SCREAMING.

We love her so, and she is so cute when she is sleeping, but she spent most of her waking moments during the first 6 months screaming. Seriously, a lot of screaming. And barfing. It was pretty rough. But one great thing about having a second child is that you have done this before. You know there is light at the end of the tunnel, that every day is not going to be this rough. And for us, we knew that no matter how much barfing and screaming happened each day, she was going to be so much better at 8 months. To me, 8 months is when it all gets good.

So forget that we referred to her as the devil spawn for 180 days, because today our little juicy Lucy is 8 months old. And she is dang cute. She celebrated by standing up. Check it out, we are oh-so-proud.

Lucy stands up – 8 mo from Courtney Harmeling on Vimeo.

Lucy Paige.

Lucy Paige, just a few days old.

LuPe. Lulu. Milk Face. Snorty McSnoogleheim. Great White Shark. Luie.

This is the first time Jack held her. So proud. He calls her "Boo Boo."

The DJ, Jack, myself and even the dogs are all in love with her.
I promise to post more often. Check back soon if you want to hear about all the goodness leading up to the arrival of Lupe, and exciting events since.

Peace. Out.

Peace. Out.

Edward Rollinger, 4 1/2 weeks.

Now, as another dear friend (E-dog) always says, “I’m not gunna lie…” Sweet little Eddie did bust out that desperate newborn baby cry on me a few times. My blood pressure shot up, and my nerves rattled a tad,  just like back in the ol’ Baby-Jack days. But have no fear, this old momma still has it! I battled back with some tight swaddling and my patented super-rock-and-jiggle move. I had that little guy out cold in minutes. My 2 hours visit left me simmering over a wide range of feelings, from “what the heck have we gotten ourselves into?!?!” to “I think I am going to be able to do this.”

Not that it matters at this point, since tomorrow I will be 6 months and 1 week 8 months pregnant.

Ready for the job.

A liar begins with making falsehood appear like truth, and ends with making truth itself appear like falsehood.
William Shenstone

Today I am 23 weeks prego, that’s days away from 6 months. The problem is, a month ago I was telling people, strangers, that I was 6 months along. But when people look at you,  your belly, and back up to your eyes and with a goofy grin say “wow, look at you, how far along are you?” Well, 5 months just doesn’t sound substantial. And honey, I AM substantial. So I would say “oh, you know, 6 months….” and then I would hope they wouldn’t ask for a due date and do some quick math.

Now that we are knocking on 6 months, I think I have to start saying I am 7 months. That’s cool, right? (I am not the only one who does this – I swear. Right Alisa?) But the problem becomes, as Alisa pointed out, when I am finally at my due date, my lies will have surpassed me, and I will be 12 months. And did you know zebras and blue whales gestate for 12 months??? What does that say about me? Er, us (Alisa!)???

EW EW EWWWWW. I’m kinda grossed out now. But what else do you call it? Ug. No nicknames. We are being mature here.

Ok, anyway, it’s a girl. It’s a girl.
To prepare, I have purchased her crib bedding.  Nothing says “It’s a girl” like orange, brown and gray! Blahahahaha. My mother and my M-I-L are both dying to see rosebud fabrics and iridescent pink painted walls in my house, but that aint gunna happen. We have a 1970′s house, and we have done a dang good job of staying true to its roots, grass wallpaper and all. (You should see Jack’s new wall color = “retro avocado.”)

Anyway – Here is HER new bedding. Walls will be “classic creme” and “vintage mauve.” (Not the samples in the picture.)

Second question, “Do you have a name?”

So here at Casa de Harm, we have been working on naming this little sweet potato. When I say “we”, I mean I keep coming up with ideas, and harping on the DJ to discuss, and the DJ stalls. So, I sent a list of names I like. Most start with “Lucy” and have a single syllable middle name, like Rae, Bren, and my fav, Blue. Then there is another list of names I like if Lucy doesn’t make the cut. 2 1/2 weeks, the DJ has been holding that list, with no response (yes, we are naming this little mango by email.)

And DING! here it is, in my inbox:

I like Lucy Paige.  A lot of the other single syllable names sound porn star or whiskey tango.  I also like LPH.  Might be able to call her “album” or “vinyl.”  And Lars will make some acidic comment about “the PH.”

I like Erin as a first name.  Erin Paige has a really nice ring to it.  And if she’s a B her name is EPH – phonetically “F.” As in, “EPH, get over here!”  “EPH, clean up your room!” and “Where the F is EPH?!?!?!”

The problem I have with Roxy/ie is that it’s a very prominent surf brand.  Too big.  And Macey is the Carrolls’ dog.

And I like “Jesse’s a girl?”  I wish I had “Jesse’s a girl?”  Where can I find a woman’s name like that?  (hahaha – stuck in your head.)

See previous post regarding the DJ’s sense of humor.

Now, one thing we all love and hate about the DJ is his affinity for being slightly inappropriate in public, and his slightly offensive sense of humor. (We were just discussing this earlier today, as I was recommending that he know his audience before using some of his favorite expressions.) Anyway – the DJ has so kindly said this about pregnant women, “Its amazing that pregnant women gain weight at all, considering all they energy the burn complaining.” Nice. He’s cute huh? And he is mine, all mine.

So, be forewarned, prego blogs will always contain above-average amounts of complaints. Its just a fact. Take that, D.

So we go in for our 20 week check up today. Everybody knows that a 20 week check up should include an ultrasound. We were counting on it. I mean, we need to find out the gender and all right? (I know, we already know the gender. But Dr H doesn’t know we cheated on him and had a bonus ultrasound with dear friend Amy.) Well Dr H says we should just wait for next week, for our Level 2 (read: old lady, advanced maternal age, AMA) ultrasound, since it will be a more detailed study. Dr H lets us listen to the heart beat real quick to confirm this massive belly holds life, not just cinnamon bears, and then pretty much ignores me. It seems Dr H much prefers the DJ (he is not really a DJ you know) over his patient, and now every time we go in, he spends 3 minutes on me, and 20 minutes talking legal and ethical crap with the DJ.

EFFECTIVE IMMEIDATLY: the DJ is no longer comming to OB appointments. Give me back my ultrasounds and fundal measurements, damn it!

Now, there has been a ton of speculation… Because I have been super duper nauseous for the first 16 weeks and wasn’t with Jack, and because Aunt Amanda’s triangulation-of-factors interview, and just general guesses, everyone has been saying its a girl. But in this family, where mono-gender-reproduction is a standard, and DJ and I have only experienced a boy… well, we just figured we have another wonderful boy coming our way.

But holy guacamole, what is that you see Amy W??? 3 dots? (its the tale-tell sign) 3 dots?!?!?!!!!

ITS A GIRL.