22.5 Weeks!

My goal has been to take monthly "belly shots," so friends and family back in the States get to experience my ever-expanding waistline along with me. But I've been slacking just a little bit. So without further ado, here's the latest up-date. Here's me at 18 weeks:

And here's me a few days ago. I'm at about 22.5 weeks now:

I actually don't see much difference, and Jonathan is starting to get disappointed that I'm not big and fat yet (although I FEEL big and fat.) I have a feeling I'm just going to POP one of these days. But, the good news is that those of you who haven't gotten to see my new haircut can see it now ;)

It's a. . . .

The longest week of my life has finally come to an end. Against all odds, Jonathan came on home on time and with no problems. Once he landed, he called me to let me know and told me to go out onto the balcony with Oskar and the video camera. I'd been telling him after every TDY how excited Oskar had gotten when he realized Daddy was home, and Jonathan wanted to see for himself. The video starts when I see Jonathan pull up in front of the building in a taxi. . .

I had all kinds of visions in my head of how opening the envelope would go. I pictured us having a nice, romantic dinner and then opening the envelope together after dessert and hugging and crying after seeing the newest images of our baby (maybe I've seen one too many chick flicks). Needless to say, it didn't quite go the way I pictured it. Jonathan came in the door, exhausted and sweaty, and after some hugs and kisses and "welcome home's," he headed straight for the shower. And as soon as he got out of the shower, he looked me right in the eye: "Where's the envelope?"

I went into the kitchen, grabbed the envelope off the counter, and handed it to him. "You open it."

We sat down on the love seat and said a little prayer together. After that, I watched nervously as Jonathan opened the envelope and then pulled apart the staples the tech had used as an extra precaution against peeking. As Jonathan unfolded the pictures, I couldn't even look; I looked only at his face. Suddenly he broke into a huge grin and his eyes started to water (don't tell him I told you that). Only then did I look. "It's a BOY!" the picture exclaimed, with a no-doubt-about-it look at our baby's "parts."

Tears started to well up in MY eyes then, and we DID hug and laugh and look at the picture again and hug and laugh some more (so I guess THAT part was kind of like a chick flick.) It was then a mad rush of phone calls and Facebook posts (since we had some friends who seemed more anxious to find out the gender than WE were ;) ).

We, of course, would have been happy with either sex, but we both really wanted a boy. Jonathan wanted a boy because, well, he's a guy, and all guys want a son. On top of that, he wanted a son to make sure the Wright family name would continue. I, on the other hand, wanted a boy for three reasons:

1. To make Jonathan happy

2. To make sure that if we DO have a girl next, she's got a big brother to look out for her

3. To take the pressure off of me of producing a Wright family heir!

After the excitement of the sex had died down, I finally sat down to look at the REST of the ultrasound pictures. Although I had been there for the whole thing (obviously), there is still nothing like seeing a still image of your baby. And THIS picture was absolutely precious. Take a look at the partial shot of Baby W.'s face (nose and lips).

Of course, I'm biased, but I think the little guy is already the most beautiful little boy EVER, and he's not even done cooking yet! I mean, come on--look at those little lips!

Everland

Part two of my plan to keep myself out of the house and away from that envelope included a trip to Everland. Everland, for all of you non-ROK'ers, is South Korea's largest amusement park. Think almost Disneyland. . . but not quite. In Disneyland fashion, it's HUGE and broken into several different zones, such as 'Global Fair,' 'European Adventure,' 'Zoo-topia,' and 'Magic Land.' It also has that same general carnival-like atmosphere with shops and restaurants everywhere, along with castles and costumed characters. But, from the pictures you'll see, everything else is distinctly Korean. Everything is just a little bit off, and I spent most of the day scratching my head just wondering, "Why?" However, I'll give them credit--the place is filled with TONS of things to do and even I, the preggo who couldn't ride any rides, had a blast. Kudos, to you, South Korea. Well done.

Welcome to Everland.

First things first: a safari. You're loaded onto a bus and driven out into areas where the animals roam free. We even saw a lion on top of one of the cars (don't tell PETA). There were, of course, lions. . .

And tigers. . .

And bears (OH MY!)

And a liger. You know, a lion and tiger mixed? It's bred for its skills in magic. (Yeah, I don't know, but that's what they said it was.)

The park did give me a few opportunities to snap a few aspects of Korean culture that I find amusing. One of them is Koreans' obsession with American children, ESPECIALLY blonde-haired children. They will constant touch them and try to take their picture. Here, a couple of my friends' children were trying to watch a show. . . and became a show themselves.

The show the children were trying to watch when they were mobbed. Totally bizarre. However, maybe you have to be a kid to understand it; they stood transfixed for a good 2o minutes (pretty impressive for 3-4 year olds).

It just kept getting more and more bizarre. I couldn't watch anymore.

Bees playing the tuba? Sure, why not?

The Everland Tulip Festival. It was no Keukenhof, but I'll take it. The colors were stunning.

Beautiful flowers, ruined by the placement of odd Korean characters.

Another view of the park (and a perfect example from my last post when I explained how long it takes spring to reach South Korea. All of the beautiful flowers above contrasted sharply against the dead, life-less tress and brown grass.)

Another oddity of Korean culture I was able to capture: old Korean women LOVE huge sun-visors. I'm not sure why, but it seems the bigger and gaudier the better. Luckily, about 50 old ladies were in front of us in line for the Everland version of "It's a Small World," and I was able to get a couple of pictures.

A boat full of visors. . .

Last but not least, I have to share a short video I took during our ride on Everland's not-quite 'It's a Small World' ride. But, really, it was. It was the EXACT same ride, only the puppets all sang in Korean. Anyways, this clip shows how America is represented in the Korean 'It's a Small World' ride. Apparently, America = cheerleaders, football players, cowboys, and Broadway. Yep, "not-quite-right." Flattering, but not quite right. ;)

Hangang Yeouido Spring Flower Festival

I had my 20 week ultrasound yesterday, and the good news is that Baby W. is perfectly healthy. Everything looks good, and I was able to see arms, legs, nose, lips, heart, brain, kidneys, spine, and even his or her little baby butt. ;) The bad news is that Jonathan is gone, and we had agreed to find out the sex together. So now on my counter sits a plain white envelope that contains the latest pictures--including the one that tells the gender--of our unborn child. And I have to wait until Jonathan gets home to open it. Although he is supposed to be home on Friday, I knew this would be the looooooongest week of my life. Better fill it up with things to do.

First up, a trip up to Seoul and the Hangang Yeouido Spring Flower Festival. Spring takes it sweet time coming to the ROK, with things looking dead and brown way into late April. However, once it gets here, spring is my favorite time of here on the pen. The flowers are beautiful, none more so than the cherry blossoms. I tried to go the Cherry Blossom Festival last weekend, but all the bus tickets were sold out. Luckily, I came across this festival in the paper and--bonus--it was very do-able via the Seoul subway system. So a few friends and I boarded the train and headed up there this morning.

Although the festival had officially been going on for a few days, it seemed to be still gaining momentum when we arrived. I believe the "big" celebration doesn't start until this weekend. Most of the cherry blossoms were JUST getting ready to bloom and many of the booths were still being put up. However, for me, it was the perfect time to visit, as there were very few people there--which is a rarity ANYWHERE in South Korea--and the flowers were still beautiful, nonetheless.

After exiting the subway, it was a short walk along the Han River to the festival. Every time we come to Seoul, we drive along the river and I think to myself, "I'd love to just take walk along it someday." Well. . . now I have.

The road next to the National Assembly building was blocked off so you could walk along the cherry blossom trees. As you can see, most of them were JUST getting ready to bloom. . but the view was still beautiful. Imagine walking along this with classical music playing all around you. . .

There were a few cherry blossoms blooming. . . and all the Koreans were gathered around it, taking pictures. We joined them. ;)

There were various displays of flower "art" along the road. I didn't quite understand it, but it was still pretty. ;)

Beautiful displays of spring flowers. . .

More cherry blossoms in bloom. Like I said, I love them.

Since we were right by the Han River, we were excited to see a sign announcing the 'Seoul Boat Show'. . .

. . . but, in typical 'Land of the Not-Quite-Right' fashion, it turned out to be less than spectacular. THESE were the boats of the 'Seoul Boat Show'. . . all 5 of them. ;)

All in all, a beautiful, relaxing spring day spent with wonderful friends and pretty flowers. And I didn't think about opening that envelope all day. . . at least until I got home. ;)

Rainy Days with Oskar

Before I got a dog, I used to love rainy days. No, really. Rainy days were an excuse to stay in my sweatpants, get a few things done around the house, and be just a little bit lazy. Any time I thought of something I didn't really want to do, I could always say to myself, "Eh. . . but it's raining," and I would feel a little less guilty about putting something off until tomorrow. In other words, rainy days were small pockets of bliss in my otherwise hectic life.

And then Oskar entered the picture. The little 10-pound sausage dog turned my world upside down in more ways than one, but none more so than my feelings towards rainy days. Now, when I wake up and see this:

outside my window, I cringe. "Ugh," I think to myself, "it's a rainy day with Oskar."

For those of you who don't know, Oskar is a VERY high energy dog who requires way more exercise than we ever could have imagined and has an extreme type-A personality. He is adamant about his daily "routine," and God help anyone who messes it up. Even Mother Nature.

Our normal routine consists of a walk in the morning. Now, I don't mind walking in the rain. As long as I've got my umbrella and my seriously cute rainboots, I'm all set. It might as well be raining kryptonite in Oskar's eyes, however. This dog knows when it's raining before he even pokes his head out of the covers in the morning. Rainy mornings will usually end up with me getting out of bed, fixing breakfast, and then waiting. . . and waiting. . . and waiting for a certain wiener dog to finally make his daily appearance. More often than not, I will give up, yank the covers off, and physically get him out of bed. Problem solved, right? Nope, the little stinker will rush right under the bed, the one place he knows I can't get to him. Masking my frustration, I will use my most cheerful voice and ask him if he wants to go for a walk (one of those magic Oskar words). Nothing. Next, I'll try bribes:

"Oskar. . . you want a treat?"

Nothing.

SQUEAK! SQUEAK! "You wanna play with your toy?!"

Nothing.

"How about a piece of cheese? You want a piece of CHEESE?!"

Still nothing.

By this point, the dog has been holding his bladder for over 12 hours, and I know he's gotta go. Unfortunately, I have no choice but to just sit and wait for his bladder to win in its battle with his mind, which it ultimately will. Key word "ultimately."

When he finally does emerge from under the bed, I grab him via sneak attack and attach his leash before he even knows what's going on. Then comes the fight of a lifetime trying to get him downstairs and out the door. This involves him using all of his strength to plant himself on the floor and refuse to move. Luckily all the floors are linoleum; if there were any surfaces into which he could really dig himself, I'd be in trouble. Even luckier still, he's small enough for me to just pick him up and force him to go outside. Ahhhh. . . small victories.

Once we get outside, I set him back on the ground; he immediately turns around and tries to go back inside. "No, no," I say. "We have to go potty first."

Oskar will walk two steps and relieve himself on the nearest bush for a good 5 minutes (if you hadn't gone in 12 hours, you'd have to pee, too), and will again turn around and try to go back inside.

"No, no" I say again. "You have to go poopy first."

Blank stares.

"Poopy, Oskar. You have to go poopy?"

More blank stares.

Oh, the joy the other people in our apartment building must get from seeing a grown woman arguing with a wiener dog outside their window. I'm sure it's absolutely a hoot--for everyone else. Now, before you say, "Jenn--he's s a dog. He doesn't understand," keep in mind that Oskar does know a few words, "poopy" being one of them. Blank stares are pure Oskar trickery. He THINKS that I'll feel sorry for him and let him go back inside if he looks all sad, wet, and pitiful. I, on the other hand, KNOW that I will wait outside for as long as it takes because I have experienced WAY too many of the nasty smells that can come out of this dog when he is holding a number two. . . and I am NOT willing to put up with that for the rest of the morning. Eventually, I win this round, Oskar goes poopy, and we retire back to the house.

Of all the elements of his routine, Oskar is the most flexible with his morning walk. No walk? No problem, especially on rainy days. The lazy little boy will come right back inside and return to bed until about 1:00 (his internal clock is uncanny). . . at which point he knows it's time to go to the park.

Even if it's still pouring down rain, Oskar will follow me around the house giving me sad looks and not letting me get ANYTHING accomplished until I agree to take him outside. Suddenly, Mr. Finicky LOVES the rain. I, on the other hand, cannot throw a tennis ball AND hold an umbrella at the same time. So, we compromise, and I take him to the commissary parking garage. The top floor of the garage is rain-free and almost always empty--a perfect place to toss a tennis ball around on a rainy day. However, as I've said, it's almost always empty. Today we were surprised by the lone random car driving through---which Oskar prompty proceeded to chase through the garage, while a fat pregnant lady chased him, arms flailing wildly, screaming at the top of her lungs. When I finally DID catch up to him (not because I was fast enough, but because the driver of the car was kind enough to stop), I grabbed him by the collar and started yelling "Bad dog! Bad, bad dog!" Then I started shaking. Then I started crying. And Oskar just stood there with his tail wagging.

I was so mad/scared/relieved that I decided, rain or not, this doggy was taking a walk. No more playtime. So I snapped on his leash and out we went from the parking garage. I had my umbrella and my seriously cute rainboots; I was just fine. Oskar, however, was back to hating the rain. He fought me and fought me and, again, there we stood in front of Seoraksan Tower, a grown woman arguing with her wiener dog. I finally managed to get him to take a walk (by dragging him 3/4 of the way--an even more hilarious sight, I'm sure, for my lucky neighbors), but when I got him to the front door, he decided he absolutely would not walk anymore. Keep in mind, we're now out of the rain and ready to go inside, and the stubborn little booger just quits on me. I have no choice but to pick him up---all 10 pounds of soaking wet mess. THIS is his revenge for making me take him for a walk. I was cozy and dry during the walk while he got soaked. Now, it's my turn to get wet and nasty.

A wet dog is one thing. A wet wiener dog is another. Oskar is so low to the ground that his entire belly gets soaked and covered in pieces of sand and mud from the ground. When I finally got him inside, his belly looked like this:

And that is with HALF of the dirt and water now residing on my sweatshirt.

After a thorough scrubbing and some Pina Colada puppy spray to get rid of the smell (which apparently burns like acid, if the way Oskar squirms and whines is any indication), I let him loose. . . and that's when he REALLY decides to let me have it. "Take away my time at the park?" he seemed to ask. "I'll show you!" Over the next two hours, he barked continuously, chewed a hole in my favorite blanket, scratched our furniture, and destroyed his favorite (and only) squeaky tennis ball:

(I don't think he realizes he was really just screwing himself on this one--HE'S the one that will be upset later tonight when he goes to play with it and finds out it doesn't work anymore.)

As I write this, Oskar is curled up next to me, having worn himself out by being an absolute TERROR and finally forgiving me for disturbing his routine. I, on the other hand, can only sit here and pray that tomorrow will bring sunshine and my sweet little dog back to me.

And thank God that we're moving to the desert in a few months.