Now that I am officially "showing*" I am absolutely dying for someone to look at me questioningly and for me to stop them before they have a chance to ask anything and say "I know what you're thinking. And yes, I am wearing new shoes" or something equally asinine. Oh, please, oh, please! I dream about it all of the time. At work I get up to use the bathroom and go to the kitchen and I walk with my belly protruding and lo-and-behold I pass not a soul. Apparently my peeing and eating schedule is significantly different from others. I find that hard to believe though since I pee a lot and eat a lot but whatever. *sigh* So, now it's just a waiting game for some sucker to fall for my silly tricks. Hopefully they have a good sense of humor.
* On a side note, sometimes I really do think I look just plain fat and not at all pregnant. The only time I feel that I look truly pregnant is when I’m wearing maternity clothes which as of lately is 9 times out of 10…and despite my earlier grumblings I’m pretty sure I’ll be wearing them for the rest of my life; the pants are so damn comfortable…minus the fact I have some sweet love-handles going on that push them down therefore forcing me to hitch them up on occasion. I imagine the belly will be doing most of the pushing down in the next few months.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Ultrasound
Monday was our 21-week ultrasound where we had the chance to get a sneak-peek of the baby. It's really amazing the clarity with which you can see things...at one point the lips and nose were so visible I'm pretty sure the baby is going to look like Marcus. The technician did a very good job of not letting on to what the sex is so we're still oblivious and at this stage will be until the baby is born. All in all the baby appears to be the epitome of health and was kicking and punching the whole time the ultrasound was being performed. At this stage it's cute...give it another month when the baby is bigger and it might not be as much fun. Currently, the baby's weight is 14 oz. and I don't think we got a length but according to what I read it's about the length of a banana. So, that's all. I apologize for not posting something funny. I actually went to bed last night with a great subject for my next post but I've since forgotten what that would be. Hopefully I'll remember soon.
For your viewing pleasure here are two pictures of Baby T:
For your viewing pleasure here are two pictures of Baby T:
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| Baby T Doing Aerobics; Note the Leg Up Near the Head |
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| I Know I'm Biased But This Is THE Cutest Picture, Ever |
Friday, November 19, 2010
Lasagna (The Cat Not The Food)
I’m going to take a little break from baby chat and talk about my other baby, Lasagna (you thought I was going to talk about Marcus, didn’t you?). She’s our 1 year old cat who came into our lives shortly after we married. How she came into our lives isn’t much of a story though it basically involved me calling Marcus’s bluff and actually proceeding with getting a kitten. For ages I had begged Marcus for a puppy or a kitten…life just wasn’t complete without a furry body to snuggle. Marcus relented, though only a little, when he said I could get a kitten after we married. So, about a month after we married I began searching through Craigslist looking for just the right kitten. I don’t know what drew me to Lasagna other than she was tiny and fluffy and looked rather pathetic and just dying to be adopted. There was also a catch to my getting a pet which was that I would be the sole provider while Marcus could simply bask in the joys of being a pet owner. This came back to bite him in the butt when I got pregnant and he was thus on kitty-litter box duty for the next nine months.
In my attempt to turn Lasagna into the kind of cat I dreamed of, the kind of cat that sits for hours on your lap and rubs affectionately against your legs, it is my belief that I over-loved her as a kitten. I loved her so much that as she grew she began to reject me and turn towards Marcus. As it is Marcus is of the “take her or leave her” mentality which probably prompted her to turn towards him even more; she had to work for his love and by golly she did her best! So now, a year later, we have a cat who could care less for me (other than when I forget to feed her), and who adores Marcus so much it’s sickening.
Case in point: Marcus is currently on travel in Japan. He’s been gone for a week now and it’s just been Lasagna and me hanging out, kicking back, and painting each other’s toenails. Or, it’s the complete opposite. Usually when Marcus is home Lasagna sleeps on the bed with us. You can typically find her curled up next to him. Occasionally I wake-up to find her next to me but I suspect Marcus puts her there to make me feel better. Now, with Marcus gone, Lasagna does not even try to sleep on the bed and if she is it’s on his side at the very corner of the foot of the bed. In other words: As far away from me as possible.
I’ve also noticed she’s grown a little paunchier as time goes by. Being a housecat probably compounds to any sort of weight gain but she has certainly filled-out over the last few months. I have two theories other than her simply being a lazy housecat: 1. She’s been overeating to drown her sorrows because her beloved isn’t around and she doesn’t know why or, 2. Unwittingly she’s packing on the sympathy pounds. Either way the fluff of a fat belly is hard to resist and it takes much self-control (of which I'm greatly lacking) to not pick her up and snuggle my face into the deliciousness. This of course has nothing to do with her continued hatred towards me. Nothing at all. It also has nothing to do with the picture below...
In my attempt to turn Lasagna into the kind of cat I dreamed of, the kind of cat that sits for hours on your lap and rubs affectionately against your legs, it is my belief that I over-loved her as a kitten. I loved her so much that as she grew she began to reject me and turn towards Marcus. As it is Marcus is of the “take her or leave her” mentality which probably prompted her to turn towards him even more; she had to work for his love and by golly she did her best! So now, a year later, we have a cat who could care less for me (other than when I forget to feed her), and who adores Marcus so much it’s sickening.
Case in point: Marcus is currently on travel in Japan. He’s been gone for a week now and it’s just been Lasagna and me hanging out, kicking back, and painting each other’s toenails. Or, it’s the complete opposite. Usually when Marcus is home Lasagna sleeps on the bed with us. You can typically find her curled up next to him. Occasionally I wake-up to find her next to me but I suspect Marcus puts her there to make me feel better. Now, with Marcus gone, Lasagna does not even try to sleep on the bed and if she is it’s on his side at the very corner of the foot of the bed. In other words: As far away from me as possible.
I’ve also noticed she’s grown a little paunchier as time goes by. Being a housecat probably compounds to any sort of weight gain but she has certainly filled-out over the last few months. I have two theories other than her simply being a lazy housecat: 1. She’s been overeating to drown her sorrows because her beloved isn’t around and she doesn’t know why or, 2. Unwittingly she’s packing on the sympathy pounds. Either way the fluff of a fat belly is hard to resist and it takes much self-control (of which I'm greatly lacking) to not pick her up and snuggle my face into the deliciousness. This of course has nothing to do with her continued hatred towards me. Nothing at all. It also has nothing to do with the picture below...
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| I can haz dignity back? |
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Feelings
Question: If someone (anyone) asks how I'm feeling is it an acceptable answer to say "Scared shitless?" Because that would pretty much sum up exactly how I'm feeling. In two words it would say "Physically, I'm feeling fine, mentally, I'm about to poop in my pants."
Monday, November 1, 2010
Maternity Clothes - Hate Them Or REALLY Hate Them? The Jury Is Still Out
As I am a female it should come as no surprise to you that shopping is like breathing for me; it must occur in order for me to survive. I thrive off of shopping as it fulfills my soul in ways other things can’t. I take great pleasure in searching for just the right shoe (boots, heels, flats, you name it, I don’t discriminate) and Lord help me when a purse comes along that I don’t have (to be honest, every lady needs a ruffle purse in a neutral tone. It’s classy and smart because it goes with everything...and no, that line doesn’t work well with the husband). Shopping is also a source of stress release for me. I might not even realize I’m feeling stressed until I get an overwhelming urge to spend money. When the urge hits and I realize I’m stressed I head out to my tried and true pick-me-uppers and later, after a few hours of browsing and debit card abuse, it’s like a weight has been lifted.
I have not, however, ever been stressed-out about actually going shopping (Christmas shopping doesn’t count). That changed yesterday when it became apparent that I was in dire need of maternity pants for work. I still don't have a discernable bump and my fat girl pants still fit, though they are getting rather snug. It will only be a matter of a week or two before maternity pants are a must. I’d already bought two pairs of jeans online, and sent them both back, so it seemed the only logical thing to do would be to physically go to a store. After a few hours of moping around the house, and unsuccessful attempts to try and guilt-trip the husband into going with me (even though I knew he would much rather be watching a football game with buddies), I finally managed to make it out of the house. As I got in the car tears welled up in my eyes. The typical pre-shop high was definitely missing. To try and soothe my mind I stopped at Yankee Candle. They were having a 50% off sale and I just knew my favorite scent would be on sale (Macintosh Spice, in case you’re curious). Indeed they had my scent on sale and then some! It goes without saying that Yankee Candle helped fight back the tears.
I made my way to the mall and parked and as I walked into the mall it occurred to me that maybe today was not such a great day for shopping at all. A million children and their parents had also gone to the mall for Halloween festivities. If one thing makes going to the mall an even more exciting occasion it’s a million clueless parents and their equally clueless children not paying any attention to anything other than themselves. I walked as quickly as possible and in an attempt to get out of the crowds, and delay what was to come, I headed into NY & Co. Admittedly, if one is to be pregnant now is a great time. Tunics and leggings are all the rage and to be perfectly honest, if I could wear that same exact outfit every single day for the next 5 months I would. In the end, and since I had a coupon thus deeming it irresponsible to not use it, I purchased a few tops that will hopefully make it through the pregnancy.
Finally, the inevitable was upon me. I made my way through the throngs of trick-or-treaters and walked into Motherhood Maternity. I didn’t immediately burst into tears as I suspected I might and my heart didn’t give out as I walked-in. In fact, my newly self-diagnosed anxiety-induced asthma didn’t act up. It was a very normal experience walking in. The sales rep pointed me in the direction of the work appropriate pants and gave me some quick advice on what was what and left me to it. I grabbed four pairs of pants and went into the dressing room which seemed to me to be a joke. Their location alone wasn’t very private (no separate hallway off the store) and of all things the only “door” offered is a heavy curtain that in no way latches shut. I suppose when they say that by the end of a pregnancy you’ve lost all sense of modesty they really mean it…and Motherhood Maternity is banking on that. Naturally, the curtain doesn’t work very well especially when the only other woman who is in the store with her brood of 5 isn’t paying much attention as her young daughter throws back all of the dressing room curtains, including mine. She was busy chit-chatting with the sales rep so it’s cool; I totally get it. Mommy time is mommy time after all. Everyone else can watch her kids.
In the end I walked out of the store with three new pairs of pants. They all fit relatively well and other than the giant panel of stretchy material where my belly is they look normal. As I left I asked the sales rep if there were any other stores that carried a maternity line. She mentioned Target and Kohl’s. To applaud myself for a job well done I ended up going to Target to see what they had. Maybe she misunderstood me when I asked about maternity lines. I must have needed to be more specific and asked if there are any other stores that carried more than one rack of maternity clothing. OK. Maybe I'm being mean. They had about 4 racks of maternity clothing. Not exactly a large selection. As much as I love Target their giant red sign that reads “maternity” is horribly deceiving. Also, might I add, placing the maternity “line” next to the plus size clothing does not help a pregnant woman’s already struggling body image issues. And yes, I know, a pregnant woman is gaining weight because she’s pregnant so she shouldn’t have the same body issues a woman who struggles with her weight on a daily basis does. In short, that’s just not true. Besides, product placement is important and placing maternity clothing next to plus sized clothing is what’s called “poor product placement.” One can even reverse my argument by saying that a woman who needs plus size clothing doesn’t want to inadvertently pick-up a piece of maternity clothing thus making her feel worse about herself. It works both ways.
Well, as you can tell maternity clothing is quite a matter of contention with me right now. In the end I’m still not sure if I’m ever going to enjoy wearing these clothes. I’m sitting here right now in a pair of my new pants and while I can say that I’m more comfortable than I’ve been for a few weeks I’m constantly reminded of the fact they are maternity pants. It could be the giant panel of fabric that reaches just shy of my breasts. Or maybe it’s the “diaper butt,” bunched-up waist. I can’t quite put my finger on just one hideous aspect. What I do know is the house is probably going to be smelling and looking* a lot nicer since those items don’t have a “maternity” label on them.
*P.S. I may have neglected to mention my jaunt through the Target home goods section followed by a trip to Pier One. What? I had a coupon for 20% off!
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Grievances
There are some things pregnant women claim during their pregnancy that I just can't help but roll my eyes at. Actually, scratch that. There are a lot of things pregnant women claim that I roll my eyes at. Clumsiness, “baby brain,” and “the baby doesn’t like that food” are at the top of my list.
If I trip over the sidewalk because a tree root has started pushing up the concrete it's not because I'm pregnant and hence have a propensity to be clumsy. It's because I wasn't paying attention and, as is usual, was shuffling my feet and tripped. If I almost drop a box it's not because the little entity growing inside of me willed it so it's because I almost flat-out dropped the box. Especially at this stage in pregnancy where my belly is almost as flat as the day I found out I was pregnant there really is no merit in claiming the baby is making my clumsy. The only way I can concede that this excuse will work is when the belly is protruding farther than it ever has before and at that time it’s more of a getting used to it factor and less of the “baby did it.”
The so called "baby brain" is another pet peeve. Please, accept the fact that you can't remember something whether it's a word or what the very last topic of conversation you were just having. The baby is not controlling you. Though the baby is essentially a little parasite growing inside your body it is not a little man controlling your very thoughts and emotions.
If a pregnant woman eats something that later disagrees with her it's not because the baby didn't like it. Considering the jury is still out as to when a fetus gains consciousness it's highly doubtful that the fetus has developed a sense of taste. A fetus cannot tell the difference between a gourmet meal or a Domino’s pizza. Now, a woman’s body might reject a certain type of food. Let’s be honest, if you're eating a spicy dish for the first time in your life it's probably not going to sit well, man or woman, pregnant or not pregnant. It happens.
While I find pregnant women endearing they are annoying all at the same time. Yes, it is amazing what a woman goes through to produce a miniature version of herself and her partner but let's stop placing the blame on a being that is roughly the size of your hand and weighs as much as a feather. There will be plenty of time for that later.
If I trip over the sidewalk because a tree root has started pushing up the concrete it's not because I'm pregnant and hence have a propensity to be clumsy. It's because I wasn't paying attention and, as is usual, was shuffling my feet and tripped. If I almost drop a box it's not because the little entity growing inside of me willed it so it's because I almost flat-out dropped the box. Especially at this stage in pregnancy where my belly is almost as flat as the day I found out I was pregnant there really is no merit in claiming the baby is making my clumsy. The only way I can concede that this excuse will work is when the belly is protruding farther than it ever has before and at that time it’s more of a getting used to it factor and less of the “baby did it.”
The so called "baby brain" is another pet peeve. Please, accept the fact that you can't remember something whether it's a word or what the very last topic of conversation you were just having. The baby is not controlling you. Though the baby is essentially a little parasite growing inside your body it is not a little man controlling your very thoughts and emotions.
If a pregnant woman eats something that later disagrees with her it's not because the baby didn't like it. Considering the jury is still out as to when a fetus gains consciousness it's highly doubtful that the fetus has developed a sense of taste. A fetus cannot tell the difference between a gourmet meal or a Domino’s pizza. Now, a woman’s body might reject a certain type of food. Let’s be honest, if you're eating a spicy dish for the first time in your life it's probably not going to sit well, man or woman, pregnant or not pregnant. It happens.
While I find pregnant women endearing they are annoying all at the same time. Yes, it is amazing what a woman goes through to produce a miniature version of herself and her partner but let's stop placing the blame on a being that is roughly the size of your hand and weighs as much as a feather. There will be plenty of time for that later.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Quick Update
I realized it's been almost 20 days since my last post so I just wanted to write something quickly before sitting down and writing something a little more meaningful.
Marcus and I went to the lastest doctor's appointment together on 19 October. It was a very quick and routine check-up (peeing in a cup...which I have determined will be on the agenda for the next 5 months, weight...no weight gain, and blood letting). We heard the heartbeat (Marcus hearing it for the first time) accompanied with baby kicks (that's when his eyes got really big). In my mind I pictured a baby doing karate chops and high kicks for such was the sound...*swish, hiyah!* We set-up our 20 week ultrasound date for mid-November though it was tough because Marcus will be in Japan for about 10 days. This is a big one that we don't want him to miss so we'll be going right after he gets home. With any luck the baby will keep his or her legs closed.
Clothes are starting to not fit as well and all I really want to wear are leggings with baggy sweatshirts. I'm at that stage where I look more plump than usual as opposed to a full-on baby bump...so, that's a drag especially with Halloween this Saturday. Much to Marcus' chagrin I will not be dressing in the customary slutty costume this year and he'll be lucky if I can pull it off next year.
Which leads me to my next topic of discussion for another post: Maternity clothes. Hate them or really hate them? I'll be the judge.
Marcus and I went to the lastest doctor's appointment together on 19 October. It was a very quick and routine check-up (peeing in a cup...which I have determined will be on the agenda for the next 5 months, weight...no weight gain, and blood letting). We heard the heartbeat (Marcus hearing it for the first time) accompanied with baby kicks (that's when his eyes got really big). In my mind I pictured a baby doing karate chops and high kicks for such was the sound...*swish, hiyah!* We set-up our 20 week ultrasound date for mid-November though it was tough because Marcus will be in Japan for about 10 days. This is a big one that we don't want him to miss so we'll be going right after he gets home. With any luck the baby will keep his or her legs closed.
Clothes are starting to not fit as well and all I really want to wear are leggings with baggy sweatshirts. I'm at that stage where I look more plump than usual as opposed to a full-on baby bump...so, that's a drag especially with Halloween this Saturday. Much to Marcus' chagrin I will not be dressing in the customary slutty costume this year and he'll be lucky if I can pull it off next year.
Which leads me to my next topic of discussion for another post: Maternity clothes. Hate them or really hate them? I'll be the judge.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
A List Of Things I Will Not Do
Therefore, Marcus will have to take over the following:
1. Take a baby's temperature rectally.
2. If the baby is a boy and he is circumcised I do believe it will be Marcus' job to take care of that area. He's most familiar with it anyway.
3. Anything to do with scabs or things falling off, i.e. umbilical cord "stumps" and aforementioned circumcised scabs.
4. Trimming of the baby's fingernails. There will be plenty of time in the future for me to make the baby cry. Let’s allow Marcus to have a shot first.
5. Sucking stuff out of anywhere, be it nostrils, throats, etc. (Updated 21-OCT-2010)
6. Changing diapers that are oozing. (Updated 21-OCT-2010)
7. Cleaning-up vomit unless of course I want to clean up my own vomit also. (Updated 21-OCT-2010)
*Again, this is an on-going list. As I learn of other less-than-desirable aspects of caring for a baby I will add to it.
1. Take a baby's temperature rectally.
2. If the baby is a boy and he is circumcised I do believe it will be Marcus' job to take care of that area. He's most familiar with it anyway.
3. Anything to do with scabs or things falling off, i.e. umbilical cord "stumps" and aforementioned circumcised scabs.
4. Trimming of the baby's fingernails. There will be plenty of time in the future for me to make the baby cry. Let’s allow Marcus to have a shot first.
5. Sucking stuff out of anywhere, be it nostrils, throats, etc. (Updated 21-OCT-2010)
6. Changing diapers that are oozing. (Updated 21-OCT-2010)
7. Cleaning-up vomit unless of course I want to clean up my own vomit also. (Updated 21-OCT-2010)
*Again, this is an on-going list. As I learn of other less-than-desirable aspects of caring for a baby I will add to it.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Guess What Pregnant Women Can Do At Busch Gardens?
Nothing.
This past weekend we went to Busch Gardens in Williamsburg, VA for their annual Howl-o-Scream event. The entire park is transformed with ghouls and goblins lurking around every corner. Each country has a different theme in scariness, i.e. England had ravens and strange men and women lurking around wearing completely black masks, Germany had vampires, and French-Canada had men with chainsaws (in keeping with the logger theme, I suppose). Throughout the park are various haunted houses and trails with a rating from 1 to 5 pumpkins, 5 being the scariest. After 6:00 pm all but one of the haunted houses has a 5 pumpkin rating. They also have a warning sign posted at the beginning of each that basically excludes the following people: those with heart conditions, asthma (the use of fog), seizures (the use of strobe lights), and pregnant women…because it would seem pregnant women are in the same category as an older gentleman with a pace maker.
It also should be noted that nearly every single ride warns pregnant women they should not get on said ride. So, for $60 I had the pleasure of walking around a park for 7 hours and enjoyed an exhilarating 15 minute ferry ride, a raucous 10 minute train ride, and the pièce de résistance, a turn on the carousel. In case you were wondering I got the pretty white horse and Marcus had to ride the ugly brown horse. I think the only people who might get the importance of being able to ride the pretty horse are the women who remember as little girls anxiously waiting as the carousel comes to a stop and then bolting to the horse they picked out only to discover someone else had that particular horse in their sight. Not this time, suckers! I may be pregnant but I'm not that pregnant. I can still run.
In the end my consolation prize for being a good sport during the trip (read: couldn’t ride any rides, drink any of the delicious Anheuser-Busch products, or have the crap scared out of me) was an additional $20 for a picture with one of Busch Garden’s famed Clydesdale horses. Any other time I definitely would not have been able to convince Marcus that this was a good idea. The way he looked at it was any other time I would be drinking well over $20 in delicious Anheuser-Busch products, so he looked at this as a savings. Maybe we can put that little bit I saved towards something for the baby?
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| Can I keep him?! |
Friday, September 24, 2010
An Open Letter To My Husband
Dear Husband,
It has recently come to my attention that you do not want to paint the baby's nursery. In your opinion a muddy yellow color is perfectly acceptable. For the sake of our sanity (yes, your sanity will be determined by mine) please refrain from giving your opinion (unless specifically asked as described in the next paragraph) for the next 6 months.
Also, please feign at least a mild interest in the color that the nursery will be painted. I know it's hard to differentiate between "vanilla" and "cream" but trust me there is a difference and, even if you do so with your eyes closed, by simply pointing to one or the other you will make me feel like you have played a very important role in the life of our unborn child.
So, for pete's sake, please act excited about something...anything...I, and pete, would appreciate it.
Love,
Your Wife
P.S. Telling your pregnant wife that she can pull off "cute" sometimes is highly unacceptable and could result in very serious consequences for you.
P.S.S. Telling your pregnant wife just because she's pregnant does not mean we need to put a "Wide Load" sign on the car is beyond highly unaccepetable and will result in the aforementioned pregnant wife driving you to the men's homeless shelter and leaving you there.
P.S.S.S. Allowing the house to be the after-hours party house while your wife (pregnant or not) sleeps upstairs is also highly unacceptable. This should go without saying...but apparently it does not.
It has recently come to my attention that you do not want to paint the baby's nursery. In your opinion a muddy yellow color is perfectly acceptable. For the sake of our sanity (yes, your sanity will be determined by mine) please refrain from giving your opinion (unless specifically asked as described in the next paragraph) for the next 6 months.
Also, please feign at least a mild interest in the color that the nursery will be painted. I know it's hard to differentiate between "vanilla" and "cream" but trust me there is a difference and, even if you do so with your eyes closed, by simply pointing to one or the other you will make me feel like you have played a very important role in the life of our unborn child.
So, for pete's sake, please act excited about something...anything...I, and pete, would appreciate it.
Love,
Your Wife
P.S. Telling your pregnant wife that she can pull off "cute" sometimes is highly unacceptable and could result in very serious consequences for you.
P.S.S. Telling your pregnant wife just because she's pregnant does not mean we need to put a "Wide Load" sign on the car is beyond highly unaccepetable and will result in the aforementioned pregnant wife driving you to the men's homeless shelter and leaving you there.
P.S.S.S. Allowing the house to be the after-hours party house while your wife (pregnant or not) sleeps upstairs is also highly unacceptable. This should go without saying...but apparently it does not.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Heartbeats
Yesterday was my 11 week 3 day check-up. I wasn't quite sure what to expect and though Marcus originally was going to go he couldn't make it. In the end I'm sorry he missed it. This visit was less eventful than the last as there wasn't any poking, prodding, or blood letting...though they did make me pee in a cup again...I hope that isn't a regularly occurring event although if it is I suppose my peeing in cups ability will become rather proficient over time. The most fantastic part of the visit was that I got to hear the baby's heartbeat. (S)he is growing strong with 150 beats per minute which, if you'll allow me to be non-sarcastic for a moment, is amazing. The adult human heart beats on average 70 to 75 times a minute. This little guy or gal is really going at it in there! In just a matter of weeks the baby has gone from a cluster of cells to a distinctly human form...too bad it has to stay there for the next 6 months.
The other thing that came out of my doctor's visit was he put the kibosh on my hopes of being pregnant and running the Army Ten Miler in October. In case you don't personally know me you may be unaware that I am a runner and actually take enjoyment out of running...as much as it sucks. Of course, over the last few weeks I've barely run one mile but I feel I have a pretty darn good excuse for that. In the end the doctor didn't completely take away my running but he did say that ten miles may be overdoing it. Not to mention in a race setting I may be less aware of overdoing it which is possible since I'm constantly trying to beat my previous year's time. In the meantime I bought two headbands to wear when I do eventually get back to running. One of them reads "Not Fat, Pregnant" and the other reads "It's Just Baby Fat" which should last me for another year at least, right?
In the end I now have an "even better excuse to be a bum" as Marcus ever so gently and sweetly put it (and as if growing a baby which is depleting the very essence of my soul/life isn't a good enough reason already). I fully intend to continue watching the "King of Queen's" and "Seinfeld" re-runs to my hearts content. I have learned there are a few shows I need to stay away from and they are, in no particular order, any shows about 9/11, shows about giving birth, shows about children being lost, shows with fake tans/boobs and hair poufs (actually, I could never stomach that crap but thought I would throw it in anyway), and finally, shows about hurt or abandoned animals.
Next up! Dealing with the husband. That should be a good one.
The other thing that came out of my doctor's visit was he put the kibosh on my hopes of being pregnant and running the Army Ten Miler in October. In case you don't personally know me you may be unaware that I am a runner and actually take enjoyment out of running...as much as it sucks. Of course, over the last few weeks I've barely run one mile but I feel I have a pretty darn good excuse for that. In the end the doctor didn't completely take away my running but he did say that ten miles may be overdoing it. Not to mention in a race setting I may be less aware of overdoing it which is possible since I'm constantly trying to beat my previous year's time. In the meantime I bought two headbands to wear when I do eventually get back to running. One of them reads "Not Fat, Pregnant" and the other reads "It's Just Baby Fat" which should last me for another year at least, right?
In the end I now have an "even better excuse to be a bum" as Marcus ever so gently and sweetly put it (and as if growing a baby which is depleting the very essence of my soul/life isn't a good enough reason already). I fully intend to continue watching the "King of Queen's" and "Seinfeld" re-runs to my hearts content. I have learned there are a few shows I need to stay away from and they are, in no particular order, any shows about 9/11, shows about giving birth, shows about children being lost, shows with fake tans/boobs and hair poufs (actually, I could never stomach that crap but thought I would throw it in anyway), and finally, shows about hurt or abandoned animals.
Next up! Dealing with the husband. That should be a good one.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Things That Aren't As Much Fun To Do Pregnant, I.E. Not Drunk
1. I adore Virginia Tech football. I loath drunk Virginia Tech "sorostitutes" (Marcus' words, not mine).
2. Having time to waste in NYC without the possibility of finding a little Irish bar and becoming friends with the owner who then proceeds to pour free shots.
3. Spending an entire weekend at a cabin with nothing to do (but drink for those lucky bastards who can).
4. Two words: Brunch and mimosas. The two go hand-in-hand. How can you have one without the other for crying out loud?!
5. I have some bachelorette parties coming up. What is a bachelorette party without alcohol called? I wouldn't know.
6. Go to amusement parks such as Busch Gardens. (Updated, 6 October 2010)
*This is an ongoing list. I'll add more as I come across occassions that are less fun without alcohol-induced joys.
Blogger's Note: Wow. I suppose after the baby is born I'll be signing up for AA.
2. Having time to waste in NYC without the possibility of finding a little Irish bar and becoming friends with the owner who then proceeds to pour free shots.
3. Spending an entire weekend at a cabin with nothing to do (but drink for those lucky bastards who can).
4. Two words: Brunch and mimosas. The two go hand-in-hand. How can you have one without the other for crying out loud?!
5. I have some bachelorette parties coming up. What is a bachelorette party without alcohol called? I wouldn't know.
6. Go to amusement parks such as Busch Gardens. (Updated, 6 October 2010)
*This is an ongoing list. I'll add more as I come across occassions that are less fun without alcohol-induced joys.
Blogger's Note: Wow. I suppose after the baby is born I'll be signing up for AA.
The Cabin Was A Success! Sort Of.
This weekend we went to the cabin in Baker, West Virginia with some good friends. This trip has been a source of stress for me because I'm not ready to tell people up front about the pregnancy. I'm still waiting out for the second trimester. Although, we are having a little fun with those who are guessing it on their own.
After about 24 hours of putting off drinking and avoiding the peer pressure to start drinking Marcus and I pulled the ol' switcharoo. He had already prepared two bottles of "beer" filled with water and set them in the cooler for when I decided to start drinking. I did drink one of them, it was ice cold and delicious, but accidentally left it sitting next to the couch only to have someone else find it and dump it out.
That was the beginning of the end. The Observant One figured me out. I don't know exactly what tipped her off. She said her senses picked up a week ago at Marcus' birthday party when I looked utterly exhausted...which I was...and then she noticed my lack of drinking...which I wasn't (drinking that is). Even Observant One's husband noticed something. For at least a week now he's been asking me what's wrong. My desire to fly under the radar and not draw attention to my non-drinking-self was what was wrong. So, in a way, he caught on he just didn't know it.
In the end we got away with only two out of the four adults at the cabin discovering our little secret. Although, my particularly well-endowed chest was noticed on the last day by Clueless #1. What? My Hokie bird just grew some extra big muscles, that's all. ;)
After about 24 hours of putting off drinking and avoiding the peer pressure to start drinking Marcus and I pulled the ol' switcharoo. He had already prepared two bottles of "beer" filled with water and set them in the cooler for when I decided to start drinking. I did drink one of them, it was ice cold and delicious, but accidentally left it sitting next to the couch only to have someone else find it and dump it out.
That was the beginning of the end. The Observant One figured me out. I don't know exactly what tipped her off. She said her senses picked up a week ago at Marcus' birthday party when I looked utterly exhausted...which I was...and then she noticed my lack of drinking...which I wasn't (drinking that is). Even Observant One's husband noticed something. For at least a week now he's been asking me what's wrong. My desire to fly under the radar and not draw attention to my non-drinking-self was what was wrong. So, in a way, he caught on he just didn't know it.
In the end we got away with only two out of the four adults at the cabin discovering our little secret. Although, my particularly well-endowed chest was noticed on the last day by Clueless #1. What? My Hokie bird just grew some extra big muscles, that's all. ;)
Thursday, September 2, 2010
99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall! 99 Bottles of B...Aww, Man
If you know me or if you know Marcus you know that we enjoy our, how do you say, adult beverages. A lot. We often lament the fact that most of our socializing revolves around alcohol but in reality I don't think we would want it any other way. We're responsible drinkers, i.e. one of us or another person is always the designated driver and if we can we walk to where we need to go. In short, we, as is our social circle, are drinkers. Therefore it becomes noticeable when a member of the group stops drinking.
This was an issue I knew would arise sooner or later...and in our case it was much sooner than we thought. No matter how you look at it there really isn't a time of year that doesn't involve drinking events. As it is, there is a very real cycle to our social calendar and, using today to start things off, it begins with "It's the end of summer so quick, let's have a party before cold weather sets in" events; after summer is gone the football games begin which are either watched at the game itself or in a bar on a big screen TV; once football season begins we start heading into the holidays starting with Halloween and finally ending with New Years Eve; there can be a small respite in the dead of winter unless you're a hockey fan and then, well you just never stop drinking; if you aren't a hockey fan then drinking commences with St. Patrick's day; finally, we go into the "weather's getting warmer, let's party" events, and thus the cycle continues. The only way one can really pull-off not drinking is by basically becoming a hermit and potentially ticking-off a few people in the process. I hope we haven't done that but we keep reminding ourselves that if friends are annoyed with our declines to events they will forgive us once they know our reasoning. In the meantime, for those who have invited us out and who we have accepted...well, I'm afraid we aren't fooling anybody.
The first to figure us out were two good friends who apparently are Sherlock Holmes* and Dr. Watson. Damn them and their uncanny ability to sleuth! What clued them is were three weekends in a row that I was not seen with a bottle of beer or wine glass in hand. As I recall the first weekend we saw them I had a slight inclination as to what was going on so, I did indulge in one glass of wine but that was it. Totally abnormal behavior. The second weekend we accepted an invitation to go to a wine bar in town. That was dumb. Marcus and I got there early so I could order something non-alcoholic which, of course, upon Sherlock and Watson's arrival immediately sparked curiosity because it was something different. I also tried to feign a headache that day thinking that would do the trick. I was never meant to be an actor because it didn't work. Finally, the third weekend we had friends over for game night. I had told everyone ahead of time that I couldn't drink because of medication I was on. I felt like the biggest jerk when someone made a point to say that if I were pregnant, being on medcation and thus not drinking would be a great excuse. So, after those three weekends in a row Sherlock and Watson figured us out. Though, in our defense interrogating a drunk Marcus at 4 am and getting him to officially spill the beans is not very fair. Hmpfff...
Interestingly enough, only two other girlfriends have caught on to my non-drinking and confronted me about it: Running Girl and Wine Buddy. I knew Running Girl would catch on quickly (though how quickly I never would have guessed). We'd talked about how to hide a pregnancy from our friends so many times during runs together I should have known she would figure me out first. I actually think though that it was New Mommy #1 who tipped her off. I'm fairly certain I saw the light bulb literally go off over New Mommy 1#'s head as she put two and two together. Anyway, Running Girl and Wine Buddy have both noticed but have understood when I decline to elaborate which is appreciated more than they'll ever know.
Funny enough the few times I have gotten away without drinking and nobody has noticed have been at a bar that caters exclusively to beer drinkers. They have over 300 different types of beers available for the choosing so if you're heading that way it goes without saying you plan to indulge in a beer, or two, or three...sometimes four...OK, I lied...at least five. So, picture this: Marcus and I are the "newlyweds" at a table of couples with newborns. There are at least 8 of us and all are drinking beer. Except me. In fact, we were asked multiple times when we were starting a family and after deflecting the question a million different times all the group had to do was look at my giant glass o' water for their answer. Sherlock and Watson they were not.
*I don't feel it's completely necessary to tell you that the names have been changed but just in case you think I have friends that go by Sherlock Holmes or Wine Buddy I want to clarify that these are not their real names.
This was an issue I knew would arise sooner or later...and in our case it was much sooner than we thought. No matter how you look at it there really isn't a time of year that doesn't involve drinking events. As it is, there is a very real cycle to our social calendar and, using today to start things off, it begins with "It's the end of summer so quick, let's have a party before cold weather sets in" events; after summer is gone the football games begin which are either watched at the game itself or in a bar on a big screen TV; once football season begins we start heading into the holidays starting with Halloween and finally ending with New Years Eve; there can be a small respite in the dead of winter unless you're a hockey fan and then, well you just never stop drinking; if you aren't a hockey fan then drinking commences with St. Patrick's day; finally, we go into the "weather's getting warmer, let's party" events, and thus the cycle continues. The only way one can really pull-off not drinking is by basically becoming a hermit and potentially ticking-off a few people in the process. I hope we haven't done that but we keep reminding ourselves that if friends are annoyed with our declines to events they will forgive us once they know our reasoning. In the meantime, for those who have invited us out and who we have accepted...well, I'm afraid we aren't fooling anybody.
The first to figure us out were two good friends who apparently are Sherlock Holmes* and Dr. Watson. Damn them and their uncanny ability to sleuth! What clued them is were three weekends in a row that I was not seen with a bottle of beer or wine glass in hand. As I recall the first weekend we saw them I had a slight inclination as to what was going on so, I did indulge in one glass of wine but that was it. Totally abnormal behavior. The second weekend we accepted an invitation to go to a wine bar in town. That was dumb. Marcus and I got there early so I could order something non-alcoholic which, of course, upon Sherlock and Watson's arrival immediately sparked curiosity because it was something different. I also tried to feign a headache that day thinking that would do the trick. I was never meant to be an actor because it didn't work. Finally, the third weekend we had friends over for game night. I had told everyone ahead of time that I couldn't drink because of medication I was on. I felt like the biggest jerk when someone made a point to say that if I were pregnant, being on medcation and thus not drinking would be a great excuse. So, after those three weekends in a row Sherlock and Watson figured us out. Though, in our defense interrogating a drunk Marcus at 4 am and getting him to officially spill the beans is not very fair. Hmpfff...
Interestingly enough, only two other girlfriends have caught on to my non-drinking and confronted me about it: Running Girl and Wine Buddy. I knew Running Girl would catch on quickly (though how quickly I never would have guessed). We'd talked about how to hide a pregnancy from our friends so many times during runs together I should have known she would figure me out first. I actually think though that it was New Mommy #1 who tipped her off. I'm fairly certain I saw the light bulb literally go off over New Mommy 1#'s head as she put two and two together. Anyway, Running Girl and Wine Buddy have both noticed but have understood when I decline to elaborate which is appreciated more than they'll ever know.
Funny enough the few times I have gotten away without drinking and nobody has noticed have been at a bar that caters exclusively to beer drinkers. They have over 300 different types of beers available for the choosing so if you're heading that way it goes without saying you plan to indulge in a beer, or two, or three...sometimes four...OK, I lied...at least five. So, picture this: Marcus and I are the "newlyweds" at a table of couples with newborns. There are at least 8 of us and all are drinking beer. Except me. In fact, we were asked multiple times when we were starting a family and after deflecting the question a million different times all the group had to do was look at my giant glass o' water for their answer. Sherlock and Watson they were not.
*I don't feel it's completely necessary to tell you that the names have been changed but just in case you think I have friends that go by Sherlock Holmes or Wine Buddy I want to clarify that these are not their real names.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Stats
Here is what I'm working with people. I weighed 8.73 pounds at birth. Marcus' weight is unknown as of today but what is known is he was 3 weeks late. I think I can safely, and without a trace of irony say, F. M. L.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
OMG! I Can't Wait To Have Morning Sickness!
Have you ever logged into a pregnancy forum on the Internet? I’m going to assume 99.9% of you reading this never have. Admittedly, I have logged into such a site and, in fact, joined one a few weeks ago. My reasoning for doing so was simply if I wanted advice I needed a place to get it...unsolicited mind you. After about a week of reading some of the posts other women make I’m beginning to regret that decision. For starters, joining this particular forum made me realize a few things about myself. I am not a “girly-girl” and I am definitely not an overly ecstatic pregnant woman. I liken myself more to the character Kane in Aliens whenever I think of a little being growing in my stomach. Or, if you’re more of a Spaceballs fan, think of the scene where the alien bursts out of the guy’s chest and starts dancing on the counter…that was funny. Either way, you get my point. The thought of one day looking down at my stomach to see a little foot protruding out is not something that makes me squeal with delight. Rather, it makes me want to be sick and sends shivers down my spine.
I’ve fretted over how non-squealy my reaction to being pregnant was/is. Is my dour, somber attitude going to affect my baby in the end? Will he or she be a really boring adult with no sense of humor? Will they be so miserably depressed because mommy wasn't excited to be pregnant? Being a child of mine and me a child of my father’s I doubt this to be the case but one never knows. The only time I feel overly emotional about carrying a child is when I think of how it has to come out into this world, which is with pain and/or pain neither of which sound like fun to me. (Which leads me to an off-topic question. Why, oh why, can't they knock my ass out?! Why can't I just wake up and have a baby in my arms without knowing the pain I went through. I mean, if you get the epidural, which you better believe I will be getting, you're already half-way there. Why not go all the way?)
I digress.
Getting back to where I began, naturally as a non girly-girl I really can’t stand those who are girly-girls and ecstatically squeal over the thought of pushing a “watermelon out of a lemon” (someone else’s words not mine…can’t remember where that line came from). Therefore joining a pregnancy forum really wasn’t the best idea. The worst part about it though is it’s like a train wreck. I can’t stop going back day after day and reading some of the things these women post. When they aren’t abusing the privilege of made-up acronyms such as “DD” (Darling Daughter) or “BFP” (Big Fat Positive, in regards to pregnancy tests) they’re sharing more information than is really necessary and, if you've ever wondered what morning sickness is like, these women will induce vomitting.
The forums have also made me wonder if a lot of pregnant women are fakers. Not fakers as in they're faking a pregnancy but fakers as in the symptoms they claim are fake. A woman who states that she found out she was pregnant and two hours later is vomiting into the toilet (the apparently oh so coveted and long awaited “morning sickness,” something I have yet to experience) makes me question whether or not the symptom is real or psychosomatic. This is also reinforced by the fact that morning sickness is not considered a symptom of pregnancy in other cultures nor do scientists have a grasp on exactly what it is that causes it.
I can’t say I blame the women. Once people begin to find out you're pregnant they immediately question how you feel, etc. After a while one might start to develop “symptoms” because in their mind that's the way it's supposed to be. The whole situation reminds me a bit of when Marcus and I got married. The day had been perfect until the exact moment I was supposed to walk down the aisle of our outdoor wedding; a quick, summer storm came rolling through. I could see the sunlight over the clouds and I knew it wasn’t going to last very long and I just knew no matter what we were going to get married outside. The women around me, bless their hearts, were frantic. I can only assume they had dealt with brides of a less calm nature (that’s code for “bitches”), and as such I felt like a 5 year old being coddled when the parents bring home the new baby. “Oh, don't worry, rain on your wedding day is good luck! I just know there will be a rainbow after this! It’s going to be just fine! etc, etc, etc.” At one point I even thought to myself, “Holy crap ladies, you're the ones freaking out, not me!" I also thought I could try and milk the situation but determined a "fainting spell" would be going a little overboard.
The point I’m trying to make is when others start assuming you feel a certain way it’s hard not to think to yourself that you do feel that way. As it is I’m coming up to 9 weeks and the only symptom I’ve experienced so far is I can give Pamela Anderson a run for her money and all without the addition of silicone. Oh, and I've decided I will be milking this situation...a lot...and no pun intended with the whole mention of Pam Anderson and "milk." Your mind might not have gone there but mine did.
I’ve fretted over how non-squealy my reaction to being pregnant was/is. Is my dour, somber attitude going to affect my baby in the end? Will he or she be a really boring adult with no sense of humor? Will they be so miserably depressed because mommy wasn't excited to be pregnant? Being a child of mine and me a child of my father’s I doubt this to be the case but one never knows. The only time I feel overly emotional about carrying a child is when I think of how it has to come out into this world, which is with pain and/or pain neither of which sound like fun to me. (Which leads me to an off-topic question. Why, oh why, can't they knock my ass out?! Why can't I just wake up and have a baby in my arms without knowing the pain I went through. I mean, if you get the epidural, which you better believe I will be getting, you're already half-way there. Why not go all the way?)
I digress.
Getting back to where I began, naturally as a non girly-girl I really can’t stand those who are girly-girls and ecstatically squeal over the thought of pushing a “watermelon out of a lemon” (someone else’s words not mine…can’t remember where that line came from). Therefore joining a pregnancy forum really wasn’t the best idea. The worst part about it though is it’s like a train wreck. I can’t stop going back day after day and reading some of the things these women post. When they aren’t abusing the privilege of made-up acronyms such as “DD” (Darling Daughter) or “BFP” (Big Fat Positive, in regards to pregnancy tests) they’re sharing more information than is really necessary and, if you've ever wondered what morning sickness is like, these women will induce vomitting.
The forums have also made me wonder if a lot of pregnant women are fakers. Not fakers as in they're faking a pregnancy but fakers as in the symptoms they claim are fake. A woman who states that she found out she was pregnant and two hours later is vomiting into the toilet (the apparently oh so coveted and long awaited “morning sickness,” something I have yet to experience) makes me question whether or not the symptom is real or psychosomatic. This is also reinforced by the fact that morning sickness is not considered a symptom of pregnancy in other cultures nor do scientists have a grasp on exactly what it is that causes it.
I can’t say I blame the women. Once people begin to find out you're pregnant they immediately question how you feel, etc. After a while one might start to develop “symptoms” because in their mind that's the way it's supposed to be. The whole situation reminds me a bit of when Marcus and I got married. The day had been perfect until the exact moment I was supposed to walk down the aisle of our outdoor wedding; a quick, summer storm came rolling through. I could see the sunlight over the clouds and I knew it wasn’t going to last very long and I just knew no matter what we were going to get married outside. The women around me, bless their hearts, were frantic. I can only assume they had dealt with brides of a less calm nature (that’s code for “bitches”), and as such I felt like a 5 year old being coddled when the parents bring home the new baby. “Oh, don't worry, rain on your wedding day is good luck! I just know there will be a rainbow after this! It’s going to be just fine! etc, etc, etc.” At one point I even thought to myself, “Holy crap ladies, you're the ones freaking out, not me!" I also thought I could try and milk the situation but determined a "fainting spell" would be going a little overboard.
The point I’m trying to make is when others start assuming you feel a certain way it’s hard not to think to yourself that you do feel that way. As it is I’m coming up to 9 weeks and the only symptom I’ve experienced so far is I can give Pamela Anderson a run for her money and all without the addition of silicone. Oh, and I've decided I will be milking this situation...a lot...and no pun intended with the whole mention of Pam Anderson and "milk." Your mind might not have gone there but mine did.
Monday, August 23, 2010
So, We Took A Test...
For a few years now friends and family have asked why I don't keep a blog. They've read some other, smaller things I've written and it would appear I have a knack to entertain. I had no real reason to keep a blog except for the occasional funny happening, like the time I went running in my fancy new running skirt and managed to flash anyone who dared look my way (it was windy!). For a while I mulled over the possibility of writing about the first year of marriage. Who doesn't want to read about the trials and tribulations of newlyweds? However, other than the occasional one-liners that I think are worthy of any sitcom on television we really do lead a mundane existence. Of course by "we" I mean Marcus, my husband, me, and Lasagna the cat (I'm fairly certain the cat leads a more exciting life than we do...and her world is a whooping 3,000 square feet).
However mundane I thought our existence was everything changed about a month ago when our little world went topsy-turvy. And by topsy-turvy I mean it went completely upside down. And by completely upside down I mean we found out we were expecting our first baby.
As it turns out our parents were right. When you put your mind to something you really can achieve greatness. Since about March we had decided not to prevent any possible spawns but we also knew our odds of actually conceiving were slim unless we paid attention to those all important "good days." Then, in July, Marcus suggested we actually try. So we did. And well, it did. So, here we are. It's 8 weeks into the rest of our lives and things don't seem too different yet. Well, other than my insistence that I'm pampered 24/7, that ice cream does constitute as dairy, and my new-found ability to turn the waterworks on at the snap of a finger, or in my case old, 80s movies. I mean really, Back to the Future is not nor ever will be a tear-jerker...that is until you're pregnant.
So, I think this is where I'll sign-off but before I do so I just want to mention that if you're looking for a "Oh, look at me, I'm pregnant and special because I'm the only woman on earth who has ever given birth" blog then you're at the wrong place. If you're looking for a "Oh, look at me I was cynical and sarcastic before I got pregnant so let's multiply those character traits by infinity" blog then welcome home.
However mundane I thought our existence was everything changed about a month ago when our little world went topsy-turvy. And by topsy-turvy I mean it went completely upside down. And by completely upside down I mean we found out we were expecting our first baby.
As it turns out our parents were right. When you put your mind to something you really can achieve greatness. Since about March we had decided not to prevent any possible spawns but we also knew our odds of actually conceiving were slim unless we paid attention to those all important "good days." Then, in July, Marcus suggested we actually try. So we did. And well, it did. So, here we are. It's 8 weeks into the rest of our lives and things don't seem too different yet. Well, other than my insistence that I'm pampered 24/7, that ice cream does constitute as dairy, and my new-found ability to turn the waterworks on at the snap of a finger, or in my case old, 80s movies. I mean really, Back to the Future is not nor ever will be a tear-jerker...that is until you're pregnant.
So, I think this is where I'll sign-off but before I do so I just want to mention that if you're looking for a "Oh, look at me, I'm pregnant and special because I'm the only woman on earth who has ever given birth" blog then you're at the wrong place. If you're looking for a "Oh, look at me I was cynical and sarcastic before I got pregnant so let's multiply those character traits by infinity" blog then welcome home.
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