beanski

random and a little squish

Bullet-style because I have very little mental capacity remaining.

• On Labor: Real labor sucks and I said I CAN'T DO THIS and YOU ARE LYING (when they told me 'good push') at least a thousand times in the 13 hours I labored but the sweet recovery and holding my girl like three hours after the birth of her brother made it totally worth it. My placenta is highly regarded for taking care of my Cam-man for nine months but can kiss my ass for not coming out right away and threatening me with emergency surgery.
• On Renee: Ski got me checked into the hospital after I went into labor and then went back at 6AM to get Renee to daycare for some normalcy. She proceeded to hand our daycare lady her shoes and say MAMA! all day long. Apparently she wasn't fooled.
• On Cameron: He's a pretty mellow little dude but he is shredding my nipples. They are dripping blood. Possibly too much information but quite frankly I'm having a hard time thinking about anything else. His early nicknames are Cam-man and Budderoo. He looks so much like Renee as an infant that it is almost eerie to me.
• On Pregnancy: I miss sleeping. I do not miss being pregnant. After Renee was born, I missed being pregnant by now. This time? Not so much.
• On Marriage: My husband bought me a new lens for "carrying his son around for ten months." My 50mm had been acting up lately and I had been complaining that I want a new one. He was apparently listening. I love him. This time we are more like a well-oiled machine with this whole baby thing and I want to cry every time I look at him. Granted, I cry over pretty much anything these days but my husband? He's a good one.

A Renee funny: She picked up a breast pad and put it on her head and said HAT! It looked like a Yarmulke and I laughed my ass off.

A Cameron funny: The pediatrician felt compelled to tell me that he required the largest size instrument for his circumcision. I plan to tease him endlessly about that someday.

And finally a picture of some baby squish. I took these while Renee was out shopping with Ski today so I don't have a picture of Renee to post with it. Oh, the guilt. The guilt...it just never stops.

one of each

IT'S A BOY! Renee is a big sister :)

Cameron Paul was born on November 13, 2008 @ 5:50PM. He weighed in at 7lbs 12oz and is 20 inches long. We are all doing very well and Renee's first visit with her new brother went off without incident, her saying Baby and slapping him on the head and then going promptly back to playing with her bribes.

Not only did his mama guess 11/13 in the ExpectNet game but both he and Renee were born on full moons. I should have known. I managed to pull off the VBAC, a thought that I am still shaking my head about. I can't quite believe it happened the way it did. It is nice to not be drugged up and in pain and to be going home already tomorrow!!

A picture of our little dude. Not the best picture but a picture nonetheless. I'll post more if I ever have a spare hand again!

when you can't sleep, blog

I fell asleep on the couch at 7:45PM tonight and apparently that has me up at 3AM, wide awake, ready to start my day. Blogging while drowsy is a bit like blogging while tipsy and because I haven't been tipsy in well, let's see, multiple YEARS, this will have to be risky enough. I promise you this post will be boring and probably pointless and most likely lacking of all correct punctuation and propositions. I don't care.

I saw my OB on Friday. Scheduled the c-section for 11/18. I thought I would feel more relieved. I probably would but then she told me that I was dialated to 2cm, totally thinned out and that the head is very, very low and engaged and that she wouldn't be at all surprised if it happened on its own before that. Which is good. But sort of defeats the whole SCHEDULED thing. And now I am back to wanting to have this baby the right way. MAKE UP YOUR FLIIPPING MIND ALREADY. I'm already saying things like, "Well, if I go in on Friday and am still progressing, maybe I should move the c-section back closer to my due date." My poor, poor husband.

Saturday night I started having contractions around 8PM. They weren't all that strong but consistently 8-10 minutes apart. I was up all night freaking out, checking my hospital bags, etc. Then around 8AM yesterday morning they stopped completely. I equate them with the flirty, idiotic girls that I went to college with that used to actually admit to me that they "just like to flirt." My body is TEASING me. I should also mention that because of the way Renee was born with the whole breaking water, c-section 2 hours later thing, I don't actually know what a contraction feels like. So I'm pretty much a first timer. Was that it? Whoa, what was that? It could be a long nine or more days. Have I mentioned that you should feel sorry for my husband?

Renee is talking up a storm and new words are flying out of her mouth every day. The biggest development is that she can finally say HELP...which we're hoping is going to save us from the fits of rage over everything that she is trying to say but can't quite get out properly. Yesterday she was trying to put her puzzle together and instead of lining them all up with their proper match and then screeching because she doesn't have the patience to practice her fine motor skills and just wants us to put them in the flipping slots already, she looked me straight in the eye and demanded "HELP!" She is so fun to be around right now. Also: hard. She is sick of me struggling to take care of her, I think, and wants DAD all of the time. She stood outside the bathroom door and screamed for him yesterday while he was in the shower. She wants nothing to do with me. I don't blame her but that doesn't make it any easier. I couldn't do anything but sit in the chair next to her and cry right along with her. Ski came out to find us both sobbing our heads off and he looked at me like "What the heck is going on?" The poor man.

Ski's mom bought Renee this hilarious little outfit with a skirt and matching tights and when I put it on her for the first time, I laughed for hours. I had never dressed her in tights before and something about her toddling around in tights and Mary Janes made me laugh so flipping hard. Then I promptly got online and ordered her about fifteen more dresses with matching tights. Because I could use the comedic relief. The picture is appropriate because BEEP, BEEP! about the bus and HOO! HOO! about owls are her two favorite things right now. I love how she purses her little lips just so and then says HOO! HOO! in this sweet, innocent little baby girl voice. I know you don't care but I do and it is almost 4AM now and I'm the most pregnant woman and town and well, HOO! HOO! is all I've got.

into unchartered territory

As of yesterday, no one can accuse me of having another pre-term baby! No looks from the nurses, no worry from the pediatrician, NO, NO, NO, we are FULL-FRICKING-TERM.

Whooo Hoo, Rah Rah, Yippity do da and and all of that.

This whole full-term business, you know what that means? That means it is time for the baby to come on out. Like right now would be fine. I'll even settle for tomorrow morning. But another three or four or five weeks of this? NO THANK-YOU.

All of you poor souls that were a week, or {GASP} two weeks late with your children, you deserve that medal that some people think you get at the end of childbirth. You know, those of you that don't take drugs and labor and give birth at home with a doula rubbing your temples. YOU CAN HAVE THE METAL. IT'S ALL YOURS. Because there won't be any stinking medal for this fat, contracting mama. Nope, nope, nope. I will make them cut this baby out of me before I am even allowed into the games to compete for the medal. I'll have a sweet, soft baby to cuddle with, what would I want with a metal anyways? 

I'm being slightly over-dramatic here. It is not that bad. Well, it is but really, I can live through it. Or can I? Each day is a different version of that dialog in my head. The day where it is not so bad is promptly followed by a GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME RIGHT NOW day.

I see my OB tomorrow where I plan to tell her that I want to schedule a c-section. And that if the baby decides to come on it's own before then, we'll go for the VBAC. Yes ma'am that is my final answer. Me, the wishy-washy-can-not-make-a-decision-for-the-life-of-me patient is done. D-O-N-E. Let's get this show on the road.

She told me last week that my chances of a successful VBAC are around 30% considering that my septum is totally pushing the baby off to one side and that she "has no idea if my uterus will even contract enough to get me dialated." Follow that up with testing positive for Strep B and having to deal with that during labor. Follow that up with a discussion with someone who labored for EIGHTEEN HOURS TWO WEEKS AFTER HER DUE DATE and still ended up with a repeat c-section. Follow that up with how tired I am and the fact that I have ONE pair of sandals that actually fit on my feet (it is supposed to snow here this weekend) and quite frankly, I don't have the energy. I was tough last time. I did the version. I SO wanted a vaginal delivery. I wanted it so bad that I was depressed for weeks (or was it months?) about things not going my way.

This time I'm doing it on my terms. I will do it on a day where my mom and dad will be here to take care of their granddaughter and to give her lots and lots of extra special attention. On a day where I can wake up rested and ready and go to have a baby and not be rushing to the ER in the middle of the night with toddler in tow. Is it what I've always wanted? No, not really. Am I trying to find the silver lining to make myself feel better? Perhaps. Do I think it is the right thing for me and my family right now at this moment? You bet your ass I do or I wouldn't be doing it.

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This post is also my super secret way of trying to coax the baby to come out on it's own before the big day with the red circle on the calendar. I made up my mind; surely the baby will have other plans, RIGHT? RIGHT, BABY? Reverse psychology works on my first-born, it is bound to work on my second.

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To you MANY people out there that voted on the name choices but I still have no idea who you are: Go make a guess in the ExpectNet game because I'm locking it down tomorrow afternoon. Or leave me a comment and tell me something funny to make me feel better. Like I said last time, you wouldn't want to miss your chance as that would be a travesty of epic proporations.

the eerie butterfly

Renee had a blast dressing up and going trick-o-treating. I can't even BELIEVE I just typed that but it is true. She thought the whole show was hilarious. The kids, the candy, the costumes, all of it. I tried to get her to say BOO! all day. She said BEEE! like yeah mom, see, I can totally say that! BEEE!!! We're apparently going to have to change her favorite game to PEEK-A-BEE.

The butterfly preparing for take-off. I have better pictures that don't have a huge ladder in the background but this one made me laugh out loud so I'm going with it.

I know my little butterfly isn't eerie but you know what is?
...Renee was born at 36w2d. I am currently 36w2d pregnant...
...Renee was born on a Saturday morning at 2AM after my water broke at midnight on a Friday night. It is 8:48PM on a Friday night...
...Renee was born on the last day of the month of June. Today is the last day of the month of October...

No, I don't really think I'm going into labor tonight because I didn't have someone pushing hard on my belly this morning and I have been getting shot up with progesterone every 15 seconds for the last four months to stop such things. But you have to admit, if the deja vu gods are reading this blog, I might be screwed.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

these kids are going to be the death of me

If you're looking for some sunshiny, optimistic, I'm-so-grateful-to-be-pregnant-and-a-mom talk here, I'm warning you now, go somewhere else. We are fresh out.

Regarding Child #1 whom I shall now refer to as The Barfer:
The cell phone rang yesterday and it was the dreaded daycare call saying "Renee threw up." When I got there to pick her up there was puke all over my poor daycare provider, all over her floor, all over my kid and The Barfer was as PALE AS A GHOST. I took her home and we took a nap together which the bad mom in me has to admit I sort of enjoyed...well, other than the whole smelling barf thing, I enjoyed snuggling with my girl one last time before she isn't my one and only anymore. She's not a snuggler and WILL NOT lay down in our bed EVER so this was sort of a treat. The Barfer woke up, had a decent appetite for lunch and then promptly blew chunks all over my bedroom and the bathroom. We both had barf in our hair and all over our clothes and she was too hysterical for me to clean it up. I stripped us both down and we sat virtually naked in the rocking chair and rocked and rocked and rocked while she moaned and whined and said MAMA over and over again. When things started coming out the other end I was sort of relieved because after last week's antibiotic debacle? Me and the runs are like THIS. She went to bed on-time and stayed there until about 10:30 at which point she woke up again moaning MAMA and then DADA and then whoever wasn't sitting right there next to her was summoned. This went on until FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING at which point The Barfer properly soiled her pants, demanded they be changed and then went to bed. I'm walking around in a fog, tired and hungry and trying to make up hours at work because I need all of the paid time off I can get wishing for someone to shoot me now. And then I realized that this fog? It may as well be permanent because as soon as Child #2 decides to make his/her appearance the fog will just get foggier. And then I cried. And I wondered WHY IN THE HELL AM I DOING THIS?

Regarding Child #2 or S/he Who Likes to Make Life Interesting:
I am 35 weeks pregnant. My feet, fingers, back, crotch, calves, heels, you-fricking-name-it, IT HURTS. I am sleep-deprived because of The Barfer and because my hips can only handle lying on one side for about seven seconds before I need to roll back over, not to mention the intense bladder pressure forcing me to go to the bathroom every 15 minutes. WHINE, WHINE, WHINE, I know shut up with the whining already, huh? I'm almost annoying myself. I am making up excuses so that I don't have to leave the house because honestly, the next person that tells me that I have a big belly or that I'm huge might just have to die. And then my kids will be left with no mother at all. This tired, crabby, FAT AS HELL shell of my former self has to be better than no mom at all, RIGHT?

I saw my OB yesterday and found out that S/he Who Likes to Make Life Interesting has better maneuvering skills than his/her big sister and has managed to get itself head down. This is good except for the fact that I am the most indecisive person on the planet and now I really will have to make the VBAC vs. Scheduled c-section call. And even though this might just annoy all of you who have had the perfect vaginal birth, I was sort of hoping it would just stay breech so that I could say "I didn't have a choice" and schedule the damn operation. Then wipe my hands clean of any guilt. Now instead, I'll get to wonder if I made the right choice either way. And I could have another month to think about it or it could happen tomorrow. The Barfer was born at 36 weeks so tomorrow is a real possibility. On one hand this is totally welcomed and on one hand COMPLETELY TERRIFYING. I had my second-to-the-last shot of progesterone today and even though 99% of the assholes on this planet are part of the "She's ENORMOUS" camp, my doctor made my day by saying "I didn't know where tiny little you puts all of that baby." I almost kissed her on the mouth. And then I floated back to work telling myself that the doctor that sees millions of pregnant women every day thinks I'm doing a great job and that I'm not abnormally large.

And then daycare called about The Barfer and my pissy mood came rushing right back. Something tells me it will be sticking around for a while...

every pregnant mother's blog needs a post about gender

It seems that every mother has had thoughts about boys and girls and their roles in society and which they would prefer to raise. That every mother secretly either has visions of that little girl to dress up like a princess or that little boy to play in the mud with. Or maybe they can’t imagine not having at least one of each. My husband repeats his 'happy either way' mantra like a broken record every time I so much as raise the question about whether he thinks the baby that is currently monopolizing every spare inch of internal room I have is a girl or a boy so I'm not entirely sure if he has preferences or not. I do know that his friend Bog often leaves messages on our answering machine about how he 'only produces boys' so I know how Bog feels about gender. If it isn't a boy, it doesn't count, right? Some women want girls, some want boys, some are quick to mention when they first meet my completely feminine, totally girly from the shape of her hands to her whiney little voice baby girl, that girls are 'harder than boys.' And whinier. And insert-gender-stereotype-of-your-choice here.

And I often wonder: Do they really think that I would trade her for a boy? Are they saying these things because they don't have a girl and they want to tell themselves that they never want one just in case they never get one? Do I do the same thing about their boys?

They are clearly IMPLYING that I somehow would love a son more than my daughter and that just isn't the case. I've heard every argument from the relationship between mothers and sons being stronger than that of mothers and daughters and all about how when you have a son you only have to worry about one penis instead of thousands. To which I often respond: 'Don't you have thousands of vaginas to worry about? Your son knocks up a girl and you sort of have the same problem as I do if my daughter gets pregnant. Or are you implying that you would encourage him to abandon the girl and his baby?' I've heard about how hard teenage girls are. I've heard it all. The arguments are weak at best.

My favorite color is blue, who is to say that she’ll love nothing but pink?

My favorite hobbies involve getting dirty outside but she is a little girl so she’s only allowed to like playing dress-up and is doomed to be a homemaker? (Another rant for another day: Is being a homemaker automatically bad/good, depending on whose shoes you're in?)

I am educated and successful and independent and perfectly capable of taking care of myself working in a field dominated almost exclusively by men. I was able to find a job where they are supportive of me having children, allow me to take time off to be with them and still appreciate the work I do every day. How is it assumed that she won’t be capable of the same?

On the flip side, it is perfectly reasonable to assume that if the baby is a boy, he’ll be quiet and patient and introspective rather than loud and abrasive and manly. My husband isn’t a tough, man-of-the-house frat boy and I have no disillusions that his son would be either. Maybe he’ll like sports and catching frogs and playing in the dirt like I did as a kid or maybe he’ll be like his dad who likes to play guitar and would rather be inside reading a good book than on a football field slapping other men’s asses.

This woman desperately wanted a little girl all during my first pregnancy. I think it was because I had all nephews and I wanted to be the first at SOMETHING. Being the baby of a family of three leaves your accomplishments, your wedding, your babies, a bit of an afterthought. Your parents make up for it with different acts of spoiling growing up and as I've aged, I think each position in the family tree has its benefits so I'm not being all POOR ME on you or anything. I'm just saying, my wedding could have never been as exciting as my sisters' because we had all been through it twice since. My baby's first steps weren't as exciting as my oldest nephew's. Why? Because when he did it, it had been years since we had seen it up close. When she did, we had just seen it last week. It’s not that anyone loves me or my daughter any less or that we are being cheated in some fashion, it is just a fact of life.

It is the same rationale that makes it so that Renee will always be my first-born. I cried harder when I dropped her off at daycare for the first time than I expect to with my second and not because I love the baby any less than I love her. I know deep down my heart will double in size when this baby is born and while it is virtually impossible to imagine loving someone as much as I love her, I have confidence it will happen.

Somehow and regardless of if it is a baby boy or a baby girl, I know it will happen.

I don’t care if this baby is a girl or a boy because I don’t honestly think gender matters. It might matter when they are two and the choices of clothing and toys are so strongly biased towards pink frilly girls or baseball throwing boys but once they reach an age where they are capable of choosing for themselves, does it really matter? If s/he is going to want to play hockey or join the Math Club, it doesn’t matter if s/he is male or female.

They are who they are. You get what you get.

I plan on doing everything in my power to smash the stereotypes that society feels the need to saddle them with.

If he wants to go to tap dancing class? I plan on taking him.

And if she wants to join a boy’s softball club, I’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer her on.

A mother is allowed to wish this for her children, right?

82.5% is dangerously close to 100

I conned Tara in to taking some fat girl pictures of me on Sunday because I have one set of belly pictures from this round and it was from 22 weeks. It is virtually impossible to get the images you want using a tripod and remote control with a toddler trying to tip it over. I called in the reinforcements. She did a great job, huh? These were taken at 32.5 weeks. Here is me at 31 weeks and 34 weeks with Renee. This time? BIGGER.
 
  
 

Well, except for this FREAKY one that you can't really blame on Tara because my belly? It's not all that natural and cute. You see that gigantic head poking out of the top side of my belly? Yeah well, my children only like to live in there butt-down. And don't try to get them to flip because they are she is temperamental and will come out four weeks early just to spite you. Heart rate is holding steady at 150.

I have good days and bad days. Days when I feel motivated enough to cover cardboard boxes in cute fabric for Renee's room or to cook enough lasagna to feed a small army and days when I hit the couch 10 seconds after the little monster goes to sleep and promptly start sobbing. These last three months of pregnancy aren't for the weak at heart.

On the days that I feel good, I'm optimistic and happy. Grateful to be going through pregnancy again, grateful for how strong and big the baby is getting, grateful that all of us are healthy and happy. I'm looking forward to becoming a family of four and I am just dying to see if this baby is anything like its big sister. I'm dying to know finally, once and for all, if she has a sister or a brother. I'm excited to go through all of it again, this time with a [hopefully] more down-to-earth perspective.

The irrefutable force that caused me to gain large amounts weight in the first two trimesters finally tapered off and I really haven’t gained much weight in the last month. I’m up just under 30 pounds, which seems respectable. Although I am getting dangerously close to weighing as much as my husband and let’s just say I’m going to try to avoid that if at all possible. Or he’s going to have to start eating more Milky Ways. IT’S ONLY FAIR.

The one pregnancy torture I didn’t have with Renee but has plaguing me this time is my feet swelling up after a day of work. The weekends are fine but man, I get home from work and I can hardly bend my toes. My doctor told me to try out compression stockings and by some act of God, my insurance actually covered the NINETY-FIVE DOLLAR expenditure. I have confidence that they might help, IF ONLY I COULD BEND OVER FAR ENOUGH TO GET THEM ON MY FEET.

I also invested in a maternity belt and could punch myself in my own face for not buying one sooner. It has made me feel slightly human again. If you are pregnant and have back pain, GO BUY A MATERNITY BELT. Right now. Don't even ask how much it costs, just BUT IT.

Nesting is in full force. I just have two pillow covers, two blankets and some curtains to pin and sew and baby clothes to wash and fold and organize and a couple of things to get for the walls. I need to get the oil changed in the cars and pack my hospital bag. I REALLY NEED TO PACK HOSPITAL BAG. CAN NOT SLEEP UNTIL HOSPITAL BAG IS PACKED. Ski is doing his own version of nesting which basically involves FREAKING OUT about money.

I've had some revelations in the last month that I have been waiting for and was concerned would never come. I woke up one day and decided that I don't care how or when this baby gets here as long and s/he gets here and is safe and healthy.

If I have to toss and turn and sit on the side of the bed trying to wake up my tingling hands for forty-nine more consecutive nights, I'll try to do it without complaining. Too much.

If I never know what it feels like to kiss the hands and forehead and feet of a baby still damp from amniotic fluid, I'll accept my body and thank it for managing to give me two healthy children.

If I never get to watch one of my children get their first bath or cry their first cries, I will remember that missing those things is so very insignificant compared with missing out on ever becoming a mother.

If I have to send Renee to daycare for an extra day or two because I can't physically lift her out of her crib, I'm going to tell myself that she is having fun with her friends and I'll figure out a way to make her feel extra special and loved on those days when she gets home.

If this baby shows up early and can't figure out how to breastfeed and it seems like a better idea for me to quit than to freak out about it, I'll remind myself that it was hard at first with Renee too and I can't even fathom the possibility now of never having that nursing time with her. And if that doesn't work, I'll tell my perfectionist tendencies to SHUT THE HELL UP and I'll quit. And I'll try to keep the guilt to a minimum.

If I end up with another bout of Post Partum Depression or the Baby Blues or whatever hormonal force that was that had me crying for months on end, I will look into the eyes of my children, tell them that I love them with every fiber of my being and I will remind myself that the sun will shine again. If it doesn't shine, I'll ask for help. And I won't be ashamed for not being stronger.

I accept that I have very little control over the situation.

The only thing that I can [try to] control is my perspective and I AM GOING TO enjoy the birth of this baby by whichever means it comes and I AM GOING TO enjoy the three months I get at home afterwards spending time with my children. I AM GOING TO enjoy the hospital rest and the crappy food and the sleepless nights and the raging hormones as much as is humanly possible and I AM GOING TO remind myself at every turn that someday, many years from now, I will look back on these days as the best days of my life.

I feel content and confident and sure of myself for the first time in eons and quite possibly for the first time ever. It feels good.

I think this all means that I'm ready for the baby to be born where I can be thrown for a loop by everything I didn't see coming and spend the next six months in a sleep-deprived, stressed out, tears-streaming-down-face stupor. And you know what I have to say to that? BRING IT.

name that kid

Some of these names I hate and some of them Ski hated. Some of them we both like. Just like last time, I suspect we'll be sitting in the hospital room six hours after s/he is born figuring it out. 

You can vote for one or two or three on both lists and it is strictly anonymous. I meant to put D'Brickashaw on the lists per my brother-in-law's request but was thinking that maybe it doesn't flow with Renee. I could be wrong though. I mean, I have been wrong once or twice before.

Online Surveys & Market Research

Online Surveys & Market Research

i can't stop reading about teenage vampires

I resisted the teenage vampire books for months, ignoring the Harry Potter references and claims that Meyer is the next J.K. Rowling. I mean SERIOUSLY. It's Harry-fricking-Potter and I don't want to hear your over-hyped, melodramtic, I-mean-seriously-are-you-comparing-a-series-to-HARRY-FRICKING-POTTER (scuff, scuff)?

I couldn't get involved because, well, The Potter is sacred around our house.

Then, on Saturday, I realized that I needed something other than useless baby gear and Baby Girl rooms to focus my energy on. Because I wasn't really any fun to be around and Ski was sick and tired of me droning on and on about shit he really could care less about.

Although he *LOVES* the new monitor even more than I do. Ask him. Our evenings seem downright quiet without the constant buzzing of the shittiest monitor of mankind and since we don't have anything else to talk about other than politics (a subject that is seriously starting to wear on me) and football (fantasy football talk is already old...here in week 3), we talk about the new monitor and how totally rad it is.

And then I walk hobble upstairs every 30 minutes to make sure she's still in there because really, I CAN'T HEAR ANYTHING. IT'S TOO QUIET.

In addition, we can't come up with one single agreed upon name for our unborn child and internet? IT'S STRESSING ME OUT. Even more than the useless baby gear and Baby Girl rooms, the whole naming your kids thing? IT SUCKS. Maybe I can find a vampire name hidden in the pages? I have to confess that the thought seriously crossed my mind, especially when I got to page three and realized there is a character named Renee in the series.

I would LIKE to spend my time cleaning and doing laundry and organizing but my hips just can't do it. One day of it and I hobble around for three. Nope, I need something that doesn't involve babies or physical exertion of any kind.

So, teenage vampires it is.

Since I started reading about teenage vampires, I haven't been able to get anything else done. I haven't taken or edited a picture. I haven't cooked dinner. Well, I wasn't cooking before but now I have an EXCUSE for not doing anything. It's the vampires. I have to know what happens next.

Have you read the Twilight series and what do you think? ALSO: Do you have any ideas for names that go with Renee? Boy or girl really, I'm getting desperate.