Tag Archives: pregnancy

141characters Site News

19 May

141characters is happy to announce the birth of Baby Mondoo!  Mommy and Baby are doing well and thinking of new blog posts as we speak.  Hopefully they aren’t all about labor, breastfeeding, pooping, etc.  That would be lame… and gross.  Posts may be sparse for a bit.  Yeah, what else is new, right?  Mondoo does have one saved in a draft that was ready to go for Monday but Baby Mondoo decided to come first!

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It’s time, Baby!

14 May

Time is passing by and we’re STILL waiting on Baby.  Mr. Mondoo and I, along with other family members and friends, have been doing everything from pleading (Puh-leaze, Baby!) to threatening (“I won’t buy you cute shoes if you aren’t born soon!”) to using reverse psychology (“Oh Baby, please don’t come out this weekend, we’re having a cookout!”) on her in order for to make her debut.  Unfortunately, it hasn’t been working.  So, I thought that I’d develop a list of reasons that she should be born:

Mommy and Daddy want to have dance parties.  That’s right. Mommy and Daddy love to dance and one of our main reasons for having you was so that we could include more people in our dance parties.  Plus, you’ll look adorable not swaying to the beat in your diaper.

You have so many adorable clothes.  Seriously, every time your grandmas and aunts are within radius of baby clothes, they buy them for you, so we have a TON.  And, at least Mommy, plans to dress you in all of them and play “fashion show” purely for her own amusement.

Daddy loves to grill.  Ribs, chicken, burgers, sausages, pulled meats, you name it, he grills it.  And it’s delicious.  I know that you’ll be too small to enjoy the grilled-ness for a while but Mommy and Daddy have big dreams of you gumming down a Kansas City Sticky Rib as you sit, dressed only in your diaper, in your highchair.  Don’t disappoint.

We’ll play tricks on Daddy.  To benefit Mommy, of course.  Daddy isn’t going to be able to tell you no…ever.  So, anytime Mommy wants something like ice cream, I’ll put you up to it.  You’ll look at him with your cute-self, bat your eyelashes, and ask for a cold, sweet treat.  And who will he be to deny you ice cream?  Just remember that Mommy likes hand-dipped ice cream.  No soft-serve for her.

You’ll have Mommy’s undivided attention.  Mommy doesn’t have a job.  And she’s been really slacking at blogging lately.  So you know what that means?  You’ll have Mommy ALL to yourself.  Daddy will have to go to work but that’s ok.  The more money he makes, the more you and I can spend on lunch dates, pedicures, and pretty baby girl clothes.

Daddy needs a vacation.  Or Mommy wants him to take a vacation.  I’m not sure which is more accurate.  Nevertheless, you give Daddy the perfect reason to take some time off from work.  Mommy loves having Daddy at home.  Because he’s around to reach things off of high shelves, lift heavy objects, and kill bugs.  Oh yeah, and did I mention that he grills things?

So, you see, Baby, you need to come out.  If these reasons don’t convince you, then I don’t know what will.

Things You Should Never Say to a Nine-Month Pregnant Woman

7 May

Just when I thought that I had covered all the inappropriate things that the clueless say to pregnant women, I hit Month Nine and people turned the ignorance up a notch.  Again, Mr. Mondoo says that I’m the sweetest pregnant lady that he’s ever met.  I think that he was right… until a couple weeks ago.  Admittedly, I’ve started to get cranky.  I just want to meet my baby and not feel so uncomfortable, is that too much to ask?  Baby, come out!  The only thing that bothers me more than Month Nine is, again, the ignorance of the non-pregnant population.  I know that I’ve mentioned this in Love/Hate:  Being Pregnant, but the biggest offenders of these phrases:  MOMS!  I don’t understand it!  As soon as that baby pops out, do the majority of you forget about the agony (definition:  being uncomfortable with a side of anticipation of when/how Baby will arrive) of Month Nine?!  You must or you would never commit such an act of discord.  At this moment, I make it my solemn vow to ALWAYS commiserate with the feelings of pregnant women that I may encounter in the future.  In the meantime, let me, once again, educate the masses.  You’re welcome.

“Sleep while you can.” I don’t know about other pregnant women but at nine months, I can’t sleep through the night to save my life.  Between trying to find a comfortable position, heading to the bathroom every five minutes (not to mention that it takes me five minutes to get out of bed), and not being able to breathe without a humidifier and a Breathe-Right Strip (and apparently snoring like a trucker, right Mr. Mondoo?), I may actually get more sleep after the baby gets here, but thanks for the advice.

“She’ll come when she’s ready!” Listen, the baby is full-term at this point.  She’s ready.  And more importantly, I’M READY.  C’mon Baby!  Alright, alright, I know that the longer she’s in their on her own terms, the healthier she’ll be.  I get it.  But saying this to a pregnant lady with two weeks left is like reminding her that her body will be forever changed.  We know that it’s a possibility but we don’t want to hear it.  Instead try saying, “Man, I wish that she would come out, too!  I bet you’re uncomfortable!”  Yes!  I am!  Thank you!

“You’re not dilated at all.” I’ve heard from my doctor twice already and each time, I want to cry.  I know that it’s her job to inform me of this but is it too much to ask her to lie?  It would make me feel better.  I know that I still have two weeks left and that “she’ll come when she’s ready” but some sign of progress would be nice.  I mean, really.  At this point, I honestly feel like she’s never coming out.  And I’m sick of looking and feeling like a beached whale.  Plus, Mr. Mondoo was insanely large when he was born tipping the scale at over 9 pounds.  As of my ultrasound last week, Baby was clocking in at 6 pounds, 8 ounces ALREADY.  Fun fact:  Did you know that at this point, babies gain a half pound each week?  At this rate, she’ll near 9 pounds if we make it to the due date.  I know that this blog is semi-anonymous but I’m a tiny lady.  There’s no way a 9-pounder is coming out of me.  Physically impossible.  And terrifying.

“I feel so thin today!” OK, only one person—Mr. Mondoo, God love him— has said to this me but when he said it, I was so horrified and felt so betrayed.  He didn’t mean to be hurtful and he felt horrible once I gave him The Stare.  Now, I don’t begrudge him feeling thin.  I hope to feel thin again someday but wow, add that comment to other recent Mr. Mondoo gems like “I was looking at old photos, and I can’t believe how small you used to be!” and “I think that the high school girls I’m tutoring in mock trial are flirting with me,” and it’s become apparent that after eight months, Mr. Mondoo’s judgment has disappeared along with my pregnancy pleasantness.  Clueless and cranky, we’re quite a pair.  Hopefully we get it together before Baby arrives!  Good thing we have (at least!) two more weeks!

Go Viral: Part One

5 May

I have two and a half weeks (gah, I hope that’s all!) left in my pregnancy and Mondoo is BORED!  Mr. Mondoo and I have successfully completed all of the baby education classes that I forced us to take (we can birth, diaper, and CPR our baby with the best of ’em and have the certificate to prove it!), the nursery is complete, and the house is clean.  What else is a nine-month pregnant lady supposed to do?  Well, lately, I’ve been so bored that I’ve been re-watching classic viral videos.  Guess what?  They’re still funny!  I thought that I’d share some of my favorites with you.  Today, I share Part One (oh yes, the first of many):

“I can’t breathe!”

“That’s only in the mornin’ you ‘posed to be up cookin’ breakfast or something by then!'”

“Where da gold at?”

“You got a Daytime Emmy, you ain’t supposed to be doing this!”

“Whay y’at?!”

Mondoo’s Mailbag

3 May

This week’s only mailbag question comes from Vitamin G who is obviously feeling guilty for leaving me high and dry with baby brain and a blog to write so she graciously threw me this mailbag bone.  She’s the best—thanks G! (Kristina, I’m aware that you also submitted a couple questions but I’m currently using them as fodder for another blog post… if I can focus long enough to write it).

“This is a follow-up to your Usher update.  Just as you predicted, Usher resurfaced with “Daddy’s Home” and probably some other things that are not on VH1 every morning.  What do you think of “Daddy’s Home”?  I have two issues with it.  One is that the video features sexy women dancing around in leotards.  If music video features could be patented, Beyonce would have all rights to ladies dancing in leotards, and Usher would be in Chinatown peddling his cheap leotard dancing on sidewalks.  Another issue I have with this song transcends Usher’s repertoire.  I think it is SO creepy and gross when men are called “daddy” by women who are not their young children (or at least when children or pets are not referred to in the conversation).  And here Usher is, all handsome and suave, ready to spend some quality time with his honey and makes it clear that he wants to be thought of as her daddy.  I get it, Usher.  You have a lot of money.  You can provide for a woman. You are the man.  But nothing would make me less romantically interested in a man than him comparing himself to my father.  Mondoo, what do you think about both Usher’s new song/video and the whole “daddy” thing?”

(Note to readers: I added some links to Vitamin G’s question in case you live under a rock and didn’t know what songs she was referring to, you’re welcome).

OMG, I’m with you.  I’ve been totally creeped out by the term “daddy” used in this context ever since I heard Twista’s “Wetter.”  Well, to be honest, at first I thought she was asking Twista to be her diddy, as in Diddy.  But then I realized that she was saying “daddy” and then I got creeped out.  I, too, do not understand why this term is utilized.  I have one Daddy and he took me on hikes, read me stories, threatened to shoot my boyfriends with guns, and walked me down the aisle to Mr. Mondoo, who is not my new Daddy.  He’s Baby’s Daddy, not mine.  Although, now that I think of it, I wouldn’t mind if he taught himself to dance like Ur-sher.

(Note to Vitamin G:  This is where I totally veer off from answering your question and start writing a post about rap music.   Baby brain makes it incredibly hard to focus… on anything… even answering mailbag questions).

Speaking of creepy, have you heard Ur-sher’s other new jame “Lil’ Freak?”  The video is kinda scary and the lyrics are dirty, but the beat is siiiick!  Check it out!

Ur-sher also just released this jam “OMG:”

I dunno if it’s the baby brain or what but each time I hear it, I have a different feeling.  At first, I was like “this song is super lame, he’s overusing auto-tune like Kayne, and hey, aren’t those the strobe lights from ‘Yeah?'”  But then I just listened to it and was like “OK, it’s not that bad.  Baby and I could dance to that.”  I’m obviously conflicted.  141characters readers, what are your thoughts?

Here are my two major thoughts on Ur-sher’s comeback (Yes, Ur-sher, it’s a comeback because where the hell have you been since Confessions?  I mean, really):

1) It’s painfully obvious that he’s never going to create an album that touches the greatness of Confessions.  I mean, it was so universally popular that my 57 year-old mother loved and still loves listening to “Yeah.”

2) If you want a successful jam, you have to include Ludacris.  Why you ask?  Well, I’ll tell you because that’s how Mondoo do (when she actually writes blog posts):

-Luda is ALL OVER THE PLACE lately!  And I couldn’t be happier.  Not only does he have his own music out (“How Low” and “My Chick Bad“) but he’s also featured on nearly everyone’s tracks these days, even the Biebs!  By far my favorite Luda collaboration is DJ Khaled’s “All I Do Is Win” feat. Ludacris, Rick Ross, T-Pain & Snoop Dogg (all-star team right there!)

-Luda is a chameleon.  Or should I say Chris “Ludacris” Bridges is a chameleon.  The man can rap, the man can act, and the man can appear on C-SPAN addressing the National Press Club luncheon on taking an active role in community philanthropy.  Wha???

His rhymes are insanely clever.  Albeit a little dirty, but clever nonetheless.  Here’s a clever little snippet from “My Chick Bad:”

“She comin’ out swingin’ like Tiger Woods’ wife
Yeah, she can get a lil’ hasty
Chicks better cover up their chests like pasties
Couple girlfriends and they all a lil’ crazy
Comin’ down the street like a parade, Macy’s
I fill her up, balloons!”

I love using his name in describing situations.  Seriously, I just used it the other day:  “If this baby isn’t here by her due date, that would just be Ludacris!”  Sometimes when I’m not in mixed company (like when I used that phrase at the doctor’s office) I actually like to say “That’s Chris Bridges!”  But I think Mr. Mondoo would be the only one quick enough to understand that play on words so most times, it’s not worth the comical effort.

In other news, I’m totally jealous of Nicki Minaj.  Her rhymes are also clever AND she gets to hang with the likes of Luda and Ur-sher.  And she makes money.  I currently don’t get to do any of those things.  Life is unfair.  Maybe after this baby comes, I’ll pursue a career as Nicki Minaj.  Baby will be so proud of her female rapper mom.  As she should be.

If you’d like to help with my blog block, submit a question to Mondoo’s Mailbag by leaving one in the comment section or by emailing 141characters@gmail.com.  Happy Monday!

Love/Hate: Being Pregnant

23 Apr

Oh hey!  Remember me?  I used to write a blog and then I got really pregnant and apparently developed an even more severe case of baby brain (for more on baby brain, see below) and didn’t post at all this week?  So, what better week to actually write a Love/Hate post… no wait… I mean, what better week to write about how much I love and hate being pregnant.  Oh and guess what?  I don’t really hate being pregnant.  I’m very blessed and thankful to have had such a wonderful pregnancy and I’m so looking forward to meeting my daughter sometime within the next four weeks.  But cereally, I’m not one of those women who just LOVES being pregnant.  It has its magical moments but it’s not completely magical, trust me, or rather, just read.

Love:

1)  Baby kicks.  Remember when I said pregnancy has its magical moments?  Me neither.  Baby brain.  But yes, baby kicks are magical.  Super creepy, yes.  I mean, there is a certain creep-factor to a living thing moving inside of you, all Alien-style.  BUT, really, feeling your baby grow and move inside of you is a powerful thing.  The kicks don’t bother me either, even at night when I’m trying to get some sleep because I know if she’s moving, she’s happy and healthy and just trying to get comfortable.   Sorry things are so cramped in there, Baby.  But honestly, you’re not making things too comfortable for me either so we’ll just both have to deal for a few more weeks.

2)  Presents.  Ok, the presents aren’t really for me.  But they come addressed to me.  And I get to open them.  So, they’re kinda like presents for me.  I love presents.  I also love that so many people bought/are still buying (Thanks Grandmas and Aunts!) Baby clothes that I will never have to buy her clothes, like, ever.  Mr.  Mondoo, now, he actually buys ME presents.  And they are all edible.  He’s the best.  I’ve mentioned the Valentine’s Day potato chips, but since he has also treated me to a bag of Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos and chocolate covered strawberries.  I’m totally in love with that man.

3)  Things get bigger.  I’ve never been well-endowed in the chest area.  Buttocks, oh yes, but unfortunately, no chesticles to speak of.  Without being too graphic, let me illustrate my flat-chestedness by relating a traumatic story from my middle school years.  In seventh grade, the high school musical needed youngin’s to portray the little boys band in their production of The Music Man.  I, along with my trumpet (yes, I played the trumpet) tried out and I made it!  SCORE!  Little ol’ me in the high school musical!  I was so jazzed.  Until a mean boy in Band told me that the only reason I was chosen was because I was so flat-chested and could easily portray a boy as long as I was wearing a hat.  Well, mean band boy, I have boobs now, sucka!  I hope they decide to stick around.

4)  The food.  I love the cravings.  I love eating what I want.  I love that being pregnant gives me an excuse to eat all day long.  If you love food, get pregnant, I’m telling you.   One thing that disappointed me (and Mr. Mondoo) was my lack of crazy cravings.  Sure, I have cravings but they are all things that I liked to eat prior to the pregnancy.  Now I just can’t get enough of them.  Some examples:  fruit, veggies, pickles, French fries (with TONS of ketchup), Asian food, donuts, ice cream, to name a few.  At least I’m not one of those crazy pregnant women who crave things like dirt or soap.

5)  Oh yeah, Baby!  How can I talk about being pregnant and not talk about Baby?!  In four (or less!) weeks, I will have a daughter.  And she will be adorable.  Mr. Mondoo and I have already fallen in love with her.  I can’t even imagine what it will be like to actually meet her!  But really, if you asked me the thing that I loved MOST about being pregnant, it’s that at the end, after all the pain, discomfort, and everything listed below, I get the best present of all.  Baby, in the flesh.

Hate:

1)  Things are uncomfortable.  Sitting, standing, the process of going from sitting to standing and vice versa, bending over (is it even possible anymore?!), rolling over in bed, sleeping, carrying… anything, things are uncomfortable.  “Weebles may wobble but they don’t fall down.”  I don’t think the same is true with pregnant ladies.

2)  Moms.  Aside from my girl Kristina (Holla!) and my two, young mom cousins (who all are realistic yet positive and really encouraging), encountering other moms while you’re pregnant is the absolute worst.  First of all, they love to tell you their (or others) horrible birthing stories.  Oh yes, that’s exactly what I want to hear, how horrible labor will be.  That’s helpful.  As if TV and the movies haven’t done a good enough job scaring me.  Second, they also love to tell you how horrible motherhood is—the lack of sleep, the million wardrobe changes you need to make daily (for both you and baby), the crying, how I’ll want to turn her over to her dad the moment he walks in the door, the lack of time with your spouse, etc.—you name it.  No matter how excited or happy you are about impending motherhood, they love nothing more than bringing you down, Debbie Downer-style. Well, the jig is up, Moms!  The instructor at my childbirth class said that Moms love to do this because Moms are the ultimate martyr.  Their labor was horrible, raising their children was horrible, and no matter your experience, theirs will always trump yours.  They call it pride, I call it mean.  Keep it to yourself, Debbie.

3)  Things get bigger.  Yeah, my boobs are bigger but so is my ass.  And that was big to begin with.  Pregnancy FAIL.   I know what you’re thinking:  “Mondoo, if you’re concerned about getting bigger, maybe you shouldn’t eat so many donuts or Doritos.”  Who are you?  My doctor who hates carbs?  Well,  to date, I’ve only gained 28 pounds.  That’s not too bad and actually completely normal and healthy (you hear that, Doc?!)   Unfortunately, aside from my giant baby belly, the other pounds have decided to reside on my ass.

4)  Seeing other pregnant women.  Man, there are so many pregnant women out there and each time I see one, I get upset.  Why, you ask?  Well, first of all, I’m selfish.  As far as I’m concerned, I’m the only woman in the world who has been pregnant.  This condition is special only to me.  But when I see another pregnant woman, it reminds me that I’m not special.  No.  Hahaha.  But really, the reason that I hate seeing pregnant ladies out and about is that it constantly reminds me that May is a big delivery month and space will be limited at the Women’s and Children’s Hospital at which I’ll be delivering.  That means that I’m destined to share a room with someone.  I’m a millennialWe don’t like to share.

5)  Baby brainBaby brain affects me so much that I almost forgot to include it in this list.  I’m serious.  AHHH!  I used to be so on-the-ball with things and now I’m lucky if I can see a project through to the end.  But then again, Baby is an awesome excuse not to do things that I don’t want to do.  Clean the house?  Pregnant, too tired.  Travel home for Easter?  Too much for the pregnant lady.  Leave a boring community event?  Pregnant, been on my feet too long.  Write this blog?  Pregnant, baby brain.  Oh wait, that last one is true, I swear!

Baby Brain

12 Apr

Last week started off strong with two solid posts and then where did I go?  Wow.  I wish I knew.  Baby is fully consuming my mind and my life at this point.  (Creativity and spare time, be damned!)  And as my husband so sensitively pointed out last night, she’s consuming my body as well.  I believe his exact words were:  “Honey, don’t take this the wrong way but you’re a house.”  I’m sure some pregnant women would cry, hit, stomp off, etc., not me.  I just laughed.  At 34 weeks pregnant, I AM a house!  What else can I do at this point?  Besides birth a baby.  Oh!  Apparently there is one thing that I can do, purely for the entertainment of my husband:  dress up as the Danny Devito Penguin from Batman.  “You’re all round, kinda have a big nose, and can you do this: ‘quack, quack, quack?'”  Again, most pregnant people would injure someone who made that comparison but again, I just laughed.  I might actually consider this costume idea if it were Halloween or if I could stay awake past 9pm to attend a costume party.  But yes, Baby isn’t here yet and she’s already affecting my blogging.  I apologize.  Wait, what is that?  You want to know how you can help?  Oh, readers, you’re so sweet!

1)  Do you have a blog post idea?  Don’t start your own blog.  It’s tough.  Just send your ideas to me at 141characters@gmail.com.

2)  Submit a question to Mondoo’s Mailbag.  Leave a question in the comments of a mailbag post or email me at 141characters@gmail.com.

3)  Keep reading and commenting.  No matter how lame or infrequent my posts become.  Remember, I’m pregnant, you don’t want to make me cry.