Resting Uncomfortably.

We’ve had a few new developments at casa de pork chops. First, we met with the baby’s doctor on Monday. She’s very young (under 35), but seems to really know her stuff. She’s respectful of our circumcision decision (and by “our”, I mean “Dave’s”), and said physicians have widely varied opinions on whether or not it’s medically necessary. She said that for every argument in favor of it, there’s an equally impressive case against it.

She’s also very supportive of breast feeding. And she insists on using thimerasol/mercury-free vaccinations, even though the old ones are still being used at the free clinics in our community.

And she said she would keep a close eye on the baby, if I do end up needing a c-section. Apparently, cesarean babies can have breathing problems for about 12 hours after birth; because the gunk doesn’t get squeezed out of their lungs like it does during a vaginal delivery. She also said not to get frustrated if he doesn’t latch on, because c-sectioned babies typically take a little longer to nurse (they’re not usually as alert as a traditionally delivered newborn).

And she also said not to panic if a neonatal doctor is present at the birth, especially if I go earlier than 38 weeks. I guess it’s common practice to have one there with a hypertensive mother; and they’ll want one there to check out his hips, if he stays breech until the birth.

So, all kinds of new information from her. I guess you really do get the crap scared out of you learn something new every day!

Today, it was back to The Gynie God’s for another ultrasound, NST, and office visit. The ultrasound went fine, and my amniotic fluid has risen substantially in the last week. The doctor thinks I was dehydrated last week, and gave me a stern lecture on drinking plenty of fluids during the day. Of course, more drinking means more peeing and more potty trips at night. I think I’m averaging six trips to the bathroom between 10:00 p.m. and 5:00 a.m. as it is. If I get up any more times, I may just drag my pillow into the bathroom and sleep with my head on the counter and my butt on the toilet!

Also, he turned his head for about 30 seconds during the ultrasound, and I finally got to sneak a peek at the little guy’s face!!! Fortunately, he was asleep & the ultrasound tech was able to quickly flip over to the 4D software. OH MY GOD, he has big pudgy cheeks!!!!! She tried to get a still photo, but he was floating around too much & they kept coming out blurry. And Dave missed it. He was going to come with me, but I told him the baby was still breech & not to bother.

Then, it was off to the recliners for another NST. I dread these, because he’s positioned so awkwardly & they have a really hard time finding a clear enough heartbeat. Last week, he wouldn’t stop wiggling around. This week, he slept through the entire hour & didn’t want to wake up. We finally had to shake my belly & poke him a little bit to get him moving, which led to another hour of very angry kicks and head butts. So stubborn, this child of mine.

FInally, I got to meet with The Gynie God again. And he doesn’t want to schedule me for a cesarean just yet. He said there’s still time for the baby to turn on his own, even though he feels it’s unlikely (just because he’s been stuck in the same position for the last 14 weeks). I asked him if I would know if/when he turned, and he said it will definitely be uncomfortable for me, because he’s getting so big.

However, I don’t want him trying to do an external version. He said they’re horribly painful for the mother, and the baby can easily become tangled in the cord or damage the placenta during the procedure. And to make matters even worse, there are no guarantees that he would stay head down after the version. Because he’s so happy with where he’s at now, he could flip himself right back head up and we’d have wasted all that pain & risk for nothing.

I was really hoping to have the baby before September 1st; but as of right now, it’s not looking promising. My blood pressure has been okay and I’m not passing any protein in my urine; but I’m still having problems with swelling in my hands and feet.

So, he made the call to put me on “modified bed rest”. No more trips to Walmart or the grocery store. No walking around the mall. No car trips more than 30 minutes from home. No lifting. No more garage sales. No walking around the yard with the dogs. No vacuuming (yay!). No sitting at the computer, unless my feet are up.

I’ll still have to do some minor lifting, though. Our laundry isn’t going to stop piling up, just because I’m pregnant. And I have to finish getting the nursery ready, including washing all the bedding and the sleepers and the onesies.

It’s just funny, that last week he was talking certain c-section; and this week, he thinks a vaginal delivery is still a possibility. As my due date creeps closer and closer, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for the baby to turn & come out naturally. I can’t imagine taking 4-6 weeks to recover from a c-section with a newborn baby. I know women do it every day; but I remember being in pain when I had my ovary removed laparoscopically. Won’t it be a million times worse with a giant cut across my belly?

And no more caffeine. Farewell to thee, McDonald’s coke. I will miss you and your beautiful dollar special, until we meet again next summer.

Thunder Thighs

Where have the last couple of days gone??? Oh, yeah. They’ve passed by in a haze of heartburn, humidity and handwritten thank you notes!

I spent the entire day Thursday doing laundry & writing thank you’s from the baby shower. Dave brought home takeout from my favorite Mexican restaurant, and we spent the evening watching a baseball game. Friday, I met him for an early lunch, went to the post office, and hit a couple of rummage sales. Came home, finished writing the thank you’s, and made shrimp marinara for dinner. Watched another baseball game, and went to bed.

Saturday morning, we had our final childbirth education class. This week, the instructor pulled forceps and a vacuum pump from her bag of tricks. Both seem a little intimidating; but I’m glad we got to see them & handle them before the actual delivery.

She also had a sample toiletry bag, stuffed with all the things we’ll need for the hospital. And the “goodies” we’ll get during our stay. Like mesh underwear, ENORMOUS pads, a squirt bottle for our girlie bits, a sitz bath, and hemorrhoid wipes. Oh, so much to look forward to!

Then we spent a couple minutes talking about bringing our babies home from the hospital. When the instructor asked how many times we thought we’d have to feed our newborns in a 24-hour period, one of the couples actually answered, “Oh, probably about 3 or 4 times.”!!!!! Yeah, do you think maybe they should have taken the PARENTING class, too????? Yikes!

We also watched a c-section video, which scared the hell out of me. An 8″-12″ cut across my belly, which will be stapled back together? A 4 to 6 week recovery period??? And Tylenol 3 is the strongest pain reliever they want to give you if you’re breastfeeding?!? ACK!!! While I find the notion of preserving my hooha very appealing, I have to admit that slicing open my abdomen, pushing the fat out of the way, spreading my abdominal muscles, and slicing open my uterus were not included in my birth plan.

I have to go back to The Gynie God on Wednesday, and I’m going to ask him to schedule me for a cesarean. There are a couple of factors at play; and since he’s leaning towards doing one because of my hypertension, I want a definite date on the calendar.

I haven’t slept more for more than 90 minutes in the last 3 nights. My bladder seems to fill at an alarming rate, and I’m up peeing at least six times per night. Throw in a sore back and a couple of leg cramps for good measure, and you have one cranky chubby mummy-to-be. I know, I know, the end is in sight.

We’re meeting with a family practice doctor for the baby tomorrow. Last week, I called five different doctors; and she was the only one willing to do a meet & greet with us. All of the rest said that we should just list them as the baby’s doctor on the form at the hospital. Um, hello, I don’t freaking think so!!!!! Dave and I both have strong opinions about circumcision, vaccinations, and breastfeeding, and insist on finding a doctor who’s views agree with ours. What kind of a person picks a lifelong doctor for their newborn child, without ever laying eyes on that doctor first?????

I know it’s because it’s a freebie appointment and they feel their time is too valuable to be wasted. But COME ON. This doctor will get a LIFETIME of billing off my child, but they can’t give me 5 freaking minutes to ask a couple questions & do some quick introductions???

I’m also starting to come up with all kinds of questions, due in large part to the copy of What To Expect The First Year I snagged at one of Friday’s rummage sales for $0.50. I finally put it down, because it was contradicting nearly every belief I have about raising this child. I know times have changed; but maternal instincts are there for a reason. In any case, I’ll throw some of those questions out there later this week.

It’s time for me to sign off. I hung our bedding outside today, and we still have to make the bed. Is 8:30 to early to turn in? Not when it’s on clean sheets! =)

Jelly Belly

As fascinating as I think ultrasounds are, I would be perfectly happy to go at least 10 days without that warm, oozy jelly smeared across and under my belly.

The baby is still breech and facing my back. In the last 12 weeks, he hasn’t turned once. Not once. The doctor said it happens that way sometimes. They find a comfortable spot and settle in for the duration of the pregnancy, much like a hibernating skunk.

He’s measuring in the 50th percentile, which surprised me a little. I guess I was expecting him to be a big baby, because both Dave and I are, um, on the chunky side of the peanut butter jar. However, The Gynie God said I shouldn’t worry, since my hypertension can lead to tiny babies. According to him, the baby is measuring exactly where he should be for his gestational age; and his average size means I don’t have gestational diabetes or problems with my placenta.

The NST was a shocker, though. She hooked me up to the monitor, and it took FOREVER to find his heartbeat. Part of it is because of his positioning, and part of it is because of my bonanza of belly fat. In any case, she finally found his heartbeat and he was ANGRY!!! She was pressing on his feet, and he just kicked and kicked and kicked and kicked at her. You’re supposed to have 10 movements within the span of 30 minutes, followed by a relaxation/sleep cycle. Well, Mr. Crabbypants did 10 kicks in about 45 seconds, and kept it up for the better part of 15 minutes. Both nurses were laughing at how upset he was, and said there’s no doubt that he has enough fluid and he’s getting enough oxygen in there.

One of the nurses ended up staying with me, and we started talking about how girls of today have lost their innocence. Their new patient questionnaire has a space for number of sexual partners, and she said most of the 19-to-24 year old girls have been with 25 to 30 different men. YIKES!!!!! She also said that these girls are running rampant with gonorrhea and chlamydia, and they don’t even wait for one STD to clear up before they’re diagnosed with another.

I don’t understand. Has sex lost any kind of special meaning for the girls of today? I know it’s unrealistic to expect women to stay virgins until they’re married; but once you allow yourself to get passed around from guy to guy to random guy, what else is left for you?

By the time we finished up the NST, I was ready to talk to The Gynie God. After waiting for more than an hour(!!!), he came in and said everything seems to be progressing okay with this pregnancy, as far as he can tell. My blood pressure was 128/80, and I keep hoping it stays that low for another few weeks.

Also, I’m okay to do light activities, but nothing that has me on my feet for more than an hour at a time. I’m still having swelling in my feet and ankles, and he said I need to rest to allow the fluid to circulate properly. And I need to start taking potassium & Vitamin D to put the brakes on these futhermuckering leg cramps.

He also said that sweating profusely in the 3rd trimester is pretty common. And to make sure I’m drinking enough water to stay hydrated. Yay. More water + more sweating = more water + more peeing.

I’ve also been having some anxiety attacks, especially when I’m somewhere crowded. He said it’s actually post traumatic stress from when I was in that stupid pharmacy that got held up in Vegas. Apparently, pregnancy hormones can aggravate this panic, making my heart race & leaving me sweating and out of breath. So far, I’ve been able to control it by sitting in the bathroom or my car or somewhere quiet for 5 minutes, until I can calm myself down again. But it’s been happening every time I’m in a store, and I get into a group of people or someone stands too close. My only worry is that it will get worse once the baby is here.

And speaking of the baby getting here, The Gynie God is leaning towards scheduling a c-section somewhere around 36 weeks. He said he would rather have me get the baby out in a controlled atmosphere, as opposed to the complications that can arise from a vaginal delivery.

“Somewhere around 36 weeks” is only 4 weeks away. Can that be true? Could the baby really be here in just 4 weeks????? What the? How the? He didn’t just say? Wha?

If you need to find me, just dial 1-800-HOLY-SHT. I’m sure I’ll answer.

Childbirth 101

Our first childbirth class was Saturday morning, and I’m not exactly sure how to describe it.

Exciting? Moreso than watching the dog chase a bug around the room. Informative? Yeah, you could say that. More competitive than the Boston Marathon? Most definitely.

We started out going around the room introducing ourselves. There are only six couples in the class, so it only took a few minutes. I’m normally pretty comfortable speaking in a roomful of strangers, but this was different. It was like some creepy “Mommy Competition”. Even Dave felt it.

We had to give our names, our due dates, who our doctor is, if we have any other kids, and a few other minor details. And a quick note to the facilitators of these things – if you really want to p*ss off the pregnant woman, ask me again if I’m going to breastfeed.

Anyway, one of the women is due August 5th(!); but the rest of us are due in September. Everyone was sizing up the other bellies in the room, to see who was the biggest (me, in length and width) and who was the oldest (um, yeah, me again). I don’t know how to explain it, but I wasn’t expecting the women to be so bloodthirsty. No one spoke to each other, even during the breaks; and it was just weird to be in a room full of people who have so much in common, yet didn’t interact at all.

After the introductions, we watched a video showing the stages of labor with a bunch of different births. It was very tastefully done, and really emphasized the importance of controlled breathing during labor. I, of course, teared up during every single birth. It’s just such a miracle to witness a little person coming into the world.

Once the video wrapped up, we each grabbed a yoga mat & a pillow, and laid on the floor for some relaxation breathing exercises (including the husbands). As hard as I tried, I just couldn’t get comfortable. We were supposed to picture ourselves laying on the beach, in the sand, while listening to her and paying attention to various body parts and trying to relax them. And pay attention to our breathing. And picture ourselves having contractions and breathing through them. It was information overload, and my brain went into panic mode.

After about half an hour, the instructor wanted us to try different laboring positions. There was kneeling on the floor with our backs hunched over a chair, bouncing on a yoga ball, standing/leaning against our partner, walking around, squatting down, sitting between our partner’s outstretched legs, straddling a chair, and kneeling on all fours.

What I learned? I hate the yoga ball – my legs are too short, and I felt like I was going to tip over. I’m way too old to squat, which makes me hope I never have to pee in the woods. And there’s no chance that I’ll kneel on all fours, because it was like someone was ramming railroad spikes into my lower back.

I think straddling a chair actually felt the best for me. It was nice to take some of the pressure off my back; and the back of the chair was on springs, so it rocked a little bit. It was very soothing, to just lean forward with my head on my arms and rock myself gently into an empty void.

Once we tried all the different positions, we returned to our seats to talk about the major changes all of our internal organs are going through. My God, it’s no wonder we have heartburn and constipation and ligament pain. Our insides have been squished and rearranged into something unrecognizable.

Then we started talking about the actual birth. Before her presentation, she passed around a basket of lifesavers and told us to suck on one – no chewing. After about 5 minutes, she asked how our candy was, and we all answered smaller and thinner. She then said the candy compared to our cervixes during labor. I will never look at a cherry lifesaver in quite the same way.

Finally it was time to watch the video about the epidural. I’m still not sure whether or not I’ll request one. There’s no guarantee it will work (15% of them don’t); and once you have it, you’re stuck in bed. I think I’d rather just get some short term narcotics (demerol maybe?) to take the edge off the contractions. I honestly don’t know.

And I think that’s the worst of it. The fear of the unknown. Will it be a long labor? Probably. How much pain will I be in? Since I’m carrying low, am I going to have hours of back labor? Will it be unbearable for my entire labor, or only the last part of it? What if the baby doesn’t turn, and I end up with a c-section? I don’t want to be in the hospital for four days (as if I have any say at all in the matter).

Finally, after all that, we were allowed to go home.

I learned a lot, and I’m glad we went. Part two is this Saturday, and I wonder what else they can throw at us. Besides cherry lifesavers.

The Joker.

My husband is a funny guy. Normally, it’s one of the things I love the most about him. But not today.

This morning, Dave and I made what will (hopefully) be our last trip to Babies R Us before the little guy’s arrival. It was extremely hot & humid out, though, so I was more than a little cranky after our 2+ hour, $500+ shopping spree.

On the way home, I reminded him that our first childbirth education class is tomorrow. He immediately started snickering, and wouldn’t tell me why. After a good solid 5 minutes, he finally said that he thinks “we” will have a hard time keeping a straight face during the breathing exercises and labor/delivery videos.

I was so mad, I wanted to pull the car over and beat him upside the head with our new baby bathtub. I told him that I was thinking about asking someone else to be in the delivery room with us, because I don’t think he can handle it. He doesn’t come from a close-knit family, and he’s never been to the hospital to visit a friend’s exhausted wife or newborn baby. He honestly has no idea how much pain I’m going to be in; and furthermore, trying to diffuse my agony with humor is NOT going to work.

I just feel like he’s not taking any of this seriously. He’s been less than supportive throughout the pregnancy; and in my heart, I feel like I won’t be able to count on him to help me through the worst part of labor. He’ll be trying to make jokes and stupid comments to lighten up the mood, while I’ll be trying to push a bowling ball through a drinking straw. I can’t even get him to rub my back now. Will I really be able to depend on him to encourage me to breathe and push and get the baby out?

I’m sure it’s just the fear of the unknown. I used to think women who used midwives were crazy. Why would you want another person in there with you, when you’re surrounded by trained medical professionals?!? But now I understand, and wish we lived near a bigger city where doulas were available to help with the birth.

Because having one person in the delivery room to focus on me, who knows what to say and what not to say, would give me more confidence about my husband and what I can expect from him.

Besides a midnight run to the cafeteria.

Quick Question . . .

Is it really necessary to wash your baby clothes in Dreft detergent?

I have really sensitive skin, so I wash our clothes in Cheer Free with Downy Free fabric softener. But my mom washed my stuff in Dreft until I was a teenager(!), and I’m wondering if I’ll need to do the same. Back then, we didn’t have all the free & gentle detergents, though, so I’m not sure.

There’s so much stuff to wash before the baby gets here. The crib bedding and the onesies and the clothes and the hooded towels and the washcloths and the burp rags and the extra sheets and the blankets and the sleeping gowns and everything else. I think I’m going to start calling him The Little Tyrant, only because we will soon be catering to his every whim and whimper.

Also? I can’t find any nursery decorations I really like. I wanted to do something with puppies; but the crib sets I’ve found are either too brightly colored (I prefer pastels) or WAY too expensive ($189.99?!?). At this rate, his room theme is going to be “Hey kid, be glad you’re not sleeping in a dresser drawer”.

219 days down, 18 years and 61 days to go!!! =)

Movin’ On Up.

Had my last appointment with the buckethead MFM doctor yesterday. Of course, he was charming and friendly and very unlike his usual self. I’m pretty sure he had been self-administering nitrous oxide right before I got there; unless he was on a sugar buzz from the very large chocolate cake I spotted in the back section of their office. I didn’t really care about the nitrous oxide, but I had to cross to the other side of the hallway to keep from mashing my entire face into that moist, delicious chocolately goodness.

Anyway, the appointment went fine. The baby is measuring right on target for his gestational age, and he’s gaining somewhere around an ounce a day. As of yesterday, he’s one donut hole away from four pounds.

Unfortunately, he’s more breech than ever and he’s still facing my back. His head is now pushing my diaphragm into my throat (or so it feels), leading me to get winded by walking the 10 steps from the car to the front door. And he’s formulated a theory that my bladder is a big, magical, shiny ball which must be kicked at every waking moment.

The MFM doctor also said I have one of the most stubborn babies he’s ever worked with. At every ultrasound appointment I’ve had, he’s been facing my back and refuses to turn around and give us a look at his face. He even tried shaking my belly to get the baby to move; and yeah, he moved all right. He buried his head even deeper towards my back, as if to say “Screw you, Mr. Doctor Man!  Jiggle me around again and I’ll show you who’s boss of this belly.”.

The doctor said he’s difficult, but I prefer to think of him as “shy”.

He also told me to buy some compression stockings to wear in the afternoons and at night.  My feet and legs have been swelling like big, juicy watermelons; and I’ve been waking up in the mornings with horrible leg cramps.  I never put 2 + 2 together; but he said the swelling puts a huge strain on the tissue & muscle in your lower legs, and the cramps are a result of those fluctuations.

I can’t believe this is the start of my weekly ultrasound & NST appointments with The Gynie God.  My parents asked if they could tag along to one of the appointments, to see an ultrasound of the baby.  Back when she was pregnant with my brother (and then me), they didn’t do ultrasounds unless something was wrong.  And even then, neither the mother nor the father could see the screen – only the doctor did.  How could I say no?

I’m going to try & get back on here with a rundown and some pictures from the baby shower tomorrow or Thursday.  We have so many gifts to go through, and I want to get all the thank you cards written out this week, while it’s still fresh in my mind.  And there are a couple of duplicates and a few things to return; and I feel like I need to get to the stores now, before I get any bigger & more uncomfortable.  I already waddle by leading with my belly.  I think I’ll be too big to do much shopping in another two weeks or so.

I still feel so blessed to even be having this baby.  Dave and I were eating dinner last night, and I said, “You know, I’m still not even sure how this all happened.”.  My lovely husband then proceeded to give me a play-by-play, including visuals, right there at the kitchen table.  Not quite what I meant; but entertaining, nonetheless.

And I can’t believe we’re on the home stretch.  How can I be due in only eight weeks?????  The Gynie God told me to have everything ready by 32 weeks, and it’s here.  OH. MY. GOD.  How can 32 weeks have passed by already?  How can I only have eight weeks left???  HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?????

Note – I’m not really panicking about this.  It’s more like I’m flustered and amused.

And happy.  Just so wondrously happy.

Bittersweet.

Just a quick entry tonight – today was a long day, and my feet are swollen & my back is killing me. Again.

Babygate actually went really well. A couple of minor glitches; but nothing we couldn’t handle. It was fantastic to see everyone again, and we got some really nice gifts. Actually, I didn’t even care about the gifts & felt a little weird opening them in front of everybody . . . but managed to relax and enjoy being thrust into the spotlight.

I have to admit, though, I’m extremely disappointed in some of my “friends”. When we sent out the invitations a month ago, we asked for people to RSVP with regrets only. Out of the 50+ invitations, 12 people didn’t bother to respond and didn’t show up today. TWELVE PEOPLE. Almost 25% of the invitees couldn’t take two minutes to pick up the phone or send a quick e-mail to let us know they couldn’t make it.

One of them is one of my oldest friends, Lori. I’ve known Lori for over 15 years, and I’m hurt beyond words that she couldn’t be bothered to take one day to come & celebrate with my family & friends. She has 3 children of her own; and every time she popped another one out, I took the time to bring her gifts and food and trashy magazines for her hospital stays.

And the worst part of all? Before she got married, she lost a little girl; and I was the only one of her friends who let her cry it out whenever she needed to. I let her talk about her little angel without nervously changing the subject. I looked at the hospital pictures with her and visited the cemetery with her and kept her company when her grief was so intense that she couldn’t get out of bed.

When we were going through our infertility hell, I never asked her for anything. I couldn’t get pregnant to save my life; but still, I congratulated her when she had not one, but two babies and I was crying inside. So today, I’m hurt and angry that she couldn’t even make an effort to come and celebrate my good fortune.

Someday, her house of cards will come tumbling down.  And for once, someone else can help her pick up the deck and start over.

Waitress

(Note – I started writing this last night; but 3 power cuts later, I gave up & went to bed.)

I just finished watching the movie Waitress. I know it’s not going to be everyone’s slice of pie, but I really liked it. The film covers some serious issues – domestic abuse & adultery – but overall, I found the characters to be charming and believable.

However, I never put 2 + 2 together that this movie was directed by Adrienne Shelly (who also played one of the main characters). Shelly was murdered in her home on November 1st, 2006, by a construction worker whom she caught stealing money from her purse. If you do watch the movie, her 2-year-old daughter has a cameo in the final scene with Keri Russel.

It’s supposed to be in the 90’s with high humidity this week, so I’ll be sticking pretty close to my couch & TV for the next few days. Anybody else have any movie recommendations?

Babygate is tomorrow. At last count, we’re expecting 41 guests (and my mother only has enough door prizes for 31 people – typical). My expectations are pretty low, but I’m still hoping to have a really nice day.

I don’t think I talked about the fiasco leading up to Babygate here, did I? I ordered a dress & it came in the wrong size (and of course, they don’t have another one in the right size). I ordered sandals to wear with it, and they sent me 2 right shoes (but no left one). I ordered a corsage, and the florist ran out of fresh roses and was unable to make one up in time.

I’m sure it will all be fine. I’ll be back tomorrow, hopefully with pictures. As long as someone brings a wide-angle lens to capture my enormous girth.

Weird Food Obsession #43,812

Strawberry milk.  I can’t get enough of this stuff lately.

Fortunately, it’s made with lowfat 1% milk and it’s only $1.69 for a half gallon.  All things considered, it’s better than the spray cheese in a can craving I had a few weeks ago.

I went to the grocery store today, and was absolutely shocked at the jump in fresh produce prices.  A plastic clamshell of grapes was $5.00.  FIVE DOLLARS for teeny tiny grapes that are a 3 days away from becoming raisins.  $6.00 for one measly cup of fresh raspberries.  $7.00 for a 2# bag of red delicious apples.  $4.49 for a bag of pre-cut lettuce.  $2.89 for ONE green pepper.  $8.99 for a pound of roast beef from the deli.  My God.  Is it because of the diesel prices?

Later tonight, we went to Walmart.  $1.88 for a pound of grapes.  $2.00 for the same bag of lettuce.  $2.99 for a pack of peppers, including one green, one red, and one orange.  I know people either love Walmart or they hate it; but I’m really glad we have one nearby, if only for the reasonably priced fruits and veggies.

Do other people try & shop at the local farmer’s markets?  Ours aren’t starting for another week or two, thanks to the loooong winter and wet spring that screwed up our planting schedules.  Still, I can’t wait.  There’s nothing better than fresh picked corn on the cob, or zucchini that’s only been out of the garden for 4 hours, or carrots that are so fresh they’re still covered in dirt.

Until then, I’ll stick to the little cans of diced peaches in lite syrup.  Washed down with a swig of strawberry milk, of course!