Category Archives: Money Monday

ESC 101: Intro to Eurovision

(If you’re already familiar with Eurovision, feel free to submit your fave ESC moments in a comment!)

North Americans are totally missing out. No one over there knows anything about Eurovision. If you are new to Europe, or haven’t made it over here yet, you need to be educated! Good thing I am here to help you. You’ll get a vey brief rundown of the history and excitement of the Eurovision Song Contest (ESC) in enough time for you to get excited about it before this year’s airs in May.

a song that became successful after ESC

In the early days, there were few counties and it was all about the songs, but as time has gone on, the number of participating countries climbs, as does the use of wind machines, interpretive dance, and sequins. Each country submits a performance, and there’s a big vote off to determine the winner. Despite the name “Eurovision” having “Euro” right in it, being European is not a requirement. The participating counties must be active members of the European Broadcasting Union, which includes some decidedly non-Euro countries like Israel, Georgia, and Azerbaijan. Furthermore, each country can send whatever performance they want, whether the performer(s) are from that county, sing in (or even know) that country’s language, or have any relation at all to the country, or not. Indeed, Celine Dion brought Switzerland a victory in the 80s, despite being Canadian instead of Swiss. Then again, sometimes the songs are really laughably stereotypical of whatever country they’re from. It’s a good mix!

another famous ESC moment

Also despite the words “Song Contest,” many people feel it has less to do with songs and more to do with politics, stage performance, sex appeal, etc. It’s a popularity contest. Anything involving voting is going to be subject to human beings voting for whatever stupid reasons they want. Some people find this irritating, but I choose to find it wacky and exciting. I’m horrible at guessing what people will like, it seems. I’m always surprised by the results. Some songs are soon forgotten and others achieve some level of success. Notably, Sweden’s 1974 entry was the start of considerable success, but usually it’s not quite that much.

can you believe this didn’t win it all in ’82?!

Eurovision songs range from folky to comical to heavy metal to blues, but they’re rarely ever boring, even if not your style and even if not very good. Sometimes you’re wondering how that could have possibly been the best the whole country had to offer. Sometimes you’re left speechless. Sometimes the comedy is unintentional, and sometimes it’s not.

such a well-deserved #2 spot in 2007

Each country can pick their entry pretty much however they want. In Denmark, there’s a mini song contest called the Dansk Melodi Grand Prix. For 2011, Denmark is sending A Friend in London with their song, “New Tomorrow.” I didn’t vote for it. I think it’s the worst of the ten songs from this year’s contest. I think it’s kinda funny that some guys with funky hair and animal skin vests make such airy fairy music, but that’s about all it’s got going for it. Even though my three votes didn’t end up pushing this crappy song out of the winning slot, I am still glad I paid a few kroner to show my disapproval. I did my part. I’m not even going to link you to it. You can see it live in May! Yes, even if you’re stuck in some non-Eurovision country, you can watch it streaming online from the Eurovision website. So put it in your calendars for May 10, 12 and 14. It’ll make you wish you grew up with this stuff!

Bonus: Eurovision was also the inspiration for the best episode of Father Ted ever.

302.50 DKK

I think, despite creating the idea myself, I’ve had more exceptions in my Money Mondays than I’ve had rule-following ones. This was not what I was planning on blogging about today, but well, sometimes life takes your plans and takes a leak all over them.

We spent 302.50 DKK today, and it didn’t make me happy, but it needed to be done.

Let’s start at the beginning. Lidja is my first cat. I never had one growing up, and a lot of apartments near colleges don’t allow them, so I was in grad school before I could get a cat, and Lidja was it. She was about 10 months old when I got her in 2002. The entire time I’ve had her, if there was ever a pile of clothes or towels on the floor, she would pee on them. She was cleared by a vet, so it wasn’t a medical problem. It’s just something she’s always done. I’ve always joked that she makes sure I keep things clean, so it’s a good thing.

That excuse worked pretty well for a while, but it’s extremely hard to keep clean with a family of four in a very small flat. I found that with a toddler and a newborn to take care of, there was just no way to get all the laundry put away immediately. And in a tiny one-bedroom flat, there are only so many places you can put it. It was getting peed on, and my stress levels were rising steadily. Mind you, it wasn’t just the peeing, but the peeing certainly didn’t help… we came to the decision of rehoming the cats, at least temporarily. There just isn’t space for four humans and two cats here. It’s too much.

We thought we had found a temporary home for them, but that didn’t work out. Then we thought we found a permanent home for them, but that didn’t work out. Every day just seemed more stressful than the last. At over 10 years old, Lidja seems not to be adoptable in Denmark. Everyone wants kittens. Even Tycho, almost 7… too old. None of the shelters take cats over 5… except we found one with no age limit. They still strongly recommended against giving up cats over 5, because they aren’t adoptable. After some discussion, we decided to give up Tycho to the shelter anyway. Despite being over 5, his boisterous personality and energy might make him seem younger and more fun to a potential adopter, we thought.

Then yesterday, right in front of us, Tycho peed on a shirt on the floor. Tycho.

It had never occurred to me before that it could be Tycho peeing on the laundry. Lidja has always been a pee-on-the-laundry cat! When I see pee on laundry, I know it’s her! But… it wasn’t. If it’s Tycho, it could be a medical problem!

Today was fully booked for both of us, so we couldn’t get him to a vet right away. Thomas went to work and I lugged the girls off into the cold Scandinavian air for a LINK committee meeting. When we came home from the meeting, both girls were cranky. I asked Dagmar to nap, and a fell into a chair to nurse Maggie. About an hour later, Thomas came home. Dagmar was still sleeping, and Maggie was still resisting a much-needed nap. I was still exhausted from dealing with that.

Thomas wanted to put a sweater on over his T-shirt, but when he found the sweater he wanted on the bed, it had been peed on. “There’s more pee on the bed,” he said, “but Tycho’s sleeping on it.”

Well, that’s odd. Cats don’t usually sleep in their own pee. After a moment…

“Um, Tycho’s dead.”

I looked up from Maggie, who was still letting me know she was not down with this napping thing. “Wait, what?”

I don’t know how to describe how I felt. Shocked that it happened so suddenly. Relieved that we wouldn’t have to rehome him. Sad, because even though he was the hugest pain in the butt from the moment I got him, and he wasn’t a great cat at all, he was a great cat. Upset that my negligence could have led to this. Confused about what to do next.

Apparently what you do next is call the vet and tell them you’re coming in with a pet in need of cremation. And it costs 302.50 DKK. About half an hour later, Thomas walked out the door with Tycho in his carrier. It was the only time he neither resisted going in, nor fought to get out.

RIP Tycho Brahe Fach-Pedersen

1 April 2004 – 21 February 2011

help me spend money

I said before that I love me some Google Calendar with all its time-zoney goodness. I also love that I can link up my and Thomas’ accounts so that I can add events to his calendar, in case he forgets to do it himself. Not that that EVER happens.

FlyLady partnered up with a site called Cozi that does shared calendars and to-dos, and I really wanted to love it. I tried really hard to see everything in it that FlyLady told me to, but… no. I don’t like that “sharing” means giving the other people in my family their own usernames, but not their own passwords. I think that’s a pretty huge failing, to be honest, and one I don’t understand the need for from a technical standpoint, but I tried to look past it. And when FlyLady told me to pretend that “celebrations” was a person so I could put birthdays on my calendar, I tried to look past that too, even though it’s awfully ridiculous. I also tried to be forgiving that they don’t yet sync with anything other than Outlook and their iPhone app is only available in the US. But it just kept feeling more and more clunky and like it required too much effort to convince myself it wasn’t a lost cause. Other than having a shared to-do list, Google Calendar does everything I was using Cozi for, and it already works right now, already syncs with my Mac, is already accessible on my iPhone, etc.

But… as much time as I spend looking at and modifying my calendar, I want something better than the iPhone’s default calendar. I’ve been googling for info about other calendars, but all the comparisons I’ve seen are already out of date. Some of them have free “lite” versions, but many don’t, and I don’t want to shell out and be disappointed. I don’t mind paying for a good app, but I want to know it’s a good app.

Lite versions I’ve been playing with and my thoughts:

SaiSuke – The Settings… are you kidding me? I love configurability, but how the heck am I even supposed to find anything? Overwhelm much??? I like flicking quickly between months, though, and being able to switch between day, week, month, year, and list (oooo!) view easily. There used to be a split screen, and the bottom part went away and I can’t figure out how to get it back. It loses points for that.

GooCal – Eh, it pretty much looks like the default iPhone app. Yawn.

CCal – It looks promising. It’s pretty, I *love* the drag-and-drop option to move events, and I really love the “scroll” view. I wish I could go landscape though, and it has crashed several times in less than a day, which makes me hesitant to pay. It does let me repeat events in all the various ways I can think of, like every 3rd Wednesday of the month, etc. I really like everything about it except the crashing, I think. Why, why do you have to crash? How do I know you won’t keep doing it?

Anyone out there with an iPhone have a paid calendar app? Thoughts?

I really need this today.

I’m having a really, truly horrible day.

But I’m not here to blog about that. I’m here to talk about something that makes me happy. I don’t even know what I’m going to write about yet, but I decided to start writing my entry in the hopes that something would come to me. I’m looking around the room for an idea….

OK, here we go.

The Amby Jump Jump.
I’m glad we bought the Amby Jump Jump. I’ll be honest, we didn’t get a whole lot of use out of the Amby hammock. With Dagmar, there was construction going on above us, so I couldn’t really use anything on the balcony for a long time. Dust and junk kept coming onto the balcony. I bought the hammock specifically for Dagmar to sleep in it on the balcony. Danes think babies need to sleep outside. It started with some well-intentioned doctor saying it was a good idea, and now everyone just does it because that’s how it is, even though there isn’t actually a benefit. There’s also no real downside, so I didn’t fight it. I bought a hammock instead, but that was before the announcement of the construction of penthouses just above us.
Anyway… I didn’t really use it much with Maggie either, probably because I didn’t with Dagmar and it just didn’t come naturally to me, and also because it’s kind of a pain in the butt to dress your kid up in a snowsuit and all this jazz just to put them outside to nap without any benefit, and then when they don’t fall asleep right away, you either have to let them cry, or you have to stand outside in the cold trying to calm them down. I’ve grown to find the entire practice more and more stupid. Anyway, Maggie ended up napping on me or in her crib, and I’m pretty sure she’ll turn out ok. If Dagmar is any indication, the lack of outdoor napping shouldn’t affect her acquisition of the Danish language or Danish mannerisms.
When I bought the hammock, there was the option of getting a bundle with the hammock and all manner of accessories for some bargainy valuey price. So I did that, and thus we got a Jump Jump. It’s like every other baby jumping device out there, except that it hangs on the Amby hammock frame. I’d probably be as happy with any other jumping contraption, but this is the one I have.
Dagmar loved it. She loved it so much, you should invent a new word for how much she loved it. I don’t think it’s possible for a person to be any happier than Dagmar was in her Jump Jump. Maggie is now at Jump Jump age, and I just brought the frame in from the balcony so we could try it out. She’s napping, though. I’ll have to report later how it went. I’m pretty sure she’s going to love it though. She’s addicted to being upright, pretending to walk, and that sort of thing. This is going to be right up her alley. At least, that’s my hypothesis.

I used to like grocery shopping.

Maybe that seems strange to some people, but I did. I liked strolling down the aisles and deciding what to buy.

It may be a cliché, but it’s still true. Kids change everything.
I used to go by myself, whenever I wanted. Then I had Dagmar, and I went with Dagmar, whenever I wanted. I could put her in my BabyHawk. NBD. Then I got pregnant, and babywearing became impossible. Although I know many women pull it off, I couldn’t. One day, I went to the store wearing Dagmar and it was no problem, then literally the next day, it hurt so bad I almost started bawling on the sidewalk. I think it was actually my first sign of pregnancy; I didn’t know why it hurt so bad yet. So just like that, the entire process of grocery shopping was reshaped. Though Dagmar could walk on her own, I couldn’t let her go wherever she wanted, and sometimes she got tired, so I had to have a hand available for her. Or I could put her in the stroller, which gives lots of storage for the groceries I buy, but still takes up my hands and complicates the matter of having a basket to shop with. Not only is the actual process of grocery shopping more complicated, but getting the groceries up two flights of stairs is as well. This is when I started to not like grocery shopping.
With a painful, puke-filled pregnancy, lots of small trips wasn’t possible. With only one free hand, one large trip wasn’t possible. I started having Thomas pick stuff up on the way home from work, and sometimes, on weekends, all three of us would go. After Maggie was born, I felt physically better, but still had to figure out how to maneuver a pram and a shopping basket, so nothing really changed except four of us went on weekends instead of three. And as much as I love giving Dagmar the opportunity to fill her own cart with hot chocolate, it’s just not what it used to be.
I had heard about delivery services, but wasn’t impressed with selection and prices. Then Stephanie mentioned she found a delivery service with prices and selection on par with my regular grocery store, including non-grocery items like cleaning products, magazines, stamps, and more. The charge for delivery was more than reasonable. “Do they bring it up the stairs and everything?” I asked, knowing she lives on the 3rd floor with no elevator. “YES!”
I am in. love. with and I don’t care if I ever go grocery shopping again. I’ve only ordered twice, but it’s everything I thought it would be and more. You can specify a ONE-HOUR time slot for them to arrive, so you aren’t stuck at home waiting. I love it so much that when I saw they didn’t sell olive tapenade, I decided to google for a recipe rather than go to Føtex to buy it ready-made.
Stephanie, consider your feet kissed.

2011’s first Money Monday

I’m making an exception again this week, since I originally wanted this to be about things we spent money for, and I’m actually going to write about a gift. But I’m allowing it because a) it’s my blog and my weekly theme and I made up, and I can’t even call it a meme because no one else has started doing it, as far as I know, and b) we were literally standing in the store, holding this in our hands, about to spend money on it, when we were informed we would be receiving it as a gift. I read about it, decided I wanted it, put in all the effort to actually get it, and then… someone else paid for it, and I had to wait a little bit longer because it was a Christmas present, and the described event did not take place on Christmas. So there you go.

I love this thing so much that I’m not sure I’ll be able to convince you that I don’t work for Stokke. I’m sure I will sound like an ad. But I don’t work for Stokke, and they aren’t compensating me in any way for this post. I don’t have enough readers (because I don’t post reliably often enough [yet]) to have people contacting me about reviewing products and getting compensation. Although, Stokke, if you see this and want to send me free stuff, I will not say no. I pretty much love everything you make.


I don’t know how popular they actually are, but at least in Denmark, it seems like every mom wants a Stokke Tripp Trapp. And who can blame them? These amazing chairs convert from a high chair to a toddler chair to a child chair to an adult chair. The listings on Den Blå Avis suggest that most people don’t keep them this long, but in theory, you could use this one chair until the day you die. No need for booster seats or junior chairs or whatever. One chair. That rocks. But it rocks so much more now that they have an infant attachment.

DSC01532.jpg From birth, your baby can sit at the table with you. FROM BIRTH. I mean, I knew this was going to be cool when I read about it, but when I actually got this lovely item and tried it out, it hit me how absolutely brilliant this is. Before, I was bouncing Maggie on my knee while cantilevering a frikadelle on my fork and trying to get it to my mouth before a chubby baby hand spasmed into it.

Or we’d put her in the bouncer, and she’d watch us longingly from the floor, as Thomas and I shoveled pasta into our mouths in the hopes we’d finish before she started crying from lack of attention.

Apparently, some people go against the warnings on the box and put their Bumbo or BebePod on the table to solve this problem, and then some of those people watch their babies fall off the table because those warnings are there for a reason.

So yeah, the Tripp Trapp infant seat is way better. She’s sitting with us. At the table. At our level.

I. Love. This.

And Maggie does too. Now she only complains at dinner if she’s hungry, too. Expecting the chair to nurse her for me would be too much, right?

I spent some money. Ask me later if it made me happy.

Yeah, I know. Money Monday is supposed to be about stuff I bought that makes me happy. I think it will make me happy. But right now, I just have to vent about some stuff. I wasn’t even going to call it a Money Monday post, but then I realized that it did involve a lot of money, so what the hey.

Here goes.

We live in a small flat. Many of my readers may already be aware than flats in Europe tend to be small by American standards, and maybe you’re thinking, “yeah… duh… you’re in Europe… I get it.” But no, I mean small even for here. Yes, there are smaller flats in existence, but they usually aren’t home to a family of about-to-be-four people and two cats. I’m not saying this because I want advice about where or how to move, or what I should do to maximize the space I have. Seriously. Please don’t give any advice. I’m just setting the stage for my story here, in case you weren’t aware. I don’t remember the exact size, but it’s under 600 sq. ft. and has one bedroom, a balcony, a living room, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a tiny little foyer. At least, that’s what a real estate agent would tell you the rooms are called. For us, “bedroom” translates to “Dagmar’s room” and “living room” translates into “master bedroom/office/nursery.”

For my local friends, this is why I never invite you over. It’s not because I don’t like you. It’s because there’s nowhere for you to sit if you’re here.

So anyway, we’ve been busily planning exactly how to make space for our new addition to the family, thinking about things that aren’t working so well right now, and thinking what we can do to improve things. Some furniture rearranging was in order, and that went pretty well, but we were still lacking. Enter IKEA.

One issue I wanted to address was the fact that all my clothes are in Dagmar’s room. At first, I didn’t think that would be a big deal, but it turns out that it means I never use my closet. At all. Seriously, I do not open it more than once a month or so. I hate using it, and sometimes I just can’t, even when I want to, because there’s a sleeping toddler right there and it makes noise to open the closet door. So that just wasn’t working out. After the rearranging of furniture in the master bedroom, I realized we had space to put a closet in there. A closet for my things. A closet I can use! Aaaaand, that would free up a closet in Dagmar’s room, which we could use for… well, wait… actually… we’ll save that for a part 2. 😉 Right now we’re talking about my stuff.

So anyway, I plan out everything on IKEA’s website. I make a shopping list. I check the stock at our closest IKEA, and even write down where in the warehouse everything is, so we can get in and get out with the stuff as efficiently as possible. Nothing can go wrong! I feel a rare moment of on-top-of-everything-ness. Ah, this is how I used to feel all the time, when I was an organized person! *bask*

So, after Thomas came home from work on Friday, we headed out to IKEA. We found all the stuff just where I said it would be, in stock like I knew it would be, and threw it all on a cart. And by threw, I mean that my husband, who is not a large or overly muscular person, and who is suffering from some kind of respiratory issue (we’re thinking bronchitis but still waiting to hear from the doctor), heaved and hoed and struggled and dropped and retried and sweated, while his loving, 8-months-pregnant wife could do little more than look on and offer moral support. And even as little as I did do, like hold the cart steady while he pushed something on, and push around our daughter in a stroller with bags of smaller stuff hanging from the handle, was tiring for my heavily pregnant body. So by the time we pay for everything and all that, we’re both ready to collapse. But of course, we can’t yet.

In case you didn’t know, neither Thomas nor I drive. We are public transportation people. This is one thing I love about living here, but it does mean that on certain occasions, we have to do things like pay someone else to deliver all the stuff we bought at IKEA. Really, we probably would have had to anyway. I mean, we bought some pretty big stuff. These PAX closets are biiiig! But anyway, there was no discussion of “can this fit” or “can someone lend us a pick-up truck” or any of that. We knew from the start that we were paying for delivery. So as soon as all was bought and paid for, we headed over to the delivery area. And by headed, I mean that my husband struggled to lumber a very heavy and ridiculous-to-maneuver cart around some corners and through doorways, while I straggled behind pushing a stroller full of closet accessories and cranky toddler. There was a line, and no place designed for sitting during the wait, so my pregnant, tired rear found its way to some metal bumper thingy that was close enough to bench-height that I figured I could probably stand back up without assistance when the time came. I won’t say I was comfortable, but it was better than standing. Finally, we were up. Meaning more cart maneuvering, but this time up a ramp.

I’ve had stuff delivered from IKEA before. My experience was that you schedule a day and time sometime in the next week, and they promise to come by within some window of a few hours, much like package delivery, but more reliable. Thomas was dealing with the delivery people, all in Danish of course, and I was paying attention to Dagmar, and I just kind of assumed that those kinds of arrangements were being made. We left the cart behind and started back to the bus stop, and Thomas casually mentions that the delivery people are actually coming tonight. In an hour. I said i thought that was cutting it close. The bus rides aren’t particularly long, but we have to transfer, and the busses usually run every 20 minutes or so, and it was entirely possible that we wouldn’t be home in an hour. Thomas thought I was overreacting.

Until we got to the bus stop and realized that we just missed a bus, and another one would not be coming for an hour and ten minutes. An hour. And ten minutes. So much for my every-20-minutes naïveté. Thomas calls his dad, who has just downed a glass of wine and cannot drive. Thomas calls his sister, who was probably at work, and didn’t pick up. Thomas calls a cab (which, for the record, is what I suggested in the first place, but Thomas likes to do this his way, I guess). I told him to ask for a van, but he didn’t. He just mentioned we had a stroller with us. We didn’t get a van. Grumble, grumble.

I knew that taxis had an exception to car seat rules, but I never thought I’d actually use that exception. I admit, I was a little freaked about putting Dagmar on the seat and strapping her in with a regular seat belt, but what else could I do? We had to get home before the stupid delivery people. I put my arm around her to make myself feel better, and off we went. We got home just before the delivery people. And by people, I mean guy. It was just one guy, and he couldn’t get the stuff upstairs to us on his own, so my poor, tired, sick, sweating husband helped the delivery guy bring the two heaviest boxes up to our flat on the 2nd (3rd, if you’re American) floor.

And then we could finally collapse. The other boxes could wait. Thomas knew he could handle them himself, but not then.

Now it’s Monday. One PAX closet is complete, and one is still in the box. One KULLEN dresser is about half done, and another is still in the box. Without going into details, I’ll just say that Saturday, Sunday, and now today… ALL days that were about 100 times more tiring than they were expected to be. I need a break. I want it to be Friday again already. That’s how tired I am. And I hate having these boxes all over the place and not being able to just move my stuff into my newly-aquired closet of beauty.

So… I *think* I’ll be happy about having spent the money. But right now, I’m too exhausted to be happy.


I know it’s not the most popular decision I’ve made, but I’m going to say it.

I’m glad I bought my toddler an iPod Touch.


Yes, it’s HER iPod Touch. I don’t use it. T doesn’t use it. She uses it. It has kiddie apps on it and she has fun with it. (I’m also glad I bought a screen protector for it.) She loves to play with flashcards, the memory game, the dice app…. She even invented her own game where she rolls the dice and selects all the 1’s, then rolls the remaining dice and selects all the 1’s again, over and over until she has 6 1’s lined up at the top. My daughter invented a game, people. Just try to tell me this thing is in any way making her stupid.

I would worry if she were on it all day long. Well, no, I’d take it away from her if she were on it longer than I thought was acceptable, before it got to being all day long. I would worry if she preferred playing with it over running around outside or playing with other children. But she doesn’t. She loves being outside and she loves other kids so, so much. She plays with it sometimes, and puts it away and plays with other toys sometimes. It’s not an obsession. But it’s something fun she does and it keeps her from messing with my iPhone. She has two tech geeks for parents, so she’s going to be surrounded by tech junk anyway. It only makes sense for her to have some of her very own. It’s also an integral part of our bedtime routine.

So judge if you will, but I still think it was money well spent.

Hip hip!


Today, I’m glad I spent money on a hard drive enclosure! All my data was indeed intact, and I recovered it all quite nicely from Kurhah, the dead MacBook Pro. So in addition to aiding in data recovery, I now have a perfectly good portable external hard drive. I’m not going to say no to more space for backing up to. Yay!

I’ll even mention a second happy use of money: a screwdriver set. I really only needed a T6, but we could get a whole set for the same price as a single T6, so hey. As it turned out, having the set was super handy, because some of the screws were a bit worn and other bits were quite helpful in getting them out. I believe the set we got is intended for mobile phone repair, and there are a couple bits I doubt I will ever use, but for the most part, they’re good, useful bits and, especially considering how cheap the set was, everything seems to be surprisingly good quality.

So… yay! I’m posting this from my trusty blog-posting software with all the right settings and everything. Kisses to my drive enclosure and screwdriver set… MWAH!

Money kind of on my Wardrobe Mondesday

Yes, I’m still alive. In fact, I’ve had a draft of a blog post for an embarrassingly long time, and even more embarrassing, this is not it. It’s not that I haven’t had things to say, it’s just… life getting in the way.

So for my first post in a long while, I present a double feature, if you will. I’m combining the Money Monday I totally intended to post this week (also not the aforementioned draft) with some Wardrobe Wednesday fun. First, here’s my bump as of today. I’m 33 weeks pregnant.

For comparison, here’s my 35-week bump from last time:

Yeah, I’m bigger this time, but not like OMG circus-freak big. So, we can stop with the comments about how huge I am, k? It’s getting old. I know with 100% certainty that I’m not having twins, that the baby is not unhealthily large, and that everything is going fine. It’s just normal, bigger-the-second-time-around-edness. Thanks.

That said, it does certainly FEEL pretty darn big. Perhaps I’m just not as in shape this time, or maybe it’s weak muscles from having a cesarean before, or just from having had a baby in there once before, or what, but yeah. It hurts having a bump. As some of you may know, despite never wearing a support belt when I was pregnant with Dagmar, I’ve been using one for a long, long time this pregnancy.

I dedicate this post to my wonderful support belt.

My Support Belt

I love you, oh support belt! You were worth every øre!

Not that it makes all the pain go away, but it helps a lot. If any pregnant women out there are reading this and have ever entertained the idea of getting one, just go do it. For real. Best ever. Before the belt, it felt like my belly wasn’t even a part of me. It was just extra weight attached to me and pulling me down. I hated it. Now I only kinda dislike my bump, and it feels like it really is part of my body. An annoying part of my body, but hey, this is a big step up.

I can’t believe I have nearly two months left to go, and that kinda makes me want to cry sometimes, but we’re getting there. Every day, we’re getting closer. I’m trying my darndest to think it’s cute when Maggie kicks me in the ribs. Thomas is probably getting tired of me calling him over to come feel the kicks, but if I concentrate on how fun it must be for other people, it keeps me from thinking about how uncomfortable it is for me. I don’t remember Dagmar’s kicks being this annoying.

At least I have a support belt.

Hopefully I’ll get around to posting again on Friday, but if not, I’m probably still alive. Just with a cold, a dead laptop, and a toddler coughing up a lung. No biggie.