My Husband. Bless His Heart.

When you hear someone in the south say "Bless so-and-so's heart" they mean it less in a literal sense and more in a "God love them but damn are they unfortunate/pitiful/strange, etc."

My husband can be a rather strange one at times and yesterday was no exception.  Now, don't get me wrong, I love my husband more than anything in this world. He is the only person I could even begin to imagine being stranded on a desert island with and life without him would not be a life worth living. There are so many reasons I love him but one of the biggest reasons is his laid-back personality. If you were to look-up the definition for “laid-back” you would, in fact, see his picture next to it (see below). It takes a lot to get him worked up about anything and rarely does that happen.

That is until he gets his heart set on something. It’s at that point that my laid-back husband becomes a stubborn husband who will not let one thing stand in his way, whether that one thing is hell or high-water or an ice storm, from getting what he wants.

This is where my story begins.

Yesterday my boss walked into my office and said “What are you still doing here? Go home!” Alas, this isn’t something that he typically tells me to do and it was only because the beginnings of a winter storm were starting to affect the area. The ice in our area was apparently starting to build and it would be better to drive now rather than later. “I can’t leave yet. I rode in with Marcus,” was my reply. “Ohhh…” he said, giving me a knowing look. We’ve had plenty of discussions about the situation I’ve found myself in which is carpooling with Marcus 2 of the 5 work days. While I enjoy the extra quality time I get to spend with him (and the quick 20 minute nap I can catch either on the way to work or home) I hate being on his schedule. When that clock strikes 4:00 PM I want to leave! Now! Damnit!

Shortly after my boss told me to go home I called Marcus and told him that I had been given strict instructions to head home. So, Marcus came to pick me up and we headed in the general direction of our house. With one, slight exception. We turned in the complete opposite direction of our house and instead headed towards a friend’s who lives on the water. Marcus had mentioned the night before that he was going to pick-up the jet ski from our friends so that he could bring it home and work on it. I’m assuming it will take a full four months before this thing gets running because that’s how long we have until it’s warm enough to even consider putting it in the water. “Are we seriously going to pick-up the jet ski?” I asked. “Why not?” Marcus replied. “Because, the whole purpose of leaving work early was to avoid driving in the ice storm” was my logical response. I didn’t get much more of an answer after that (I win! Sort of.) but we continued to head in the direction of the water. We arrived at our friend’s house and Marcus began hitching the jet ski to the back of the trailer. During that time the ice really began coming down. We finally set back on the road and as we were driving (roughly 10 miles per hour by this point) it occurred to me that we looked mighty funny towing a jet ski behind our vehicle…in an ice/snow storm.  It also gave me time to stew and as we creeped along I got madder and madder.  The whole point to leaving early was to avoid this!  How dare he have me out in this weather in my condition!  “I bet people are pointing and laughing at us” I said in the most nonchalant voice I could muster.

 
I was right.

Shortly after those infamous last words escaped my lips we passed another friend and his girlfriend leaving a gas station. It didn’t seem like he noticed us, and I knew he would appreciate the humor, so I quickly text messaged him with the following: “We just passed you at Sheetz. We’re the assholes in the Jeep towing a jet ski…because clearly we’ll want to be using it soon.” Not more than 5 minutes later I get a phone call from our friend laughing hysterically. It would appear that he did not notice us but his girlfriend did. “Who the f*** is pulling a jet ski in the snow?” was her question. “I don’t know, babe. People are weird around here. Maybe they’re going to the lake?” was the response she got. When my text message was received it was the icing on the cake. As he recounted to me the conversation that had just taken place I was laughing so hard tears streamed from my eyes.

The best part was as he told her people were weird “around here” (which they are) he didn’t realize that he was talking about his own friends. I’m not sure who should take that statement more personally: Us for being thrown in the “weird” category or him for having the weird friends.

The worst part was (or potentially another “best” because I was right) it was confirmed: Yes, people were pointing and laughing at us as we drove by.

That is where the story ends.  Due to my husband's stubbornness we now have the jet ski in the garage ready to be worked on at any time in the next 4 months. In retrospect, while I was mad that we were driving in the storm all for a jet ski that didn’t necessarily need to be picked up at that exact moment, it does leave me with a good story and that is all that matters.





Laid-backittude.  He has it.

 

Digging A Hole To China

For about the last 24 hours the baby has been punching and/or kicking me in the same exact spot.  I'm not sure if it's punches or kicks because I have no clue which way the baby is lying  One thing I am certain of is that the baby is the size of my entire stomach and therefore able to reach in all far regions.  I haven't confirmed this with any actual research but I feel it's safe to assume the baby is a mutant.

Actually, scratch that.  The baby isn't punching and/or kicking.  It's digging.  At any moment I fully expect an arm or leg to protrude in victory waiving a little victorious flag.  I don't recall giving the baby a shovel so I'm not sure where (s)he got one.  That won't matter though because once (s)he is born (s)he is grounded for life because I'm pretty sure digging a hole through your mom has to be illegal in at least one state.

With that being said the sex is still a mystery.  Boys like to dig (right?) so it could be a boy.  But girls.  Girls know how to dig in a more metaphorical sense therefore it could very well be a girl. 

A Glimpse Into My Mind

What is on the other side of a belly button?  Is it smooth?  Or, is there a nub?  Does something protrude on the inside?  As the baby performs what I can only surmise are extensive and complex taekwondo moves inside my belly I wonder what he or she may be running into, if anything.

A Brief Complaint

I hate that I can feel my boobs on my stomach when not wearing a bra.  That is all.

My Own Personal Hell

It is my opinion that the three hour glucose tolerance test* is an evil plot to test not the glucose tolerance of a pregnant woman but her ability to cope under stress while starving.  Today's test technically started yesterday at 7:30 PM when I began fasting.  For the most part that wasn't so hard but when the morning time rolls around I am ready for some breakfast.  My first thought in the morning is typically how fast can I get ready so I can go eat?  (Answer:  Not nearly fast enough)  Today was different though.  I couldn't eat breakfast.  As I walked out the door, headed to the lab, I swear the banana's called my name.  Bastards.

In my mind this was how the morning would go:  I would arrive at the lab at 8, get started right away, be done by 11, then go to the DMV to renew my license. 

This is actually how the morning went:  I arrived at the lab at 8:30.  Yes, it was half an hour later than I originally planned but in the end my inner Rojek clock, i.e. 15-20 minutes slower than others, was a God-send.   Upon arriving I quickly discovered that the lab had not received the orders for my test.  They were nowhere to be found and the doctor's office would need to send them again.  One problem.  The doctor's office didn't open until 9.  So, I made my way back home (not such a bad thing since we live all of two minutes from the hospital and its surrounding buildings) and waited until 9 to call the doctor.  As it turns out my doctor did send the paperwork.  So, back to the lab I went and once again, the front desk could not find my paperwork.  And once again I called my doctor's office and once again they informed me that the paperwork had been sent.  Again, I went back to the front desk and this time, as if by magic, my paperwork appeared. 

Holy shit.  It takes a lot to get me riled-up, even now being pregnant and all hormonal, and I'm not typically a crier but it took all of my control to fight back the tears.  I hate throwing the pregnancy card out there and really pregnant or not, holy shit!  They're expecting a lot from a pregnant woman who hasn't eaten in almost 14 hours.  As my frustration slowly dissipated I settled into the chair for the next three longest hours of my life.

After the first vial of blood was drawn I was informed of the recliners in the back that I could take advantage of if I so wished.  Instead, I opted to sit in the waiting room and read my book while secretly people watching.  People watching in the waiting room of a lab is akin to people watching in an airport terminal.  There were at least four other women taking the glucose tolerance test (though, and this is mean, it was hard for me to determine that they were even pregnant which secretly made me feel better about myself).  There were a number of drug testers which I was able to pick-out only because the door would be closed to the testing room when they went in.  There were also quite a few babies and children.  The babies and children were the funniest because while sitting in the waiting room all was fun and games but the minute they were in the back a loud wail would erupt followed by five minutes of uncontrollable sobbing.  While it was painful to hear them in such agony I couldn't help but chuckle to myself.  Call me sadistic.  It's OK.

While waiting I also got a lesson in toddler.  First, I'd just like to say that if we have a boy his name will not be "Tyler" or "Aiden" as I discovered just how annoying those names are when yelled every two seconds.  Second, I'd like to say that I applaud the mother of little Tyler.  He was everywhere, taking off down the hallway full-speed ahead, trying to get out the door, and climbing on chairs but at every turn so was his mom.  She didn't let him get away with much and while her constant "Tyler!" was obnoxious at least she was up and with him at all times.  Aiden's mom took less of a hands-on approach.  Aiden was really no more active than Tyler but he had one more ability and that was he could open doors.  His mom also had an uncanny ability for sitting on her ass and yelling...and yelling...and yelling...and yelling...you get my point.  Aiden's mom would just yell until I wanted to scream "Clearly, your grating voice is not working.  Please.  Get off your ass and get him and spare us all your obnoxious lack of interest in parenting your child."  Lesson in Toddler 101:  I will be a Tyler mom and not an Aiden mom.

Finally, three hours and four blood tests later I was released out into the world.  I immediately made a bee-line for food (Chick-fil-A in case you're wondering) and while eating lunch I discovered that it is possible to eat and never once take a breath.  That was the first bright star in my otherwise dull day (for clarification the bright star was eating without choking to death because I didn't properly chew my food and instead opted to inhale it...sort of like a puppy dog does).  My second bright star was when I got home and discovered that some of the maternity clothes I had ordered arrived and all of which fit.  That alone called for a hearty "Huzzah!" and a full wardrobe change before heading out to the DMV.  As I drove to the DMV I was preparing for the worst, something I think we all do when a DMV trip is inevitable; I was ready for the worst.  I got my number and wonders of wonders before I could even sit down I was called to the window.  A third bright star! 

In the end my crappy day turned into a not-so-crappy day.  I did get a bill for the ultrasound that will cost a whopping $230 but I'm going to pretend like it doesn't exist for the next 24 hours thus making a complete great day.

*Just as an FYI over the course of 3ish hours they draw your blood four times.  Once before drinking the glucose test and then three more times every hour on the hour.

Discovering the Unpleasant Side of Pregnancy

I'm just going to go ahead and get it off my chest.  I've had to unclog three toilet's over the last 6 months.  That's about 3 more toilets than I would prefer to unclog and as a matter of fact have ever unclogged.  Rather than go into much detail about that aspect of pregnancy I will just mention that fiber is a girl's best friend.

One thing that is not a girl's best friend (at least at this very moment) is sweets.  My favorite line from the movie Elf, "We elves like to stick to the main food groups:  candy, candy cane, candy corn, and syrup!" can no longer be my mantra.  I had my glucose screening yesterday which checks for the possibility of gestational diabetes.  During the hour long test I prayed that my chocolate intake over the last few months had not hurt my chances of actually passing.  I think God didn't hear my prayers because I have to go back for the glucose tolerance test which takes a grand total of 3 hours and consists of having blood drawn 4 different times.  I'm not dreading it nearly as much as giving birth but I'm definitely dreading it.

There's also the other side of me that takes a little offense to being told I may or may not be diabetic.  Way to kick the pregnant lady when she's down and feeling overweight.