Here he is having his very first black and white cookie. A first to be documented for sure!!!
Finally, Poops taking a stand on his own! Another first! Yayyyy!!! He was just so darned proud of himself!!
I am so in desperate need of a spring cleaning. I have had the hairdo and the spa day, but now I need the 'mental' spring cleaning. You know all those situations that you've found yourself in that you couldn't find the right words to say and you just sort of "let it go"? Or sat there with your mouth dropped open because you couldn't believe your ears and couldn't think up a good reply? But you're still kicking yourself for not saying a word about it, and you continue to replay the scenario in your head over and over again with that brilliant comeback you have thought up for the conversation that should have happened? This is me. I have conversations that I should have had that date back years ago that litter my head to this day. I even have comebacks in my head ready for possible situations that never really arise because I despise the fact that I can never think of the right thing to say when it comes time to say it. I am always stuck there thinking, "this person can't possibly be being mean to me right now, I must be taking it the wrong way." But of course, that person is being mean and I am a complete wimp for not only giving the person the benefit of the doubt, but for not standing up for myself! Exclamation mark!
I am, however, getting better at this. But all of these thoughts swirling around in my head really stress me out and even keep me up at night. In the latest issue of Real Simple magazine, a staple and savior in my life, the writers tackled the issue of a mental spring cleaning and suggested that you write down those things that clutter and fry your mind and throw them away. Right now, I'm thinking of that woman in the hospital last year who refused to sell me a $4 hose for my breastpump because she was helping someone who had an appointment and I didn't. She did, however, get up to help someone else who had an appointment earlier that morning, but again wouldn't take the extra 5 seconds to help me, even after I tearfully begged. I waited an hour, meantime, with my boobs all engorged and busting, on fire and leaking. I couldn't nurse Poops because he was in the NICU and it was shut down because another baby was being flown in, and I hadn't seen him in more than a day because that was the first day I actually had the audacity to actually leave the hospital to sleep in my bed the night before and when I returned, the NICU was closed. (Never made that mistake again by the way.) Damn hag. I had actually begged her to help me and she still refused. And the only thing I could come up with when she finally did sell me that stupid part was "next time I have an emergency, I'll be sure to make an appointment!" Ooh. What a zinger. Doesn't she know it's a women's hospital? And not every woman in there is having the time of her life with a bouncing new baby? And that hormones and milk and estrogen and crying and issues like complications and prematurity actually happen to women who give birth there? OK lady, I'm letting you go now.
Or that phone call I never made to the guy at the dealership who "fixed" our car, saying that the flat tire we had had nothing to do with a piece of wood shoved into the rubber and then didn't bother to re-inflate it for us. He finally did re-inflate it but only because I had to ask him to, but of course the tire was flat a half-hour later. Why? Because the wood punctured the tire, of course. I took it somewhere else for a $25 patch. Am I really as stupid as I look? Oh yeah, I buried the lead. This is the same guy who had to digitize a new set of keys for me because I had accidentally thrown the only one we had out, and the next day the car wouldn't start. After I had it towed back to the dealership, he fixed some new problem that magically cropped up and was "purely coincidence" for $400. Coincidence my ass. Letting you go too, man.
This feels good.
OK, next, my HR person at my old job, who told me I had to come back to work from maternity leave after 6 weeks if I was cleared medically from my doctor, even if my six-week premature infant was only technically age 0. (My return date was his due date). "Yep, sorry!" she said. "That's policy!" Fortunately, I got clearance from the pediatrician who gave me until Poops turned four months old and it turned out that I actually never went back to work anyway. Hence, I never got a chance to air my grievances about how awful she was in the days following his birth. So here it is. Letting it go.
Oh and here's one that's sure to be TMI. Last year, when I was six months pregnant I had to have surgery on my knee because I ripped cartilage cleaning my closet and my knee locked in a bended position. Before surgery, all the patients are lined up along a wall on their individual stretcher, with a curtain to separate you for privacy. There were about 10 patients and 4 nurses. I didn't need any help, except, of course, when I had to pee. So I sheepishly asked the nurse to help me to the loo because how much dignity do you have while lying there, unable to walk, in an assless gown? I must have just looked like another annoying face to her, because she pointed to the bathroom across the room and said, "It's right over there." "Yes," I said, "but my knee is locked, that is why I am here, so I need help or perhaps a wheelchair." (I was wheeled in on one after all.) "We don't have wheelchairs in here!" she barked at me, and then yelled in a huff, "Well, you'll just have to use a bed pan!" Oh how embarrassing. Having to pee on a thing in your bed with a patient on either side of you and only a teensy curtain separating you. Yes, I am sensitive. Maybe too much so. But I will always believe in old-fashioned things like customer service and, when you're a patient, bedside manner. Many people forget that they're treating someone's sister, mother, teacher, legislator, father, brother, grandfather, whatever. These are people, with actual feelings. And in the hospital, most are scared (because maybe they are six months pregnant having surgery) and most don't have much dignity left because they're naked and poked at and need help with simple things like eating, getting up to use the restroom and showering. We may all just be another annoying face to you, but outside of this gown and this bedpan, we are people with jobs and friends, family and homes and real clothes and dignity.
You should try this, this is really working for me!
So I guess that's it for now! I don't really want this to be a blog for my bitch-sessions, but a little spring cleaning doesn't hurt, does it? Now, I'll let these little complaints fly off into the cyber void and I will shove them back out of my mind if they try to return. I guess sometimes I really want people to know that they've hurt someone's feelings--I would really want to know because I would really want to fix it. But since I don't know their names, this is the next best thing. Plus, I am pretty sure my husband is sick of hearing me refer to these things over and over again in conversation (they really do plague me!). But now I find I am a little different, a little more jaded, and a little less confident in humanity. It's such a pity. Now, I get names, and if I am wronged I say something right there and more often than not I surprise myself and find that they've said something that they did not mean in the way that I took it. And if I can't figure out what to say, I call back later or write my signature "strongly worded letter." Which totally makes me feel better too and works! If you have any mental spring cleaning to do, I strongly recommend you do this too, so you can let it all go. It really is freeing! Feel free to do it here, or on your blog and let me know about it (or not). Let's clear our minds, friends! And start over fresh.
We're in Washington, D.C. right now and it has been one big adventure to say the least. I alluded to our trip last week but I couldn't say where we were going because we were coming up for my BROTHER IN LAW'S surprise welcome home party and he reads the blog sometimes and I am not a good secret-keeper. It's also why my sister and I have been on blogging hiatus. As always on our family trips, there were a multitude of mishaps which I will blog about later (faulty brakes on our rental car, leaving luggage behind, losing our stroller, etc etc). But there's so much good news, and it is soooo good I must say because I was crying on and off all day Saturday but I am quite sure that it was a mix of hormones and happiness (I can't imagine the sheer joy that my sister and brother-in-law's family were experiencing simultaneously). First, we had a welcome home party with family at his favorite place in the whole world: Capitol City Brewery. He had no idea we were all here at all (along with a news crew!) After dinner, all the women took off early (using excuses like putting kids to bed, letting the guys hang out for a beer, yada yada) and instead we went back to their house to decorate for the after-party to include their friends too. When the guys rolled up with Zach, not only were there flags lining the streets, there was a group of men and women, part of the Patriot Guard Riders, holding flags lining the streets, their neighbors came out and we were all ringing cowbells (more cowbell!) It was a sight to behold! HE IS HOME!! SAFE AND SOUND!! People still walk by and come up to their place to read the banner draped across the front of their condo. It is all so touching. Like the people who come up and shake his hand and say "thank you" to him. And yesterday a woman passing by in her car stopped, put the car in reverse to read the banner outside, saluted from the driver's seat, and drove off. I get tears in my eyes just thinking about it. I don't even think she knew we were watching from inside. To top everything off this weekend, we were all sitting around their new condo and Poops just got up by himself in the middle of the floor and stood for the first time!!!!! No hands! Finally! Now we are just waiting for him to take a few steps.
FOX5 in Washington, D.C. did a story on his homecoming and how my sister coped with his deployment and you can see it here. It really is hilarious! Not to mention, Poops makes his first cameo appearance in the video of the welcome home.
Finally, today is Memorial Day, and as one soldier returns home safely, we must remember the men and women still fighting overseas and the many who have lost their lives. We pray for you everyday and love all of you! Thank you for your service!
I have always been a Jordin fan. Last week, I became a Blake fan. (Obviously so did a lot of people). So naturally I thought it would be a tough race to the finish. Until the last song. I just have to ask (in a very loud voice with a curse word or two placed in between): WHY WOULD SOMEONE MAKE BLAKE SING THAT SONG???? "This is My Now." ?????????? What?????
I wanted Jordin to win but not like this. I really think that giving a Christian-rock sounding song to a Maroon 5 beatboxer is pure sabotage and just plain wrong. This is the type of song that Jordin lives to sing. She, of course, was brilliant at it and she even cried at the end. It was totally her song. It is a girly, voicy song and the only male who would have sounded good singing this song would be Clay Aiken. And you could just tell that not only was it not a Blake song and that he sounded ridiculous singing it (all who were in attendance watching it at my house cringed the entire time), but that he hated it just as much as we did hearing it! I am sad. Blake was completely hosed. I mean, yes, it is a singing competition and Jordin has proven to be the best singer in the competition. But come on! This is a million bazillion dollar show. I am sure that they would have the resources to come up with two songs, one to suit each singer in the finale. Could you imagine if Chris Daughtry was in the top two last season and had to sing that pile of crap? I am finding myself actually typing hard at the keys which means I am apparently more passionate about this than I thought as I punch away. Of course it may be because it's 11:20 and I have to hightail it to bed because Poops is going to be up at the buttcrack of dawn and no matter how often I wake up early I will never ever in my life be a "morning person". But anyway, that's my feeling on the subject. Jordin wins. Blake was hosed. Unfair Idol. And Colonel Randy Jackson looked like he was about to take part in a Civil War re-enactment.
On another note (ba dum chhhh) it's been another really busy week. I had a follow up doctor's appointment today since my high blood pressure two weeks ago which I am happy to report appears to be a fluke, according to today's readings. I have purchased a blood pressure machine and try to take my blood pressure multiple times throughout the day (it's interesting to see my blood pressure after a tiff with husband -- which is surprisingly not high despite the feeling of boiling blood) but it has not been alarming once and that's a good thing. (41 weeks and I mean it!) And, it's the last week of my first trimester (yay!!!! two weeks to butt shots!) and I have only gained 5 pounds despite the consumption of Chinese food, pizza, ice cream, soda, donuts, (please stop me, I'm showing the world my terrible eating) and other indiscretions (yay me!)
I have highlighted my hair and it is VERY blonde in many many places. I have for several years now turned my light mousy brown hair into a red-slash-auburn shade so that is what everyone is very used to. But I have decided I needed a change and I am going lighter and let me tell you, light it is! I have to get used to seeing myself in the mirror. Twice now I thought someone else was walking toward me.
Also, we're going out of town Thursday and I've been getting ready for that. My very best friend and her boys are staying with us this week, so that means trips to the zoo and the beach. And finally, our car is in the shop and husband has started classes for his MBA. It's been crazy around here! We like to lump everything into the same week. Lastly, Poops continues to increase his vocabulary which is very exciting to me. I am convinced (and a little scared) that I may not be able to pick up on this new "baby" language which is really just one sound in a multiple-syllable word. I worry that one needs special hearing to understand it. I watch in awe as other parents listen to tiny voice saying "ed ayne" (what sounds like jibberjabber babbletalk to me) and then say in return, "Yes! That is the red train! Very good!" I worry he is probably saying much more than I can actually "hear". So until I can actually write them all down on a regular piece of paper, this is what I have deciphered so far: Mama (sadly only in association with wanting food or more food), Dada (always in glee. little boogie.), door (pronounced "Duh"), kitty cat (pronounced "Keeeeeeeee!"), sky (pronounced "KYE!"), banana (pronounced "nana") and I think that's it. We're getting there. I have been trying to teach him the following: "Excuse me, Mother, but if you wouldn't mind perhaps handing me another piece of toast at your earliest convenience, I would be most appreciative," but it hasn't taken yet. Another couple months.
It's been a busy week! I haven't been on in a few days except to wish the Moms a Happy Mother's Day. We had a really fun one. My mom, mother-in-law, grandma, aunt, sister-in-law and husbands all converged upon my house and we had a lovely dinner (thanks to my mother-in-law!) and wonderful desserts, which the guys made. (My dad makes an amazing rice pudding that I've been craving for weeks!-- And my uncle made chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwiches, and there were tons of chocolate chip cookies the size of my face left over and let's just say there aren't anymore!) Poops got me the most wonderful softy pink robe from Brookstone and a prenatal massage from the spa (which I am sooo looking forward to tomorrow!) How did he know???? This robe is like heaven. I don't ever want to get dressed which would mean getting out of this wonderful robe. If only I could put clothes on and trapse around in my robe all day anyway. And just so you know, anything that is made of a cloth that is purchased at Brookstone is --in one word-- marvelous. Socks, blankets, robes, pillows, all of it. Marvelous. I digress. But I'm sitting in my robe right now, so I'm blinded.
We had our giant ominous, dangerous pine tree taken out this week which I was surprisingly happy to see go (no more sap stains on the car--no more pine needle carpet on the grass). I am not in the habit of taking out trees--quite the opposite in fact. We moved into our neighborhood because of all the trees. But this one was one of the tallest in the entire neighborhood, and it was split at the top and starting to die and with hurricane season just weeks away, it probably wouldn't have made it through a big storm without crashing through our house, so we removed it just to be safe along with tons of old brush. So our yard is now one step closer to not looking like a jungle and I am so excited at the prospect of taking Poops outside to play in the yard. Yes, our grass and yard is such crap right now that playing outside means going to the park. So sad. But we're close. Next step: new sod.
My feelings on the Gilmore Girls series finale: crushed. The episode was good, but I feel about this series finale like I did about The O.C. I feel like Rory and Lorelai are living life right now in Stars Hollow, just as Ryan and Seth are in Orange County, the only difference is we aren't tuned in. I am so invested in these characters that I feel like they are real people living their lives right now, still. I will miss them so.
Melinda! Shocker! I really thought it was Blake.
Happy Friday! Tomorrow it's off to the spa I go and I can't put it into words just how much I am looking forward to it. This particular spa is one in which you walk around in a robe all day long. No it is not my Brookstone robe, but it is a robe and being allowed to walk about in a robe is a dream of mine as you know. And tomorrow's also a big day for my sister! Her husband's big old Marine boots should be on the ground in North Carolina!! She's headed down there to meet him so I know that will be one big-time emotional day for them. Love you guys!
My sister is taller than me and paper thin. I am not. I got the short genes and the ones that retain everything (i.e. water, calories, the kitchen sink). But I don't have much up top so I can still every once in a while peruse the Juniors section for a tee-shirt. They're much cuter than the ones in the Misses or Ladies section, so sometimes I feel as if I'm caught between worlds and I don't want to let the Juniors section go. My sister of course still completely gets away with full-blown Juniors-shopping because she's in her mid-20's and still tiny. As my 30's were approaching, it used to be that I would kind of tiptoe into the Juniors section and duck my face behind racks while I tore quickly through styles and sizes. Now, I am getting well into my 30's and probably obviously so, so I don't actually go in (that's just silly!), but if I happen to see a cute shirt in the Juniors section that might have piqued my interest from afar, I might be known to snatch it off the rack and run to the dressing room. So the question is, anyone still shopping in Juniors?
In a couple of weeks I'll be starting weekly progesterone shots that last through 36 weeks or until the end of my pregnancy whichever comes first (of course I'm counting on an uncomfortable 41 week pregnancy this time around--as I have said and will continue saying until my uncomfortable 41 weeks is up). I was teetering on whether I should do this treatment for a while now, but I've decided to go ahead with it. It's a relatively common injection for women who have had a previous premature birth and are on their second pregnancy. One of the doctors in my group recommended it, and I discussed it with another one of my doctors on Monday and we decided, "why not?" I've read a lot of literature on it and pretty much all of the studies, and they all say the same thing: with no side effects, there is really no reason not to do it. Except that the shot is in the butt and it's described as a "painful shot" and I am a complete wimp. But that's really not a reason to not do it. It's just a reason to dislike doing it. But as long as I'm doing something in a situation I have very little control over anyway, I will have to view this shot in the butt as "empowering" and proactive. It's not entirely clear what the progesterone does, but its successes are pretty good, preventing prematurity in about 34% of at-risk women. That's good news.
But talking to all these people about taking the shots does very little to help me keep my positive "let's-go-41-weeks-attitude" at its maximum, peak level. I've gone between speaking to my doctors' office and my insurance company about a dozen times over the past few days and just talking to them makes the possibility of having another premature birth very real. My insurance company is working to find a home health aide who will come to my house and explain to my husband and I how to use the shots, and also someone who will come to my house weekly after week 22 and track my progress and talk about premature labor with me. I understood all of this, was briefly comforted by the fact that there is treatment and help coming right into my house, then I hung up and cried. On and off for most of the day. And I called my mom during one of those "I want my mommy moments" sobbing to her, "I don't want another premature labor..."
If it weren't for my already raging hormones, I probably would not have completely lost control of myself for the day. And worrying about having another preemie will really only increase the stress and the headaches, which isn't good for anyone. But everyone has to have their moments, right? For the most part, I keep that 41-week attitude and I will after today. I promise. Until I am hunched over with my pants down and my husband is jabbing me in the ass with a needle. Quite a visual, huh? For better or for worse!
Remember this mug from my sidebar? That's my brother-in-law and he is on his way home! His big old Marine boots are off the Iraqi ground and officially in the air. My sister is so excited she cries at the mere thought of it! (I wish I could hug you right now AnnaMary!) So head on over to "Old Man Hancock" and send her a thought or two. The homestretch is officially here. Can't wait to see you, Old Man! More cowbell!
So the fig is doing well, growing and beating away. And meantime I am waiting eagerly for that second trimester second wind because this sitting around in pajamas till 3:30 with pots in the sink watching The Holiday is a little over the top. Yep, looking forward to that energy surge. Last year I had so much energy I was cleaning everything top to bottom and while kneeling around in my closet I tore my cartilage in my knee and needed knee surgery in my sixth month. Oh the terror! (It was a lovely sight, a non-showered me, stuck on the floor, six months pregnant, having to crawl to a phone across the house in complete agony.) Fortunately, I had a great surgeon, but what really did it for me was the phone call I got from one of the OB doctors in my group, who reassured me countless times that the baby would do fine in surgery and that the surgery was necessary. (My knee was locked in place by the torn cartilage. Good times.) Anyway, that is the doctor I had Monday at my checkup. I didn't think he'd remember that fateful conversation last year and how he saved my emotional life, but he said it as soon as he walked in and when there's a group of doctors I always wonder who remembers who and what but he did and that's a good sign. The first thing out of his mouth: "Nothing going on besides a bum knee, I hope?" I went on to thank him, endlessly, in person for calling me back when the nurse said there was no guarantee a doctor would be able to call me back even though surgery is scheduled for 7am the next morning (what kind of crap is that?)
Everything went pretty well Monday except my blood pressure which was a little elevated and the first thing I thought was, crap. Not again. Not this early. I am hoping and praying it really was just a fluke. I was coming off a 14 hour migraine, so was the blood pressure still high because of the migraine? Or did I have a migraine because of the blood pressure? It's the chicken and the egg thing. I'm going back to the doctor in two weeks instead of the usual four to make sure, and I'm having to get a blood pressure machine to check it at home myself, but I'm going with the whole, everything is just fine-thing and I'm still banking on a 41 week pregnancy. Yes. We're going late this time. Fig's gonna take his or her time.
Who will become MY American Idol? Every week I sit here and passionately tell my little tale of who's who. It's not even like I can help it. I like this stupid show and I have an addiction. I need help.
Anyway, in the competition that nets more votes than our national elections (so sad, isn't it?) it is a two song night and a Bee Gees night and there are four left. I can tell you right now, I've heard enough of the Bee Gees on the 8 track player in my parents' van that I wasn't really looking forward to the night because honestly the Bee Gees are the Bee Gees and I just feel funny listening to some fetus singing their songs, especially when they are Bee Gees (plural), not Bee Gee, and they even sound like more than one, so solo Bee Gee? Make me a believer.
The very recently-neckful Melinda sang that Inside and Out song. I have to hand it to the night, these songs sure bring me back to those impressionable ages of 4 and 5 years old. My hippie-looking mother and father coming out of the 60's and wearing their long hair and tight pants (yes, both of them) with their red Scooby Doo van. Anyway, nothing special about Melinda's performances, but honestly, the songs are so mellow, how can anyone completely rock out anyway? Paula called her a "brilliant technician." I think a hot fudge sundae is in order.
What was with Blake's first ridicu-get-up he was wearing? Was he performing some sort of tribute to Dr. Evil who got kicked off last week? Actually, he looked like a cross between Dr. Evil and the evil Chinese villain in Rush Hour. I forget his name. Anyway, still closing my eyes and cringing a bit to the beatboxing. Beatboxing the Bee Gees. Hmm. Not really a fan. I can say with certainty, Blake is not my American Idol. Maybe he's yours. Good luck with that.
So when Lakisha started singing "Staying Alive" I got excited because I forgot about that one! What a great song! I think Blake would have done that song much better than the ones he chose, and definitely better than Lakisha who kind of gospeled it out. Eh. Her second song wasn't much better.
Jordin really has one of the best voices ever. I really love her! (No dress with pants, no dress with pants). But she really does rock. (Must have straightest teeth ever.) Husband just said, "She's gonna win." And sipped his coffee. I think he's right. Of course, I'm not voting so I won't have anything to do with it.
No, Judge Judy appearing as if out of nowhere, nooooo! Worlds are colliding.
Anyway, this week it's Lakisha and Blake as the bottom two. On to the Deadliest Catch. Don't worry, I won't update you on a bunch of crabbers.
I guess I can google why we celebrate Cinco De Mayo, but yes I'm that lazy, so I'll go with the same reason we celebrate St. Patty's Day: another reason to drink! Not me, of course, I had meself a virgin pina colada like a good old pregnant girl which was surprisingly tasty I might add. But I made some margaritas, enchiladas, empanadas, and rounded up some Corona Light and we had ourselves a little fun with some friends. The empanadas were good but the dough I used wasn't my favorite because they really turned out looking just like puffs. I'll have to work on that.
OK I couldn't help myself I had to google it. Cinco De Mayo has something to do with a battle the Mexicans won against the French who landed in Mexico and some traitor Mexican troops. It isn't Mexico's Independence Day, the country actually declared its independence in September (1810). So there you have it. I'll drink to that! (Water, of course).
13 CRAVINGS AND AVERSIONS THIS PREGNANCY Oh boy! Two people are headed home tonight on Idol and still I think, why is this so important to me? OK, and Jon Bon Jovi. First, YAY! Second, at least two contestants barely even knew who he was! How can one escape the sounds of Jon Bon Jovi for an entire 18 to 20 years? Is it possible? Honestly? Never heard of Jon Bon Jovi? Ridiculous! (Are we that old?)
So anyway, I gotta air my predictions early in the post. Dr. Evil and Chris I think are the weakest links. Although, it's so hard to say at this point who's going because they are all just really good. But I still can't watch Phil and listen to him at the same time. I have to close my eyes. Chris sang one of my favorite songs, which is also the theme song to Deadliest Catch on Discovery which we watched immediately following Idol by the way. But Chris Daughtry sang it so well last year that you honestly thought he was a cowboy on that steel horse he rides, I mean actually believed it. So good, in fact, that the Justin Timberlake-sounding version was just sub-par. But good try. He was right, though, how can you have Bon Jovi night without someone singing that song?
My friend Jordin totally looked the part when she sang You Give Love a Bad Name, but I had to laugh when Simon said she looked like something out of the Addams Family. She did have a bit of a Bride of Frankenstein thing going, although I actually liked it. And despite the judges, I actually liked her performance. I've tried to karaoke that song before and those low man-notes are a killer. It's like singing/screaming "Pour Some Sugar on Me." Just not a good song.
I wish they'd stop trying to stuff Lakisha in that tiny cup of a barstool to answer viewer e-mails. I'd have refused too! Barstools do nothing for belly fat and thighs. Especially on TV. I didn't really know the song she picked but she did rock it out. Enough for a stay at least another week.
Simon said half of everyone would either love Blake's performance or hate it. I was somewhere in between. I watched it through my fingers because singing a classic like that made me somewhat nauseous, but it was kind of cool. In a totally weird kind of way. Maybe I still can't figure out if I liked it or not.
Lastly, our little Melinda Do-Little. I can't see her winning American Idol, but I really can't see her getting voted off either! I am in such an odd place with her too! She looked and played the part so well, she can seriously transform herself to sing any song or genre and it's really quite impressive. So, in sum, I think it's Phil and Chris to go home and anyone else I'd be surprised.
Tiny little Kumquat is wreaking havok upon my hormones. I am one giant ball of hormone. One minute I want to puke. The next I want to cry. Sometimes I want to do both. But since I have a long record of non-puking that I am trying desperately to uphold, I choose crying. Do not get me wrong, I am not complaining about this. I am simply stating this as fact. Of course, to actually say that I am blessed with long, giant waves of nausea is a stretch, but as long as I have them I am encouraged that this wonderful babyprocess is continuing successfully and for that I am comforted. That being said, I can't eat anything. I munch slowly and methodically on Keebler Club crackers because I hate Saltines. And I sip on Sprite because I ran out of Ginger Ale. This helps. But I can't even actually think about a real meal. Last night, dinner was Pizza Hut breadsticks. They are so warm and inviting and settling, all parmasany and crusty on the outside and soft on the inside. Like a warm Spring day. Many people say, Christie, just give in. Hurl. But to that I say, "No way!" I think I'd rather eat my arm than throw up. No matter how much my mouth salivates and my jaw gets weak and I feel like sprinting for the commode. It's not like the hangover throw-up when you're actually expelling toxins from your body and you have a shot at feeling better afterward. My hormones will still be there when I'm done, and instead, I fear I will have broken the seal and from there on it will be continuous. So no breaking the seal! I've carved out a place in the corner of the couch where I've spent most of the last couple of days sitting still and trying to think of Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day to deter thoughts of nausea. Quick movements make me nauseous. Loud noises make me nauseous. The smell of anything, like Poops' plain ravioli that usually has no smell, took on the smell of wet dog and made me nauseous. My husband, though, is a complete gem. Coming home from a long day of work and making us dinner because I feel like crap and am in the mood for nothing. And he takes care of Poops who is teething again and in rare, very unhappy form, taking him out for a wagon ride and leaving me to my nausea. Bringing me Sprite in bed. Wearing his tee-shirt that says "Pregnancy Support Team". Gotta love him!! Oh, and not to mention what a bad lazy wife/mother I feel like because I'm feeding my family crap. OK not Poops, cause he still eats good with a variety of veggies and fruits and proteins and dairy because that I'm anal-retentive about. But I have things in the house that usually never make it past the front door. Sherbet, donuts, pizza, pasta, everything I wouldn't dare eat while not pregnant are the only things I can seem to nibble on and find the slightest bit appetizing. At the beginning, I was so excited and gung ho, thinking "This time I'll do it healthy! I'll eat salads and protein and cottage cheese and lowfat yogurt and wheat bread and healthy snacks. I'll be the healthiest pregnant lady ever!" Phooey! Honestly, when I'm struggling to hold anything down, reaching for the crisp salads and vegetables and Wasa bread are really the last thing on my mind. Is that bad? So that's what I've been doing lately. I hate to post about negative-sounding things, I mean, who wants to read about my crap? Especially when we have two American Idol contestants being voted off tonight! As tempting as it is to lay around in my spot on the couch for the rest of the afternoon, I'm headed out to actually shop for non-crap food if possible and do a bunch of errands, maybe even stop for a coffee and just sit. That sounds like a plan.
