Babymoon

Just a hop, skip and a jump from Oklahoma City, and we landed in Punta Cana, Dominican Republic.  Our destination was an adults-only, all-inclusive beach on the breezy, white-capped Atlantic.  Make mine a double.

He said his name was Manny Ramirez.  I chuckled.  Sure it was.  He could have picked Sammy Sosa or Jose Reyes or Pedro Martinez, all well-known professional baseball players from the Dominican Republic.  And seeing as how we were in the Dominican Republic on our "babymoon," why wouldn't he play to our limited American knowledge of his country and say something that we'd grin at and more importantly, tip him for?

Manny picked us up from the local airport.  The air-conditioned van was a welcome relief after standing in line at the open-air customs and visa check.  I took advantage of the hour-long drive to the resort to ask Manny questions about the Dominican Republic.  Turns out that "all Dominicans love Jesus" and the reason Haiti, with whom they share an island, was devastated by an earthquake and subsequent malaria outbreak was because the Haitians practice voodoo.  And that was the end of my little chat with Manny.

Four days of sunny bliss restored my soul, the vitamin D strengthened my bones and the humidity repaired my mid-winter cracked hands.  Seemed like everyone loved a pregnant gal in a bikini.  Quite the sight, I suppose.  I was pointed at, smiled upon and even a few daring folks reached out to touch my taunt baby belly.  Resembling a beached whale while lounging about, I turned my pasty butterball into a darkened specimen by the end of our trip.

Having experienced all-inclusive splendor in Egypt and Cancun, I should warn any other travelers that our resort, albeit landscaped meticulously, was a little disappointing.  The food was sub-par and the accommodations were more akin to a 3-star hotel.  I hope that my credentials (having lived and traveled internationally) stand for something when I make these types of declarations.  Case(s) in point, on our first night of "the last trip before we have a baby," we were put in a room with 2 double beds.  I guess they figured that under our circumstances, there was no need to give us a king-sized bed.  And I'm not sure if it was a "chicken or egg" sort of thing (do they come because there's food they like or is there food they like because they're there?), but the plethora of Russian couples really seized the buffet with borscht, beets and mayo.  Those buggers sure do get around.

On day five, I had been pouting plentifully about our departure.  Later, we were on the plane headed north, when the flight attendant said, "next stop:  reality."  The hubby and I held hands and grinned.  Because for us, that's not a bad place to be.

Our resort, at dusk

Enjoying the pool with a cool, virgin drink and reading "Baby Wise"

Babymoon 2012

Pregnant gal in a bikini

Pouting

Second Trimester

I was worried that I'd forgotten how to work this thing - the blog - but luckily, they make it practically idiot-proof.

My second trimester of pregnancy has flown by.  I've always been a "work hard, play hard" type of person.  Well, at least, work-out hard and play sort of hard-as-long-as-I'm-in-bed-by-10:30 type of person.  Lately, it's still been work-out hard.  I'm teaching kickbox, cycle and boot camp at a local gym.  And I'm determined to not let my modest tennis gains slide.  I try to devote a couple of hours each week to the court.  My play hard has turned into nap hard, which is more like a death sleep.  The dogs and I rack out every afternoon and God help the person who unknowingly calls during this time.

October 2011: Fall Classic Duathlon (2 mile run, 10 mile bike ride, 2 mile run)

Dec. 2011: "Naughty or Nice" 8k at Lake Hefner

The hubby and I have attended several "Birth of Your Baby" classes.  We've learned how to change a diaper, feed the baby, bathe the baby, hold the baby.  Everything besides how to actually raise a child.  It's a scary, daunting task.  Our world is about to be rocked and what if I'm no good at adjusting to it?  And how does one truly prepare for something so momentous?  I guess I'm about to find out.

Happy Holidays!  2011 Christmas Card

Christmas is just a few days away and as the year wraps up, I'll be entering the third and final stage of pregnancy.  With a babymoon, baby shower, maternity photoshoot and nursery preparation, we have plenty to keep us busy for the first couple of months of 2012.  









 And then I hope to have a few minutes of clarity and relaxation before introducing Miss Annabelle Aaron to the world.

THE BABY!

It's Been a Slow Month

As I enter the half-way mark of my first pregnancy, the most striking thing (besides the ever-expanding belly) is how great I feel.  I've finished several 10k races, thanks to the support of a great friend and running buddy and a new, improved sports bra.  I may not have been the fastest person on the course, but I sure as heck wasn't last.  I'll take my wins where I can get them.  The hubby and I are entered for a duathlon this weekend.  I'll let you know how it goes...

We've had the opportunity to enjoy every aspect of autumn that I longed for this same time last year:  Saturday college football, OSU Homecoming weekend, planting mums and then pansies, decorating with hay bales and pumpkins, adorable Halloween trick-or-treaters, pumpkin spice cookies, weekend visits from cherished friends, church followed by family lunch.  Just taking it all in and soaking it all up.  My cup over floweth.

I say it's been a slow month and I mean that in every positive way.  As much as I enjoy summertime, I definitely don't want to marginalize this time of year.  It's been a slow month of goodness, albeit normal, usual, everyday American things.  And that's just fine.  Here's a few highlights:

Adorable trick-or-treater: Bailey the bumblebee

Leslie & Brooke enjoying OSU Homecoming weekend.  Notice the matching baby bumps!

These dogs are no dummies.

I Tri'd Again

My second attempt at a sprint triathlon was much smoother than the first.  I never felt like I might drown during the pool swim, I kicked it up a notch during the bike ride and cruised right through the run.  I honestly think I should get a minute handicap for each week of my pregnancy, which would nicely shave 15 minutes from my 1 hour 34 minute finish.   I have found a new sport to love and improve upon.

Triathlons are intimidating simply because your age is written in permanent marker on your calf muscle.  Your race number is written on your arm, but that one only indicates where you are self-seeded for the swim.  For example, if you say you can swim 500 meters in 5 minutes, you would probably be seeded in the top 5.  I'm around 11 minutes, so I'm usually about half way back in the pack. 

Anyways, back to the age written on your leg.  So, there you are, standing around waiting for everything to begin when you start taking stock of your competition.  And you think, "That girl can only be 18.  She's so skinny and look at that great rear."  But, your gaze drops and sure enough, she's 30.  Oh crap.  And then you think you spot someone your age, and you're thinking, "Her arms are so much more toned than mine."  But, thankfully, she's 50.  Wait, you're not thankful for that.  You're going to get your butt kicked by someone 19 years your senior.  Needless to say, there's a lot of anxious sizing up going on. 

When it's all said and done, it's really just a thrill to be a part of something so exhilarating.  And it's helping me to come to terms with this stage of my life.  No more partaking in cocktail happy hours.  Browsing the internet for travel destinations has turned into browsing for cribs and strollers.  I am going to be a mom.  But, I will still be a race participant, just a little slower and wider than before.

Staycation

My British friends always referred to vacations as "holidays".  As in, "We were on holiday in Paris."  I think it's charming, but when we recently decided to stick around OKC during the hubby's time off from work, it was difficult to consider it a vacation, much less a holiday, so I'll use the recession "it" word - staycation.

With the impending purchases of nursery furniture, jog stroller, car seats, etc., etc., etc., we thought it prudent to send our regrets to a Baku friend, who is getting married in South Africa.  Since last November, we swore to be at the wedding, but it's not in the stars for us.  A staycation in OKC is just as cool as Johannesburg, right?  I've never been to South Africa, so I cannot give an absolute answer.  Here's a few highlights from our staycation:

On a typically windy and hot summer morning, we loaded up the road bikes and drove to the new OKC river trails, just on the outskirts of Bricktown.  The trails are continuous (read, no road traffic) for 13 miles.  Flat and fast.  Except, as previously stated, I'm not that fast.  It was flat and sort of fast.  I'd recommend the trails for moms with strollers (take a buddy, it's desolate!) and road cyclists needing an easy ride.  It was a little stinky near the Stockyards, where unfortunately, the river is extremely shallow and the boggy mud mixed with cow aroma is enough to make you want to breathe with your mouth closed. Little shade is provided, it is Oklahoma after all, but there is plenty of parking and a few porta-potties along the route.

On another extremely hot summer day, we ventured out to Acardia, only a few miles outside of Edmond.  Lunch was at Pops, a classic 1950's diner.  Hamburgers were good and milk shakes were even better.  That's all there's to say about that.

And no staycation is complete without a trek to the Great State Fair of Oklahoma.  We're old, so we went early in the day, ate sugar-overloaded cinnamon rolls, gigantic corn dogs and some type of deep-fried cookie dough.  Ummm, no, I did not ride any bolt-missing roller coasters.  Again, we're old, so we simply walked through the buildings overflowing with all sorts of vendors.  We slopped our way through the barns of sheep, goats, cows, horses, and I'm sure I'm forgetting some other farms animals.  We left before the carnies got really out of hand.

And off to home we went.  Where the perfect part of a staycation is an afternoon nap.

A Fork

This past spring, while living in Azerbaijan, we had a defining moment.  You know the kind.  You can clearly see the divergent paths that your life could take.  A fork in the road, if you will.  One path would have taken us to Siberia.  Seriously.  Siberia was to be the hubby's next posting with his previous employer.  I'm always up for adventure, but come on.  It's only above freezing for 2 months out of the year.  And more importantly, I'm not a young pup anymore.  The kid thing was a factor.  I've never known whether I wanted children or not, but I least wanted the chance to try.  I know thousands of women have children every day in Siberia.  I just didn't want to be one of them.  Looking down this path seemed like a black and white movie.  Void of color.  The only positive point seemed to be that I'd be guaranteed several exotic beach trips a year.  They would be a necessity to ensure my sanity.

The opposite path would lead us back to Oklahoma.  A secure job, near family, nestled between everything comfortable and easy.  Big box stores with more than I could ever need.  Houses with plenty of inexpensive square footage.  Sidewalks with man hole covers.  Police officers who you can trust.  The masses adhering to traffic laws.  But where is the adventure in all of that?  I worried that easy could lead to boredom.  Comfortable could lead to complacency.  And the worst vice of all, mediocrity.  I doubt I'll be considered a great person, but I do want to experience great things.

And with the very real prospect of Siberia looming, we chose the proven, safe path.  Six months later, we are once again rooted in American life.  It's a cake walk by most standards.  And what a yummy piece of cake it is.  The best part is that this chosen path - our defining moment- has blessed us with an expanding family.  In March 2012, we will welcome a baby!  You'll have to forgive me if my "travelogue" is sparsely populated with travel stories and more with journeys of motherhood.  It just comes with the territory.

Natural Disasters

It's nearing the end of August.  There's a fearsome hurricane forming in the Atlantic Ocean and a freakish earthquake recently shook the east coast of the USA.  Watching too much news coverage of these events has forced me into reminiscing/recalling/remembering the tumultuous disasters that we (me and the hubby) have been associated with.

The strongest tornado ever recorded happened in the OKC metro area on May 3, 1999.  My sister's house was completely wiped out.  As she frantically held the wrists of my nieces while crouched in the bathtub, my brother-in-law covered his girls with a mattress.  It's horrific to think what could have happened to them.  They lost their neighborhood, home, vehicles, photo albums, keep sakes, clothes and sense of security.  For the first 18 years of my life, I was fully aware that I lived in a severe weather prone area, but I never thought that it could truly affect me.  And it was with only one degree of separation that I was forever changed by this powerful, swirling wind.

The calm before the storm:
Brooke and the pups waiting for the hurricane to arrive

The hubby and I moved to Houston during the winter of 2007.  Category 3 Hurricane Ike bulls-eyed the city that following summer.  We lived far enough away from the coast that we were told by authorities to not evacuate and to just ride out the storm in our house.  Which we did.  Which was very scary. Which ended up being just fine.  Which resulted in 2 weeks without electricity.  The dogs and I were refugees with family in OKC while we waited for the power = a/c to bring relief from the Houston heat.  Meanwhile, the hubby flew to the Middle East for work.  He always misses the good stuff.

After Ike:  clean up of our once beautiful pergola

In Denver, we didn't encounter a per se defined natural disaster.  But, the amount of snow that we received our first (and only) October was overwhelming.  Feet and feet of the dreaded white stuff.  While shoveling the driveway, I wondered, "where am I supposed to put all of this?"  Denver is not for the fair-weathered or thin-blooded.   

Kyle and the pups play in the Denver snow

Kyle and Brooke at the top of Kok Tobe in Almaty,
a mountainous region of the count

Both Almaty, Kazakhstan, and Baku, Azerbaijan, are located in high seismic activity areas.  A fact that we did not share with our families until we were safely back in the USA.  We kept an earthquake preparedness bag next to the front door.  It was stocked with first aid supplies, flashlights, bottled water, etc.  But, of course, as life goes, being prepared really didn't help out Kyle when he was in the Almaty airport, waiting in the customs line, when the world trembled.  He looked around at his fellow passengers and figured that the local Kazaks would know what to do, so he followed them outside and stood around for a bit.  His plane later took off without much to-do.  Later, we found out that the quake that Kyle felt was the first of several magnitude 6.0+ to hit the area over the next few days.

Variety is the spice of life.  Apparently, for us, that includes a multitude of environmental occurrences.