Tag Archives: Socks

Jan5

Socks has a Vidalia onion!

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A double-Socks (a pair of Socks?) post today!

This one is short, and as sweet as the onion in question is supposed to be. I hate the things, so I can’t comment on that – she just said a ‘sweet onion’ because they are larger than most. I chose Vidalia as I know how very much my onion-loving family appreciated them when they were in season. I know they are large, and not as smelly as most onions, and are apparently really really nice raw, if you like raw onions. Vidalias are grown exclusively in the state of Georgia, USA, and in only seven counties there. They have protected status there, and if the US had laws like Europe does, they would enjoy the same protected geographical status as Champagne, Gorgonzola or Parma ham. The Georgians have every right to be proud of their onion!

Even if I dislike them intensely, I feel a bit of loyalty to the bulb and would rather that Button was a Vidalia than any other allium. Button is already 5.1 inches and 5.9 ounces (13 cm & 167 gm) at seventeen weeks. I think at this point, I’m a little – ok, more than a little – amazed at how fast a whole human can be grown. We are remarkable creatures to be able to make whole new people inside of us! I’d rather reproduce by mitosis myself, but still, it is rather amazing.

And even more amazing that my best friend chose to do this, and is loving every minute so far.

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Jan5

Socks has an avocado!

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Right, so…I’m a bit behind. Today is Oirish Tirsday and I haven’t written an update from last Thursday yet! I also have to go to work in a bit and don’t have a lot of time to write.

So, instead of including the huge intro I have been including, just check out last week’s Socks update and it has all the links to previous posts, otay?

Actually there isn’t much to update about: everything is fine and normal and growing like crazy. We both wonder in what universe there are avocados bigger than navel oranges, but who are we to argue with pregnancy books?

I did try to find ‘Button’ in different languages last week. Bouton (French) is the nicest version, but I also like Tecla (Portugese) and Tasto (Italian). At least according to Babelfish, anyhow. I was probably a bit drunk and was trying to translate the word zipper instead.

Bear has also gotten into the spirit of names. He’s been randomly throwing out ideas here and there. Socks can’t really focus on a name until she knows the gender of Button, though – and I agree. I can’t name a pet until I meet it, how can you name a baby when you don’t even know boy or girl? Of course billions of people have done so, but hey, she has the technology and she intends to use it.

Button is moving around a bit more now. No ‘big’ movements, but Socks can tell there’s something different going on inside her. She said someone told her the early movements would feel like popcorn popping. She thought that was sort of strange…but now agrees that is the best analogy.

At this point Button can also hear Socks’ voice, pretty cool, eh? Even cooler is that from here on, babies hear and remember their mother’s accent, and actually even cry in that accent when born. I heard about this on television, and the best article about it I found (quickly) on the net is this one. I find this pretty amazing, myself.

Time to get ready for work, yuck… But I have one last Bear story. Apparently he has such a phobia of ‘outie’ belly-buttons that if Socks’ navel pops out when she is further along, she might have to hide it with a Band-Aid.

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AAAAA! The horror! Run away, run away! 😀

Dec28

Socks has a Navel Orange!

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The short story: Socks is the nickname of my best friend, and she is having her first baby. Since I can’t be there with her, I’m chronicling her journey on my blog.

Long story: go here, then here, and the rest are my (sometimes) weekly updates: one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven. That will catch you up to now!

This week we have pictures to prove the belly growth again! Socks thoughtfully provided me with her current ‘bump’ photo, this time headless as I freaked her out entirely by making her head a lime last time. Oops! Just so you know, m’dear, I can chop your head off on my iPad, too. No need to do it yourself!

She also included the last pic, so we can see how big Button has gotten.

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I doubt she’ll be fitting into that shirt for much longer! Unless its reeeelllly stretchy! She’s outgrown all of her jeans already. She’s not like me and got rid of all her ‘fat pants.’ I don’t care enough to keep up with my diet usually – although I certainly will once the holidays are over, I feel like a walrus at the moment – so I save my fat pants for my fat months. Anyhoo, she’s not a hoarder or a cheapskate like me so had to go buy new jeans. Or just wear sweats around the house. Thbbbt. In any case she’s only gained three pounds (1.36kilos).

The biggest news this week is that she’s finally announced to the world about Button! I don’t have to keep the secret any longer, yay! Of course I told people in Ireland, because they met her once, and I had to tell someone! But I don’t have to be so circumspect on FB any longer. I’m sure I’ll keep the habit out of, well, habit, for a while. She sent out ultrasound pics with her Christmas cards (not to everyone, of course – didn’t she say she sends 80 cards?). I’m dying to hear some of the surprised reactions from people who have just found out!

One who was not surprised is her mother. Because she’s been waiting…
I learned that MommaSocks bought, in 1989, six 16×20 inch (approx 41x51cm) laminated Beatrix Potter posters. Socks was 12 and too old for Ms. Potter. So who were they for, and why does Momma still have them stored flat after 22 years and four house moves? Why, for her future grandbabies, of course! OMG. I think I would have sewn myself shut if someone was plotting out the future tenants of my uterus when I wasn’t even a teen yet! Socks sure has a lot of patience.

Her doc freaked her out a bit last week though, just by being super-hyper and zooming around the room. This doc didn’t want to believe the last doc’s opinion that Button is a week further along, and didn’t even have the reports to hand (probably left them on the counter at Starbucks when she picked up that triple expresso). Quote of the week from Socks: ‘Whatever, let them duke it out.’

Socks also had a good conversation with the doc about ‘birthing options.’ Now, some might think this is a bit early; but she’s a planner, and as she said she doesn’t know anyone locally with babies or who is pregnant, so she needs to know what her options are and where to find help if she needs it – like finding a doula. No, I didn’t know what that was, either. I kinda guessed, though. There is a nice, private-room birthing centre right at her doctor’s office, and she likes all of them there, and they very seriously told her that they are not a ’boutique’ office that does a Caesarian section just because mommy doesn’t want stretchmarks or a loose coochie. It is really good to know that a C-section is a last resort for Socks and the docs. Quote of the week from the doc: ‘But we will if we have to, because you can’t stay pregnant forever.’

The last bit we both found interesting is that sometimes a hospital will take the baby to the nursery right away. And when they do, they feed it… either formula or water. Weird. So Socks is making a request in advance to ensure Button stays with her so the breast feeding is the first meal of the day.

Which will be fun, because she’s allowed an enormous audience in the room, should she so desire – hubby plus four others! Since we doubt Bear will be able to stay vertical in the delivery room, maybe there’s a place for me…

Dec11

Socks has a Plum! No, a Peach! No, a Lemon!

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The short story: Socks is the nickname of my best friend, and she is having her first baby. Since I can’t be there with her, I’m chronicling her journey on my blog.

Long story: go here, then here, and the rest are my weekly updates: one, two, three, four, five, and six. That will catch you up to now!

No, I’m not three weeks behind on my Socks + Button update. I am a week behind. But also in the last week, her due date got bumped forward a week! She had another ultrasound/sonogram (whatever they are called these days) and based on Button’s measurements, they think Socks is now due on June 9 rather than June 14. So we skipped a fruit entirely, dammit.

We’re both a bit baffled by the fruit-size similes lately. Saying a plum is bigger than a lime was a little odd. I guess the book writers have really small limes. They are saying at week 13, baby is the size of your closed fist. I don’t know about you, but my fist is bigger than any peach, ever. Also bigger than any lemon I’ve ever seen; I’m tipping into navel orange territory here. I have some big hands, I’m not a little person…but still.

Bear, of course, just says that of course Button is big: it’s a Bear Family baby. Well, yeah!

Bear is still in denial, or something like it. He needs to educate himself on what is going on ‘inside his wife’ and stop being so freaked out. Well, ‘freaked out’ is too strong an expression. He’d be more comfortable if he knew the medical facts, I think, rather than listening to his male friend – who has a child! – tell him that Button has gills and a tail that “falls off.” Sheesh, no wonder he’s a bit green around his own gills, if he believes that rubbish. He’s just still a bit unwilling to look for himself.

The other important business that Socks had taken care of is testing for chromosomal abnormalities. A bit of a controversial subject in Ireland – there is no abortion for any reason, so why bother to check if the baby you are carrying is fully healthy and normal? It was just a blood test from Socks herself, but a rather odd one. They didn’t draw blood, they just did a finger-prick and put one drop of blood on each of five dots on a card. Then they folded it up and shipped it off to the lab. Wow, huh? I’m fascinated by this, as is Socks – just how does an old dried up bit of blood tell them anything? Medicine sure has come a long way.

The ultrasound had a little surprise – at 13/14 weeks, Button is already sucking its thumb! The picture is clear even to me, and I have trouble seeing much on those printouts. Socks said she could see the movement ‘live’ on the screen, which was thoughtfully placed on the ceiling so she didn’t have to turn to look.

Nice – the best I ever got at a gynaecologist’s office was a smiley-face sticker on the ceiling. It didn’t help.

I almost don’t want to tell any more. There is some news that isn’t ‘bad’, per se, but of things that will have to be kept in mind for the future. First, Socks has a fibroid. They say that it presents no danger, but may cause her more pain than usual during labor and after the birth. Second, there’s an issue that may mean she is at risk of high blood pressure, preeclampsia, and that Button will be smaller than usual for its gestational age. Now, we already see that last one doesn’t seem to be holding true. She has never had high blood pressure – actually runs low – so we’re not worried there either. They put her on one baby aspirin a day to reduce the risk of preeclampsia, and she’ll take that until she is 8 months along then stop. She isn’t in any danger until 20 weeks at the earliest, however, so this early warning of the potential risk is welcome and I’m sure they will take good care to continue preventive measures.

She sounds like she is in really good hands, after all: a video monitor on the ceiling!!!

Nov28

Socks has a Lime!

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The short story: Socks is the nickname of my best friend, and she is having her first baby. Since I can’t be there with her, I’m chronicling her journey on my blog.

Long story: go here, then here, and the rest are my weekly updates: one, two, three, four, and five. That will catch you up to now!

—

Holy crap! Baby Button grew from the size of a prune to the size of a lime in a week! That’s just crazy talk.

I’m all excited because in a moment, I’ll have a picture of her to share! One that illustrates quite well the whole ‘lime’ business.

We didn’t get our Thursday BS session due to Thanksgiving, but her house is her own again and she had time to send me an email update on how she’s doing. It was short but she still made me laugh: she had a craving for pickles. Ha! Hmm, I’m not sure that’s going to be understood internationally – in the USA, the joke about pregnant women is that they crave strange things, and the example always used is pickles (gherkins) and ice-cream. Yum!

Oo! Picture is here…just let me…hold on…a little bit here…yes. Ready for viewing!

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HAHAHAHAHAH! She said her smile was too goofy to share with the world, so I gave her a goofier one 🙂 Love you!

Nov19

Socks has a… prune?

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Right, so it has come to my attention that new readers have no idea why on earth I’m talking about socks that have olives and prunes, and heartbeats!

Short version: Socks is the nickname of my best friend, and she is having her first baby. Since I can’t be there with her, I’m chronicling her journey on my blog.

Long story: go here, then here, and the rest are my weekly updates: one, two, three, and four. That will catch you up to now!

***

Socks had another doctor appointment this week. Doc couldn’t hear the heartbeat at first so did another ultrasound, all is good. Baby Prune had…

Ok, no, I can’t call it a prune. I just can’t. Instead, I’m going to share the nickname Socks has started using in her head: Button. I love it! When she told me her secret baby name, I sang a little bit of ‘Button, button, who’s got the button’ and made myself cry. Keerist, I’m not even the pregnant one.

Baby Button (oh, that’s better, isn’t it?) had its back to the ‘camera’ so the picture wasn’t clear. The heartbeat was visible, though, and then it did a little jump! “How awesome!”

She’s officially due June 15th. She liked the 14th better, because every older person they told immediately said, ‘Oh, Flag Day.’ Socks conjectures that Flag Day used to be a big deal at one time, because we youngins wouldn’t have a clue when it is.

You’ll be glad to know Socks is HIV and STD free, and she doesn’t have the gene for Cystic Fibrosis, so Bear doesn’t even need to be tested for it; it’s one of those diseases that needs two carriers to be passed on. Oh, she’s also not anaemic, and doesn’t have to take an iron supplement. We think it is because she eats so well and would rather get her vitamins the natural way than in a pill.

She has switched from oatmeal and yoghurt in the mornings to Wheat Chex. I found this interesting as a few weeks ago she was talking about something called ‘muddy buddies‘ on FB. It was a craving thing, and that got her started on Wheat Chex for brekky. She knows what she needs! She says that since she has always listened to her body, eating now may be easier for her. She’s still not very pukey, unlike her whole family…

…which brings me to The Quote Of The Week, a new feature in my Socks update. (Those of you who watch Harry Hill’s TV Burp, please read this new title in his voice, complete with background singers.)

“I don’t know what all you pregnant women are bitching about. This pregnancy thing is a breeeeeeeze!”

After I got done laughing my hole off, she asked that I make sure the sarcasm was clear.

She’s only gained one pound (.45 kilos), but Bear told her that she’s ‘pooched out a little.’ Button is about 1.5 inches (3.81cm) and looks more baby-shaped. “A little like an alien, but not lizardy.” Button is growing tooth-buds, knees and ankles. Socks said the book tells her that every body part and organ are pretty much formed, and from here on Button nearly doubles in size every week. Important juices are being made in the stomach and kidneys, and if it is going to be a boy, this is when the testosterone starts flowing.

Bear still hasn’t come to grips with what is going on inside his wife. She mentioned fingernails to him and he started fanning himself as if he was going to faint. Then he got all panicky over trying to figure out how he was going to teach his child ‘life lessons.’ He wants to teach the important things, without screwing the kid up. Good luck, Bear!

Oh! I nearly forgot. The doc’s office gave her her first bag of free ‘new baby!’ samples and coupons. It was a culture-shock moment for Socks. Coupons, adverts for portraits, samples of … nursing pads? Bottle inserts specifically for storing breast milk? An itty-bitty diaper with Pooh Bear on it? She is “rallying against the typical baby bullshit” and doesn’t want this rubbish. The sheer amount of strollers for sale blows her away. There’s a ‘micro movement monitor’ that will let you know if the kid so much as farts in its sleep. Why would anyone want that? When are you supposed to sleep yourself??? Bear thinks the kid just needs a rag for its face and one for its arse, which is a bit naive, but apparently it is just crazy-mad the amount of marketing that is being directed their way now.

The worst, by far, are the breast pumps. There is a version called a double pump. Yes, that’s right, a milking machine. Just walk into your stall and stand there with both tits in it until Farmer John lets you out to pasture. Fuck off! She says one at a time is okay, but both? Hell no, she’s not a damn cow. There’s even a double pump you can walk around in while wearing it. Good lord, just what you want to see in Wal-mart. (I’m freaked out by the whole idea of breast feeding, BTW. Fine for you, but the idea of me doing that makes me want to scream.)

Okay! Long one today, no wonder I put it off so long. Oh, I’ve also been asked why I named her Socks. I came up with the name years ago, because she loves long, colourful socks – striped socks, argyle socks, even toe socks – and she always, always, wore peep-toe shoes to show them off. She doesn’t always wear peep-toe anymore, but she’s made herself sleeves out of socks to wear with short-sleeve shirts. The obstetric nurse loved them, too. So there’s why she is Socks. (She promised me pics of her in the sock-sleeves. Hint hint)

Oh. I’m totally, utterly, jealous of her new Vibram FiveFingers toe shoes. In red.

Nov13

Socks has a medium green olive!

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I know, what happened to the fruit? The similes are getting stranger and stranger.

I have to admit in advance that I somehow drank quite a bit on Oirish Tirsday. So my notes are pretty illegible, by page…four? If i wrote down that much, it seems I thought everything was funny as hell, too. But I’m going to start off with something that really shocked me.

It seems US schools are no longer teaching kids how to write in cursive: just printing. Socks learned this about three years ago, I learned it on Tirsday. WTF? Why on earth not? I suppose there’s an argument that we type more than print, and print more than write, but to not even teach it anymore seems a bit premature. And as Socks pointed out, silly. How does someone have a signature without cursive? How do you teach someone that bit of originality that says that you are you, if they can’t even hook their letters together? Are we moving into thumbprints or retinal scans? Will the postal delivery or UPS/FedEx person have a filthy, beaten up eyeball scanner instead of those disgusting electronic signature pads? Seriously, I’ve never seen one that didn’t look encrusted in other people’s hand sweat and coffee that the driver spilled. I really don’t like the idea of sticking my face onto something similar. And I’m not even germ-phobic. Or has the US moved on in the last 6 years and those pads are already obsolete?

I still remember learning to write ‘properly.’ I remember because I got really frustrated, to the point of tears, over the fact I couldn’t make a capital ‘O’ perfectly. Yes, I was an anal-retentive, perfectionist little smart ass even then. I also remember learning metric and thinking it made a lot more sense, another teaching they stopped ages ago. Y’all must really think kids are stupid over there. Anyhow; no cursive. We’re doomed.

Socks and I talked about holidays, because she’s got family back home that want her to come. This has stirred up a shitstorm of conflict for her: she’s starting a family, and the holidays are all about family, and since she’s awash in hormones she wants to have her own, relaxing holidays – and also have a big soppy family thing with all those she loves. Except family things have their own quirks, don’t they? Some good, some bad. I don’t envy her, I’ve only ever had a few around me for holidays and it’s no different here. I’d get completely weirded out by dozens of cousins and baskets of babies and oodles of elderly.

She likes Thanksgiving best anyway, and is doing that at her place this year. Yay!

Which brings me neatly into talking about food. We talked about how she will make a new recipe, love it, write it out and put it into her book…and never cook it again. Makes me ask now: what about Thanksgiving? Isn’t it a comfort to have the same meal every year, with perhaps a new dessert or two? Or is it only the spinach dip in the pumpernickel bowl that gets a repeat performance? I know Bear has made the turkey recently and I forget the secret… brined? This week she made gnocchi with kale and butternut squash. Unfortunately the sight of the packaged gnocchi slumping into the pan inspired a bout of yarking, so it was a no-go. Bear whipped up spaetzle and cabbage for her, aw. Apparently for the next day’s lunch, replacing the slimy gnocchi with cous-cous worked. I should offer them a guest spot on the blog to tell about what they cook. I can’t write about these things because a) I’m a picky eater b) they don’t sell most of the interesting ingredients here c) if they did sell it, I couldn’t afford it.

Oh, we learned about kale chips. If I can find kale, I’ll make them and let ya know. But they get massive thumbs up from Socks, Bear, and Miss Fierce.

So let’s see, the Olive Garden inside Socks has fully developed eyes, but they are fused shut like a kitten’s. There’s fingers and toes, too – but the special part of this week is that it is Gonad Week! That’s right, the bits are becoming bits. But at this point, Baby Olive can still go either direction. Bear apparently gets a little ‘grossed out by what’s happening inside his wife,’ the poor dear, so I’ll talk about it for her.

Otherwise, she’s eating more and better, not as exhausted or even simply tired. The hormones, however, are taking over. She says she’d slap herself if she wasn’t so happy, the way she feels about Christmas nostalgia makes her want to take a foot and shove it right up her own ass, and that she knows that she isn’t herself anymore, but it’s funny as hell.

Best quote: “Pre-baby Socks is watching pregnant Socks, and is constantly saying WTF while laughing and rolling her eyes.”

I think I’ll leave you with that one!

Nov10

Bean has been Brushed!

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This is Beanie, a very lucky dog! She belongs to the ever-fabulous Socks and her hubby Bear. Bean, like my dog Neko, is a thinker. An over-thinker. She makes up stuff to get worked up about, but she’s learned that when life gets rough, a pair of comfy pyjamas makes it all better.

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You probably notice something different in this picture…a background! I was having a divil of a time separating the white fur from the black, and decided I’d have to have a background color. I’d intended to cut Bean out of the background, but I decided I like it the way it is. She looks like an illustration in a children’s book. Much less true to life than the other drawings I’ve done, but perhaps more fun to look at. She makes me smile : )

Nov4

Socks has a (large) Raspberry!

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Howdy! Oirish Tirsday was back on Thursday again, so another marathon phone call took place.

After we got my job-interview sagas out of the way, I asked how Halloween went at her place, as this is the first one she’s had there. She was tired, but manned the door for the eve.

Best Costume was won by a dad who was dressed as Bob Ross. Ya gotta love a man who picks Ross as a costume! She’d love to know, are they artists? Or was he just a quick thinker with an Afro and a palette sitting around?

Second prize went to a small boy dressed as Mario of SuperMario fame. She offered him the candy bowl and his response, said in the manner of Comic Book Guy from the Simpsons, was: “Oh. Skittles. I have not seen those for a very long time.” Poor little geek-kid. You just know he’s not going to grow out of that voice.

We also talked about how neither of us ever did a trick to anyone. Except, she said, once on her birthday she and her friends toilet-papered a house. But that doesn’t really count, because her dad drove the getaway car, and bought the TP for them to use.

So, on to the baby-growing update! She’s still in fruit stages of development, and this week BabySocks is a large raspberry. I can’t help wonder what the book is going to say when she is further along…will they be brave enough to say cantaloupe? Watermelon? Don’t tell me, Socks, I love the giggle every week when you tell me the new fruit.

Raspberry now has a head bigger than the body and looks less like a lizard. It is growing hands, knees, elbows, lips, nose, and eyelids. There’s some twitching movement, too, but nothing she can feel.

Speaking of feel, the container BabySocks is growing in is now the size of a grapefruit, but she can’t feel any bump or lump yet. Seems like you would, doesn’t it? I asked if she is in the habit of sleeping face-down, because that would probably have to change. But she doesn’t, so sleeping will still be comfy.

Socks is still nauseated, and/or has a sour stomach. Food is becoming an annoyance – not a big deal, but eating has to be thought out in advance. Things that sound really, really, good turn out to be ‘meh’ when on the plate; the happiness of mealtime is a bit lacking. Even her home-cooked mac n cheese was “Not as awesome as it sounded on paper.”

She’s still tired, too, and can see a difference when she doesn’t get enough iron in a day. Zzzzz. Bear took her on a drive through the country to look at the autumn leaves, and she slept through them all. She was hungry, out of snacks and feeling ill from lack of food. But the restaurant he had planned on stopping at was closed. She said she felt terrible that she was spoiling the day by feeling sick and sleepy and didn’t want to tell him. As usual, more worried about others than herself.

All in all, not too bad, really! When she told Bear that she felt pretty good, and was surprised given her family’s pukey history, he leaned back, hooked his thumbs in his belt, and said, “I’m a cattleman. I can pick out a good breeder.”

And she not only let him live, she laughed.