On being pregnant...

So I don't really get those people that say "I love being pregnant." I know there's not a lot of them out there, but there are definitely some. What I don't get is what you love about it?

Me, a month ago celebrating 5yrs with Danny in my Buddah Belly shirt...

that "T is working a lot harder these days.

I mean, yes, I love the extra attention.

And there's the fact that people seem to be a little kinder and gentler with a pregnant woman.

For the most part that I give myself permission to eat dessert anytime I want, because my belly is already rapidly expanding and I have now learned I can in fact lose my "baby-weight"... all it takes is training for and running a marathon. Ha!

But I don't really get the LOVE.

Don't hate me, but I'm just going to throw out there that I have really easy pregnancies. I have yet to puke this round, have hardly had any morning sickness and although I was tired, I still managed to fit in twp triathlons and Ragnar....like I said, I've got it pretty easy.

At the IronGirl tri in Vegas with a sign made by my guy-

I'm just shy of 12 weeks here (I think).

But that wet suit wouldn't be flattering even if I was 0 weeks

Yes, I've had a bit of back pain this time around (could be the 36 pound toddler I lift way too much); but nothing so painful or sickness so bad I'd write home about it... or blog about it. (Wait, see what I just did there? I said it wasn't so bad that I'd blog about it, but I totally did blog about it. It'a like I'm complaining without you even knowing I'm complainig...except now you do because I just told you.)

So the moral of the story: well there really isn't one.

I've got just three months left (yes, it's gone fast for me too), and I figure I ought to do something to start connecting with this baby. Perhaps it's because I had some special experiences with Holden in utero (I swear I heard the kid talking to me even before I saw the ultrasound, so I knew he was a boy before the picture-pages tech did). And sine I knew the sex, I knew the name (at the time the ONLY boy name Danny and I could agree on)... so I could already refer to him as a person.

But with this little one, since we're not finding out the gender until game day... and s/he hasn't had any solid communication with me (outside the kicks and hiccups), it feels different. At first, I referred to Baby Mangum as 'he'... I think it was more habit out of calling Holden he while I was pregnant.

But just a couple of weeks ago, Danny and I finally decided on a girls name we both really liked (we've decided not to mention it to anyone because people have the strangest habit of telling you if they don't like your baby name, or they'll say things like "Oh you can't name your baby that" ... which does nothing but make things awkward down the road, and if you do in fact name your kiddo that, you'll always remember that at one time or another they didn't approve of your kid's name.)

But once a kid is named, you'd be hard pressed to find someone who would say "You can't name your baby that" because you already have. They may say "that's an interesting name" or "I've never heard of that before" or "We had a dog named {insert name here}"... but who is going to tell you that's a horrible idea once you've actually named the thing?

(I'm off topic).

Anyway, the point is, now that we found/agreed on a girl's name (we've already decided Zeke for a boy, and no I don't really care if you like it or not)... all of the sudden I felt like I knew who this baby was. And SHE seemed a lot more real to me. And I imagined her with dark brown curls, olive skin, brown eyes and a charming disposition -- kind of like Holden except that they would look nothing alike and she would showcase some of my gene pool.

Holden sporting his official sumer wear...

complete with (chemical-free) SPF 30-everywhere just

to keep him a nice shade of vanilla.

And it's not that I really feel a feminine energy in me or anything -- I can't really tell. Which I am basically chalking up to the fact that I really have no idea if the baby is a girl or a boy, but I do hope she's ready to join the madness that is our home life.

So Baby "Z" (that's what we'll go with until we know you a little better), here are a few things to think about before you make your grand appearance:

• Your brother is a great kid. He's got a lot of energy. he loves to use the phrase "Fight Bad Guys". I keep telling him we fight corporate greed and world hunger (not each other), but he still insists on trying to recreate action sequences from Kung Fu Panda. May the force be with you...
• Sometimes he sticks his lovies on my stomach and says "Baby so happy"... I think he's willing to share his toys with you, but he also asked me earlier this week if you have toys and specifically a Fire Engine (which he calls "Gi-eye-ahs" for some strange reason).
• Don't think that just because there is no crib in our house that you don't have a place to sleep. It's just not really our thing. If you want a crib we can get one, but your brother roomed in with us for so long, and then transitioned to a mattress on the floor once he could crawl, that it never really made sense.
• We travel - a lot. Whether we're talking about weekend jaunts to Eden or St. George, being swanky in Sun Valley, our every-other-year escapades in Hawaii or a yearly Disney adventure, we like to get out and play. So it would really work out best for everyone involved if you were ok with being mobile ...and being a great nurser would also be a plus (memories of pumping on the bathroom floor of Delta's Crown Room make me REALLY hopeful you're more of a boob-man, or gal, than your brother.)
• Your Mom is kind of a freak. I wish I could tell you that you'll be that kid who has the cool parents growing up (which may be the case for your Dad), but your mom is weird. She has all these crazy ideas about mothering, and mother earth, and breast milk, co-sleeping, potty-learning and cleaning products... You might be the weird kid, or just the cool kid with a weird Mom... but we do CRAZY FUN things (like for instance, Skydiving as a toddler). But she's just a bit off the beaten path.
Holden, all suited up for his big flight.

Welcome to the family Little Z.

So You Think [I] Can Dance?

WRONG! I am like a limping lama on the jazz floor. . . an ape on Xanax has more coordination than I do. . . in my defense, my dance expertise lies somewhere between a summer at age 10 at the Butler Dance Academy which basically had me in a black leotard and bouncing around to the vibrant and poppy sounds of “WHAM!” (Seriously, did we really not know George Michael was gay?) . . and . . .

Oh, and there were those community ed classes at some Rec center in Chicago . . . but I think the most challenging part of that stint was trying to stuff my chubby little 7 year old thighs into a brown leo-tard. . . (“Tard” being the most descriptive way to describe my dancing career).

So here I am, approaching 30 next month, and my friend Marie gets this idea about us taking an adult dance class. . . It’s “primarily jazz with some lyrical and hip-hop,” she muses over email . I had to consult Websters to find out what the words even meant . . . I mean, I’m familiar with hip-hop but mostly from my days of listening to BoyzIIMen in the 90s. ;)

My friends are amazing dancers . . . even though they haven’t really done it in years, they’re all so coordinated. I tried to muscle my way through the warm ups (soooo thankful I’ve been gaining some flexibility with yoga, because it would have been even more embarrassing.

Their bodies are all flowy and beautiful . . .

I think dance is such a beautiful art form; so expressive and a friggin great workout. . . I seriously got a cramp in my butt-cheeks as we were warming up . . . a lot of pelvic thrusting going on in that classroom (which if I keep up, could come in real handy for my 2nd anniversary). Good thing I’ve got time to plan!!!!

I tried to show Danny what we did in class when I got home; he was “amused” to say the least, but quite supportive. (Class is once a week; 8:30 to 10pm every Thursday if you’re interested).

If we work hard, we get to be in a recital in June . . . I don’t know if I’ll be ready by then . . I’ve got quite a learning curve, and all the other ladies in my class are on the fast-track with their muscle-memory; but I plan on watching “Girls just Wanna have Fun” and “Flashdance” each weekend, and renting some “Best Of” episodes of “Dick Clark’s American Bandstand,” supplemented with MTVs “The Grind.” That said, I think I’ll be ok . ;)

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I Have an Official New Name

Today, I officially became Sabrena Suite-Mangum. . . yeah, I know you thought I already was . . but I hadn’t made the official swap with the DMV or the Social Security Office.

Legally, I was still just “Sabrena Suite” up until about 12 hours ago . . . well, the LDS Church seemed to refer to me as Sabrena Mangum as of August 1 (at least, that’s what everyone in my ward calls me) . . . but now I have officially joined Danny’s name with mine.

WHAT A DAY?!?!?!

Btw, does the Social Security Office remind anyone but me of George Orwell’s description of the “Ministry of Love” in 1984? Seriously, the creepy elevator . . not to mention the place smells like the infamous days of viaduct fame. . . (urine, kids poop and alcoholics – soooooo nasty!).

I am so over that experience. . . but thankfully, I have a name to prove it.

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Turn Down Service

My husband just informed me it’s midnight, so I think I ought to stop blogging and go to bed . . . or at least read a chapter of Harry Potter. ;)


LOVE ya, Mean it!
Suite

Alas

Suite-Mangum