DAY TWO

the first photo is the first one taken this AM -- the 2nd and 3rd were taken last night.

we'd like to take you home with us

WE'D LOVE TO TAKE YOU HOME!

our beautiful baby daughter is here.

all are well. all are resting. it's a quiet november morning for famblies and babskis.

photos, etc., coming soon.

BLOG UPDATE IN PROGRESS

check back soon!

everybody knows that baby's got new clothes

well, we totally sold out today. i got a coupon in the mail for a babski clothing store, and we actually used it. you probably have no idea how amazing this is. not only did we make an effort to patronize a store based on the only-just-barely tempting promise to save $10 off of our $30 purchase (ted knows that this is my baseline for considering an item really on sale--roughly 30%), but we remembered to bring the coupon into the store with us. and then we used it.

oh, friends. how we used it.

we bought a completely ridiculous outfit for jordan to come home from the hospital in. it consists of a bodysuit with snowmen on it, plus fleecy pants and a little coat with a hood. both of these are ivory (perfect for creatures that regularly crap and vomit on themselves, like argos) on one side and full of little snowmen on the other. these items are reversible, so really it's like we got two pairs of pants and two coats. alternatively, their reversible nature is like ted's personality/ies.

so anyway, i was creating a little model of the clothes, and ted realized that it was not complete without some sort of collage/shrine of pop culture as accoutrements. suddenly, baby clothes weren't so boring.

i'll let him explain the allegorical and anagogical significance of the items:

first of all, dual-posting is stupid and gay (happy) (:-) or insert your own appropriate emoticon here). ;)

we have achieved perfection. you see before you these own babski clothes, which are impossibly small. also, the store situation was strange and infirm. like 'nam, or what i imagine the viking hall of gods to be. lots of little critters scampering, and major mothers elbowing sideways and snatching at racks with no thought or pattern. i guess more like 'nam, but with loki on ecstasy also. in 'nam.

so there is this suit, described by e-$. on your left is a photograph of senior elvis presley, taken in greensboro by my cousin's grandmother. in case you are unaware, elvis is the model of sexual perfection and also a very good singer. i can write about elvis later.

above the babski's head is none other than Mr. President William Jefferson Clinton with his very own pups, Buddy. Tragically, Buddy was run over by a car in New York. I vow only to use Capital Letters in this Paragraph.

finally, we have none other than (of course) the inestimable, mono-surviving, heart-breaking, buffalo-wrangling, SALLY FEHSKENS. holy canoli, is my sister hot or what?

you will notice that jordan has a face from oxford, which is scary, and is playing a mini gibson gittar. only the best for my babski.

i guess that's it. bye.

oh, i'm not pregnant

i don't know if it's my entrance into the monstrously pregnant phase or the fact that i'm tired of solicitous strangers who comment on my pregnancy with no invitation whatsoever, but i've been dying to tell someone who asks me how much longer i've got or when i'm due that i'm not pregnant at all. i just want to see that inital wide-eyed look of panic before they console themselves with the fact that i have a terrible sense of humor or am really completely delusional.

that moment arrived last night.

there we were, cozy in the known, but unposted express lane at whole foods, and the cashier looked first at jordan and then at my face and said, with great enthusiasm, 'wow, you look like you're about ready to pop.' feeling no productive ill-will at the moment, i was getting ready to admit that i still had an eternity to go when ted stepped in and saved the day.

ted: oh, she's not pregnant.

whole foods girl: wow, really?

erin: yeah, i'm just really bloated. weird, isn't it?

wfg: um yeah. (scans ted's beer) can i see your id's, guys?

(ted produces his) erin: mine's in the car, but i'm not drinking anyway (which ended up being a lie that night, thanks to hillary and greg's delicious wine)

wfg: yeah, you can't drink beer because you're already so fat.

ted: it's the twinkies. she's existed solely on twinkies for the past eight months.

erin: they're amazingly absorbative. you never have to go to the bathroom, and you're always got lots of energy as long as you keep stuffing your face, but they do sort of stick around (shakes her belly up and down for emphasis. jordan stretches a leg and swears)

ted: yeah, she's been so productive at work because she never has to move, except to open a new box of twinkies.

wfg: i love you guys. why haven't i seen you before?

ted: i was here earlier today. where were you?

wfg: well, today's my first day.

i know it's not a kroger story, but i finally got to work through my wish. and the cheeses that we bought that night were really terrific, so it would have been worth it even if the wfg didn't turn out to be such a good sport.

the butt dance

we should talk about the butt dance.

i think it really started percolating in j's mind as a potential change-up from the volleys of kicks and punches delivered to my now pretty sore right side when i gave up on my own clothes and started wearing ted's t-shirts around the house. on the day that i announced my sartorial defeat (silently, to myself and jordan), i chose ted's classy shirt that features a 'donkey,' with the words, 'don't be an' above it. i'll let you figure out how the picture finishes the sentence.

those of you who know ted know that this is a t-shirt worn with nearly as much frequency as the beloved pandas-in-glitter, but perhaps it's not as memorable, given the lack of glitter, chinese ideograms, and pandas.

so around the time i started wearing this shirt (ted's response: can't you pick one of the shirts that i don't wear all the time?), i was also getting ready to teach _jurassic park_. to prepare, ted, j, and i watched that fine film together, and that night, amidst the animal t-shirts and the roaring dinos, the butt dance was born.

it's initial version consisted of butt waggling from my left side to the exact middle of jordan's house, combined with some horrible drilling action performed by j's little fists into my pelvis. it was visually pretty cool and physically pretty uncomfortable.

now that jordan's space is even more limited, the butt dance mostly consists of butt sliding with the occasional bit leg stretch so that my stomach visibly gets much, much wider. this remains physically uncomfortable.

in spite of all this discomfort and my whining about it, i love the butt dance. this kid has a really hard butt. and s/he's a really dedicated dancer, always practicing.