Night out: Hockey!

We took advantage of Gama being in town to go out Tuesday night to see some college hockey. The match-up was Eric's own University of Tampa, whose hockey team is in its first year as an official team, facing off against the University of South Florida which is also here in Tampa. The event was set up as a fundraiser (with free admission) and they played the game at the St Pete Times forum in downtown Tampa.(One of Eric's students who plays on the team had said that he was excited about maybe getting into a fight on NHL ice.)


We put Emerson to bed and still got there in time for the pre-game pageantry, including the national anthem sung by a small a capella foursome, one of whom had his hand to his ear the whole time, of course. It was neat to be at the arena for such a "small" event where the spectators were confined to a small section of seating, only one concession stand was open and we got to sit a lot closer than we normally do.

This was my first UT sporting event and it set the bar pretty high. Here's a shot of the action:

I didn't set the bar so high myself: I sported yoga pants, a large black maternity t-shirt that the light of the arena revealed had booger stains (not mine) and sneakers, dirty hair in a bun and my scratched glasses. I looked like the exhausted, mega-pregnant mom of a toddler that I am right now.* I guess I thought it would be darker at the hockey game (it usually is a little darker up high where we always sit). I thought about standing at a discrete distance when we ran into students of Eric's so as not to embarrass him but instead I just smiled and tried to stand in the shadows as much as possible.

The game was great fun to watch and when we left after the second period it was 3-2 USF. The final score was 5-4 USF so going to bed meant we missed some good action but for my part it was worth it.

*For the record: in general, I have made what I consider to be an extraordinary effort to present myself well since we arrived in Florida.

Paddleboat Joe

Eric's mother Joy was in St Pete Beach for a dancing event this weekend and we took advantage of her relative proximity to go meet her for dinner last night. My mom, Emerson and I drove down a little early to poke around the beach a bit and Eric joined us as soon as he was out of an all-day training for work.

Being 36 weeks pregnant, I thought nothing of driving down there with my pants half-pulled-down to take the pressure off my lower belly. I was wearing a long top and no skin was showing or anything scandalous like that. It was just necessary.

So when we pulled into the hotel and the only option was to valet the car, I hastily locked the doors, rolled down my window and told the valet that we "needed a minute" before we were ready to get out of the car. Then I waited for him to get far enough away from the car that I could pull my pants all the way back up before unlocking the doors.

Once again fully wearing my pants, I headed with my mom and Emerson to explore a little bit before we were going to meet Joy. The valet pointed us toward Pirate Island and there we discovered Paddleboat Joe and his fleet (of paddleboats). Paddleboat Joe was an older black gentleman who seemed born for his job: quick-witted and engaging, delighted by everyone who walked by. 

It was clear that we had to go for a ride.

If driving a car with pants on was too much lower belly pressure then forget about pedal-powering a small watercraft while wearing those same pants. Luckily, my mother was happy to do the legwork while Emerson and I took turns steering us into the edges of the channel which wended its way around the hotel property, never more than about 18 inches deep.

Eric arrived about halfway through our paddleboat adventure and didn't hesitate to jump on board. I moved to the backseat and chatted with a caterpillar who was hitch-hiking while Eric gave Gail some needed support on the pedals.

When we pulled back into the dock, Paddleboat Joe had a lot to say about our having gained a passenger on the short ride. Eric told Paddleboat Joe that we had offered him $5 to help us pedal.

Good question

My mother is here for a week which means Eric and I are hitting the town every chance we get.

Friday night we went out for dinner at a local spot near our house. It was the kind of place that could be a chain but isn't (as far as we can tell). When we got there the senior crew and the families with young kids were on their way out and the date night-ers were on their way in.

As we waited for a table an older gentleman approached Eric and asked in an almost accusatory tone:

"Who has the better looking bald head - me or you?"

"Ah, I think that would have to be you," replied Eric, with just the slightest hesitation.

"You got that right!" the man guffawed.

"It's a good night out," Eric observed. And he was right.

35 weeks

Today I am officially 35 weeks, or about 8 months, pregnant with Groucho, a little brother for Emerson. I'm not really sure where the time has gone, at least partly because I think I am actively trying to repress the memory of our first few months here in Florida in the middle of the pregnancy. But I wanted to take a moment to write down what's going on with this pregnancy because this blog is actually a replacement for my brain which doesn't always hold onto memories so well right now even when I want it to. 

This pregnancy has been different from my pregnancy with Emerson in a couple of major ways. For one, I had a sugar aversion with Emerson and while that didn't stop me completely from the occasional cupcake it did mean I wasn't so much into sweets for that 9 months. With Groucho, I have had the opposite experience. I would eat exclusively sugar and be perfectly happy if that were a remotely acceptable thing to do, which of course it is not. Before we knew Groucho was a boy, this made me suspect that baby #2 would be a girl. I guess it just means he'll be a super sweet boy.

As I think is typical, I showed a lot sooner this time than I did the first time around. I had a very pregnant-looking belly pretty quickly this time which was nice in that I got to "feel" pregnant sooner, but was distressing because the trajectory suggested I would end up three times the size I did with Emerson. The good news I can report from 35 weeks that I didn't know at 15 weeks is that I plateaued significantly in the weight gain category and seem on track to be about the same amount of large as I was last time.

For those middle months when we were living in temporary furnished purgatory, I had a lot of back pain and I blamed it on the pregnancy. What I discovered after two nights of sleeping in my own bed is that it was just the terrible, terrible mattress in that grim little condo and my back has been in great shape ever since.

I have also noticed ways that Groucho himself is already different than Emerson. The way he moves around is different - more sharp and sudden movements and more stretching where I feel him seemingly at my collarbone and halfway down my thigh at the same time. He has also not had the hiccups nearly as much as Emerson did.

Groucho is great company and I am really excited to meet him on the outside in not too long.

Not exactly news

The Onion, always honest in news reporting if not always accurate, had this headline recently: Study Finds Every Style Of Parenting Produces Disturbed, Miserable Adults.

The last line is my favorite: "The study did find, however, that adults often achieve temporary happiness when they have children of their own to perpetuate the cycle of human misery."

Settling in

Today marks three weeks that we are sleeping in our house. I think I love this house. It is huge and beautiful and we can watch the sunset sitting by the pool like we are on a tropical vacation. And it is falling apart more than I would have expected from a house that is not even 16 years old.

The two major house projects (new roof, hardwood floor installation) that we cleverly scheduled to have completed before we moved in should, if we are lucky, both be finished by early next week. The best worst moment of all happened yesterday when I opened the front door to give the roofer the final check and there was house paint running down the roof and onto the plants and the sidewalk and front stoop. The roofer had gone up to put the final coat of paint on some stucco that they had to replace and kicked over the can of paint. Truly unbelievable. 

And it's the little things: Emerson, without even trying that hard, pulled the drapes right out of the wall. The screws holding together the screen covering that goes over the patio and pool are so rusted out that a stiff wind will probably blow the whole thing into the gulf of Mexico. And so on. But then you sit on our new patio "conversation set" and watch the sunset and everything is kind of perfect.

Two years

Tuesday was Eric and my second wedding anniversary. Neither one of us can recall what we did for our first but I am sure it was wonderful. This one was celebrated in stages: a nice dinner on Sunday grilled on our new grill (a housewarming present from Joy and Dan - thank you!), gift-giving on Tuesday, and then watching our wedding video (thank you Andrew!) on Wednesday.

I'm OK with the anniversary day not being that memorable when everything else in our lives is. As crazy as life is right now, I couldn't imagine it being more fun with anyone else.