No more exams for me!

It looks like taping a $20 to the inside of each blue-book paid off. (if you're a possible employer, that was just a joke.) The Texas Board of Law Examiners posted the list of people that passed the July 2008 Bar Exam, and I was on it. Becoming a licenced attorney is great but the real joy comes from knowing I'll never (ever-ever) have to take that exam again. Many thanks to all those who believed in me, even when I didn't, I should be in a better mood from now on.

I'm in mourning.

Why am I in mourning, you ask? Because the best college football team in the country went into what they knew would be an emotionally-charged game with their heads placed firmly in their @#$%@ (fannys). I am disappointed, but life goes on.

And go on life has since the last blog entry. As you may remember, last time I quickly discussed the gestational diabetes test my baby-momma was about to undergo. Tyf followed all the doctor's directions on drinking the super-sugary "tang" and followed some not so good directions from her husband on eating a turkey sandwich before the test. And failed it. She failed the one-hour diabetes test by a whopping 2 points. This anomaly was quickly blamed on the directions of said wayward husband and the 3-hour diabetes test was scheduled.

The 3-hour test was, for lack of a better word, a mess. Tyf, not wanting to throw off the test for a second time, made sure to fast for 12 hours before the appointment. This ensured that Tyf would get the best result from the test and that the 4 blood draws Tyf had to endure would cause nausea, vomiting, cold sweats, fainting, seizures, and a general crappiness. After the second blood draw, the lab techs decided that it would be in everyone's best interest to allow Tyf to stay where she was on the table and turned out the lights in 1 of only 3 rooms in the lab. The lab's appointment schedule was off by about 45 minutes by the time we left, but Tyf was able to leave under her own power, which is near miraculous.

Tyf refused to contact the doctor until after Halloween weekend so that she could enjoy the sugary holiday without guilt. We called this morning to get the results and, as I have been telling from the beginning, SHE DOES NOT HAVE GESTATIONAL DIABETES. So feel free to congratulate her, and keep those prayers and well wishes coming 'cause we only have about 3 months left.

Oh yeah, HOOK 'EM!!!

Salt and Sugar

To all those keeping up with the blog, I am very sorry I have not posted in so long. There are many different reasons why I haven't posted so I won't go into them here, but I don't plan to let those reasons keep me from blogging further. Thus, you can all get your baby info and Billy-blather fix on a more consistent basis.

First things first, baby and momma are doing just fine. The pictures on this entry can be clicked on to enlarge, they are from the most recent of the sonograms.

Second, brings us to the title of this entry: Salt and Sugar, two of Tyf''s favorite things. Two things which Tyf is currently depriving herself of in a very self-sacrificing manner (she likes to remind me of this often). Tyfany has actually refrained from salting any of her food from the day she found out she was pregnant. A feat I am very proud of. Giving up salt may not seem like such a big deal for many of you reading this but, if you have ever shared a meal with Tyfany or are a member of the Boettcher family, you understand. It's a sacrifice akin to fish giving up water, koalas giving up mildly narcotic eucalyptus, Homer Simpson giving up beer, or McCain giving up the moniker "Maverick." It's a big deal.

The Sugar would be a deal breaker if it was sacrificed for an extended period of time. Luckily, the sugar embargo is only for a few days thanks to the upcoming gestational diabetes test. The test will actually be done tomorrow afternoon, so Tyf can then go back to her jalapeno-poppers and dutch chocolate ice cream, or the new favorite BBQ potato chips and chocolate milk.

It's a BOY!!!

It's a boy, it's a boy, it's a boy, boy, boy. It's a boy, it's a boy, it's a boy, boy, boy. It's a boy, it's a boy, it's a boy, boy, boy. It's a booooooooooy, it's a boy, boy, boy. (to the lone ranger theme)

Pictures and a full length post to follow.

Gotcha!

The scheduled day for discovering the sex of Baby Double B has come and gone and no news? What . . . how is this even possible?

Well, it would seem that Baby Double B is smarter than any baby ever in the history of recorded time. I can only surmise that Double B could hear us talking about the sonogram as we were preparing for it and quickly turned his/her back to the sonogram and curled into a partial ball to hide the girl or boy parts. I am a little concerned that the tucking did reveal some thermo-dynamics equations on the back of Tyf's uterus that, if I understood them, would require Dr. Guerra to wear some sort of protective vest during delivery. Then, after persistent maneuvering of the sonogram, Double B began to shoo us away taking his or her modesty to the extreme. And I'm fairly certain just before the sonogram was removed Double B "flipped me the bird" and began to giggle!

Actually, there was no sonogram. The doc in her infinite wisdom decided it would be better to wait until 24-28 weeks to be absolutely certain of the baby's sex. Of course, she changed her mind after 30 seconds into the checkup yesterday. So, what started out being one of the coolest anniversary gifts Tyfany and I could have had that was then denied us, really could have been but for the lack of an appointment. The appointment has been set for this Friday the 26th. Be expecting another blog posting. If you haven't yet voted time is running short, get to it.

Some results are in...

Unfortunately, only some of the results. The sex of baby B-B is still an unknown, possibly Sept. 23 if all goes as planned. The results that we do have are from "most" of the blood work. If you remember from a previous post, the blood-draw turned into a bit of a fiasco (even though I don’t think vomiting on a nurse is that big a deal). It turns out that an unconscious-vomiting-convulsing baby mama can keep the nurses from getting enough blood to run all the tests. The tests they were able to run came back “A-OK”. And the tests that were run were the ones concerning the baby’s development. Thus, baby B-B (I was told I can’t use “Fetus” anymore) is normal for AFP, hCG, uE3 and, apparently, the “rh factor” isn’t going to be a factor. So, short but sweet, everything is progressing perfectly (even though Tyf still thinks she has the diabetes). Perhaps after the next round of tests we can put the ‘betes to bed.

The truth is in there.

For those of you who have voted on the likely sex of Fetus the answer will be revealed in a few short weeks. In fact, the date scheduled for the ultra-sound is Tyfany and my 3rd wedding anniversary. Due to the excitement of the last doctors visit (i.e. needles, vomit, and seizures . . See below) we didn’t realize that we had selected our anniversary to find out the sex of Fetus. Funny how these things happen, but this gives all of you late voters until September 23rd to make your decision. Every vote counts, especially if it’s for a boy . . . that’s right Ed, a boy.