The End is Nigh?

Yesterday morning was my latest ob check-up. I’m at 34 and a half weeks and am already 2cm dilated. Now, New Doc made sure to mention that it’s really quite common for a non-first timer to be that dilated already but he’s also finally fully onboard the this-baby’s-comin’-early train. That’s the whole reason he did the internal exam in the first place. After talking through all the usual stuff (weight gain 1 pound, belly measures 35cm, baby heartbeat normal, blah blah blah) he decided that we’d better go ahead and do the Strep B test. I never had it last time so it was all new to me. Hell, I’ve never had my cervix checked when I wasn’t in labor so that was a new one, too!

New Doc explained how they measure the centimeters by the size of their finger tips. That actually made sense to me. When I used to work in the field we all knew the length of our stride so we could easily count off the correct number of paces for 10 meters. You just need that initial baseline and then go with it. But what freaked me out a little was when he said that he could actually feel the head through my cervix. Whoa. So does that mean she’s dropped? Not sure the actual definition of “dropping”. My hips are sore pretty much all the time so obviously my pelvis is spreading. I can feel a strange sort of pressure on my labia that must be from everything above starting to come downward. I didn’t pay much attention to these kinds of details last time because, well, I wasn’t expecting to have a baby a month ahead of schedule!

Upon New Doc’s request, I actually rescheduled my next appointment for earlier in the week. Since Sunday is my day for the week count to reset, having the 36 week one on Thursday would put me at 36 weeks and 4 days. Well, I had Kirk at 36 weeks and 5 days. So. Now it’s set for Monday instead. We’ll see if I actually make it or not. Ideally it would be good to make it over that 37 week line but I’m finding that less and less likely.

The Braxton Hicks have started to come more frequently. They used to be at night only and now show up whenever the hell they feel like it. There’s no pattern still but the intensity has certainly increased. It’s often a much sharper feeling, verging just on the edge of pain, instead of the general sort of squeezing tightness they’ve been causing previously. And sometimes they definitely last longer than just for a brief moment. On top of that, my first trimester constipation issues have returned with a vengeance. Only now that I know I’m already dilated, I’m sort of paranoid that pushing out a turd will be bad for the baby! Plus the poo cramps mix in with the BH and make my entire abdominal region just a festive mélange of uncomfortable annoyances. Oh and the back aches. Let’s not forget those. General pregnancy posture issues? Precursor to back labor? Who knows. But I totally have old man back and I grunt and sigh when standing. It’s kind of ridiculous.

Mr. b’s workmates have started a baby pool. I’ve been trying to make sure all my work items are squared away. What I really need to do is buy some frickin’ Dreft and wash the few non-spit-up stained, non-gender specific items I pulled out of Kirk’s old bin and the adorable prezzies sent by last year’s Best Original Screenplay Academy Award Winner so they’re ready to go. Everything else we’ll figure out as it’s needed.

Ojibwe, Demon Hunters, and Socialites

This month's book club book was The Birchbark House by Louise Erdrich. I loved it to bits. I was honestly shocked to find that most of the ladies at book club didn't feel the same. It's Young Adult and the protagonist is a young Objiwe girl. It follows a year in the life of her family, Lake Superior band Ojibwe, in 1847. I was thoroughly engrossed by the descriptions of life during that time frame, even the harsh reality of a smallpox epidemic, especially with the knowledge of what was to come. Minnesota would achieve statehood in just a few short years. That band would move west. But even more than that, I loved the familiarity. I've discussed already the familiarity of a book set in Minneapolis and a book written by someone I know. This was yet another kind: the familiarity of language. The terms used for family members, household items, everyday objects, so many words and phrases have made their way into our common language as Minnesotans. I had no idea that Nokomis meant grandmother. To me it's always just been one of the lakes on the south side of town. And because of my background in archaeology, I had familiarity with the material culture. Going to school in Minnesota meant knowing Ojibwe kids from elementary school on up but once I started college at the U of M then I actually took Indian Studies. I actually went through the collections in the basement of the Anthropology building to follow NAGPRA mandates. And so perhaps all of these elements are what made me enjoy the book so much when the ladies found it too academic and wished the focus had been on the adults instead of the girl.

I read California Demon by Julie Kenner after the recommendation of a friend. It's billed as a sort of what if: What if Buffy grew up and retired from slaying and had a family and then got pulled back into the fight? The protagonist, Kate, hunted demons as a child and didn't have a high school experience and wasn't the only hunter and married one of her co-fighters and worked for a secret arm of the Vatican but honestly, that What If shorthand is pretty spot on. And it was a really great take on both "chick lit" and the sort of gothic fantasy I seem to gravitate towards these days. There were a few plot twists that I saw coming from afar but it was a quick, fluffy read and thoroughly enjoyable. I especially appreciated all the mommy details and wonder if that would be as interesting to a non-mom? The only thing that perplexed me was the constant references to events that took place 3 or 4 months prior to the action of the book. I thought perhaps it was a way to get around the rote requirements of an origin story but I wasn't sure. Once I finished it I found out: yep, this was book 2. Oops! Frankly, I don't think I missed anything by skipping the first book, Carpe Demon. I mean, most everybody read The Da Vinci Code before reading Angels and Demons and it didn't affect our enjoyment or ability to follow what was going on! I don't think I'll go back and read the first one. I would much rather continue on and find out what happens with Kate and her family next.

Blue Bloods by Melissa de la Cruz was another recommendation by the same friend. She described it as "Gossip Girl" with vampires. Not watching that show I only have Entertainment Weekly's reviews to go by but it seems pretty accurate. You see, all the Old Money in New England is actually families of vampires that came over on the Mayflower. That makes total sense to me! HA! This was hands down the most original take on vampire mythology I've ever read. I don't want to go into detail because it's slowly explained throughout the course of the book and it was fun putting it all together. It's obviously Teen Fiction but I blasted through it in a single weekend because I was completely caught up in the action. It takes place in an elite prep school and the characters are learning about their true heritage while romancing and angsting and shopping and club hopping and making out and partying and oh yeah, being hunted by Something Bad. The only frustrating thing is that the ending was so abrupt! The mystery remained unsolved! I had oh so many theories about the potential bad guys and it just ended. Then again, if I had had the next book out from the library, I would have just kept on reading and not gotten any sleep last night at all.

For the Writers

Kirk's got this green, 90s-Madchester-parka-lookin' coat. Whenever Mr. b puts it on him he uses his best announcer voice to tell the kitties, "As given to him by Academy Award Nominee Diablo Cody."



He's going to have to revise that statement to, "Academy Award Winner Diablo Cody." Congratulations!

Yay Diablo!

From little Kirkie’s babysitter to Oscar nominee: the incomparable Diablo Cody. Congratulations to Diablo, Ellen, and Jason!

The Year in (Book) Review

The Chester A. Arthur Conspiracy was very hard for me to get into. I was quite excited by the prospect of an alternate history surrounding Chet’s administration. Along with Polk, he’s Mr. b’s favorite president so I thought it would be fun to constantly check in and see where the subtle changes were happening. But it wasn’t really like that. SPOILER ALERT In fact, there were no changes to “known” history. John Wilkes Booth was secretly not dead and cuckolded Arthur. Nell still died, though it was a fake death to run off with her lover. When telling this to Chester, he died of a heart attack and Wilkes assumed his identity. He presided over the caucus that nominated Garfield, became the Vice President, assumed the presidency after Garfield’s assassination, and then died, though that was also a fake death. So it was just a very strange premise. I didn’t really start to enjoy it even a little bit until after Chet was dead. And by the end, I felt so little sympathy for Wilkes that I was rooting for his aide to get his revenge. It was thoroughly researched and very accurate, but also written in a stilted “period” present tense that was difficult to penetrate.

I read 19 books in 2006. Certainly not as good as my best year since I began keeping track (47 in 2004) but better than I thought. I started out the year barely keeping up with the one-book-a-month book club requirements. After switching daycare I was able to take the bus again and so that improved my average quite nicely. I hope to be able to read two books a month, though I’m not going to pressure myself. I do think I’m going to declare an official New Year’s Resolution to read more comic books. I miss them. I need to take the time to just read an issue of something every weekend.

I think my favorite books of the year were Eight Cousins and War for the Oaks. Though there were none that I outright despised. I’d recommend most of them and will possibly even reread a couple of them at some future time.

1. The Lady and the Unicorn Tracy Chevalier
2. Candy Girl: A Year in the Life of an Unlikely Stripper Diablo Cody
3. My Year of Meats Ruth Ozeki
4. The Bell Jar Sylvia Plath
5. The Cabinet of Curiosities Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
6. Serenity: Those Left Behind Joss Whedon
7. The Peshawar Lancers S.M. Stirling
8. White Fang Jack London
9. A Cook’s Tour: Global Adventures in Extreme Cuisine Anthony Bourdain
10. Bee Season Myla Goldberg
11. Eldest Christopher Paolini
12. Frankenstein Mary Shelley
13. Eight Cousins or the Aunt-Hill Louisa May Alcott
14. War for the Oaks Emma Bull
15. ReVISIONS Edited by Julie E. Czerneda & Isaac Szpindel
16. Mercy Jody Picoult
17. The Wizard, the Witch, & Two Girls from Jersey Lisa Papademetriou
18. The Secret Agent Joseph Conrad
19. Jane Eyre Charlotte Brontë
20. The Chester A. Arthur Conspiracy William Wiegand

Dedicated Follower of Fashion

I don’t seem to be taking as many outfit-specific photos of Kirk anymore. I’m not sure what the change is. Maybe it’s because he gets stuff dirty sooner? Or because he’s not growing quite as fast so I see him in things for longer periods of time? Or since most of the gift items are done, the hand-me-downs aren’t that exciting? Whatever the reason, the last pic for fashion purposes was to showcase his Vans, given by Diablo and Jon. I even took a close up!



An anonymous commenter asked several weeks ago where we got all Kirk’s groovy duds. If said kind person is still reading, I can certainly answer that. First of all, there’s a lot of DIY gifts. The Enterprise sweater was knitted by a fellow TWoPper. An employee of Mr. b’s added cool iron-ons, like the Ghostbusters and Yoda, to plain white onesies. Another friend ironed on letters spelling out "Captain" and "Hobbit". Then there’s the standard gift store for rockin' babies, Hot Topic. But I highly suggest not paying for those rad designs yourself as they get spendy. For regular clothes I make a habit of checking Target’s clearance racks each and every time I set foot in the store. Just last night I picked up a plain green t-shirt for under 3 bucks. And don’t forget the internets! There are tons of kick-ass sites these days. I got the For Sale by Owner for Kirk (that’s a big hit). A friend got his son the Nixon shirt available here. I recently met a lady brazen enough to have gotten one of these for a friend. So, I hope that helps you in your quest to outfit your impending baby in cool threads. Congratulations and good luck!

Hipsters and Strippers

Watching the movie DiG! and reading the book Candy Girl both produced extreme feelings of familiarity. The specifics of each were different, of course, as were the causes. But I found it interesting to have intimate knowledge of the subject matter for entirely disparate reasons.

The music documentary DiG! parallels the fortunes of The Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Dandy Warhols during the mid-nineties. Though the movie was released in 2004, I only saw it for the first time a few months ago. It was hard to watch because I knew, felt really, that plot. I have not officially met any of the members of either band, though my husband has opened for them or other permutations involving former members. (And apparently we startled some BRMC guys in the basement of the Entry one night. Long story.) So, while both bands enjoyed more fame and success than local peers, the basic elements of the 90s music scene were the same. And, having lived that scene here in Minneapolis, seeing it before me was startling. I knew the Twin Cities versions of all those character archetypes. I’d counseled friends through Midwest versions of the same interpersonal dramas. I’d witnessed the infighting and backstabbing and adoration and jealousy and assistance and luck that had swirled around all the bands of my friends and acquaintances. Consequently, viewing the movie was just a bit…too close to home.

On the other hand, I do personally know the narrator of Candy Girl, and her husband and step-daughter. But the familiarity I felt in this situation was not due to the subject matter, though I did read the Pussy Ranch when it was still up. Rather, I knew what was happening at the edge of the action described in the pages of her memoir. The apartment building Diablo and Jonny lived in? We lived one floor below. The road trip they took Out West? We cat sat George (R.I.P.) and Larry. The Vegas wedding? We attended. The house they bought? I gave them the name of a loan officer. All the mundane details of everyday life when you live and work near your friends. As well as the feelings of concern I had for Jonny while reading the Ranch during The Year. I didn’t know Diablo well yet, though it was obvious she was a vast improvement on the previous wife. I did know very well what Jonny had gone through getting out of that last marriage—hell, he lived with us for a while afterwards!—and I didn’t want him getting hurt. Now I can see my worries were unfounded, but then I had no idea if she was going to start “making movies” or just how far it would all go. It was very interesting being reminded of those overprotective feelings towards Jonny’s well-being.

I am curious to know how I will react to someday seeing the possible film version of Candy Girl onscreen. Will it be the same ephemeral familiarity, of seeing myself just around the corner, at the edge of my peripheral vision, that I had while reading the book? Or will it be the visceral, gut level, absolute, life style, personal familiarity I had while watching DiG!? I sure hope I get to find out.

He's a growing boy

Kirk loves his exer-saucer. He's so strong. He about 80% able to sit up on his own. And he loves laying on his side. He has just discovered the crib toy attached to the slats on his crib. And he is realizing that his feet are always there, not just when he's on the changing table.

It's kind of strange comparing him to his tiny new cousin. Kirk was that small. But I don't remember him seeming quite *that* fragile. He was always strong, he just happened to also be tiny. And he was little because he was early, not because he was just little. Is it revisionist memory? But Mr. b and my sister both agree that Kirk didn't seem so frail, even when hooked up to all his hospital wires. Maybe our opinions will change when the poor little guy gets a chance to put on some weight. I'm sure he'll fill out eventually. Or else Kirk is just always going to be the bigger cousin!

Diablo and Jon: I'm so very sorry about George. How heartbreaking for you to go through another loss so soon. Like I said in my message last night, let me know if there is anything we can do. I hope Larry is coping with the loss of his buddy. Who knows, maybe he'll stop being such a douchepacker now that he's a solo kitty! I know that Sally the Squeakers Squirrel certainly came out of her shell when her oppressor, poor Mister Smoe died.

Celebrity Babysitters!

Imagine my surprise when I'm paging through my current issue of Entertainment Weekly and I suddenly see an interview with Diablo! Fan-frickin-tastic!

Diablo and Jon stayed with Kirk on Friday night so I could go with Mr. b to his annual work holiday party. They rule. They even brought Kirk a present! (An awesome AC/DC long-sleeve T and hat set, very kick ass.) Once again we a) didn't have money to pay the babysitter (although that was waved off as nonsense because, see above about ruling) and b) didn't have any kind of snacks and beverages in the house. We really need to get this babysitter thing figured out. At least while we're still using suckers, I mean friends, we don't have to worry as much.

The holiday party was a lot of fun but Mr. b manages college kids. And I don't have a helluva lot in common with those kids anymore. I found that after a couple of hours of dancing, a little wine and some snacks, I was ready to go. Sure, one of us had to get some sleep because while we had a sitter for the night, someone had to get up with Kirk in the morning. But I also didn't mind the excuse. It was fun to see everyone but I just don't need to stay out until after bartime. Or even until bartime!

Rule of Acquisition 59

Even more annoying than unsolicited advice about pregnancy is advice about breast feeding. Once again, people seem to forget that every human and every situation is unique. Instead of just sharing their experience, they demand you try it their way. And the strangest thing is, it's not just women! No amount of explaining how difficult it was to get Kirk to do even the little bit of nursing that he is doing will get these Nipple Nazis (I stole that one from womba) off your case. Thankfully, since I've been back to work, I'm finally encountering women that didn't even bother to nurse. Or those that were fully weaned by the time they finished their leave.

Naturally, now that I'm planning to quit nursing him by the end of the month, Kirk is finally latching on without the shield. Figures.

Even more annoying than unwanted advice about breast feeding is advice about baby care. Once again, the individual nature of the situation is ignored. We went to a wedding on Friday. Kirk was a hit in his Darth Vader suit. And there was this old Eastern European man at the table next to us that kept harassing Mr. b and I about holding Kirk's head. Even though Kirk can hold his head up on his own. This old guy dogged us all night long about how we weren't giving him enough support. He was convinced Kirk was going to snap his neck or bash his head against something. What, since he was always being held by someone, I have no idea. The crank wouldn't be swayed by logical arguments, about how the baby's age doesn't matter only his development, how our doctor isn't concerned. He was right and we were wrong. Tellingly, however, when his wife was holding Kirk, and not supporting his head because he doesn't need it, he didn't say anything.


Look close, there's Diablo and Jon!

Huzzah!

A work crew finally hooked us up again this morning. I'm so glad our frontier time is over. (Knitting by candle light is so Little House.) Living without electricity made me think a lot about what it would be like to have a baby as a pioneer. Midnight feedings alone would have been so much more difficult. Sometimes just using a nightlight hasn't been enough. And what would you do for a baby that didn't nurse well? Presumably there were glass bottles but what material was used for nipples? And even before that, what about the apnea that Kirk had when first born? Surely Dr. Quinn would have saved him but then what do you do about the jaundice? I guess since it was July I would have just let him sit out in the sun a lot. But clearly that wouldn't work if he had been born in the winter. It trips me out to realize that my son likely would have contributed to a high infant mortality rate if he hadn't been born in 2005 in the United States of America. I can't imagine what I would do without him.

Getting electricity back gave me a chance to catch up on my reading. And I discovered the sad news about Jon and Diablo's dear Agnes of Dog. I'm so sorry guys. She was such a good girl and you can take comfort in the fact that you gave her a wonderful life. I know I felt completely ripped off that Tron was taken from us after only 6 months but at least he was loved during that time. So was Agnes.

I have to give a great big shout out to the lovely and talented, and soon to be rich and famous, Diablo Cody for taking me out for a mani-pedi today. Thanks dollface! Every new mother should be so lucky. It was so relaxing.

I've been getting tense in my shoulders and neck and I think it's from sitting crooked while nursing. I need to sit with my hips square and level.

Last night Mr. b and I went to the drive-in with the little man and it was the perfect way to see a movie with a baby. It also gave us a couple more good Firsts: nursing in the car and Mr. b changing a diaper in his lap. We've been collecting Firsts like diaper change on the scuzzy table in a public restroom, bottle feeding in a restaurant, hotel stay, trip out of state. Of course I was previously counting Firsts like shower while Kirk is awake in his bassinet outside the bathroom. And unfortunately, I think that we have First Cold going on now. If Mommy gets a sore throat, there's pretty much no way that Baby can avoid it.

My life is almost entirely centered around my tits right now. Perhaps even more so than when Diablo was stripping full time. "Did you boob him?" is Mr. b's way of inquiring how the latest nursing attempt went. I'm milking myself after each feeding because we need to have bottled boob for the little man. I'm fascinated watching the milk come out of my nipples. It comes out of more than just one spot! There are lots of tiny holes. I don't know why I thought it was just one in the center. And sometimes it spurts out in a fine jet.

But wee Kirk has gained weight! Yay! A whole 2 ounces in fact. We had a home visit from a nurse on Sunday and he was up to 5# 1oz. Mr. b and I are hoping for birth weight at today's clinic check-up. It'll probably depend on if he poops. The home visit nurse had to "stimulate his rectum" (slide a vaseline coated thermometer in and out of his butt) because he hadn't pooped in 36 hours. Later that day I changed the most massively poopy diaper I've ever seen in my life.

Some random observations:
Apparently duckies and froggies are gender neutral animals.
Puppies are for boys and kitties are for girls.
Mr. b and I both now refer to ourselves as "Mommy" and "Daddy" in the third person.
Kirk is the cutest baby of all time.

It just figures that as soon as I try to find a pattern in Child Person's movements he would change it all up. He's been most active in the afternoons and evenings. So naturally he started in on me at 6:00 this morning and has been pounding away off and on all day long. I have no idea how I'm going to get through two more months. (Mr. b always says that like Norm in Fargo.) He was hurting me so much this morning, and I was being vocal about it, that a co-worker actually inquired if I was alright. Diablo and I were discussing it earlier this week. The movement has moved way beyond charming. There is no trace of weirdness left. It is now fully annoying and often painful.

Mr. b says that I didn't have to go to Carousel on Tuesday since I'm pregnant. But apparently the cat is a Sandman in disguise so I still can't try to Run.

Then again, Mr. b also says that I'm now shaped like an ostrich. When he does his impression of me walking it's like one of R. Crumb's African women.

Those wacky kids Diablo and Jon have done it again! They're the best. Last week I came home to a package containing a specially ordered silk screened toddler t-shirt. It says, "KHAAAAAAAN!" And since I already got one in Daddy size for Mr. b, now they can match some more. It's too bad all this cute-as-hell stuff is going to be covered in puke seconds after it's on Child Person. Just as long as we can keep it all clean enough for pictures....

I've realized I have no grasp of my own personal sense of style any more. I've been wearing hand-me-downs for too long. I went through a box from my SIL on Friday. There were definitely some items that were far too preppy for my taste, and thankfully they didn't really fit so I don't have to feel bad about rejecting them. And really, it was incredibly thoughtful of her to send them up from Texas. Mr. b's brother said that she's sending up another box soon, too. I've been putting aside all the too small/not-quite-right/&c. items to bring to my other SIL. She and my brother are expecting, too! Due December 1st.

Anyway, back to fashion. So yesterday Mr. b and his brother and I were at Target, ostensibly so BIL could buy "souvenirs" to bring home to his kids. We went by the maternity clothes section and I was cajoled into trying some things on. I'm wearing the hippie-chick dashiki lookin' shirt I picked out. But I also got this flouncy, khaki, pink and white flower printed, knee-length, silk skirt. Mr. b swears it's adorable but I can't tell. And that's when it became apparent to me that I have totally lost touch with my own fashion sense. Lord knows what I'm going to do when I have to go back to wearing normal clothes. Everything is packed away in boxes right now.

I met with a friend this weekend who is about 5 or so weeks behind me in her first pregnancy. We hadn't seen each other in a very long time so it was great to catch up. But it was also great to talk to someone that was actually, currently pregnant. As helpful as getting advice is, I have to wonder how much of it is retro-vision since now those women have the end product to deal with. (Excepting Auntie G, who knows me too well to ever give me the rose colored glasses version, and thinga, who's in the middle of Number 2 so she'd have to try to convince herself of any bullshit, too.) My friend thought it was great to be able to talk to someone who she knew wouldn't get sick of the topic. I know I'm always wondering just how much people actually care and how much they're just being polite. It's a tough line to straddle.

It was also nice to be with someone who just accepted the frequent pee breaks because she was taking them, too. And the tiny stomach thing. We both ate dinner at a ridiculously slow pace and both were full with half our plates left. No excuses needed.

And to answer Diablo's question, yes my hair is growing crazy fast. I didn't know it was because of the prenatal vitamins though. My stylist at my last haircut said it was just regular ol' hormones. And she also warned me about the chemo patient level of hair shedding after you give birth. Thankfully I had previously been enlightened. I haven't really noticed a severe drop-off in my regular shedding yet.

Ultrasound Day

Halfday for me today because then I have to drink 32 ounces of water, not pee, and go have an ultrasound. As thinga put it, I hope Child Person puts on a good peep show!

Mr. b and I spent craploads of money this weekend. We bought a digital camera finally. I am sick of analog pictures and want nothing to do with film, negatives, and prints of bad shots ever again. Not to mention doubles. Yes, we're going to take shitloads of pictures of C.P., but I want to be able to just burn them off onto a CD if they're not going to a) get added to the scrapbook, b) get sent off to friends and family, or c) get framed and hung on the wall. I wanted to have this new camera early enough that we can figure out all its tricks long before we're dealing with lack of sleep, poo and vom.

I also got some maternity clothes. Holy crap they are expensive! We ran into a lady Mr. b knows and she asked if we got "any good deals." "Not really." But I now have two new pairs of pants--jeans and pin-striped khakis--that are stylish, don't have that nasty elastic band, and will continue to fit me for the next few months. Mr. b also picked out two shirts for me. I honestly like hand-me-downs but he's right, having something new that's your own and is actually your correct size is a good thing for psychological well being. Plus, he's really good at picking out shirts for me. Thankfully I shouldn't have to spend much money on anything for in the heat of the summer. I can make dresses and just buy hippie dresses at Ragstock or something. What I really need is some kind of a Sugar Mama that wants to buy me maternity clothes and other presents. Or maybe I should try to work on Diablo's suggestion of posting a registry....

I hope I'm not jinxing myself but I seem to have crossed the magical trimester line. I felt great this weekend, no sickness, no queasiness, only the slightest heartburn. And I was hungry! Good timing I suppose because Mr. b was sick in bed all weekend. It's funny how Sick Husband trumps Pregnant Wife. I'm not sure I approve of that. Grrrr.

My friend Diablo told me about another hilarious old wives' way of determining your baby's sex. "A girl steals her mother's beauty." So, considering that Mr. b (and his boss!!) think I look pretty, and I don't think I look like complete ass (except for under the fluorescent lights in the work bathroom--but that's nothing new), I guess that's a second "indication" that it's a boy. I keep forgetting to ask my father-in-law what the latest tally is in his pool. Locally, it seems like more people are guessing boy than girl.