This weekend a new breakout club single was recorded.  It's called "I Wanna Shop!" and it's by the new band "Croquet Monsieur."  Band members, Rachel Timmerman (me),  Michelle Timmerman and Steve O'Connell.  Listen to it here first and be the envy of all your friends. 

IWannaShop.m4a Listen on Posterous

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Another 4 months flies by and I ignore my Posterous.  Typical.  Tatum will be 8 months old in 8 days.  Last weekend she started crawling.  This morning she pulled herself up to standing on our couch.  She has one tooth coming in.  She loves her baby turkey and gravy dinner with a side of apple sauce and she hates macaroni & cheese (I assume that will change). Lately, whenever she gets fussy I snap "STOP THAT" in a sharp tone and she cracks up as if it's the funniest thing she's ever heard.  Dogs are also funny. 

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I sprained my back this week lifting T and was laid up for a solid two days. I guess that's yet another a common ailment for new moms? I'd like to blame it on that and not on the possibility that I might be getting old and weak. The photo is from Wednesday when I requested to darling Steve that he bring me my wine and my baby. Side note, you know what goes well with muscle relaxers? Wine. Another side note, you know what it's hard to do after you've had a muscle relaxer and a glass of wine? Take care of a baby. Thank goodness for Steve.

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I haven't written on my Posterous for over three months, since Tatum was born.  It's mostly due to the fact that my sleep- deprived body is using my brain cells as fuel to complete basic, functional tasks like some sort of self-destructing zombie.  Tonight I started actually thinking again and decided to write it down.  Hopefully it's the beginning of more future posts. 

When you had a happy childhood like I did filled with things like watermellon parties with your sister (see photo), one of the most profound and jarring things you'll learn in late adolescence is that it's actually not nearly hard enough to find sadness and danger.  This realization begins when it suddenly dawns on you that your parents are just people like all the other people and not at all the seemingly flawless versions of themselves that created this bubble of joy that you used to believe wasn't a bubble at all.  It was the endless illusion of safety and love.  When the truth of it all unravels you feel alone and you might cry.  Then you might go off and try to redefine reality.   You make mistakes and you find successes.  Most of the times it's fun and exciting, but it's almost always scary.  When you learn to deal with scary in a healthy way and become self sufficient in your own well-being and happiness, that's called being an adult. 

Well, here's what's called being a parent.  I had no idea how deep down I would have to reach to create this healthy space for my daughter.  If she's at the end of her rope and we've had a long day, I need to find the happiness to smile and the strength to comfort her.  When something scares me I have to pretend like it doesn't at all and protect her at the same time.  When I rock her to sleep at night I sing her a song about boats resting in a harbor after years of being at sea.  She has no idea what it's like to be at sea.  Truth be told, she doesn't even know that's what's the song is about, but she falls asleep anyway.  Right now I'm watching her toss around in her crib on a baby monitor.  She's facing a camera she doesn't even know is there.  I'll look at the monitor about 50 times between now and 6am (fingers crossed!) when she wakes up.  According to her in this very moment, the only thing in anyone's life that could possibly go wrong is that they might be hungry for a whole 10 minutes or- by some unfortunate incident- be forced to wear a wet diaper for too long. It's my job to keep things this way for as long as it takes. 

Now that I'm trying to create an ideal environment for Tatum, I'm even more grateful for the world my parents made for me all my years of growing up.  I'm thankful that I didn't experience a real kind of fear until I was a legal adult.  Now that I fully know what to expect out of the world I find it ironic that every fear I've ever had up until three months ago pales in comparison to the fear I have surrounding my capibilities as a parent.  I'm constantly consumed with the idea of her safety, her health and her happiness.  My ultimate hope is that she never knows it and that I deliver in spades. 

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No one ever tells you how much daytime TV you'll end up watching when you're sitting at home waiting for a baby to come.  If you're embarking in your own pre-baby maternity leave journey here's a rundown of TV shows that come on while the rest of the world is doing things like working and going out to fancy three martini lunches. 

Kathy Lee and Hoda:  Sassy middle-aged women who drink wine at 10 am, yet refuse to eat candy because it's "not healthy."  They deliver hot topics from a gracefully weathered POV.   Sometimes Donny Deutch comes on the show and occasionally he'll do pushups during these appearances.  He ALWAYS flirts with Hoda and always manages to reveal his true nature as a total asshole.  Sometimes you're confused as to why you find KL and Hoda entertaining, but then it occurs to you that even though their “everywoman” shtick is totally cliché you would jump at the chance to be them in 15- 20 years.  Not a bad life, ladies.

The Nate Berkus Show:  You wouldn't be sad if Nate was your best friend because he gives great-looking hugs and he's chock full of awesome ideas to make your home look better.  Strangely after watching the show you can't shake a lingering feeling of disappointment in yourself.  It's because even though Nate's design suggestions seem easy enough and are totally affordable you realize that you don't have the talent or the patience to actually pull them off.

The Martha Stewart Show:  Martha is like mental Novocain with her monotone voice and that fuzzy filter they put over the camera lens to minimize complexion imperfections and (I can only assume) to make everything look a little bit more expensive.  Every third sentence or so Martha will say the word "pretty" as only she can, with a pointed and thoughtful emphasis on the t's.  This is just annoying enough to keep you awake, yet somehow not annoying enough to snap you out of the numbness of the Martha trance.

The Ellen Degeneres Show:  You'll wonder what magical Middle-Earth- like glowing serum Ellen drinks every morning that gives her a renewed energy to confidently dance through an audience of total strangers, back up to the stage, hop over her coffee table and land in an overstuffed chair, all the while smiling and laughing as if it’s the first time it's ever happened. You'll find yourself questioning the genuineness of her jovial nature and criticizing her wardrobe.  Then, you’ll wonder why you can’t just blindly accept Ellen like the mainstream media and middle America has.  Is this an indication that you’re jaded or are you just smarter than everybody else?  Here’s a tip, don’t over think it and try to enjoy watching Ellen dunk the latest cast off of Dancing With The Stars in an over sized water booth that somehow raises funds to benefit breast cancer research.

Oprah:  It's Oprah's last season so girl is checking items off her talk show bucket list.  “The Color Purple” TV reunion show, 40 grown men break their silence about being sexually molested as children, Marie Osmond talks about her son's suicide and then sings a moving rendition of “Pie Jesu” in his remembrance.  Oprah will have you in tears daily over things you never knew you cared about.  If loving Oprah this much officially qualifies me as a stereotypical member of a particular over-generalized Nielsen demographic, so be it.  She's got me.

Dr. Phil:  After watching Dr. Phil mediate volatile conversation for an hour you might be tricked into thinking that he’s a talented and qualified counselor.  This is merely an illusion of contrast seeing as how most guests on his show seem to be products of generations of inbreeding.   

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There's got to be some sort of award for childrens book authors.  I'm not quite sure what the winner criteria is, but if they were to ask me I'd nominate Lisa Brown without hesitation.  

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In a way, pregnant ladies are a lot like Betty White. They can get away with almost anything, albeit for slightly different reasons.  Betty White is cute, helpless and has paid her dues.  This entitles her to say lewd things on live broadcast television without tarnishing her image and- we can only assume- get away with murder in her everyday life.  Similarly, pregnant women are cute, helpless and are just trying their darndest to ensure the prosperity of the human race.  Therefore, the pregnancy condition propells younger women into a temporary Betty White-like status of being able to get away with almost anything.  Things like this...

1.  Betty White couldn't offend anyone if she tried.  Similarly, preggos should take note that this is the best time possible to break some hard news to a friend regarding their questionable lifestyle choices.  I think they're more likely to listen without becoming angry because if you've devoted a big part of yourself to creating life you must have the best interest in making theirs better.  So, now is the best time to tell the well-intending narcissist that she's only embarrassing herself with those frequent Facebook status updates about every detail of her life.

2.  Every girl wishes Betty White was their BFF because she's a hell of a lot of fun and totally unthreatening.  Recently I've had a similiar experience because in case it wasn't totally evident before,  "BITCH, I DON'T WANT YOUR MAN!"  Clearly, I have my own and my whale-like condition is the outcome of one of our encounters.  To further solidify this status, your man probably doesn't want me either because of some rather unflattering things that are happening to my body.  So, yeah.  Let's meet up for manipedis and talk about your sexy dating life and my cankles. 

3.  Yep, I farted.  It's cute because I'm Betty White or pregnant. 

4.  Much like I'm sure Betty White could make someone question their mental stability in just one wise, well meaning glance, pregnant women can make someone wonder if their drinking habits are borderline abusive by merely participating in a conversation about alcoholic beverages.  Goes a little something like this:  "Oh, you had a dry weekend and you feel great?  Good for you!  Did I mention I haven't tied one on in 8 1/2 months?  Nah, I don't really miss it much anymore. Haha!  I tell you what, I don't think I can even accurately remember what a hangover FEELS like! "  This is totally fine as long as the preggo is able to admit to herself  that any shred of enjoyment she gets from this manipulation is born out of a combination of wildly fluctuating hormones and spite for the fact that she can't drink, but would really really like to a lot. 

5.  Oh heyyyy business man wearing a suit on the street corner in the rain without an umbrella.  I know you're probably late to some important meeting and I saw you standing here before me with your hand out waving away wildly, but I'm gonna pretend I didn't see you and totally take this cab, ok?  This is fine because I'm Betty White and remind you of your grandmother or because I'm pregnant and remind you of your wife.

6.  This is totally unethical and not at all advisable, but if push came to shove and a pregnant lady were down on her luck I'm sure she could get away with some crazy shoplifting loot.  1- No one would suspect.  2- If anyone did suspect they would doubt themselves and immediately feel guilty about assuming.  3- If the preggo was busted she could always claim the spoils were intended for the betterment of the baby's well being.  Take it one step further and if that preggo robbed a bank and claimed it was "for the baby" she'd probably be labeled as a woman steeped in despiration and willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for her child, end up in the national media spotlight and make millions from a fund established and promoted by Oprah Winfrey.  Betty White could get away with robbing a bank just because it would be hilarious and cute.  A much looser association, but still relevant.

7.  Shotgun!  You weren't really going to make Betty White/ a preggo cram her delicate body into the back of that MINI Cooper, were you? 

Now, cast your imagination to a hypothetical reality in which Betty White undergoes some sort of advanced fertility treatments that allow her to become pregnant.  What vile, inhumane acts would she be able to commit free of blame, guit or moral judgement?  I have compiled a mental list, but I fear that posting them here would subject me to public scrutiny. 

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Weak. 

Over the past few weeks it's become increasingly harder to curl my eyelashes in the morning.  I credited this to  a decrease in dexterity due to my advanced pregnancy stage.  Swollen fingers have a hard time working tiny metal contraptions, you know.  Well THIS morning it was especially hard.  I just couldn't grasp the little suckers so I got really close the mirror and took a look at my eyelashes and lo and BEHOLD... 

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...and this is it.

Unlike these Dodge Grand Caravan claims I've never literally given birth to anything.  I have; however, sacrificed by body for the last 8 months to build a small human who is growing stronger and stronger every day thanks to a rather significant and constant supply of my life force.  Around November 16 I will (literally) give birth to this person.  When that happens I'll probably somehow manage to hate this commercial even more that I do now.  Given my present level of disgust toward the Dodge brand and everyone involved in creating this spot I can only imagine that women who have experienced childbirth in all its gory pain have got to hate it too.  Hey, it's a good thing this isn't the same group of people responsible for making 80% of the household automotive purchasing decisions!  Wait...  Oh the irony.

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Baby girl is trying to pai mei her way out of my body.  Yuhuh, it hurts. 

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They say to pack some games to pass the time during labor and delivery.  Trouble is, I can't think of a game I might bring that Steve doesn't whip my ass in when I'm a normal functioning person.  Scrabble and Bananagrams are definitely out.  I can't imagine how bad I'd lose to him considering a contractions handicap.  Maybe he'd take that into consideration, but that wouldn't be any fun.  It's a shame, we could probably play for some really interesting stakes in this scenario. 

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In case you were wondering, THIS is what happens when you take away my wine habit.  http://www.etsy.com/shop/racheltimmerman

I started an Etsy store today.  Shop banner art by my sweet hubs, Steve. 

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I'm preoccupied with my weight.  Not enough to be detrimental to my health, but more than enough to classify me as technically vain.  Anxious to get a handle on how long it's going to take the weight to come off post pregnancy, I devised the following mathematical equation.  Who knows if it's accurate, actually pretty excited to find out.

You can use your own figures, but for the sake of this exercise let's work with a woman who has gained 35 lbs in 9 months of pregnancy and gave birth to a 7 lb baby.  The equation assumes that the mom isn't working out, but is breastfeeding and is taking in roughly the same amount of calories she was when pregnant.

Total Pounds Gained:  35 lbs

Subtract the Following:
-  Baby:  7 lbs
-  Placenta:  2 lbs
-  Amniotic Fluid:  2 lbs
-  Increased Blood Volume:  4 lbs
-  Uterine Enlargement:  2 lbs
-  Fluid in Maternal Tissue:  4 lbs
-  Breast Enlargement:  1 lb

This leaves 13 lbs of fat that has accumulated over pregnancy. 

Breastfeeding converts about 400 calories of stored energy into milk a day.
There are 3500 calories in a pound.
Therefore, breastfeeding converts a pound of fat into milk every 8.75 days.
At this rate it would take about 3.4 months for breastfeeding to burn the remaining 13 lbs of fat.

Taaadaaa! 

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http://www.bellyarmor.com/

Ok.  Let me get this straight.  This product claims to protect my unborn baby from radiation emitted from my laptop and cell phone?  You mean to tell me that in my 7.5 pregnant months I've researched enough to know to hold the queso sauce on my burrito, but no credible source bothered to inform me that I needed to be draped in yards of this magical fabric in order to get near Apple products so I can do things like, oh,  MY JOB?

If these people are dead set on using their wizardry to create textiles of this manner I wish they would try to focus their attention on inventing an invisibility cloak.  I have a wedding to go to in two weeks and it would be peaches if I could find something to wear so that no one can see my giant body from the neck down. 

In the meantime, good effort trying to get my $109, but I'm not buying it.

(Why do I have the feeling that some internet archeaologist is going to dig this post up in 50 years well after it's been confirmed that every day radiation is indeed harmful to unborn babies and publish it via some sort of futuristic medium to demonstrate how ignorant we once were.  People will scough at me like I scough at Betty Draper when she's knocked up and smoking a pack a day.)

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Here it is, the week 34 belly shot.  After seeing photos of myself from my bridal shower I've been avoiding cameras like the plague.  Realizing that I indeed look every much as big as I feel was a very bleak point in my pregnancy.  I guess no one ever claims this to be the most flattering thing that happens to a lady.

You'll notice that I'm trying something new in this photo- I'm smiling.  I find this irony somewhat haunting.  Have you ever noticed that it's rare to see a smiling pregnant lady?  Pregnant ladies don't smile unless they feel like they have to.  Or if you give them a piece of flourless chocolate cake...OR if you were to tell them that the FDA just released the results of a new study that claims that contrary to previous evidence, wine consumed in large volumes is actually GOOD for unborn fetuses.

Another ironic thing about this photo is the tampon dispenser in the background.  I totally forgot about those things until the other day when a friend was complaining to me about a wicked case of PMS she was experiencing.  I guess I'll have to deal with that whole scenario again, right?  Wonder when that freakish operation will resume.  Just thinking about this makes me want to scream obsenities at the next man I see.  How do they get off so easy in this life?  Please tell me there's some sort of cross they have to bear that evens the score.  If anything I guess it would have to be balding or ball pain. 

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Well, not tecnicaly,  but I did write some lyrics to a song about my pregnancy experience.  It goes to the tune of "TiK ToK" by Ke$ha (here's the link for the song reference)

“PregPop”
To the tune of Ke$ha “Tictok”
Lyrics by Rachel Timmerman

Wake up in the morning feeling like Delta Burke
I throw on a circus tent and then I’m ready for work.
Before I leave I can’t help cursing this little boy or girl
‘Cause I can’t leave the house before I totally hurl.

I’m talkin’ I can’t hardly see my toes, toes
Can’t fit into my clothes, clothes
Cravin’ chocolate scones, scones.
Crop dustin’ and feeling all bitchy and sassy.
Just trying to keep it classy
But I’m feelin’ just a little bit GAAAASSSSSEYYYYYyyyyyy. 

Oh stop I have popped
Doctor, ultrasound me up!
Oh man, it’s a sight!
Why is the bra so tight?
Oh stop I have popped
Doctor, ultrasound me up, yo!

Ohhhohhohohooo!
Ohhhohhhohohoo!

I’m freaking out just a bit because I can’t have a beer
And I’m holding out on wine because my due date is near
Getting ‘round is hard because I don’t walk, I waddle.
I swear I’ll kill the next person who asks me “Breastfeed or bottle?!”

I’m talkin, my mood is down and sunk, sunk
I think I’m in a bit of a funk, funk
‘Cause I’m gonna squeeze a baby out my junk, junk

Now, now I’m gonna get this thing out, out
Gonna push and scream and shout, shout.
Push and scream and shout, shout
Push and scream and SHHHHHOOOUUUT

Oh stop I have popped
Doctor, ultrasound me up!
Oh man, it’s a sight!
Why is the bra so tight?
Oh stop I have popped
Doctor, ultrasound me up, yo!

Ohhhohhohohooo!
Ohhhohhhohohoo!

We were going to record and do a music video shoot, but I'm really uncomfortable in front of the camera these days.  SO, just throwing it out there, if you're reading this and you're pregnant, can sing and you don't mind being in front of a camera we should talk about YOU being the talent.  I can't pay you in money, but isn't the opportunity to portray a pregnant version of Ke$sha enough??  Ha!

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A warning to those close to me.  You may meet a similar fate of my mom and sister and get your very own crochet flowered flapper hat one day very soon. 

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Doing laundry for someone who isn't even born yet is surreal, like the opposite of packing up someone's house after they've departed.  Only difference is in that scenario you know you're dealing with belongings that someone chose for themselves and then cherished for a long time.  In this instance you're preparing things for someone you've never met and they are things to your liking that you've chosen.  This whole thought process makes the "day of the dead" themed burp clothes seem pretty ironic. 

I hope she likes all the clothes and blankies we've picked out for her.  We can't stop looking at them and imagining memories.  

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