I sat and watched Noah and Jason play in the sand -- digging holes and ponds and building bucket-castles. And I sat and watched them play in the ocean -- and I would realize that I was smiling. A big, goofy, squinty, involuntary smile. Every time I looked at him. I couldn't help it. The last time we went to the beach, Noah was a baby. He couldn't walk or do much beyond shove handfuls of sand in his mouth or squeal when we dipped his feet in the water. This time he could run and dig and splash on his own, just cautious enough to ask "Hole my hand? Hole my hand?" each time we'd take him down to the water. The beach was the most exciting, most fun, most greatest thing in the entire world, and the joy would sometimes bubble up over and he'd toss his hands in the air and scream. We heard him murmur "beach, water, ocean, beach" quietly in his sleep at night. But sometimes, as I sat and watched, I still saw that little baby. The round little belly and the barest hint of chub where wrist meets hand. The excited babble of... Read more →

We've been at the beach. It's been very taxing. Will post real sentence-y update soon. Read more →

Internet: 1 Amy: 0 www.twitter.com/amalah I am now "tweeting" to my "tweeps" on this thing called "twitter" and jesus ham god in a blanket, I want to punch myself in the face. Feel free to now abandon twitter en masse for shark-jumping, oh-my-god-it's-so-two-weeks-ago reasons. Or let me bug you via "cellular phone" with important updates like NOAH, WE HAD FROZEN PANCAKES I MADE IN THE TOASTER FOR BREAKFAST, YOU MUST EAT SOMETHING APPROPRIATE LIKE FROZEN PIZZA I MADE IN THE TOASTER FOR LUNCH. (Shit! 158 characters! How do you people stay so concise? Does this mean I may have to start breaking my thoughts up into [HORRORS!!] separate sentences? Like with [GASP!!] periods and shit?) (Oh my God, WHAT HAVE I DONE?) Read more →

Since my doctor and I have finally agreed on a concrete due date, or at least a decent compromise on one (four days later than my math suggests, four days before some of the more runty early ultrasounds), I figure it's time to stop with the fuzzy update titles and just commit to a week already. So. 28 weeks. Solidly in the third trimester. Eleven weeks or so away from delivery via hacksaw. I won't lie. I'm a tad defensive about the scheduled c-section. (It's hard not to be, out here on the Internet.) When people inquired about my due date at Blogher I was unable to give the simple answer: October 18th, but I will probably deliver sometime around the 10th. Instead I found myself rushing to provide all sorts of details that no one really asked for: Noah was 10 pounds! Occiput posterior! Meconium! Cord around the neck! A really narrow, weirdly turned-in pelvis that prevented him from ever getting anywhere near the exit! Fetal distress! Doooooooom! (And that's usually when people would back away from me, possibly emitting high-frequency screams that only dogs could hear. I need a Saint Bernard, some hot cocoa and a shitload of... Read more →

I lugged about 10 pounds worth of camera and lenses to Blogher, and the only photos I have in my possession to share with y'all are these two, taken with Kristen's iPhone. During our impromptu Floor Party in the pantyhose department at Macy's: After realizing that I was simply not getting nearly enough attention, I decided to have a dramatic fainting spell en route to the shoe department portion of the Blogher cocktail party. (For anyone who wasn't there and is thinking...Macy's? Shoe department? Cocktail party? What? Yeah, I don't really understand either, and I was both THERE and SOBER.) The party started out in Handbags, and I started out very horrified by the sight of hummus and various hors d'oeurves plates perilously close to the Marc Jacobs, I was soon distracted by this vague feeling that Oh Shit, I've Possibly Gone And Overdone It, and started meekly asking people if they knew where I could get some water. Various people went on a search mission for me, but returned with the news that champagne appeared to be the only option available. (Pregnant traveling ladies, I highly recommend you get yourself a whole posse of Danas and Catherines and Traceys... Read more →

Or, How I Almost Missed Blogher Completely As we pulled up to the airport early this morning I sighed and whined (for the zillionth millionth squillionth time) about how much I hate airports. Flying, I can deal with. I was actually looking forward to this flight, since I'd managed to score a fairly awesome deal on a nonstop trip via Virgin America (of the leather recliners and touchscreen entertainment consoles and wheeee, self-serve bottled water minibars), but first, I had to get through the fucking airport. "I'm just always convinced something is going to go terribly wrong, you know?" I continued, chewing nervously on my index finger. "Like I'll get bumped to standby or find out that my reservation never went through or...or..." I paused, trying to think of a few more worst-case scenarios, but lo, we were at the gate and it was time to say goodbye. I begged Noah not to grow up any and squeezed in as many kisses for everybody as I could before finally making my way to check-in. The self-service kiosk was out of ink and served me up a blank boarding pass. Glitch for the trip, I figured. Pretty okay as glitches go,... Read more →

THIS MORNING'S OB APPOINTMENT: Glucose. Gluuuuuuuuuucose! Bzz! Slump. Zzzzzzz. Drool. Wha? I am...exhausted, little Internet. Prepare for even more ellipses than usual as I am in real danger of falling asleep in between words. Goddamn orange glucose dreck drink. And...goddamn...other stuff. Like...zzzz...human rights violations and...shit. What? God. So I actually had about half of an entry written yesterday about Blogher and how I keep reading entries about people's pre-travel packing flip-outs about what to wear and how pregnancy really solves this how mess, since I don't really have many options about what to wear. Essentially: I will pack what fits. Perhaps it will match, perhaps it will be vaguely cute. Perhaps not, but BY GOD, it will fit. See? Easy and flip-out free, and hey, I'll be the sober and sort-of round one who does a lot of sitting. Come sit next to me! Really. Allow me to engage you in an uncomfortable conversation about skin tags and c-section scars and then maybe glaze over and fall asleep on your hair. I decided against posting this ultra-laid-back puff piece on How My Pregnancy Cured My Social Anxiety right around the time I realized that I'd only really written three sentences... Read more →

(Warning: reading Part One will probably still not help you make much sense of this nonsense.) DEGREE CLINICAL PROTECTION: RIGHT! DUDES, ARE YOU READY TO GET FUCKING SERIOUS ABOUT UNDERARM PROTECTION? HAVE YOU HAD ENOUGH OF PUSSIFIED DEODORANTS THAT LEAVE YOU RANK AND SWEATY BY MID-DAY? ARE YOU INTERESTED IN THE HIGHEST PERCENTAGE OF ALUMINUM ZIRCONIUM TETRACHLOROHYDREX YOU CAN BUY LEGALLY THIS SIDE OF FUCKING MEXICO? ARE YOU READY FOR THE INSANE AMOUNT OF POONTANG THAT'S ABOUT TO HEAD YOUR WAY? DEGREE ULTRACLEAR: I am like, so totally turned on right now. SECRET FLAWLESS: Bitch! You're from the same product line! You're practically related! Also, he's mine! DEGREE ULTRACLEAR: No way, he's mine! DEGREE CLINICAL PROTECTION: GIVE IT UP FOR TRISOLIDTM, LADIES! HIGH FIVE, STEVE HOLT! LET'S GO BENCH PRESSING! SECRET FLAWLESS: Oh, you wanna start something now? DEGREE ULTRACLEAR: Oh, it's already been starterated. The caps are coming OFF, Vag Head. DEGREE CLINICAL PROTECTION: CATFIGHT! NIIIIICE. TOM'S OF MAINE: You guuuuuuys. TOM'S OF MAINE: You know, so maybe I don't offer all the fancy promises you guys do. Maybe my label doesn't have a lot checklists and benefits and made-up sciencey-sounding words like yours. Maybe the warnings about aluminum... Read more →

THINGS I AM TERRIBLE AT: 1) Choosing the correct-sized plastic container for storing leftovers 2) The metric system 3) Closing dresser drawers all the way 4) Painting my own toenails 5) Anything involving the post office THINGS THAT ARE CURRENTLY BUGGING ME A LOT: 1) That damn haircut 2) Our defective Wii a) Which would scratch a ring onto every game we played after a few hours of use. b) Which would render the game completely unplayable. c) Usually right at some critical moment, like right when you were about to fight Darth Maul in Lego Star Wars. d) Which you were totally kicking ass on, by the way. f) And yeah, I know it's geared for 10-year-olds, I WAS STILL RULING AT IT. g) Anyway, we'll probably get our repaired console back in about six weeks. 3) No one around here who is not gestating is willing to move furniture around and get the new baby's room set up. a) Or help me with my plan to rearrange the dining room, which I also feel is an essential pre-baby endeavor. 4) This irrational feeling that our ultrasound wasn't completely definitive and we're actually having a girl. 5) Also ants.... Read more →

We interrupt all this fancy Hollywood talk to bring you a good old-fashioned hysterical mommyblogger moment of complete and total overreaction: OH MY FREAKING GOD LOOK WHAT THEY DID TO MY BABY. Compare that with a photo taken last week -- right after I attempted to take him for a haircut but chickened out because there was kind of a long wait down at the local kiddie salon, OH WELL! NO HAIRCUT TODAY, let's get us some tacos instead. I know little boys with long hair are not everybody's cup of styling gel, but oh. I love Noah's curls. I love his shaggy little moptop and while I try to keep his bangs trimmed up and the back from getting too mullet-y at home, there does come a point where I have to admit that he needs a real and actual haircut. Usually around the time that other kids start mistaking him for a girl at the playground, or when I find myself playing with his hair and subconsciously pulling it into pigtails. Fine, I said. I'll take him for a haircut. I've actually been That Person and taken him to see MY stylist -- piggybacking on my own appointment,... Read more →