid readers for parents and with books overflowing from cabinets and shelves in multiple rooms.  I've noticed over the past year that my giant bedside table (literally it's a small library table) looks eerily like my mother's bedside table: a cascade of pens, highlighters, books, magazines, journals and other paper paraphernalia. 

It would never have occurred to me before "my situation" that reading seems to be a huge part of pregnancy as well.  So aside from re-reading Gone With the Wind and Infinite Monster, I have several pregnancy and baby books dog-earred next to my bed.  I read them as I'm emotionally ready or as my brain can take it (please see the movie Knocked Up for more info).  I'm not quite ready to fully immerse myself in the labor chapters of books and honestly, some of these books are boring.  (I sound horrible, I know).  We started with the pregnancy standard-issue What to Expect When You're Expecting and it's okay.  We occasionally reference it, but otherwise we've moved onward based on some recommendations.  I just recently purchased two books on advice from two recent Gtown mothers.  I'll let you know once I get into those - one is on childbirth and the other is good for after Piglet is born.

But more than all of the books and Internet reading that is surrounding this little BOI incubation I've got going on here, I've thought a lot about Piglet's relationship to reading.  Aside from my obsession with the nursery, the one thing I feel really connected to about this pregnancy is around books and reading.  So, even though Mondo sometimes protests, I've already started buying books to get her own library going.  I mean, Mondo and I have our own "library" at home and have some of our childhood books to offer her, but there was something so very cool about having books of my own (even everyone of the Bernstein Bears books I shared with my brothers) in my own designated cabinet.  Mondo was also an avid reader as a child, so we are now good consumers (albeit bad for the environment): we buy a lot of books just like we still buy CDs.  We like the experience and comfort of reading:  the paper, the artwork, the smell. 

Anywho, there are old standby books that I'm avoiding purchasing because it is likely one of the grandparents or other family members will purchase it for her such as I Love You Forever, or Good Night Moon.  Apparently my favorite as a child was a little more rare: Runaway Marie Louise about a mongoose who runs away after her mom spanks her for being naughty.  My mother would probably say that this was very telling of my childhood. 

So, as for my book shopping for Piglet, I'm going for a bit more obscure books for now.  I mean, not totally wackadoodle, but slightly offkilter.  And, so where do I go?  Of course: Hendley Market on Strand.  Hands down Hendley Market has the best children's books (for purchase otherwise of course check out Rosenberg Library) on the Island among other fantastic finds you're not likely to find anywhere else.  We stopped by to get a baptism gift for one of my first cousin's once removed and ended up walking out with plenty of books for Piglet including a couple of Texas-themed books.  My favorite?  Heart of Texas: A Lone Star ABC by Laura Krauss Melmed and Frane Lessac.  Inside, the letter "G" is for Galveston Strand (btw, that link will let you browse inside the book). 

Which makes me want to know - do we have any Galveston-themed or Galveston-related children's books?  And if not, who's gonna write one?

I spent the first trimester (at least) lamenting that all I did was seem to gain an inner tube around my mid-section but didn't look pregnant.  I began to hate pants with a hatred I have never felt before, and I refused to buy bigger sizes especially since I was exercising.  (Side note: Going to the gym becomes more annoying as the weight on the scale continues to climb up instead of down).

Maternity wear was too big, and well, weird at that point.  And again, there's slim picks on the Island (Target is all I got; bless Old Navy online).  There were times when I thought, "Maybe I'm not pregnant at all, just packing on the weight and feeling sick all the time."  Yes, I know, Mondo looked at me with that same look of incredulity.  Of course I also had a few run-ins with folks who didn't quite engage their own brains before speaking, "oh! I didn't know you were pregnant?!  I just thought you had put on some weight."  Yes.that.actually.happened. More than once.  (Sometimes we just can't claim 'em all in Galveston).

So now that I actually have "popped out" and have a baby bump, a new phenomenon has started: it's like I have no privacy.  While actual baby bump groping by strangers has not been a huge issue (yet?), once it became obvious I had a bun in the oven, it became an experience in the onslaught of "advice" as well as the never-ending personal questions.   It's an interesting phenomenon, one that I certainly had heard of before, but experiencing it for myself is something else entirely.  Part of this "fascinating" experience happens when someone asks your preference baby-related, labor-related, etc. and then proceeds to answer the question for you and/or completely ignores your response.  No one hipped me to the fact that having a baby is apparently much like planning a wedding:  it's a farce that these huge events are about you - they are really about everyone else! J

Here is what I've learned is referred to as a "bump photo."  Dang, that's a big photo. Sorry folks, I don't know how to shrink this.

Despite all of this adjustment, the coolest thing happened Sunday evening.  We felt the Piglet move for the first time!  Of course, I felt her first, but then Mondo planted his head firmly on my behemoth belly (I know, I know: "You don't know what big is - wait till 9 months") and went all saucer-eyed each time she moved.  He sang to her (of course only The Doors would do) and she seemed to really like his jokes.  Way cool indeed.

Now that we're in full-on prep mode for the Piglet (that's her nickname via Mondo), I'm finding myself behaving in what is apparently typical behavior for first time mothers-to-be.  I'm researching and obsessing over everything.  And right now at 5 months, my focus is on continuing to lug my tired butt to our awesome downtown gym Urban Health & Fitness at least 3 days a week and obsessing over the room that will become the nursery.  Crib bedding has been my most powerful obsession thus far.  (I know, I know, sad).

Here's what's even crazier than my obsession over crib bumpers and skirts: from what I've found, there are no baby stores on this sandbar.  We did have a cute little boutique downtown that I guess never reopened post-Ike.  Gracie's on the Strand does have some cute stuff in terms of toys, clothes, books, and diaper bags.  (I highly suggest picking up an Ugly Doll.  We picked out Piglet's first toy, Poe the Ugly Doll there).  And, I believe there's some other stuff here and there in our local shops, but for the big stuff?  It's Target & Wal-mart or bust and by "bust" I mean the Mainland.  We've done a couple of trips to the Mainland to check out the big stores like Babies R Us.  Not impressed.  Okay, maybe a bit overwhelmed is more accurate.  I mean seriously, when did everything for baby girls become powder pink?  Not a fan folks.

So, I did what any full-blown nesting and obsessed American first time mother-to-be would do:  I ordered custom crib bedding.  For shame - I know!!!  (Insert red face shame here).  I just couldn't do the light pink or cartoon characters.  I know she'll be demanding those things on her own in no time at all (I mean how does anyone truly fight that tidal wave?), but I want to spare us the insanity for as long as possible.  So, I went to one of my favorite online worlds of all time, Etsy, and found a great online shop.  Mondo and I picked the fabrics and ordered the bumper and skirt.  I'll post some pictures when it arrives but for now we're going Island colors meets vintage (sounds sufficiently Galveston, eh?).  In the meantime, I'm looking for more cool, non-big box store items.  Preferably on-Island because we've got to keep it local when we can.  What stores am I missing?

One more thing!  I do have a suggestion for readers looking for teethers (admission: I called it a "chew toy" the other day. Yikes.)  This teether is apparently the item for babies right now.  My adorable first cousins once removed (basically my cousin's kiddos) love her:  Sophie the Giraffe and yes, she's French.