ex(PR)essed

We are exactly two weeks from our due date! I suspect, as do some wise others, that we might meet Baby Lorow before August 12, but it’s crazy to think about the nearness of this grand event after nine months of preparation.

I’ve been following the Henry Louis Gates story pretty closely. I’ve been weighing each side, trying to sort my bias, and each day re-evaluating what I think. I’m really appreciating blogger Jenell Paris’ insight.

I was pretty naive in high school. A classmate recently posted some videos on Facebook of the high school antics of many of my classmates. I don’t think I ever fully comprehended the amount of drinking that went on at my high school. It’s has been fascinating to read people’s comments about the videos; turns out that we were all pretty stinkin’ insecure about ourselves.

For the past few months, Jeff and I have played countless games of Yahtzee while enjoying bowls of ice cream. I like this tradition. I wonder if the baby will forever be soothed by the sound of five dice in a blue plastic cup?

Please tell your friends, family, and countrymen that it is never appropriate to 1) tell a woman that you noticed that she is putting on weight or 2) tell a woman that she is waddling. The next person to risk a waddling comment around me will have no choice but to waddle away from me once I inflict bodily harm. Listen, if you don’t know what to say to someone who is obviously pregnant, you could always resort to polite pleasantries like, “I hope you are feeling well today; we are so looking forward to meeting your little one.” Or, “You look adorable today; I hope you’re feeling well too!” Or, “I hope that baby is treating you well in these last few weeks of your pregnancy. We’re praying for a safe delivery and healthy baby.” Maybe instead of pointing out your weight gain to your husband, people could say things to him like, “I hope you’re being extra good to that sweet wife of yours.” Or, “We’re so happy for the two of you and can’t wait to meet the newest member of your family.” It’s really not that hard. Pregnant women are still people…even though our bellies are mis-shapen with the miracle of life, we are able to converse about more than our bodies, and we would appreciate if you made a similar effort. Rant over…for now. (Note: Snarky book or series of blog posts coming your way about pregnancy and the challenges of social interaction; stay tuned.)

If you’ve been in my loft where I do most of my crafting, you know that I have a Rosie the Riveter picture framed and hanging on my red wall. If I had seen this rendition earlier, I would have helped Rosie undergo a bit of a makeover these past nine months.

It’s Tour de France season, a three-week stretch in the middle of the year that I’ve been known to coin as “the most wonderful time of the year.” During Lance’s seven glorious years in yellow, I was a faithful, avid fan. I listened to the broadcast live while at work and then watched the television coverage in the evening.

These last few years without Lance were filled with unwanted drama, and I was embarassed for the sport. I lost interest for the most part after one doping mess after another.

It’s great to see Lance back in the saddle again this year; he’s still making it look totally effortless! While I would love to see him in yellow in Paris (and, quite honestly, I’m totally bitter that his teammate might be instead), I’m really thinking today about how my love for cycling got started.

When I was about five or six, my mom used to have a joint garage sale with a good friend who lived on the other side of town from us. I would tag along and play with the neighborhood kids there — specifically a boy named Mark and a girl named Christine. We were the same age but attended different schools, so our paths only crossed every once and awhile in our elementary years. Basically, all I remember from that particular time is that Mark had a pogo stick.

When we got to junior high, the three of us reconnected. Mark and I had classes together, and we became pretty good friends. He was into cycling and rode with a local club. I knew bits and pieces about that aspect of his life but never thought much of it. I mean, I loved riding my red ten speed around the neighborhood too…I don’t think I ever fully realized how much more serious and committed to cycling he was than that!

Mark was actually someone that I started to become even better friends with once we went off to College. His mom was battling cancer, and we had talked about that a bit. He was dating a friend of mine, so I saw more of him over the holidays during our freshman year. We exchanged a few emails. We were all looking forward to being home together for the summer.

I was fast asleep when the phone rang on my first morning of summer vacation after my freshman year of college. It was Christine calling with the news that Mark had collapsed while riding his bike with a fraternity brother and died the previous day. It was devastating news. And, to this day, I’m not sure that they know exactly what happened.

While we grieved for Mark…for his lost potential both as a cyclist and just as a kind, intelligent human being…a few of us found ourselves drawn more and more to the sport of cycling. It became a way to honor his memory. It’s funny…we never made a conscious decision to ride our bikes in Mark’s memory, but it just happened that way.

For me, I started a love affair with my green Trek mountain bike, a graduation gift from my parents. I rode it like a road bike and charted out easy and difficult rides of all different mileages around my house. I tried mountain biking and fell down a ravine, got lost in the woods when night fell, and had plenty of tumbles and scrapes along the way. I also trained for and rode in the first (second, third, and more) annual Mark E. Mengel bike race in my hometown. Mark’s dad always drove the pace car, and without fail, he or his wife would yell out the window and encourage me along the course.

I began following the professional sport, subscribed to Bicycling magazine, and found myself chatting up all things bikes with anyone who would listen.

It was fortunate for me that Jeff was interested in cycling too. We chatted about bikes on our first date! We’d only been dating for a few months when I bought a red Trek road bike so that we could spend our summer months exploring the backroads of central Pennsylvania. We took our bikes on our honeymoon and celebrated my 30th birthday by riding a century.

And, even though much time has passed, I always think about Mark when I think about biking. Unknowingly, he introduced me (and others) to a new world — one where your body works hard but your mind can sometimes rest; one where your eyes can take in the wonder of the world while your legs scream and moan with each rotation; one where you can ride in perfect silence with someone you love and be at peace in the quiet.

So, while the Tour winds through France in this final week, I will be watching faithfully. And, I’ll be cheering for Lance without a doubt. But, I’ll also be remembering Mark.

Happy Friday! I’m certainly feeling ready for this weekend. The only appointment on my weekend schedule is breakfast with a special friend tomorrow morning. Otherwise, it will be nice to just putter around the house. There are cloth diapers to be washed, thank you notes to be written, meals to be prepared and frozen, and a whole variety of other pre-partum things to be accomplished!

We had our last birthing class on Tuesday, which included a tour of the delivery and maternity floors at Harrisburg Hospital. I was only half-joking when I asked Jeff if we could deliver at home instead. There was nothing awful about the place, but there was also nothing warm, friendly, or cozy about the place either. It felt very sterile and cold. Formal and unfriendly. Full of bright lights and the promise of a total invasion of privacy. But, I know, I know…I won’t care about any of that when I’m in the thick of delivery, blah, blah, blah, and then I will be so smitten with the baby that I will continue to not care. (If you’re sensing any sarcasm, bravo! I’m growing a little weary of people imposing their experiences on me as though I will have an exact duplicate experience. Really. I’m not that naive. I’m pretty sure that both Baby Lorow and I are individuals and we will create our own experience.)

Anywho, basically all this means is that we’re getting closer and closer to meeting Baby Lorow in person. And, Jeff and I are both looking forward to that!

Last weekend, I enjoyed my last baby shower. It was a small affair…just me and a few of the ladies from the young married couples small group at church. It was lovely. A delicious soup and salad lunch served on Anita’s china; fun, loving conversation; adorable presents and thoughtful cards; and a time of scrapbooking as the ladies each contributed a few pages to a brag book for Baby Lorow. The day was truly a gift to me, and I am thankful to my dear friends Anita and Allyson for treating me to such a lovely afternoon.

(from left to right: Anita, cute Ruth, Alyssa, me, Jen, Allyson, and Laurie)

And, here’s a favorite site of mine — a table covered with scrapbooking and stamping supplies!

Guess what I got in the mail on Saturday? Another check from Walmart for nearly $140.

This is the third such check in the past four months. You may recall that I vented about this in May after the second check arrived, and, at the advice of yet another customer service representative, I sent it back voided and with a note.

Then, on Saturday Jeff came running up the stairs with the envelope in his hand and we realized that we were right back to square one.

Some people wouldn’t be so frustrated by “free” money, but this is frustrating to me because I HATE Walmart. I don’t want their money. I don’t want to shop in their stores. I don’t want my name and address in their system.

(Case in point: Last Wednesday, Jeff and I stopped by the Walmart in Mt. Pleasant to return a baby gift that we had received in duplicate. The parking lot was a death trap. We finally got a spot and walked into the store with our return. We were headed towards customer service when a random shopper stopped us and told us that we must tell the greeter inside the door that we intend to return the item so she can properly mark it. So, we walk back to the greeter and wait while she marks a whole line of people’s returns, including one man’s suspicious collection of unopened packets of blank VHS tapes. Then, while waiting at customer service, we can’t help but notice the rather large, lit sign reading, “Restrooms need cleaned.” Good to know. We’ll steer clear. We make the exchange (and get cash not store credit thanks to a gift receipt!) and head out. We are just getting in our car when we hear yelling. Two people in a car pulling out of the death trap parking lot are screaming at each other for all the world to hear. We both just started laughing, cautiously pulled out, and left.)

So, my blog readers, I am now faced with a dilemna. What should I do with this latest check for $140? Is it time to cash it? Start a college fund for Baby Lorow? Spend it at a competing store like Target or Kmart? Donate it to some downtown improvement fund in a city where Walmart has desolated their downtown shopping district? Send it back? Shred it?

Please weigh in and leave me a comment with your best suggestion!

On Wednesday, Jeff and I both took the day off work to drive to Mt. Pleasant to meet up with all the Bertrams. ALL the Bertrams, by the way, consist of my cute parents, my brother Dwayne, sister-in-law Barb, nephew Brandon, and aunt Barb. Yep, that’s all of us. Dwayne and family were visting from California, and it wasn’t going to work out for Jeff and I to travel to Meadville to see them, so Mt. Pleasant was the next best option.

I haven’t been in Mt. Pleasant since my grandma died in December. It felt really strange to be there and to not see her. She would be so excited about Baby Lorow and would enjoy seeing my growing belly. I really miss her.

But, on a happier note, it was great to see the rest of the family. When you live 3,000 miles apart, such reunions are few and far between.

After having lunch together at Applebees, we headed back to my aunt Barb’s house for the afternoon. Her home sits on land adjacent to my grandparents’ farm, and it was nice to sit on her porch and remember happy times spent on the farm.

Later in the afternoon, my cousin’s kids came over. His youngest, Savanna, was too cute, and I couldn’t help taking pictures of her. She is the spitting image of her father, which endears her all the more to me. My cousin John was always one of my very favorite people.

Here’s a picture of the Bertrams….all of us!

And, here’s one of my cute parents with their cute kids and grandkids! (Well, we’re trusting that Baby Lorow will be very cute…)

And, in case you had any doubt about how my dad would be as a grandfather, check out this picture!

Aunt Barb and the girls gave Baby Lorow a present — a whole stack of board books. One of them, “Brown, Bear, Brown Bear,” happens to be Savana’s favorite, and she promptly plucked it off the pile and took it from person to person and asked them to read it to her. At one point, she was even reading it herself! It was pretty stinkin’ adorable, and I can’t wait to see my cute dad with Baby Lorow on his lap!

Over the weekend, Jeff and I traveled to Keuka Lake so that we could join with his brother Tim in a graduation party/baby shower/spaghetti dinner. The Lorows have much to celebrate this year, so they combined all these events into one big bash! And, because of it, I’m among the few (I suspect) who can say that more than 100 people attended one of her baby showers! It was quite the party.

Jeff’s mom prepared spaghetti, sauce, garlic bread, and salad for 100 people. That’s no joke! Check out some of these prep photos.

People from the community where the lake cottage is as well as family attended the festivities. It was nice to catch up with some folks we hadn’t seen in awhile, and, in many cases, I met people I had never met before. Once again, Baby Lorow felt very celebrated. It was also really nice to have Jeff present for this shower. After all, we’re in this together!

Oh yeah…another highlight? Jeff’s sister Katie’s mint truffles. She was very popular at the party because of these babies!

It was good to see Katie’s son, Daniel. He was a bit out of sorts because he was fighting a virus, but he was still awfully thrilled to see his Uncle Jeff.

In addition to the graduation party/baby shower/spaghetti dinner, I also enjoyed our annual trek to the Windmill, a large farmer’s market in that area. I bought two loaves of delicious Amish raisin bread with frosting, a bag of Kettle Korn, and two bars of homemade soap. Success!

I have one more shower to look forward to, and then all our energy will be focused on final preparations for Baby Lorow! Hard to believe that we are probably less than five weeks away from meeting him or her!

I can’t help but notice that I’m blogging a lot more about being pregnant these days. Perhaps because my growing stomach and the little life in it is first and foremost on my mind every morning. Really, with only six weeks (or less!) to go, it’s hard not to be thinking baby almost all the time.

A perk of being pregnant that developed about halfway into my second trimester is a major boost of creative energy. (Jeff thinks that this creativity reveals that Baby Lorow is a girl. I have to admit, I love the idea of having a little girl to scrapbook and craft with, but you won’t hear me complaining if Baby Lorow is a boy either!) Lately, I’ve been directing much of that creative energy towards making things for the baby’s room or that chronicle this unique moment in our lives.

A week or so ago, I posted pictures of the mobile I made. Originally, I didn’t intend to make anything else for the nursery, but, while browsing through Michael’s on Saturday morning, I couldn’t resist buying a set of nine, plain wooden blocks. Nine blocks was perfect for spelling out Baby Lorow, and my mind was spinning with ways to decorate the blocks. I am thrilled with how they turned out!

For months, I have also been planning a pregnancy scrapbook in my head. Then I drew a rough outline on paper. And, seriously, for months I’ve stewed over how I wanted to remember this time in my life. Finally, last week, I started creating some pages. I decided that I would use the book to tell the whole story — the joys and the challenges. I want this book to be an honest look at the past nine months, not a pink and blue sparkle fest of artificial and sugary sweetness. Because, guess what? Pregnancy isn’t always fun. So, why pretend? I trust that our baby will know he/she is completely adored by his/her parents, so a grumble or two about pregnancy won’t ruin him/her for life!

So, here are the first three pages of the pregnancy scrapbook. What I find especially unusual about these first three pages is that they don’t include a single photograph! There will certainly be photos in the following pages, but, for this particular book, it felt totally right to me to focus more on the emotion of the experience.

Finally, for those of you wondering what I look these days, here’s a recent self portrait!