The Mole and the Massage

I have a mole on my stomach that Todd absolutely loathes. It is about half the size of a pencil eraser, and juts out quite a bit. He loves to talk about pinching it off, cutting it off, ripping it off... It's a continual bedtime-conversation theme. It doesn't bother me, but the idea of personally destroying it does. Todd and I are opposites in this matter.

I grew up in a cuddly household. My mom and all my siblings give excellent back massages. I used to get a great back rub whenever my back hurt, or I had a headache, or someone in the fam just wanted to hang out with me and have a close conversation for a few minutes. That all went down the drain when I got married. Todd may be the worst back rubber in the universe. When I ask him for a massage, I usually end up frustrated and wishing I hadn't bothered, because he is so bad at it. He hasn't got the patience to just sit still and focus on my back muscles. He taps at me, and does weird squishes, or just halfheartedly runs his hand along my back without any pressure. It's so annoying. He needs a lot of practice.

Which is why I made a deal with him about ten days ago. If he gives me a GOOD back massage for five minutes five days a week until the baby is born, I will let him destroy my mole. I am torn about whether I want him to make it through December or not. I think it's a lofty goal for him to realize, but I really want those back rubs, especially when I hit third trimester! (He was gone for my entire third tri with Hazel, when you really need a back rub, so he really owes me!)

We've been hobbling along at it. Sometimes Todd doesn't want to do it, but a glimpse of the mole usually amps up his motivation. It's been so nice to get a little back rub before bed most nights. I could definitely keep this up for the next five months! I especially like that I can say when his massage isn't good enough, and stop the clock. He's really having to work hard to meet my expectations, and I'm delighted to say he's actually improving his massage skills.

Saturday night Todd was groaning about having to give me another massage, and he said something about me just waiting, one of these days he's going to bring home a bottle of ether, knock me out, and just cut that mole off while I'm unconscious and be done with both the mole and the massages. "You wouldn't dare," I said. Todd brought his face real close to mine, opened his eyes psycho-wide, and whispered, "I would do it in a heartbeat." He made me laugh, but I still wouldn't let him go to sleep until he had fulfilled his duties. So far, I am loving this bet.

Child-Sized Chair... Groan

A neighbor lent Hazel a child-size lawn chair about a week ago and it has turned into Hazel's absolute favorite plaything. She carts it around E-V-E-R-Y-W-H-E-R-E and has been getting into all the things that used to be securely out of her reach.

It has been the bane of my existence and the love of her life.

We will be returning it tonight. (Yay!) But Todd thinks we should buy Hazel one of her own. What do you think?

Update with video

Check out this sweet video of my flight!

Learning to Fly

For Mother's Day, Todd bought me a flight school lesson. Yesterday, Todd, Hazel, and I all went down to Reid-Hillview Airport in San Jose, and I flew a Cessna 172 with the two of them in the backseat. I know, crazy adventurous. Those Bonners.

It was pretty cool, but I don't think it accomplished Todd's ultimate goal, which was to convince me he needed to get his fixed-wing license. I just don't see it as a practical hobby. Maybe someday when we're millionaires...
Hazel loved it. She kept saying "Let's fly," all weekend long. She sat in the back with Todd and ate a snack and looked out the window and sang songs and was a really good sport.
I guess she was still pretty hyped up from it when we got home. We ate lunch and put her down for a nap an hour later than usual, thinking she'd conk right out. 45 minutes later, we heard her bedroom door open. Out she ran, down the hall towards us, giggling and BUCK NAKED! She took off all her clothes and her diaper, then climbed out of her crib. What the heck? I couldn't stop laughing and Todd had to be the one to take her back to bed.

Multiples?

On Saturday my friend Meg asked me if I was pregnant. "No," I said, "I'm just getting fat."

What is up with people daring to ask me already (15 weeks today, 14 then)? After confessing to her that I really am growing a child inside, I shared my tire chub frustration with her. She asked if I was sure I wasn't having twins. Excuse me? I'd better not be!

She had twins, and the doctor didn't discover that until Meg was 18 1/2 weeks pregnant. Gulp.

So when I was at my prenatal checkup on Thursday and my doctor asked if I had any concerns, I told him I had just one. I shared Meg's story and said, "You checked, right? Really well? We'd know if I had twins, right?" He said he did, in fact, look very thoroughly, but asked if I would feel better if he checked again right now. Of course I said yes.

He got out the ultrasound machine and right away we saw my little munchkin, sucking its thumb just like Hazel loves to do. The doctor scanned all the way to the right, all the way to the left... Only one baby in my uterus. Phew!

Then we looked more closely at my baby, and the doctor said it looked like everything was healthy, but the 20 week ultrasound would be more informative, as organs and such are still developing right now.

And then, he scanned in between the baby's legs and asked me to play doctor. Could I tell if it was a boy or a girl?

Note: I was NOT expecting this at all, even when he brought in the ultrasound machine. I thought it would be too early to tell. I was all set to find out in August.

I blinked, swallowed my surprise, and said, "That looks very boy to me." The doctor concurred, although he said there would be a more definite diagnosis at my 20 week ultrasound. He printed out some pictures, and every time I look at the "It's a boy" picture, I am more and more sure it's a little man. It's pretty undeniable, actually.

We're having a BOY!!!

In keeping with tradition, we had man-food for our celebration dinner. We went to Black Angus and had steak! (When we found out Hazel was a girl, we had chicken salad sandwiches and fruit salad.)

4th of July

We snuck up on the roof of our building to watch fireworks. Due to the treeline, it wasn't quite as impressive as I'm sure it was at the park, but it sure beat the traffic. And ideally, Hazel would have been asleep for it all, but I'm afraid a cookie she had after dinner wound her quite up...

Bring Your Kid to Work Day, Sort Of

Earlier this week, we had a really fun day. Todd goes up to Sacramento about once a week to gather up flight hours to keep his helicopter pilot license. Usually on those days, he leaves before Hazel wakes up and gets home hours after she's gone to bed. This time we made a rendezvous plan.

Todd sent me a text when he was about to leave Sacramento to start his flight, and I threw Hazel in the car to head up to Half Moon Bay. It was about a 50 minute drive for me, and about an hour flight for Todd, so Hazel and I arrived just in time to park outside the small-town airport, parallel to the runway, and stand outside the car to watch Daddy come flying in. Hazel always hears and points out airplanes and helicopters in the sky ("chh, chh, chh"), but she had never seen one flying so low before. It was so fun for me to be able to tell her Daddy was flying it and help her to wave at him as he landed.
We went to lunch at a delicious Italian restaurant, Mezza Luna, with the instructional pilot and the medic that Todd was flying with. The food was fabulous; very authentic, I thought. It tasted just like what we dined on when we vacationed in Italy last year. The owner or manager (not sure which) was Italian and very friendly, especially to our "bambina." He even brought her a complimentary vanilla gelato at the end of our meal. After that, Hazel couldn't stop beaming at him.

After lunch, we all walked back to the Blackhawk and we let Hazel climb in the back and check it all out. She immediately sat herself down on one of the cargo seats in the back and did her "let's go" hum. She wanted to go for a ride!
We took a couple of pictures, but then the guys really had to get back in and fly back to Sacramento, and Hazel would not get out. I tried to get her, and she scrambled away from me. I had to take her out of the helicopter by force, and she thrashed her body around and cried the biggest, saddest tears I've seen in a long time. She was extremely disappointed that she wasn't going to get to fly in the helicopter. Poor girl. (I wish so bad I had a picture of her in that moment!)

I walked her a short ways away, and we sat on the runway and watched as the guys flew away. Then we walked down to the beach to play a little bit, but Hazel was really tired from only napping a little bit on the drive up, and she asked to just go home, so we did.