Well, here un urp-land, things couldn't be greater. That was sarcasm people, get used to it.
I'm hating life right now. I feel like a bad mom because of the rejoicing that goes on when the wee one goes down for a nap. You would have thought I won the damn lottery. Hooting and hollering are known to happen. Then I go down for a nap. And it's a glorious thing.
I forgot how bone-tiring pregnancy can be. How I forgot, I do not know. I mean, it was only last year. My mother was right, nature does make a women forget, otherwise we'd all be only children. The tired I'm feeling right now and pretty much all the time is different though. This tired is grumpy. As in watch out for her grumpy. I've bitten my share of heads clean off this week.
In other news, the morning sickness has progressed nicely. I'm pukin' in the morning, pukin' in the evening, pukin' at supper time. I can't look or even think about uncoked chicken. Which sucks, because that's about all we have in our freezer. This happened last time too. It's enough to send me running for the nearest toilet/sink/backyard. And I know it only gets worse from here.
Great.
Friday, October 29, 2004
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Prayer request
please keep Cecily in your thoughts and prayers as she goes through the devastating time.
Monday, October 25, 2004
Hmmm
Well, I'm stumped.
How can I be so, so sleepy all frickin' day and now...now I couldn't fall asleep if my life depended on it. Insomnia sucks people. Sucks hard.
So, you want to know my secret do you? On how to catch up and advance on your bill paying? Well, secret one is minimize. Get rid of everything you enjoy. Cable, long distance, internet....Oh wait, we didn't get rid of that. We are barbaric. Secret two is macaroni and cheese. Toss in some Top Ramen, a lot of chicken and rice and you've got yourself about $200 a month saved on groceries. The third secret is lack of self-love. Well, kind of. I haven't bought myself new clothes since I was 8 months pregnant and that was because my husband was sick of me leaving the house in pajamas. I've also had the same makeup for about a million years. No, seriously though, my eyeliner is about 4 years old. I only wear makeup if I'm going somewhere where there might be new people to meet. This rarely happens since we weren't spending money. And, we all know how cheap entertainment by family members is.
At times it sucked. I look into my daughter's closet and weep because she has ten times the amount of clothing I do and none of the items will fit her in a month. Or maybe a week. Have you seen this kid eat? My husband does get new "work" clothes (i.e. jeans, teeshirts), but only when absolutely necessary (read: falling apart, so holey you can see through them). Meanwhile, I'm wearing a shirt someone passed down to me and I'm content. Harrumph.
But, have no fear. We will be back in the red and the big giant stress hole come January. This is, after all, baby's first Christmas and we don't want her thinking Santa is a tool, now do we? So, Toys R Us, here we come. I can see that damn giraffes eyes lighting up with glee at the hole we'll burn in our wallets.
How can I be so, so sleepy all frickin' day and now...now I couldn't fall asleep if my life depended on it. Insomnia sucks people. Sucks hard.
So, you want to know my secret do you? On how to catch up and advance on your bill paying? Well, secret one is minimize. Get rid of everything you enjoy. Cable, long distance, internet....Oh wait, we didn't get rid of that. We are barbaric. Secret two is macaroni and cheese. Toss in some Top Ramen, a lot of chicken and rice and you've got yourself about $200 a month saved on groceries. The third secret is lack of self-love. Well, kind of. I haven't bought myself new clothes since I was 8 months pregnant and that was because my husband was sick of me leaving the house in pajamas. I've also had the same makeup for about a million years. No, seriously though, my eyeliner is about 4 years old. I only wear makeup if I'm going somewhere where there might be new people to meet. This rarely happens since we weren't spending money. And, we all know how cheap entertainment by family members is.
At times it sucked. I look into my daughter's closet and weep because she has ten times the amount of clothing I do and none of the items will fit her in a month. Or maybe a week. Have you seen this kid eat? My husband does get new "work" clothes (i.e. jeans, teeshirts), but only when absolutely necessary (read: falling apart, so holey you can see through them). Meanwhile, I'm wearing a shirt someone passed down to me and I'm content. Harrumph.
But, have no fear. We will be back in the red and the big giant stress hole come January. This is, after all, baby's first Christmas and we don't want her thinking Santa is a tool, now do we? So, Toys R Us, here we come. I can see that damn giraffes eyes lighting up with glee at the hole we'll burn in our wallets.
The Chinese Face
This is what we affectionately refer to as the "Chinese face." It's hereditary, passed down on my side of the family. It has shown up early in my offspring, which just proves how much of a genius she is.
Seriously, I have dozens of childhood photos of myself, my mother and her sister all making a face like this. Something about a camera makes us squint our eyes shut and grin. It really drives my grandfather batty.
Some people get excited when little "Timmy" shows signs of having father's throwing arm, or little "Becky" shows a flare for cooking just like her mother, and I get excited when my daughter shows how retarded one can be in front of a camera. God bless us, we're gonna need it.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Caught up?
All of our bills are paid through December. How in the hell did this happen?
We have been steadily behind for about a year. I sometimes don't know where our money goes, but it goes. And quickly. That's why I almost shit my pants (sorry for the visual) when I wrote out all the checks, licked all the stamps, sealed all the envelopes and wrote our remaining balance in the register. A balance in the black. We actually have money left over. It's crazy.
I suck with money and unfortunately, I married a sucky-money person too. Together we can blow all sorts of cash on all sorts of nothing. That's why having kids really makes the anxiety disorder in me rage. I can't tell you how many nights I've lost sleep worrying about how dear husband was going to get to work with gas being so freakin' expensive ($2.48/gallon is rape I tell ya). So, now I have nothing like that to keep me awake at night. What am I going to worry about now?
I'll think of something dear readers. Have no fear. I'm a professional worry-wart. But, perhaps you can give me some suggestions...
*again I have typed a spelling-error free post. Someone give me a cookie!
We have been steadily behind for about a year. I sometimes don't know where our money goes, but it goes. And quickly. That's why I almost shit my pants (sorry for the visual) when I wrote out all the checks, licked all the stamps, sealed all the envelopes and wrote our remaining balance in the register. A balance in the black. We actually have money left over. It's crazy.
I suck with money and unfortunately, I married a sucky-money person too. Together we can blow all sorts of cash on all sorts of nothing. That's why having kids really makes the anxiety disorder in me rage. I can't tell you how many nights I've lost sleep worrying about how dear husband was going to get to work with gas being so freakin' expensive ($2.48/gallon is rape I tell ya). So, now I have nothing like that to keep me awake at night. What am I going to worry about now?
I'll think of something dear readers. Have no fear. I'm a professional worry-wart. But, perhaps you can give me some suggestions...
*again I have typed a spelling-error free post. Someone give me a cookie!
The beginning of a lot of pictures (as in a hell of a lot)
Notice the hint of drool on the chin. A trademark in this house.
*sidenote: doesn't it make you feel good when you hit spellcheck and it tells you no errors were found. Admit it, a little voice in your head says, damn, I am good.
Friday, October 22, 2004
Feeling better
I didn't actually puke yesterday, but boy! Did I want to. I think it would have been better than the nauseated state I spent all day in. It sucked. Yet, I know it's a great sign (thanks for pointing that out, Toni). I'm still nervous and confused on how to feel. My emotions are on a rollercoaster from hell. One minute, I'm excited and planning in my head how my two little ones will grow up close, the next minute, I'm crying and wailing on about how I can't handle this, oh God what have we done?!?! Blah...That's my new favorite word in case you haven't noticed.
Then, there is a little piece of me that feels guilty. Guilty for not having to go through any type of treatments, no drugs, nada. While the majority of the blogs I read are written by wonderful women dealing with infertility. It breaks my heart. I realize though that the few gals (whoa, did I just use gals, eek I'm morphing into my grandmother) who read my blog and struggling are truly happy for me. I'm grateful for that. And I'm still pulling for you all.
Agh, enough mushy, depressing crap. Today we get our camera and I'm so excited. And a little sad that I am so excited over a camera. I should look into those things people have called lives. I've heard good things about them.
Then, there is a little piece of me that feels guilty. Guilty for not having to go through any type of treatments, no drugs, nada. While the majority of the blogs I read are written by wonderful women dealing with infertility. It breaks my heart. I realize though that the few gals (whoa, did I just use gals, eek I'm morphing into my grandmother) who read my blog and struggling are truly happy for me. I'm grateful for that. And I'm still pulling for you all.
Agh, enough mushy, depressing crap. Today we get our camera and I'm so excited. And a little sad that I am so excited over a camera. I should look into those things people have called lives. I've heard good things about them.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
And so, it begins
Morning sickness.
Need I say more.
Actually, it's more like morning, afternoon, evening, middle of the night sickness.
Blah.
Need I say more.
Actually, it's more like morning, afternoon, evening, middle of the night sickness.
Blah.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Advance warning for my loyal readers
We are finally getting a digital camera.
Take this as a warning: massive amounts of meaningless pictures will be posted here starting next week.
I'm sorry.
Take this as a warning: massive amounts of meaningless pictures will be posted here starting next week.
I'm sorry.
Perhaps if I drug her
My baby doesn't like to snuggle. She doesn't like being held, really. Very independent. Just plop her on the floor with lots and lots of toys within reach and she's happy for a good hour. Everyone says I'm lucky. I think it sucks.
While pregnant, I had fluffy, pink dreams of wasting rainy day afternoons curled up on the couch with my beautiful baby. We would wrap ourselves in a yummy blanket and I would read to her from Shel Silverstein's collection of odd poetry.
Well, it looks like I will have to drug her to get that fantasy. I've tried, but do you know how hard it is to snuggle with a little person arching her back and screaming like a banshee? It's a little difficult. And, since my emotions are starting their rollercoaster of fun, I'm trying hard and waxing nostalgic for a baby I never had.
Then, yesterday it happened. My friend, her 2-year-old niece, my banshee, and I were at the local Starbucks drinking lattes (the adults, not the children. Come on I'm not a monster), when suddenly, she lay her head on my shoulder and hung on to my shirt with her tiny hands. I cried. Yes, tears actually came to my eyes at such a wonderful moment. She then promptly fell asleep. Ah, I thought to myself, so when she's tired, she will cuddle. I filed this away in the part of my brain that doesn't forget things (this is in a far, dark, dreary corner).
So, lesson of the day is: skip a babies nap and they will comply with your cuddle demands.
While pregnant, I had fluffy, pink dreams of wasting rainy day afternoons curled up on the couch with my beautiful baby. We would wrap ourselves in a yummy blanket and I would read to her from Shel Silverstein's collection of odd poetry.
Well, it looks like I will have to drug her to get that fantasy. I've tried, but do you know how hard it is to snuggle with a little person arching her back and screaming like a banshee? It's a little difficult. And, since my emotions are starting their rollercoaster of fun, I'm trying hard and waxing nostalgic for a baby I never had.
Then, yesterday it happened. My friend, her 2-year-old niece, my banshee, and I were at the local Starbucks drinking lattes (the adults, not the children. Come on I'm not a monster), when suddenly, she lay her head on my shoulder and hung on to my shirt with her tiny hands. I cried. Yes, tears actually came to my eyes at such a wonderful moment. She then promptly fell asleep. Ah, I thought to myself, so when she's tired, she will cuddle. I filed this away in the part of my brain that doesn't forget things (this is in a far, dark, dreary corner).
So, lesson of the day is: skip a babies nap and they will comply with your cuddle demands.
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Mother-in-law
I hate my mother-in-law.
I know you are saying, "Christina, hate is such a strong word, don't you mean dislike?"
No, I've thought it over and I mean hate. Truly, really hate. It's sad I know, but let me give you the latest example why. I'm sorry if it sounds petty, but it's just the icing on the cake.
To backtrack a little, in February, my lovely MIL threw me a baby shower. She was insistent on being the one to throw is. Made a huge deal about it from the moment she heard we were expecting. So, she asks me for a list of people I want invited and anything else special I would like done. So, I make out a list of my friends and family and a list of games I would like played. She then calls me and questions half of the names on the list, are you sure you want to invite her, you know I don't like her. You get the picture.
Weeks go by, I ask if she needs any help. Nope. Okay. Then my step-mother calls. She's a little confused because when she called to RSVP, MIL told her she needed my step-mother to be in charge of games. Hadn't I given her a list. Yes, I had. I guess she was just planning so much she couldn't get to it. She never mentioned the list to my step-mother, so I rattled it off for her. Set.
Then, the night before my party, MIL calls my friend Linda (one of the ones MIL doesn't like) and tells her she has to get the cake because she doesn't want to make one. What. The. Fuck. Needless to say, I'm a little upset. But, I am also 8.5 months pregnant and chalk it up to emotions.
The day of the party arrives along with all the guests. There are no decorations, no food, no drinks. Nothing. Everyone is a little uncomfortable. It also doesn't help that she is in her sweats and has the heater cranked up to 80 (it's February in California. Not heater weather for those who don't know). MIL pulls me aside and asks is my step-mother remembered prizes for the games, because she better have, it's the thing to do. I walk away without answering her. I didn't want to hit her, and I might have then and there.
The party goes on despite the missing elements. I start to open presents. Halfway through, I have to excuse myself and step outside because it was HOT in there and MIL wouldn't a) turn down the heat, or b) let anyone open a window. Returning, I force myself to finish and that is when MIL jumps up and starts cleaning up and telling everyone they have to go. Sigh.
So, that brings us to yesterday. MIL is throwing a shower for her daughter, who's baby is due in December. I walk in the front door and what do I see. Decorations. Lots of decorations. And food. Lots of food. MIL ordered sushi special, and her daughter a) can't eat sushi and b) hates it anyway. What. The. Fuck.
Then there was the cake. It was huge, beautiful and delicious. I asked MIL where she got it and she goes on and on about this deli on Oakland where she gets all her family cakes. It's a tradition. I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her where to stick that particular tradition.
When I got home last night, I unloaded all my tears and hurt onto dear husband. Bless him for putting up with my new pregnancy hormones. Now, I'm not sad anymore. No, now I'm filled with hate for this woman who has come into my life and looks to be here to stay. Blah.
I know you are saying, "Christina, hate is such a strong word, don't you mean dislike?"
No, I've thought it over and I mean hate. Truly, really hate. It's sad I know, but let me give you the latest example why. I'm sorry if it sounds petty, but it's just the icing on the cake.
To backtrack a little, in February, my lovely MIL threw me a baby shower. She was insistent on being the one to throw is. Made a huge deal about it from the moment she heard we were expecting. So, she asks me for a list of people I want invited and anything else special I would like done. So, I make out a list of my friends and family and a list of games I would like played. She then calls me and questions half of the names on the list, are you sure you want to invite her, you know I don't like her. You get the picture.
Weeks go by, I ask if she needs any help. Nope. Okay. Then my step-mother calls. She's a little confused because when she called to RSVP, MIL told her she needed my step-mother to be in charge of games. Hadn't I given her a list. Yes, I had. I guess she was just planning so much she couldn't get to it. She never mentioned the list to my step-mother, so I rattled it off for her. Set.
Then, the night before my party, MIL calls my friend Linda (one of the ones MIL doesn't like) and tells her she has to get the cake because she doesn't want to make one. What. The. Fuck. Needless to say, I'm a little upset. But, I am also 8.5 months pregnant and chalk it up to emotions.
The day of the party arrives along with all the guests. There are no decorations, no food, no drinks. Nothing. Everyone is a little uncomfortable. It also doesn't help that she is in her sweats and has the heater cranked up to 80 (it's February in California. Not heater weather for those who don't know). MIL pulls me aside and asks is my step-mother remembered prizes for the games, because she better have, it's the thing to do. I walk away without answering her. I didn't want to hit her, and I might have then and there.
The party goes on despite the missing elements. I start to open presents. Halfway through, I have to excuse myself and step outside because it was HOT in there and MIL wouldn't a) turn down the heat, or b) let anyone open a window. Returning, I force myself to finish and that is when MIL jumps up and starts cleaning up and telling everyone they have to go. Sigh.
So, that brings us to yesterday. MIL is throwing a shower for her daughter, who's baby is due in December. I walk in the front door and what do I see. Decorations. Lots of decorations. And food. Lots of food. MIL ordered sushi special, and her daughter a) can't eat sushi and b) hates it anyway. What. The. Fuck.
Then there was the cake. It was huge, beautiful and delicious. I asked MIL where she got it and she goes on and on about this deli on Oakland where she gets all her family cakes. It's a tradition. I had to bite my tongue to keep from telling her where to stick that particular tradition.
When I got home last night, I unloaded all my tears and hurt onto dear husband. Bless him for putting up with my new pregnancy hormones. Now, I'm not sad anymore. No, now I'm filled with hate for this woman who has come into my life and looks to be here to stay. Blah.
Thursday, October 14, 2004
Relapse
Well, damn. I just couldn't resist buying a couple more tests. They were on sale at Safeway.
Not to worry, still positive.
God, I'm a peestick junkie.
Not to worry, still positive.
God, I'm a peestick junkie.
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Lord, help me
I had to almost physically restain myself from purchasing more HPT's at the grocery store today. Picture me wrestling myself in the feminine needs aisleIt's like the 4 I've taken aren't real, that they were all bad, and I have this almost uncontrollable urge to continue testing until my first OB exam. Which is in a month. Damn, I hate waiting.
All of the "what if's" are playing out in my head. Though, I must admit I am a lot calmer this time around. Maybe because I keep chanting there is nothing I can do to stop something bad that might happen. If it happens, it happens. We all know what 'it' is.
I'm sick of being so pessimistic. Yet, somehow I thrive on it at the same time. It' sthe drama queen in me. Negative attention is better than no attention, I always say.
Really, though. I need to stop. I'm going to go crazy and that won't work for anybody. No one wants a crazy mom or wife. Right?
All of the "what if's" are playing out in my head. Though, I must admit I am a lot calmer this time around. Maybe because I keep chanting there is nothing I can do to stop something bad that might happen. If it happens, it happens. We all know what 'it' is.
I'm sick of being so pessimistic. Yet, somehow I thrive on it at the same time. It' sthe drama queen in me. Negative attention is better than no attention, I always say.
Really, though. I need to stop. I'm going to go crazy and that won't work for anybody. No one wants a crazy mom or wife. Right?
questions
got this from Linda and thought it would be fun to answer some random questions at 7am on a lovely Wednensday morning...I apologize now for any nonsense, I'm still sleeping as I type.
1. What's your middle name: Kelly
2. What color pants are you wearing right now? Spongebob squarepants pj bottoms
3. What are you listening to right now: the noise in my head
4. What was the last thing you ate: Some peanut butter on a spoon
5. If you were a crayon what color would you be: Green
6. How is the weather right now: 56 degrees
7. Last person you talked to on the phone: my mother
8. First thing you notice about the opposite sex: their ass (I never admit this to them of course)
.9. How are you today? sleepy
10. Favorite Drink: Diet Coke w/Lime
11. Favorite sport: Baseball, if I have to watch one
12. Hair Color: Brown
13. Eye Color: Green
14. Do you wear contacts: I used to until I ripped one, forcing myself to wear just one for about 3 months. Finally stopped that when I went to the doctor complaining of headaches and bouts of dizziness. His prognosis: wearing only one contact will do that to you.
15. Siblings: 3 sisters (twins ages 22, the other 13)
16. Favorite Month?: December
17. Favorite Food(s): Right now, anything not nailed down
18. Last movie you watched: Anastasia with the kids I watch after school
19. Favorite Day of the Year: December 25th
20. Summer or Winter: Winter
21. Hugs or Kisses: both
22. Chocolate or Vanilla: Chocolate always
23. Living Arrangements: With husband, daughter, dog, guinea pig, and two fish
24. What books are you reading? Books, what are those?
25. What's on your mouse pad: Nothing
26. Favorite Board Game: Clue
27. What did you do last night? Went to my former job and chatted it up
28. Favorite Smells: a clean house (anyone offering?)
29. Can you touch your nose with your tongue: No, and thanks, now I'll be trying to all day
30. What inspires you? Ask me later because right now all I could think of was food
31. What is the best vacation you have ever had? Disneyland when I was little. My life is pretty boring and husband has yet to take me somewhere that would be catagorized as "best"
There you go. Useless facts about me you never needed, but now have.
1. What's your middle name: Kelly
2. What color pants are you wearing right now? Spongebob squarepants pj bottoms
3. What are you listening to right now: the noise in my head
4. What was the last thing you ate: Some peanut butter on a spoon
5. If you were a crayon what color would you be: Green
6. How is the weather right now: 56 degrees
7. Last person you talked to on the phone: my mother
8. First thing you notice about the opposite sex: their ass (I never admit this to them of course)
.9. How are you today? sleepy
10. Favorite Drink: Diet Coke w/Lime
11. Favorite sport: Baseball, if I have to watch one
12. Hair Color: Brown
13. Eye Color: Green
14. Do you wear contacts: I used to until I ripped one, forcing myself to wear just one for about 3 months. Finally stopped that when I went to the doctor complaining of headaches and bouts of dizziness. His prognosis: wearing only one contact will do that to you.
15. Siblings: 3 sisters (twins ages 22, the other 13)
16. Favorite Month?: December
17. Favorite Food(s): Right now, anything not nailed down
18. Last movie you watched: Anastasia with the kids I watch after school
19. Favorite Day of the Year: December 25th
20. Summer or Winter: Winter
21. Hugs or Kisses: both
22. Chocolate or Vanilla: Chocolate always
23. Living Arrangements: With husband, daughter, dog, guinea pig, and two fish
24. What books are you reading? Books, what are those?
25. What's on your mouse pad: Nothing
26. Favorite Board Game: Clue
27. What did you do last night? Went to my former job and chatted it up
28. Favorite Smells: a clean house (anyone offering?)
29. Can you touch your nose with your tongue: No, and thanks, now I'll be trying to all day
30. What inspires you? Ask me later because right now all I could think of was food
31. What is the best vacation you have ever had? Disneyland when I was little. My life is pretty boring and husband has yet to take me somewhere that would be catagorized as "best"
There you go. Useless facts about me you never needed, but now have.
Monday, October 11, 2004
Refresh
Here's the trouble with not having a life and spending half (okay more than half) of your time on the internet: nobody updates their blogs fast enough for you.
I spend a good part of the day hitting that damn refresh button over and over.
So, do me a favor and update people. Please.
I spend a good part of the day hitting that damn refresh button over and over.
So, do me a favor and update people. Please.
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Who in there right mind?
Put down the camera and help your child
What I don't understand and never will is how people can be filming their lovely offspring, see said offspring fall humorously off their bike/skateboard/diving board/roof of house, and just keep on filming. Then, they send it into a crappy show like AFV (come on, we know you are still America's Funniest Videos, just with a slightly less annoying host than Bob Saget), and seriously hope to win the $10,000. All I can mutter is WTF?
I saw one the other day (no, do not ask me why I am watching this damn show, okay?), and I kid you not, the person filming didn't even move while the teenage girl being filmed had her hair catch on fire! On fire! Her hair was a flame and all this person did was zoom in for a close up. And I bet he was thinking oh, this might be the one to win me the big money. Put down the camera and throw some water on the poor girl's head. How hard is that? Is the thought of your 5 minutes of fame that enticing that you risk another's life and limb for it? Sheesh.
Now, that being said, we are contemplating getting one of these moving picture makers. Please pray that I have the foresight to put down the camera and aid my child. Especially if she is lit up like the fourth of July.
I saw one the other day (no, do not ask me why I am watching this damn show, okay?), and I kid you not, the person filming didn't even move while the teenage girl being filmed had her hair catch on fire! On fire! Her hair was a flame and all this person did was zoom in for a close up. And I bet he was thinking oh, this might be the one to win me the big money. Put down the camera and throw some water on the poor girl's head. How hard is that? Is the thought of your 5 minutes of fame that enticing that you risk another's life and limb for it? Sheesh.
Now, that being said, we are contemplating getting one of these moving picture makers. Please pray that I have the foresight to put down the camera and aid my child. Especially if she is lit up like the fourth of July.
Saturday, October 09, 2004
Why I married him
Him: wow
Me: what?
Him: I was just thinking...
Me: about what?
Him: about how damn strong my spermies are. I have super sperm. My sperm is the greatest sperm in the world.(this line sung to the tune of that Kenny Rogers song: I am the greatest).
Me: what?
Him: I was just thinking...
Me: about what?
Him: about how damn strong my spermies are. I have super sperm. My sperm is the greatest sperm in the world.(this line sung to the tune of that Kenny Rogers song: I am the greatest).
Now that the cat is outta the bag
God bless my husband, but he has a huge mouth. Yesterday, instead of working, he called everyone and anyone to tell them the news. I hate that he feels compelled to do this. Doesn't he know how bad of luck it is?
I'm one of those women who don't want to think about anything baby until I'm actually holding a screaming infant in my arms. In my perfect world, we would call everyone with the news from the delivery room. Maybe not even then.
I'm terribly neurotic. I've already begun the "wipe myself raw with TP, checking for spotting" ritual. That one can become quite costly. Only the best toilet paper for me. Can't be scratching my ass up with the cheap stuff. I'm also is a bit of a fog. I go from acceptance to denial in about 15 seconds flat. I freak out because I don't feel pregnant yet, oh god, why don't I feel pregnant yet? Um, maybe because you are like 4 weeks along, silly girl. Nevermind the logistics, it doesn't help. I'm already convinced this will end in failure. Sad I know, but what are you gonna do. Miscarriages really fuck up your view on pregnancy. Gone are the carefree days of happy baby thoughts, shopping for everything baby in the first trimester. Now, you are lucky to feel happy, truly happy for 5 minutes a day.
My husband on the other hand, he's already got the kid in college. Bless his heart, the forever optimist. I just wish he would keep it to himself.
I'm one of those women who don't want to think about anything baby until I'm actually holding a screaming infant in my arms. In my perfect world, we would call everyone with the news from the delivery room. Maybe not even then.
I'm terribly neurotic. I've already begun the "wipe myself raw with TP, checking for spotting" ritual. That one can become quite costly. Only the best toilet paper for me. Can't be scratching my ass up with the cheap stuff. I'm also is a bit of a fog. I go from acceptance to denial in about 15 seconds flat. I freak out because I don't feel pregnant yet, oh god, why don't I feel pregnant yet? Um, maybe because you are like 4 weeks along, silly girl. Nevermind the logistics, it doesn't help. I'm already convinced this will end in failure. Sad I know, but what are you gonna do. Miscarriages really fuck up your view on pregnancy. Gone are the carefree days of happy baby thoughts, shopping for everything baby in the first trimester. Now, you are lucky to feel happy, truly happy for 5 minutes a day.
My husband on the other hand, he's already got the kid in college. Bless his heart, the forever optimist. I just wish he would keep it to himself.
Friday, October 08, 2004
Well, I'll be
so, um yeah.
Dear Husband made me test again, claiming that the one I had was "too old."
This time I got a positive. Four effing times.
I shit you not.
First appointment isn't until November 15th, unless something wrong happens. Yeah, thanks receptionist lady for mentioning that. Now I'll never get any sleep.
I'm happy, yet feel a little guilty. Like is was too easy this time. Normal?
Dear Husband made me test again, claiming that the one I had was "too old."
This time I got a positive. Four effing times.
I shit you not.
First appointment isn't until November 15th, unless something wrong happens. Yeah, thanks receptionist lady for mentioning that. Now I'll never get any sleep.
I'm happy, yet feel a little guilty. Like is was too easy this time. Normal?
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Sigh
It was negative.
I'm now waiting for Aunt Flo. She should be here soon.
Well, here's to next month.
I'm now waiting for Aunt Flo. She should be here soon.
Well, here's to next month.
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Holding my breath
Well, here I am 12 dpo. I have a hpt burning a hole in my medicine cabinet. Here's the thing with me peeing on those damn sticks: it always gets my period flowing. Yeah, it's like Aunt Flo (the spiteful bitch) is waiting for her phone to ring. I believe the tone is set to "Pee hitting small stick in B flat." She answers and exlaims, "I would love to come for a visit!" and packs her large bags and makes herself comfy. Damn her.
Here's a weird thought I've been having. What if, by some miracle, I am pregnant this soon? I know I should be thrilled that it didn't take as long as the first times, but here's the thing. I'm a little afraid to be pregnant again and to have another child so soon.
I'm a very lazy person. Evidence of that statement is in this blog. How many mother's of a 6 month old baby have time to cruise the internet all day, writing random thoughts to a few strangers? This one does, because she has no life. This box I stare into and this keyboard I pound away on is my life. Sad, I know. And another kid is a lot of work. And being pregnant with a baby to care for is a lot of work. Work I don't think I'm ready to do. Selfish, I know.
But, I'm pretty sure I'm freaking for nothing and when Aunt Flo (spiteful, spiteful bitch) comes a knockin', I will cry and wish to God I was pregnant. Because that is what I really want.
Here's a weird thought I've been having. What if, by some miracle, I am pregnant this soon? I know I should be thrilled that it didn't take as long as the first times, but here's the thing. I'm a little afraid to be pregnant again and to have another child so soon.
I'm a very lazy person. Evidence of that statement is in this blog. How many mother's of a 6 month old baby have time to cruise the internet all day, writing random thoughts to a few strangers? This one does, because she has no life. This box I stare into and this keyboard I pound away on is my life. Sad, I know. And another kid is a lot of work. And being pregnant with a baby to care for is a lot of work. Work I don't think I'm ready to do. Selfish, I know.
But, I'm pretty sure I'm freaking for nothing and when Aunt Flo (spiteful, spiteful bitch) comes a knockin', I will cry and wish to God I was pregnant. Because that is what I really want.
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Why having a cold is a good thing
1. It gets me out of going to dinner at the In-laws.
2. I can't smell the guinea pig's dirty cage.
3. I also can't smell the babies dirty diaper.
4. Sorry, hunny, too sick to cook dinner. But I think I could rough it for a meal out. Teehee.
5. Also good for getting out of housework.
6. I can stay in jammies all day long.
7. Don't have to shower if I don't want to.
8. Nyquil.
9. Did I already say I don't have to go to the In-laws. Woohoo!
10. Getting hubby to make me a midnight snack, you know, to help me get better.
2. I can't smell the guinea pig's dirty cage.
3. I also can't smell the babies dirty diaper.
4. Sorry, hunny, too sick to cook dinner. But I think I could rough it for a meal out. Teehee.
5. Also good for getting out of housework.
6. I can stay in jammies all day long.
7. Don't have to shower if I don't want to.
8. Nyquil.
9. Did I already say I don't have to go to the In-laws. Woohoo!
10. Getting hubby to make me a midnight snack, you know, to help me get better.
Saturday, October 02, 2004
Confessional
Okay dear readers, I'm about to share a deep dark secret. I have only one bra. No, wait. I have a second, but it has been deemed "the backup." Oh, it feels so good to get that off my chest, pardon the pun.
I have what one might call gigantic breasts. Huge. Enormous. Oh. My. God. "How does she carry them" breasts. Men think they are a gift, I think they are a curse. I pray for a day where my husband can feel the weight and pain of carrying these bad boys around. Then let's hear him rant about them. Ha.
So, I have this one bra. It cost me $40, which is pretty cheap considering how much material went into making the damn thing. It almost totally supports me and my boobs don't look like misshappened overinflated basketballs in it. You'd be surprised at how common a problem that is. Anyway. It's blue, with wide straps and 4 clamps in back. I learned long ago to kiss 1 and 2 clamped bras goodbye. My backup looks exactly like it, only it's missing the underwires. It's my laundry day backup bra.
I'm over at a friends house and she's folding her laundry. About 10 minutes go by and I notice she has pulled out about 7 bras. Cute bras. 1 clamp bras. Bras that probably cost her $10 at most. In that instant, I hate her. I hate her perky bosom, I hate her pretty braziers , and I hate my boobs a little more.
My step-(monster) mother just sent me some pictures from the trip to Hell. In them, I am sitting Indian-style on the floor, my precious sitting up so pretty in front of me, and all you can focus on is my humongous tatas. Whoa. Something's gotta give, and I think it's gonna be my back. Again. And I think to myself, while staring in horror at the image on my computer screen, my one "good" bra is not doing such a great job at doing what it's supposed to.
It's time to retire her and get a new one "good" bra. Bleh.
I have what one might call gigantic breasts. Huge. Enormous. Oh. My. God. "How does she carry them" breasts. Men think they are a gift, I think they are a curse. I pray for a day where my husband can feel the weight and pain of carrying these bad boys around. Then let's hear him rant about them. Ha.
So, I have this one bra. It cost me $40, which is pretty cheap considering how much material went into making the damn thing. It almost totally supports me and my boobs don't look like misshappened overinflated basketballs in it. You'd be surprised at how common a problem that is. Anyway. It's blue, with wide straps and 4 clamps in back. I learned long ago to kiss 1 and 2 clamped bras goodbye. My backup looks exactly like it, only it's missing the underwires. It's my laundry day backup bra.
I'm over at a friends house and she's folding her laundry. About 10 minutes go by and I notice she has pulled out about 7 bras. Cute bras. 1 clamp bras. Bras that probably cost her $10 at most. In that instant, I hate her. I hate her perky bosom, I hate her pretty braziers , and I hate my boobs a little more.
My step-(monster) mother just sent me some pictures from the trip to Hell. In them, I am sitting Indian-style on the floor, my precious sitting up so pretty in front of me, and all you can focus on is my humongous tatas. Whoa. Something's gotta give, and I think it's gonna be my back. Again. And I think to myself, while staring in horror at the image on my computer screen, my one "good" bra is not doing such a great job at doing what it's supposed to.
It's time to retire her and get a new one "good" bra. Bleh.
Friday, October 01, 2004
Sniff Sniff
I'm sick.
Somewhere along the way to hell and back, I picked up a lovely souvenir. A common cold. Now my house is not only covered in baby drool, there is now a trail of mama snot. It's a regular slime fest here.
Since becoming an adult and married, I hate getting sick. Hubby is not good at the babying of a sick wife. My mother rocked at babying me and it's probably why I am such a whinny brat now when I'm sick. She used to prop me up on the couch amidst blankets and pillows, enough to swim in, and fix me a plate of poached eggs and toast. A must for the infirm.
Darling husband doesn't do any of this. In fact, last night I had to not only fix myself something to eat, I ad to make his dinner too. Then I got booted from the comfy side of the couch so he could watch baseball. That's right. He layed claim on the TV on Thursday night. Survivor night. I know.
So, I dragged my sniffling, coughing butt into our bedroom and watched my show on our puny 19" TV. Oh will my suffering ever end?
Somewhere along the way to hell and back, I picked up a lovely souvenir. A common cold. Now my house is not only covered in baby drool, there is now a trail of mama snot. It's a regular slime fest here.
Since becoming an adult and married, I hate getting sick. Hubby is not good at the babying of a sick wife. My mother rocked at babying me and it's probably why I am such a whinny brat now when I'm sick. She used to prop me up on the couch amidst blankets and pillows, enough to swim in, and fix me a plate of poached eggs and toast. A must for the infirm.
Darling husband doesn't do any of this. In fact, last night I had to not only fix myself something to eat, I ad to make his dinner too. Then I got booted from the comfy side of the couch so he could watch baseball. That's right. He layed claim on the TV on Thursday night. Survivor night. I know.
So, I dragged my sniffling, coughing butt into our bedroom and watched my show on our puny 19" TV. Oh will my suffering ever end?
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