Monthly Archives: April 2012

Regency Ball, version 2012

Hey guys!

So a few weekends ago we were in Indiana with our friends Eric and Carrie, dancing our little feet off at the very last Regency Ball. Last year around this same time we had such a blast at the fancy Palais Royale in South Bend, so we couldn’t miss it this year! Especially knowing this was the final installment. The ball was Saturday afternoon, so we planned to make a weekend of it, staying at my Aunt Jacquie’s house Friday and Saturday nights, and heading back to Chicago Sunday afternoon.

Friday night we got a very late start out of Chicago, because Carrie was singing at a jazz concert.

Man was it good. I mean, I’m in a band with this girl and we sing at church together, so I hear her sing on a very regular basis–I flatter myself that I know her voice. But her performance on Friday still knocked my socks off. Her voice was probably at its most stellar. Backed up by a fabulous band of professional jazz musicians, Carrie just let loose and soared.

I’m so proud of that girl! I wish you all could have been there to hear her.

We drove out of Chicago around 11pm, and man were we tired. But we had beds waiting at Aunt Jacquie’s house, so we gritted our teeth and forged ahead down the dark roads, with a stop for French fries at McDonalds around 1:20am to keep us going. We rolled into Culver, Indiana around 2am, and then spent 5 minutes panicking because we couldn’t identify her house in the dark as easily as we thought we could. What if we never find it?? I wondered. The alternate plans rushing through my brain included: renting a floodlight from the nearest baseball stadium to illuminate the street; sleeping in the car and waking up with bodily aches so severe that we wouldn’t be able to move for 5 days; scrapping this whole plan and flying to Fiji; falling asleep and hoping someone else could figure it all out without my assistance.

Then we recognized the house, and my relief was immense. I could have crumpled into a heap on the gravel driveway out of gratitude . . . though how crumpling would express my thankfulness is a bit unclear.

We let ourselves into the house, found our beds as quickly as possible, and before I knew it I was alseep. Aaaaaah. You should know that Aunt Jacquie has THE softest and best sheets in the country.

In the morning, we woke up to the smell of coffee, which my loving husband had brewed for us.

It was soon time to get dressed, since we had an hour’s drive ahead of us. Carrie and I struggled with our hair (which would not curl correctly) and I loaded up my sash with safety pins to keep it correctly positioned. Then we headed out to the car, Carrie still working on her coffee.

Eric looks so natural in this garb that it’s . . . uncanny.

Where is my true home?

And does someone have a time machine I can borrow?

On a different note, my husband’s skills as a photographer are improving every time I shove that black box into his hands, I’m telling you.

As you may have noticed, we wore the exact same costumes as last year.

Thanks again Erica for sewing up these mahvellous gahments.

And then we drove off to the ball!

We entered the ballroom just as the promenade (or grand march? I can’t remember what it’s called for the life of me) was getting some steam. At this point, I started experimenting with a new lens . . . and didn’t figure it out quickly enough to produce any kind of a decent shot. But I’ll still show you what I got!

I’m not sure if there were less people this year, or if the lack of round tables made the space seem emptier.

Why aren’t the masses of America flocking to this fun, fun event?

Oh yeah . . . dressing up like you’re in a Jane Austen novel isn’t exactly . . . mainstream. One might even say we’re the dorks of society. But I’m okay with that. Because we get to wear period costumes and . . . prance.

And I ask you, Oh Cool Folk: do you get to prance in a floor-length empire waist gown?

I thought not.

Woot!

We danced, we sweated, we laughed, we ate scones piled high with clotted cream.

The musicians were fabulous, the dance instructor clear and sedately energetic. Or energetically sedate–definitely one of the two. “Step to the right, step to the left, ringadoon ringadoon, hop, hop!” his smooth voice commanded. With a calm authority. Nothing can phase this man, I’m sure.

And before we knew it, it was all over. Our calves had received the workout of the century, as we would soon realize when climbing the stairs back at my aunt’s house.

I smiled and posed . . .

. . . but what I was really thinking was: it’s time to get this sweaty Regency body into a shower.

The amount of hairspray I used will probably clog up Aunt Jacquie’s drains for the next decade.


15 Weeks

How far along: Week 15 completed on 4/17/12

Weight gain: ?? Still no idea, though I’m convinced by now it ain’t zero. We’ll see at my midwife appointment on April 27th.

Clothes: Still fitting everything, but I continue to hate any feeling of pressure on the stomach. I tried to wear a belt over a dress for church . . . yeah, that belt came back off within about 3 minutes. And one day after work I was so bloated and uncomfortable (yeah, it could be the fact that I had French fries for lunch 2 days in a row . . . with more mayonnaise than you care to imagine) that I hopped out of the office as early as possible and hit up Target. It was a completely spontaneous trip, birthed by the degree of my discomfort. And there, I bought not one but TWO pairs of maternity jeans. One is a kind of blah-heh but comfy style, but I’ve forgiven it the ‘blah-heh’ part since it allowed me to comfortably eat fries again for lunch the next day (with a salad to balance things out) . . . and fries the next day too. I think I have a problem.

The second pair is a skinnier fit, slightly cropped, with a nice dark wash. As soon as I call forth the gumption I need to spend some time with Photoshop, I’ll be sharing pics of that very first maternity clothes shopping expedition! Yes, I took pictures of myself in the mirror of the dressing room and imagined that all you guys were in there with me.

Hope that’s okay.

The bench area was a little crowded, but you didn’t seem to mind sitting on each others’ laps.

And by the way, you totally loved the little jacket I splurged on.

As you may remember, I had planned on holding out on ALL maternity wear purchases until Rummage, but . . . well, to put it bluntly, that plan went into the crapper.

Sorry for the crude expression. But the word “crapper” kind of makes me laugh today.

Purchases: 2 pairs of maternity pants, 1 body pillow, 1 maternity tank (the striped number featured in all these pics).

Body: In the morning my stomach is pretty darn flat, but as the day progresses and I ingest food, it just gets bigger and bigger. And bigger. The difference from morning to night would be hilarious if it weren’t so darn uncomfortable.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But in general, this week has been much better than last week. Seriously better. I have a few queasy moments throughout the day, but they usually pass after a few minutes, or at most after an hour or two. One of my queasiest moments happened Sunday night when I cooked up a batch of Spicy Tuscan Soup. Normally, I consider the smell of onions and bacon and garlic and sausage to be one of the top smells the world has to offer. I basically just lean my face over the pot and inhale the scent over and over again until I’ve rendered my smelling-organs numb and useless for the next 24 hours. But this time, sadly, the intense aromas caused me to flee to the living room and order my husband to take over soup duties. And let me say–it’s a sad, sad day for a foodie when onions and garlic send you running.

It causeth great conflict in the general area of my soul.

And yes, I appear to be laughing in that picture–but inside I’m crying.

Sleep: Awesome! I’m not using the body pillow yet, but I’m glad to have it in my arsenal. And I still can’t stay awake during our night-time reading of Sherlock Holmes, dangit, and I ended up missing out on huge swaths of a really great story this week.

Best moment(s) of the week: What will you think of me if I say “eating fries”? And more importantly, what will I think of myself if I say “eating fries”?

Hmmm. Let’s just not answer this particular question this week, eh?

Movement: Maybe? I was at Bible study last Thursday, my stomach was quite poochy and full of food, I was sitting very still, and suddenly I felt this kind of wiggly feeling when I breathed out. Digestion? Baby? I don’t know for sure, but I do know that I sat there entranced with my hand pressed into my belly and eyes as wide as saucers, imagining that it might be the twitchings of a tiny dancer/pugilist.

There was a repeat of this experience Sunday night as that Tuscan soup simmered and my husband played some blues on the guitar. I asked him to try and feel it–and he could! It was like a very persistent tap-tap-tap in the lower right side of my abdomen. Either I was having very rhythmic digestion, or . . . BABY!!! We both still think it might be digestion, but who knows–it could be a blues-lovin’ little baby, movin’ to the twang of the guitar.

Food cravings/aversions: Have I mentioned French fries? It’s like those skinny, crisp, potatoey delights have completely hypnotized me. Which is the only explanation that can account for eating them at lunch 4 days in a row. 4 days in a row, people! But coupled with juicing and frequent vegetarian dinners, I’m hoping it won’t have too many adverse effects on the Little Wa-Wa. Hopefully my body, in its internal wisdom, knows to send the spinach and carrots to the baby and distribute all the grease to me.

Symptoms: Occasional queasiness/nausea (exacerbated by strong smells), bloating (ugh)–but that’s about it.

Emotions: They seem to be toning down after last week. No new outbursts or anything–I guess I’ll have to schedule a dramatic emotional breakdown this week just to keep you guys entertained.

Hopes and dreams: Seeing pictures pictures on facebook of my cousin Steve and his wife Steph’s newborn, Levi, has been extremely emotional. I can barely look at the images of that tiny little body curled in sleep against his grandpa or daddy or mommy without tears immediately clouding my vision. In particular, a shot of the baby sleeping on Steph’s dad’s chest made me long for the day that my dad will hold our little one. I know that my heart will just melt right away like wax over a flame.

What I miss: Same as last week–having normal digestion that doesn’t call attention to itself. My stomach used to be a mean, clean food processing machine–and it seems to be just limping along right now, in sore need of replacement parts.

What I’m looking forward to: A permanent baby bump instead of this sometimes-here sometimes-not belly that has nothing to do with the size of the baby, but the size of my serving of . . . you guessed it. Fries.

Husband update: Emotions have been happening! The other day he got really upset that pregnancy is so tough on women. It hasn’t been too bad for me, but historically childbirth has been very risky business. And we have a friend at church whose pregnancy has been a nightmare of sickness and headaches. We had to talk it out and work through that a bit–why does God let this beautiful life-creating experience also be a really horrible experience for so many women? Why did childbirth have to get cursed back in the garden of Eden? Seeing my husband process through this was totally unexpected for me, but also precious–he’s a guy who thinks deeply, feels deeply, and cares deeply. That’s what drew me to him all those years ago when we were freshmen at IU–his intensity, his passion, his inquiring mind and his tender heart. His ability to see and feel both beauty and pain. I just love him, and he’s going to be such a wonderful dad.

And in case you were wondering, here he is at 15 weeks.

Lookin’ pretty good there, sweetie. Pregnancy suits you well. And I’ve always thought that vein running down your forearm was especially hot. Keep up the good work.

Hee hee.

Thanks to all you guys again for sharing so much with me and leaving so many encouraging comments!