This weekend, Mike and I called his grandmother and asked about getting the crib again. We've asked Chris about it a couple of times, but Chris, oh, infamous Chris, kept giving Mike the song and dance about why couldn't he do it and this and that. I called his grandmother because I know between her and her husband that they'd make Chris do it. I told Mike's grandma that Chris was giving us a hard time and she and her husband, I suspect, got on his ass about it. Chris called this morning about 8AM and told us he was bringing it and then their grandmother called about 10 minutes later. Mike is coming home from school to clear space in the baby's room and put it in there and of course, hang with Chris a little, which is all Chris wants anyhow. Chris is lonely, which is why he wanted Mike to come up there, but making a six hour round trip drive in a compact and having to leave your pregnant woman behind to get a crib when Chris makes weekly trips to Sacramento seemed remarkably dumb to Mike and he didn't want to do it. On top of the fact that we were pretty sure that there was no way to fit the darned thing in my little car.

I'm the Monster Nester and I told Mike's grandmother that. I also said I wasn't too keen on having to spend $200 for a new crib.

So I am slowly getting everything in the house ready for this baby. I sewed one of the Beatrix Potter blankets together this weekend. I just had to cut the panel and then sew on the satin trim, but I found a really nice stitch on my sewing machine and did just that with one panel using a mint green trim. I've got to do the other panel with a pink trim. I'll start working on that other blanket tonight. I had a hell of a time getting the corners square, so I'm going to use one of Mike's engineering things to measure off 45 degree angles exactly, so I get a perfect cut this time, so I don't have to fudge it so many times to get it to work properly.

Mike said my nesting wasn't too bad this weekend, but for some reason, Russell was going out of his way to be a big pain in the ass, so I was always having to put him on time out and then he wouldn't go and then he'd just push and push until I was so worked up I was yelling. I think he really is starting to get antsy about the baby again, so I have some alone time with him tonight because Mike is at class and I'm going to simply sit and talk with him about it. We bought a baby book for him for Christmas, so I'm going to pull that out and read it. Then he and I are going to chat about baby again. He and I had talked about him doing a book, so maybe I'll convince him to start that tonight and we'll just see how he does.

We did finally take the Gameboy away for a long time this weekend. He is in a special reading class at school because he's a little behind and he needs to practice, but Russell hates to practice anything. He hates practicing riding his bike, but continues to complain about getting hurt in situations where most kids wouldn't get hurt because he's such a klutz. We think that if he could master riding his bike sans training wheels that it would help his coordination massively. We told him that if he meets the expectations of his teacher for his reading level and he learns to ride his bike without training wheels that he can have his Gameboy back. We told him that he needs time to practice doing those things and not learning to be a Pokemon master. He was really upset, but it seems like there are so many problems with him getting overstimulated with that thing, which causes him to misbehave and my feeling is that with the scholastic issues, I really felt I had no choice, but to force the issue of practicing reading and biking instead of Gameboy.

If I didn't work, it would be one thing, but we have such precious little time together, that I'd rather spend it helping him read and encouraging him to bike and exercise, rather than helping him become a Pokemon master. I felt like the worst and meanest mommy, but after the shock of it had passed, it seemed like he was cool with that. We also told him that he couldn't play any more of the computer games unless they would help his reading because he was angling for Pokemon yellow on the computer, but half of it is in Japanese, so it sure isn't going to help his reading! He's tried lobbying a few times, but we've just told him to go get a book, much to his dismay.

I guess as a person who has an English degree and a pile of writing awards, I felt like it was important that I help my son read, even if it means being the meanest most evil mommy in the world.

The baby is doing fine...kicking the bejeebers out of me fairly regularly. I've been feeling pretty doubtful of my parenting abilities lately because Russell has been so difficult. It's hard to remember some days that I'm the adult. Exhaustion is a difficult thing to face down sometimes and I'm still sleeping pretty badly. I only woke up a couple times last night, but usually, I wake up 3-4 times a night. It's not awful, just tiring. I know that I'm getting trained for a newborn.

I just wish I got the tiniest bit more sleep. And a stubborn six year old with his own set of issues is very challenging. I think I need to start going home and taking those naps, I'd contemplated a month ago. I keep trying to push myself through a full 8 hour day and it's taking its toll. I really do need to lay down and rest in the afternoons, rather than push push push. I think I should save the pushing for the big event.

Lately, I've been so frustrated and angry with my body. I feel so fucking huge and helpless. I can't do anything I want to without thinking twice about it.

This morning at work, my fucking keyboard cord fell out, but I can't bend at the waist to plug the goddamned thing back in, so I had to find someone in the office who actually knows something about plugging shit into the back of a computer who could do it for me. I supposed I could have possibly gotten down on my knees to do it, but the fucking cement hurts and getting up with a negotiated center of gravity from crawling around under a desk makes me feel like a goddamned rhino in a china shop. I don't think I have a center of gravity for that matter. I feel like my new nickname should be "Lurch" because that's all I do any more. I lurch out of bed, out of chairs, out of the car and even out of the workout pool.

I think the thing that got me this weekend is that Mike was telling me about things that he used to do like watch the opening to "Carrie" over and over again because it's a lockerroom full of half-dressed girls. I had to explain to him that telling one's pregnant partner that kind of thing is just not appropriate to tell me because I'm feeling fat, ugly and lumbering. I told him if he expects to get regular sex that telling me things like I've got a hot ass and he had wood about me all day is far more effective.

Of course, he does those things, but if he's going to start interspersing in his masturbation materials from his teen years, he'll be celibate. I am in the part of pregnancy that I think of as the no-tolerance zone, aka the third trimester. To be fair though, lately, he's been telling me I've got an ass shaped like an upside-down heart, so that's been winning him some points. And all weekend we were at each other like freakin' rabbits, so we were sharing a few points, but then yesterday I just could have cared less.

I think I've just been so frustrated with my body that it's spilling over into other things, including parenting, but I'm trying to logic it out as best I can, to give Bear acceptable life limitations. I've been so short-tempered with everyone.

Yesterday, I picked Pauline up from work and was going to be right back and then on a whim, I took her out to lunch and then we farted around Gottschalks for an hour, trying on clothes and then getting ourselves made over at the clinique counter. I found some eye crud that I felt comfortable with and plan to get for after I deliver in the hospital, so I don't just look washed out and exhausted when we get the huge influx of family visitors. The gal was sweet and gave us both a bunch of samples, which Pauline and I greedily hoarded away in our purses, giggling like teenagers and trying on our finds in the car. I came in all made up and Mike, clueless man that he is, couldn't figure out what about me was different, but noted that I my face was *glowing* and that I had color in my cheeks...not that I had lipstick or eye crap on. Then every time he kissed me, he was asking if he had lipstick on. I got good lipstick that doesn't do that, but it was fun to make him fuss about it.

I came home feeling pretty triumphant, but knowing I'd been avoiding Russell. I needed the time out and I know Pauline did. We both had other stuff we should have been doing or that we wanted to do, but I needed to get away from three mornings solid of waking up to Whiny Russell and dealing with the inevitable whining screamfest that had been Russell's timeouts. I talked with someone here at work and he's got foster kids and suggested using rewards for good behavior because the punishment thing only works for a while and then the kid just figures they are going to get punished anyway, throws caution to the wind and totally goes explosive. It sounded so freakin' familiar. It's hard for me to jump outside this parenting thing, sometimes. I always got punished. There were no awards, except escaping punishment.

I'm going to talk to Mike about getting one of those Pokemon game card starter kits and then every time he rides his bike or reads a book, he gets a card. There has to be a way to make all of this positive and if he learns to read the goddamned cards, more power to him. Then my evil plan to make him read will work and we will then take over the world with Pokemon. Muhaha!

Pikachu this, baby.