Tweet, tweet

We are now officially twitterfied.

I am of two minds on this twitter thing (how's that for an Irish-ism?!). On the one hand, I think it is freaking CRAZY that people are so interested in the minutia of other people's lives that they would follow anyone on twitter. Its like status updates on Facebook. "I'm going to bed now", "I'm waking up now", "I just sneezed". Who cares?!!

I do. That's who. (and don't think that admitting that doesn't come with a large dollop of inner turmoil and spiritual/emotional unease.) But I eat that shit up. I read People magazine, I watch E! News and I log on to Facebook at least once a day to see just who is "Getting ready for work", "Dicking off at work", "Getting caught on Facebook at work"... If you installed a webcam at your desk, I would probably sit here and watch you stare at your computer screen. Maybe not all day, but well, most of it.

Anyway, our twitter, or "tweets" if you will sing-o the lingo, will be for the express purpose of announcing the lead up and arrival of Baby Walsh. All the other dumb crap that happens in our lives I will reserve for full paragraphs of text in my blog.

I've replaced the Google Ads section with Twitter. Crazy! Right? I know, with all the mad money I was making from those stupid ads and everything! But, sacrifice I will. The good lord knows that's what a mother does (big sigh). So, you can just look there to see what's what or you can click on that "follow me on twitter" and after creating a twitter account of your own (easy, free and without obligation) you can configure things so that you will get a text message whenever Manus tweets about the baby.**

I don't think you will be inundated with texts from him either as he will reserve updating for the big events like:

Malinda's water just broke.
We are headed to the hospital.
Malinda's head just spun around like Linda Blair's.
The baby is here.
She says it's not mine.

If you want stuff like "Holy shit, I just stepped on the scale and it said 167.2 lbs so I chucked it out the window" you will have to continue to check in here every now and again. But ps, that whole thing about the 167 pounds... I just totally made that up. It's lies! All lies!

**How to get tweets on your phone
1. Click on the "follow me on twitter"
2. Click on Join Today! (create username and password)
3. You may then be prompted to enter your email and email password to search your email phonebook for contacts that have twitter. If you do this and Manus is a contact, just make sure that he is selected to "follow"
4. If #3 doesn't apply to you, go to your twitter "home" screen and click on "0 following" (on right hand side). Then choose to "add or invite more". then click "Find on twitter" and enter "brenock".
5. Once you are a follower of brenock, go to "settings" then "devices" and enter your mobile number and click to receive texts. (This apparently doesn't for Irish mobiles, but does work for the US and England).
6. Tell me if any of the above actually works. I can't get twitter to even find brenock and it won't send to my phone, so who the hell am I to be giving out directions?

Getting Ready for Baby

As we approach the 36 week mark, we are in full-gear Getting Ready For Baby! Well, not quite. Unless you count my inability to sleep longer than 1.5 hours practice for the early days' feeding schedule. Really, I don't need or want the practice. But my sore hips, full bladder and a pleasant, new edition head cold say otherwise.

I haven't packed a hospital bag. I haven't washed, ironed and sorted by size and color and style the baby clothes. I haven't sterilized the bottles and pacifiers. I haven't practiced my breathing. I have had daily anxiety attacks and a couple of complete meltdowns a la pre-post-partum depression. And I have just spent the last 3 hours cleaning the first floor of any and all reminders that we ever had two cats. Hallelujah those two furballs are gone. Off to the farm. Out of my house. I vowed as a child never to be as mean and heartless as my parents were about the "no pets in the house" rule. Alas, another promise to myself I will have to break. Until our live-in maid comes, no more 4 legged creatures shall grace my doorstep.

My first chore after doing the Dance of Joy as I watched Manus drive away with Black One and Brown One was to wipe up 3 hairball vomits and 2 plops of diarrhea from the tile. Then I attacked the spot on the chair that someone used as a urinal.

I have come to terms with the fact that I am soon to be responsible for 3/4ths of the ass wiping and episodes of fecal incontinence that will go on in this house and I think that is enough. In fairness, Manus had been on litter box patrol these last few weeks as I held strong to that whole "toxoplasmosis ploy" but I risked health and well-being today to ensure a thorough clean.

I went through two vacuum filters on my mission to rid the house of cat hair. There was more black pussy hair on the living room chairs than in the dumpster behind a Brazilian waxing studio the Wednesday morning after a Twofer Tuesday special.

Eww! How crass was that? Cleaning is a dirty, dirty job and it brings out the worst in me. It's a good thing I don't do it very often.

But I will say this, I was busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest. (That's just one of my favorites and I wanted to add it in..)

The cats did teach us a valuable lesson - we must keep Katie away from baby. Watching her carry around the cats in a vice-grip headlock made me fear for the safety of my unborn. It may have been the day I saw her immobilizing kitty with a knee to the neck that I had my first panic attack. Having watched too many Criminal Minds, I know that serial killers often begin life as animal tormentors. We are watching Katie closely for any other antisocial tendencies.

My mom sent over a "I'm a Big Sister" book that we read every day, stressing the parts about how we have to be gentle with the baby and can only hold baby on our lap in a chair with adult supervision. In fairness, Katie is very excited. She knows that baby Michael is in mommy's belly and she is looking forward to helping change nappies and being a "great big sister". She gives my belly kisses and doesn't let us forget to "god bless baby Michael" during our nighttime prayers. Man I love that girl and she is going to FLIP OUT... I just know it.

Second child syndrome is so severe that I'm not even interested in shopping for baby boy clothes. But, thanks to the International Aid package from "Mothers for the Reduction Of Clothes-less Kids" (aka MOMS.R.O.C.K.), Baby is well on the way to a full closet. He already has Gator gear and his daddy got him Kilkenny Cats PJs. Nana slipped me another 50 quid to get some onesies (called "vests" here) and other newborn accoutremon as I see fit. Taking inventory of what we have already really is on my list of things to do this week. And packing that hospital bag... Have a doctor's appt tomorrow. Must get from them list of necessary items. Things are different here (and a blog post to that end is in the works) and the hospital doesn't supply you with stuff like diapers and wipes here like they do in the states. My MIL was talking about how she had to bring her own egg in for breakfast. I must confirm that's no longer true.

I have been feverishly searching the net for the best double stroller options and have decided that Phil & Teds is the way to go. Broke the news to my parents that they were the lucky ones to provide us with such a gift and its hefty price tag. Of course, I want the latest and greatest Vibe model, but am starting to consider accepting the cheaper Sport version. If anyone has any thoughts on double strollers, I welcome advice and comments.

My mom got her plane tickets for her trip over to help with the baby. She will be here Sept 8th-19th. Problem is, baby could be here AUGUST 8th... No scheduled C-section is such an inconvenience! What was I thinking? Even worse, Manus is booking his flight for a week-long series of Miami business meetings. He will leave on Friday.

Provided Manus is IN TOWN for the birth of our child, he is planning, ever the technophile, to Twitter the birth information. That's right... If you want to be a part of every grunt, groan and four-letter word of labor and delivery... then this is for you! I have to look up the particulars and will blog soon on how to sign up to "follow me on twitter.."

A collection of thoughts and updates with no apparent underlying connection nor snappy title.

Last Monday my cousin Sarah had her second daughter, Geonna Jenah. My sister-in-law's sister-in-law had herself a little girl yesterday. Don't know the name, but I know she was 8lbs something, which is toooo big to think about, vaginally speaking. But this makes me next in line. All the other preggos I knew due before me have popped. Please note the undeniable excitement in my voice. wow. gee whiz. yikes. no. no! not ready. My friend Debbie (and fellow blogger - see list) is due on MY due date. She has a little girl and they are expecting a boy this time. Just like us. I offered a friendly wager as to who goes into labor first, but I'm seriously hoping I lose.

Sarah and Geonna (any Pittsburgh Penguin fans around?)

I'd also mentioned in a prior blog about some friends' ill parents. Our friend's mother died this past Saturday and we were up again in Belfast for the second funeral in 5 weeks. Irish funerals are very different to any I've been to in America. Northern Irish; even different-er. The deceased is waked in the house for two days/nights. This means the person dies, they are whisked off to get their hair, face and nails done (and I guess they are embalmed as well)... then brought back to their house that same day. They will be laid out either in their coffin or in a bed(!) in the living room. Then friends and family come over to visit and drink tea and eat butter and ham sandwiches. Someone stays with the guest of honor the whole time, shifts at night. The room in which they are placed is lined with chairs and apparently, that is the room to be in (though I imagine, preferably, as one of the upright inhabitants). The morning of the funeral, many gather at the house and the coffin is carried out of the house and down the street, pallbearers being switched out at assigned intervals. At some point it is then transferred to the hearse and the mourners then walk behind the car as it makes its way to the church. As the procession made its way down the main street of Randallstown, shops drew their shades and passersby stopped and stood, genuflecting. It was beautiful and moving. I bawled my eyes out. Though it may have had something to do with my current hormonal upheaval.

Things on the homefront have been fairly uneventful. Poor, poor Manus had to to go today on a free two night cruise on a brand new ship out of Southampton. I was invited, but sadly, too pregnant to fly and/or cruise. Strange how Im not too pregnant to be left at home... all alone... to take care of Katie...all by myself... It is to be an "excellent networking opportunity" as it is a "great honor" to be invited, one "not to be turned down" and made up of executives and company bigwigs. Ahem. Spoke to Manus this afternoon after he'd had his nap in his king sized bed in his corner suite with private balcony and a workout at the gym and he said, quite to his surprise, that many of the attendees appear to be, in actual fact, travel agents. Young, buxom travel agents. If he knows whats good for him he will mind just how he "works" his "net" and all his other tackle too.

So we two girls are on our own here. You know what that means... Yep, the place is an absolute mess already. I feel like a bachelor again! Beds unmade. Dirty dishes stacked in the sink. And the great debate: mac n cheese or popcorn for dinner? Later Katie and I are going to crack open a few brews and fart on the couch without fear of reproach.