How To Get Pregnant

I haven't blogged in a while, mainly because I was insanely busy at work. Workaholic didn't understand what I meant by that, because his every day is what the first 15 days of 2013 were for me. It sucked, because I had to think SO MUCH. I would get home, and yes, I would usually leave work on time because I had to go in on the weekend anyways, and it would be 5:30 and I would ask if I could go to bed. I was always told no, which is crap, but whatever, I'm totally over it. (or not)

So I am just sitting here in my basement trying to think of something awesome or random or stupid to blog about. And the only thing I can think about is how I don't understand how young girls get pregnant by accident in this day and age. I mean, seriously. With the internet, and the internet, and of yeah, the INTERNET, there is so much information available on how not to make a life changing whoops. In the past year or so, two ladies in their early 20s that I knew pretty well were incredibly shocked when they found out that they were pregnant. It was a joke in my house that we were going to offer to give lessons on exactly how to get pregnant. Not how not to get pregnant. But HOW to get pregnant.

So here goes. 

First of all, if you want to get pregnant and are on the pill, then don't take it at the same time every day. Because in order for it to be 99.5% effective, you have to take it at the same time every day. If you miss a day, or two days, or better yet three days, your chances for getting prego increase.

Secondly, if you are on birth control and want a baby, go on antibiotics. Because that little white pill is useless against the medicine meant to make you feel better.  If you don't use back-up protection, then trust me, you will be feeling a LOT worse soon.

Third, there is a rhyme and reason to your bodily functions. If Aunt Flo is reasonably predictable, then there is a good solid week where you need to be extra super duper slutty. (or careful, if you actually are trying to prevent becoming with child.) If not longer. Really, anytime between 8 and 17 days after the first day she arrives are your go days.

Condoms are for losers. At least losers who don't want to become parents.

Oh, and just as a side note, the pill and the ring and the shot are all great at preventing babies. They are not so great at preventing fun stuff like chlamydia and herpes and HIV. Just sayin'.

So yeah, there you go, a step-by-step tutorial on how to get pregnant. Remember, the younger you are, the easier it is.

***Disclaimer, I don't really want 16 year olds or anyone who isn't married and/or financially stable to have kids. Because kids are a lot of work and cost a lot of money. For other side effects, please see www.scarymommy.com.


  

Not Today

Do you ever have those days where you wake up and have a feeling that something isn't right?

Like this morning, I woke up and thought, "OHMYGOD, I HAVE TO PEE."

And then I thought, "OHMYGOD, I CAN'T MOVE."

Obviously, I managed to move, and pee, and shower at 4 in the morning.

And then I was convinced that while I may not be in labor, I definitely should go to the hospital to get checked out...because let's just say that what I was feeling "down there" was not normal. Any day of the week.

But then the feeling passed, after I freaked out my husband and made my mother-in-law get out of bed extra early. Oopsy...sorry 'bout that.

And now I am laying in bed, officially on vacation, and not quite sure what I am going to do with the next few days. I'll find something to do, I am sure. I also am sure it'll involve spending money. I also am sure that it won't involve moving furniture. Even though there is still a lot to be moved.

So recap...I woke up, thought I was going to have to deliver this baby in a bathtub, skipped out on work, went to lunch with the girls from work, wound up spending 4 hours at work, went shopping, got my hair did, and made my baby go to sleep without her milk because I left in in the refrigerator when I went upstairs and I was NOT about to go up and down the stairs again.

Hopefully tomorrow is a less eventful day.

Who Am I?

Hello? Are you out there?? Yes, it' s me, I'm still here.

I'm still pregnant too.

For those of you keeping track, and even for those who don't care, I have 12 days until my due date. Which is August 19th. It's a Thursday.

Recently, I've had a lot of people ask me if I am ready to be done. My answer? Besides the obvious "Duh", (and by obvious, I mean by the pained look I have on my face due to the heavy weight hanging from the front of my body), my other answer has become, "I've been pregnant forever."

And I am serious. I mean, I'm no Michelle Dugger, but no kidding, I've been pregnant since Thanksgiving. Do you even remember what you did last Thanksgiving?? I do, but only because there are pictures.

People talk about me not being pregnant, and how I'll get to drink and do things that I can't do now. And I can't even imagine it at this point.

I'll be able to bend over without squishing a baby and being in pain?

I'll be able to sit on the floor and get up without falling over?

I'll be able to shave, and see what I am doing?

I'll be able to go up a flight of stairs without having to sit down afterwards?

Forget drinking, I'm just excited to be "normal" again. Although I really, seriously, in all honesty, don't remember what that is.

Am I still that same girl who used to go to the bar every weekend? Who used to have a few beers and sing the same song karoke? And think that I kick ass every time?

Am I that same girl who used to rollerblade on campus for an hour straight? Or who used to play in the water with my Fonz? Or who would go to agility class with him?

I barely remember doing those things. But I know I used to. And someday, somehow, I'll do them again. But give me a few weeks. Having a baby is no vacation, so even though I will be off of work for 13 weeks, I need to do some healing first. Well, I need to go into labor first, then heal. Then I'll think about rollerblading. It'll be the perfect weather. I can't wait.

Random 4am Thoughts

I woke up at 4:20am, and still can't go back to sleep an hour later. So I am writing down some of my random thoughts that are keeping me awake, for your enjoyment.

When I rolled over and saw that it was 4:20, I giggled. I am 31 years old and a soon-to-be mother of two, and yes, I giggled.

I am sad that Rod Blagojevich did not testify in his own defense. It would have been an awesome train wreck to watch unfold.

I am officially in panic mode for this baby. The plan is to move Sam to her own room across the hall. While paint and wallpaper have been selected, they have not been installed, or even ordered. Furniture also has not been purchased.

Some people call this panic mode "nesting." I hate that word. I think it has more to do with the fact that I fall directly into a stereotype and not with the fact that other people are right about me. When I am not pregnant, I even tell pregnant people that they are nesting. Why do I do things like that?

My first job out of college was at a rental car company. My branch had a lot of clients who were from, for lack of a better word, the "ghetto." There were women who I rented cars to who had no issue telling me how I was a "little white girl" and then just laugh and laugh and laugh and talk in a form of the English language I could no longer understand. I learned then that stereotypes do exist for a reason. And I fall smack dab into one of the biggest ones. Turns out those women did too, as they were arrested for drug possession/dealing not too soon before I quit.

I like to make plans. However, I am learning that making plans is pointless with my husband. His chronic lack of ability to do anything on time is starting to get to me.

Normally I don't mind Workaholic's tendency to take on more than he has time for. But yesterday I turned nine months pregnant....see the paragraph above about panicking.

Fonz has decided to only eat Tuesday-Friday. I don't know if it is because we were at the bottom of a bag of food, or because it is so hot out, or if he just is weird.

Today is supposed to be the hottest day in 4 years. In Chicago. Which means it will be at least 5 degrees hotter where I live. I bet the heat index reaches 110 today, and I really wanted to run errands on lunch. No stinkin' heat is going to stop me from nesting!!!

Dear co-workers, it would be best to not talk to me until after noon today. And no, I am not kidding. Try me...I dare you.

A List of Sorts

When you are pregnant, and due in August, there are certain things that can make or break your day. Let’s go with the break first. (BTW...I would never recommend having a baby due in August. There really is something to the whole "being pregnant during the summer sucks" thing. Who knew??!?!)

1) Running late and having a crying toddler. This is pretty much every day, but sometimes when you ask them to come with you and they hide in the corner instead of cooperating, it just really ticks you off. (But hopefully she learned her lesson when she threw herself backwards in a fit of rage and whacked her head on the corner of the laundry room door. See?? Do what mom says and these things don’t happen to you.)

2) Having your milk spoil in the office refrigerator a mere 2 days after you put it there. Really??? If the damn fridge wasn’t so full, I would’ve put it in the back. But alas, I can’t see the back of the refrigerator. Those of you who work in an office with 50+ people understand.

3) People who use the office bathroom and pee on the toilet seat or floor. OK, I watched Mythbusters. Trust me. The lock on the door is waaaay dirtier than the toilet seat. Just spread some toilet paper and sit your ass down, because you SUCK AT HOVERING.

4) Not enough sleep at night. Again, this could be almost every day.

5) Making a to-do list and realizing how far you are from getting anything accomplished.



Now, let’s go with the make. Granted, this list is shorter, but sweeter.

1) Remembering to make 2 copies at once instead of having to get up twice to go to the copy machine.

2) Realizing that you no longer have to wear the BeBand. I have several pairs of pants that I bought for when I was pregnant with Sam to wear to work. They are a size larger than my normal pants, and are cottony/stretchy. Up until this morning, I thought I needed that damn BeBand that rolls up in the back to hold them up. Now, my belly fits that bill!

3) Nutty Bars…’nuff said.

4) Fruit snacks…especially the Starkist kind.

5) Chocolate milk.

6) Dairy Queen hot fudge sundaes.

7) Getting a good night’s sleep. Rare…but really helps out your day when it does happen.

8) Checking something off of your to-do list.

9) Cleaning out the office refrigerator and throwing away lots and lots of expired things. And then calling out your boss for having a bottle of water in there with his name on it, when he had no idea that it existed. And threatening him when he doesn’t drink the water. And getting away with threatening your boss just because you are pregnant.

10) Online shopping. A short high, but a high nonetheless.

I could go on and on. But I’ll stop. I am actually kind of shocked that the good list is twice as long as the bad list. Hmm…maybe I shouldn’t complain so much? Four weeks and counting folks….

Pregnancy Sucks a Little Less Today

It’s not a secret, whether you know me IRL or via the internet, that I am not an especially happy pregnant person. The lack of happy pills and alcohol, plus weight gain and the general “OH-DEAR-GOD-WHAT-HAVE-WE-DONE” feeling, recently collided and made me quite the miserable person to be around. (I mean, normally I am Susie-Fucking-Sunshine…haha!)

I recently posted this, and got the appropriate responses of either fear, support, or simply people agreeing with me. I loved all the responses, mainly because it seemed as though people were listening to me. I hoped that I could just leave be left alone. I wanted to curl up in a ball and hide from the world. I hurt all day, every day, awful body aches that made it feel as though I had the flu. I wasn’t sleeping well, and decided that my due date just had to be wrong, there was no way that I had 8 weeks of this left. I had nothing to give to my daughter, husband…hell, I couldn’t even bring myself to pet the Fonz. I decided the other day that this just could not be normal, and called my doctor.

I had gone back to work on Monday after an exhausting three day weekend. It didn’t feel exhausting at the time; until the drive home Sunday night and I fought back tears most of the way. I felt like such shit on Monday I left work early, convinced that I just had a bad cold and needed a nap. By Monday night, I was still all achy and tired and whiny and bitchy and moany, and it occurred to me to take my temperature. And it was 100.8. OK, nothing to start a fire over or anything, but HOLY CRAP…I REALLY AM SICK!! I couldn’t believe the thought had not occurred to me before. The reason why I had nothing to give and wanted to go to the hospital for a C-section RIGHT NOW was because I probably had the flu. Or, as my doctor’s nurse said, “A bug.”

This “bug” has been “bugging” me for a couple of weeks. It is the reason why, when my daughter gets those big belly laughs from Workaholic tickling her, I can barely manage a smile. It is the reason why I can’t even respond anymore when someone who I see every single day asks me at least three times a week when I am due and then doesn’t believe me because I am so huge.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am still going to talk to my doc about the possibility of depression creeping into this pregnancy. I will take his little 10 question quiz to see if I am certifiable. Because I don’t like it when people laugh out loud at me when someone suggests that I cook. And I don’t like the fact that my MIL gently says, “Well, you really aren’t a high energy person to begin with, you are so laid back.” (translation: LAZY) And I don’t like the fact that my Tupperware cabinet is in such disarray, but I just keep the door closed and try no to think about it. I don’t want to be a lazy, disorganized, non-cooking person…I just don’t seem to have the energy or motivation to fix those teensy-tiny, little areas of my life.

As with most of my posts, I am not quite sure where I am going with this. I guess just an update that while I am still pregnant, (32 weeks today!) and generally freaking out over things that need to be done (Hello…Tupperware? Or the much larger job of moving the office with its internet connections and blue walls so it can become Sam’s new bedroom.) I am generally surviving and getting better. I’ve been more tolerant of questions and observations about my pregnancy, and I’ve only had to take 2 Tylenol so far today for aches. I even fought the urge to shake my fist at the three cops who were taking up three, very very valuable parking spaces at Chipotle today during the lunch rush. (Yeah, I had to circle the building 5 times!) So thanks for sticking with me through the times where I was no fun and wanted to kill. I promise to try to be better.

A Reason (or Two) to Celebrate...With Wine!

Yesterday was a pretty rough day for me, there was lots of whining and complaining and general crabbiness. I didn’t get enough sleep the night before, and apparently my body’s reaction to that is an all-out ache. It almost feels like you have the flu, but there is no getting comfortable. And so everyone I know gets to hear about how miserable I am and how I just do not remember my last pregnancy being so awful.

After a drug-induced sleep and a decent morning, (except of course dealing with pink-eyed little screaming girl who wanted nothing to do with anything and I am surprised even woke up), I was driving to work. Late, due to aforementioned screaming child.

And that was when Mark Suppelsa told me something that makes me very, very happy. And makes other people I know happy too. He said a study recently came out that showed if a woman had a glass of wine every day during her pregnancy, then that led to more well-behaved children. And there are no other adverse effects. Hallelujah!! I can have wine! Red wine!! Yay!!! (And you can totally trust Mark. He’s the anchor on the WGN News at 5 & 9, but more importantly, he does the news on the Eric & Kathy show on the radio in the morning. So if he says it, it MUST be true.)

I’ve always been one to believe in moderation in all facets of life, but especially during pregnancy. I have a bit of caffeine every day, and chocolate, and sugar, and other not-good-for-you things. (OK, maybe a lot of chocolate and sugar) I’ll even eat lunch meat. But I always stayed away from the alcohol because they scare the shit out of you, with stories of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome and premature babies and generally being a terrible mother. And really…who wants to be a terrible mother? Not me.

So this story makes me happy. And that should make everyone I know happy.

On another happy note, my dad went to see Dr. Witt the Neurosurgeon yesterday. Last week he was released to the world from his occupational therapist. (He celebrated by taking my three nieces to the pool, away from the horrid heat of the garage sale that my mom and sister were having. And there were no travesties.) Dr. Witt told my dad he is now allowed to DRIVE and EXERCISE and GOLF. (OK, to be fair, he can’t swim yet, because he has a couple of little soft spots still in his skull. Like a baby!!) But even better…he can WORK. At a desk, but that is just what my pacing-the-floors-of-his-house father wanted to hear. Of course, he isn’t going back to work until he gets home from his fishing trip to Canada, of which he leaves this week. So that is major excitement in my parent’s world. I am sure that my mom is happy she no longer has to play chauffer, or entertainer, to my father. And I am sure that my father is happy that he can now chauffer and entertain himself.

Just over 3 months after his diagnosis, which was just over 3 months after he fell and whacked his head on the ice, my dad is well on his way to being 100%. What happened is exactly what I had hoped would happen. We found a problem and fixed it. It was fixable. (I’m such a boy in my thinking.) I know that many people have health problems that aren’t fixable, or are ongoing, and don’t get better in roughly 3 months after 2 brain surgeries. I know how lucky we are.

Tonight, I think I’m going to toast to that.

Cankles

Apparently everyone I know thought I was going to post a blog today, (OK, two people), so I'll tell a little story that both of those people have heard. (Since the uber-cute videos I posted the other day just weren't satisfying enough.)

Workaholic: "Aww...your ankles are a little swollen! You ARE pregnant!!"

Me: "You are so, so observant sweetheart." (as if the bowling ball on my belly wasn't the first indication) "I have to leave the room now to resist the urge to beat you."

But then I couldn't get off of the bed without help, and I just had to lie there and watch another How It's Made. Which is just another reason I am going crazy.

Pregnancy Sucks

I’m gonna give you a news flash, being pregnant is hard.

I know, I know. Duh, right? But apparently, from my first pregnancy to my second, I forgot a few things. Everyone would ask me about being pregnant, and be like, “Oh well, you have pretty easy pregnancies, right?” And yes, this is true. I have boring doctor’s appointments, I don’t have to give myself shots every day for any reason, and I never got morning sickness. So I totally psyched myself out when we were trying to get pregnant this time that I could handle it.

Another news flash…I am not handling it so well. First of all, when you get pregnant, you have to stop taking the fun drugs. The happy pills. And also the pills that make you better when you have a cold. (Aleve Cold & Sinus!! Ironically, you can’t take the particular drug not because of the meth ingredient in it, but because it contains naproxen. Weird.) Also, you get tired. Very, very tired. And when you have a very busy toddler to take care of, there is no napping. Or sitting down. And don’t let people lie and tell you that the second trimester is GREAT!! Bullshit. I have been just as tired throughout my second trimester as I was the first, and now that I am in my third, I am even more tired.

Another thing you forget about is the hormones. Mine have been crazy the past 7 months. Most of the time, I maintain a pretty level of low. I am not that “glowing” happy pregnant person. I am in a constant state of annoyance. I am one breath away from breaking my hand by punching drywall. My usual causes for aggravation are everyday interactions with people. I get exasperated when people who will not normally talk to me feel obligated to start a conversation with me simply because I am pregnant. This is how the conversation goes on my end. Every. Single. Time.

“I’m due in August. No, we don’t know what we’re having. Yes, it’s rare nowadays. Yes, we just think it is more fun that way. My daughter will be 19 months when the new baby is born. No, she doesn’t realize she is going to have a little brother/sister because she is 16 months old.”

Yesterday, someone (who is a very nice person and I really shouldn’t pick on) asked me when I was due. And then he asked me how the baby was. I assumed he meant my daughter, because while she is no infant, she is still my baby. I kind of thought we had covered the fetus part of the conversation. And when I said that she was fine, he was like, “OH! You are having a girl?!” This has happened more times than I can count. Not only did I cease to exist as a person when I became pregnant, and am simply a carrier for the parasite that is my baby in my belly, but now my daughter now ceases to exist as well. Which bothers me even more.

Another thing about being pregnant is that you gain weight. Again, duh. But I honestly think that I am about as big now as I was when I delivered Sam. And I have 10 weeks to go. Since I deal with the bowling ball that is attached to my belly (everyone says basketball…but basketballs are light, bowling balls are not) on a 24 hour a day basis, my patience when people bring it up is starting to wear a bit thin. My typical response is “Yep, I’m fat.” PEOPLE, if you know me in real life, this is NOT me fishing for a compliment. I have recently (as in yesterday) realized that it comes across sounding as though I need a pep talk. Or maybe I am just making people feel really awkward and they don’t know how to respond, so to fill the void, they say things like “Oh, you look great!” or “You are supposed to gain weight, you are pregnant!” or “You have to gain weight so you’ll have a healthy baby!”

I know of all these things. They are not news flashes. And I’ve been telling myself these things for the past few weeks. But when you are lying in bed, and you want to roll over, and you feel as though you have to grab your belly and throw it across the room simply so you can lie on your left side, well…all I am saying is, sometimes it gets old. And when you stand up (because lying down is uncomfortable) and it feels, literally, like you have a bowling ball attached to your stomach, and you can’t take it off, and it’s hanging there hurting your back and your legs and your shoulders, well…it makes you want to cry. I asked Workaholic last night if he could carry the load for a while, and he put out his hand and then laughed at me. Ass.

Then there are the things that you don’t talk about. Things that have to do with bathrooms, and the lack of productive time I’ve been spending in one. I brought it up to my doctor a few weeks ago, and at my last appointment, I had to bring it up again. And, I shit you not, (HAHAHA!!) I am on a regimen. A full on, three over-the-counter medicines, regimen. It took a few days to kick in, and while I am far from perfect, at least I no longer feel as though I am carrying the crap for everyone in the US around inside of me.

Which one would think would make me feel better. But now I am in the part of the pregnancy where you don’t get a straight 8 hours sleep. I wake up every day between 4 and 5 am. I don’t know why, although lately a nature call is usually involved. The other night, we had a terrible storm, and I woke up a few minutes before it started and then wandered around the house during the whole thing. Me + not enough sleep = very crabby Gail. If you had any doubt about that, please read the 8 paragraphs above.

I know things will be better, yet worse, after I have the baby. But at least I will be able to drink. For now, I may just go into hiding.

Sad, Devasting News...At Least for Me

I think I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Which I think I do every. single. morning. (Maybe I should start sleeping on the other side of the bed.) My mom isn’t a morning person, so I never really thought much of the fact that I don’t think I ever once have jumped out of bed, excited for my day. Even on my wedding day, I wanted to push snooze. Just a few more minutes! I feel like I’ve been sleep-deprived my whole life, although if I started eating healthy and exercising, that might help things. Or not.

This morning started off with a Charley Horse. OH THE PAIN! I rolled around in bed for a minute and then got up. I think that was God’s way of telling me that I went to bed in a bad mood last night, and to straighten up today. But does He understand why I was in a bad mood??? Let me attempt to explain.

I’ve never been comfortable in social situations. I never knew what to talk to kids my own age about, and whatever conversation I tried to make wound up being boring and awkward. (Strangely enough, I never really had that problem with adults.) Even when I was a kid, I never knew what to do with kids littler than me. Still really don’t. Anyway, as a teenager I discovered the joys of alcohol. Alcohol was great because it lowered your inhibitions, making you not care as much what other people thought about what you were saying, and honestly, they didn’t really care what you were saying either. It was my saving grace in high school & college.

I was telling my doctor once how I was not the type of person who could hang out with a bunch of people who were drinking and not drink. I would rather stay home alone than be the designated driver. She told me that was a “red flag.” Thanks Dr. B. On top of everyone else, I might have alcoholic tendencies. (although I've always comforted myself because I can't drink through a hangover, so I could never be a "real" alcoholic) I just can’t handle drunk people unless I am drunk, because in reality, I can’t handle people unless I am drunk. Red flag or not, my pregnancy is not helping my social phobias. Because I can’t medicate myself with alcohol, and I definitely can’t medicate myself with a Xanex.

This all came to a head last night, when I remembered something my parents and sister had told me over the weekend. My memory of college, my happiest times, were spent at the piano bar at the Neon Cactus with Bruce Barker. Some people were really into their Greek parties, others had killer house parties, I had my bar. I hung out with the same groups of people, who I only knew their first names, if at all. My friends were also there, as well as Workaholic. There were many nights when he had to drag me home. I would walk in, and the waitress who loved us would immediately come over and make sure of our drink order. And they kept coming all. night. long. Or I could walk up to a bar where people were four deep and get instant service. It was great times. When I moved to where I live now, I couldn’t understand how all the bars were the same boring thing…I had only ever been to college bars. You just sit and drink?? No entertainment?? I don’t get it. I would MUCH rather go see Bruce than go out to any bar in Chicago or any bar here at home. It’s a comfort thing. (like my food yesterday)

Over the weekend, I found out that my piano man Bruce is retiring. I remember him telling Workaholic and I that he had signed an 11 year contract, about that long ago. So I am guessing there is no contract extension, he is going to retire and raise his kids. I think he is in his mid-40s. (must be nice!) All I heard is that “this is his last year.”

What does that MEAN??? Is he going until December? Is he going until the end of the 2011 school year?? Will I EVER get to drink with him AGAIN?? Will I EVER have fun again??

A few weeks after I gave birth to Sam, I called up my best friend and just cried and cried and cried. I told her it felt like I would NEVER AGAIN have fun. Life was miserable, I didn’t sleep, and I would never again be able to enjoy myself. And life is a different kind of fun now. I laugh at my kid, but I don’t go to concerts, or bars, or any of the other stuff we used to do. (I’m just too tired!) That stuff takes planning, and going to see Bruce generally doesn’t. Well, it didn’t used to anyway. He is there Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, every weekend, except on holidays. And now he won’t be there anymore. And my main source of fun is gone. Forever.

I am hoping that I will be able to arrange a couple of trips down to see Bruce before he is finished. And maybe, now that he is released from weekly obligation, he’ll do random shows at bars…I know he used to go out to Vegas once a month or so. If not, I’ll always have my memories. I just feel sorry for the poor kids who will go to Purdue in the future (like my nephew!) and never get to know Piano Man Bruce.

I have to know though...am I the only one who feels this way? Am I the only one who loves their kid with all their heart but just wishes that a small part of me still could do all of those carefree (and stupid) things I used to do? How do I get past this???

Shuttles and Body Pillows

It’s a crazy thing how the mind works. Last week, my sister was flying in from Europe. Since she lives there, she doesn’t have a cell phone that works both there and in the States. (at least that is the story that I get) Since I live the closest to the airport, and talk to her the most, I was tasked with safely picking her up from the airport. Which sounds easy, except she was coming in at 1am on a weeknight and I was already going to be 3 hours away. So I found what I thought to be a wonderful, cheap, shuttle service. Turns out, you get what you pay for.

They called me the day of her flight to confirm and I explained to them that she was flying in from Europe and I would have no way of contacting her. At this time, I was told that their office closed at midnight, so we decided that the driver would be in an assigned spot 30 minutes after she landed. Around 9:30 that night, they called again, to confirm. I explained again that I had no way of contacting her and that the driver was just supposed to be there to meet her. At this point, I was told that the office would stay open until they picked her up. How nice. At 12:30, they called and said that her flight had taken off an hour late from Miami. OK, great. So what? Well, that means she won’t be there at 1:25am to be picked up, and she should be ready around 2:15. But the problem was, they couldn’t get her until 4:15. A.M. From O’Hare International Airport. After she had already been awake for 24 straight hours. Great, now I am not worried at all.

I had told my dear sister that if the shuttle wasn’t there to get her after she got her baggage to find a payphone and call me. Which she did, around 2:30am. I gave her the number to the shuttle, and she called them, and then called me back, and then settled in to read her book. She finally made it to my house around 5:30am. But forgot to call me to tell me she was safe until 6:30am. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep.

But the point of this post is not to whine about Pipeline People Movers. They did do what they said they would, they got my sister from point A to point B for $29. They just didn’t do it in an extremely timely manner. My point was to tell you about my friend who is also pregnant.

For whatever reason, she has really poor circulation. So she is always cold, and her fingernails are always bluish-purple. She always sleeps either on her back or on her stomach, because if she lies on her side, then that side of her body will fall asleep while she is asleep. Which, obviously, is irritating. She was telling me about this last week, and how she bought the body pillow that is curved, and how great it was and it really helped her to sleep. So each time my phone rang, at 12:30, 2:30, 2:35, & 6:30; and then when I woke up in a panic at 5:30 because I hadn’t heard from her, and again at 6 when Workaholic returned my text telling me that she had gotten to our house safe, EACH TIME, half of my body was asleep. And I was PISSED. Not because I couldn’t feel my fingers, but I was pissed at my friend. Somehow, I blamed her for falling asleep while I was asleep. I was quite sure it had nothing to do with my rapidly expanding belly, or the weird, super-cushy pillow at the hotel, or the more firm mattress I was sleeping on…NONONO…it was my friend’s fault. And I HATED her for it.

Fortunately for both of us, my hatred lasted only until I got up for the day. In fact, I completely forgot that I hated her until I thought about going to work later that weekend. She understands, and isn’t mad at me for blaming her and hating her in my sleep. Or lack thereof. My point? It’s funny how the mind works. That’s all.

Dad & Wardrobe Update

First of all, I want to thank everyone for their well wishes and prayers for my dad. It means so much to us that we have so many people praying for him. I know it means a lot to him too.

I just got a call from my mom, he is going to have another surgery tomorrow at 9am. He had a CT scan right after his surgery, then another one yesterday at 5am. The second one was worse than the one right after his surgery. So they got him up and walking around, and did another one this morning at 7:30am. Based on that one, his doctor decided that they need to go back in and drain more fluid and clean things up a bit. So a bigger hole in his head. The level of risk is the same, so I am hopeful that he will be able to recover in a similar manner and get the heck outta the hospital and be able to recuperate at home in a few days.


Secondly, and this is totally off the subject, but I have to tell you how I brought out my maternity clothes last night. It’s something that I know I’ve needed to do for a while, but was too lazy/tired/trying to keep my house clean for open houses to do it. And I had 3 immediate thoughts…

1) OMG…these clothes are so. much. cuter. than my regular wardrobe. What the hell took me so long to unpack them?

b) OMG…I have so. many. more. maternity clothes than I do regular clothes. What the hell took me so long to unpack them??

3) Workaholic is wrong, I do need to wash these before I wear them. (His theory was that I didn’t actually pack them up that long ago, and I washed them before I packed them. He was not right, but I didn’t realize it until I was hanging up the third to last shirt. And yes, I did hang up all the shirts before deciding to take them all down and wash them. Damn him for not being a housewife.) And what the hell took me so long to unpack them???

It is actually really sad, looking at my closet now. I took down all the shirts that I probably will never wear again. And I put them into a bin. Even though I will never wear them again because a) they are ugly or 2) they will not fit. Most of these shirts I haven’t worn since before I got pregnant with Sam, because I didn’t like the way they fit!! What is wrong with me?? Seriously??

I think I just like getting good deals on clothes. I wore a lot of hand-me-downs as a kid, partially because I think my mom really hated shopping and partially because money was tight. So now, when I see a good deal on a shirt I think is cute, I buy it. And then I get it home and realize that I hate it. It is usually shirts, because do you have any idea how hard it is to find pants for a woman with a big ass/thighs and a 25 inch in-seam??? I already gave 3 huge trash bags full of clothes to Goodwill, but I am thinking I need to make another run. Even though that will put us over the maximum donation amount on our tax return for 2010. Get ‘em outta my house!!

Maybe if I start purging and “packing”, then the house will sell. Maybe? Just maybe??

Sugar Monster

You know how when you are pregnant that everyone assumes you have crazy cravings, like Mike N Ike’s on a banana sandwich with jelly and pickels as a side? Yeah…not me. I’m such a boring pregnant person that my doctor makes up conversations just to fill up the 10 minute appointment time, (we spent most of my last one talking about snowmobiles and boats) and I honestly think that Workaholic forgets that I am with child half of the time. He never understands why I am so tired all of the time, and if I have an angry outburst he just says, “It’s really too bad that you don’t love me. If you did, you wouldn’t be so mean to me.” (He really knows how to play off of the Catholic guilt) (Then again, if he wouldn’t piss me off, then I wouldn’t have to yell at him! Why can’t he just understand that??)

It has come to my attention that I actually do have a craving. No, it’s not watermelon or pickles or licorice or tea. It’s sugar. Plain and simple. I want sugar. Whether it’s in the form of M&M’s (my current snack of choice), or ice cream bars (when it’s 30 degrees outside) or Fun Dips. I love sugar. I’m afraid this kid is going to come out spinning on its head and demanding to be mainlined a steady stream of pure, white, beautiful sugar cane. (Which, BTW, is brown. Who knew??)

I’ve always loved sugar, when I was a little kid I used to climb up on the countertop and just pour straight sugar into my mouth from the canister. I would use strawberries as an excuse in the summertime to get to eat more sugar. Mmm….sugar. I love it. Sorry to be so boring in my cravings, but at least it’s easy. Workaholic does NOT have to make any midnight trips to Taco Bell, which is probably a good thing. He doesn’t do Mexican so well.

Brain Shrinkage

I've been wanting to post a new post for 2 days. And I had some great ideas about what I could write about, and then I forgot. This morning, I was absolutely resolved to write something, and then I started thinking about lunch. This is a recurring theme in my life lately.

There is an article that was published in the Chicago Tribune on 2/9/97 (holy crap...13 years ago!). It first appeared in our office about 3 years ago. That was when the first of us twoppers got pregnant. She proudly displayed it in her cubicle as a disclaimer for anyone who asked her for help. We've since passed it around for the subsequent several births, this is the second time I'm getting it. It says "Women who complain that they lose their minds during pregnancy may be suffering from brain shrinkage and may not regain their full mental powers until six months after giving birth."

And boy oh boy...I need to just stamp this on my forehead and really just stop trying. For example... Every day, I walk down the stairs at my house, multiple times, and pass by a very large potted plant that sits next to the front door. And every time I pass it, I look at the poor thing, notice how it needs to be watered, and that I need to pick up the dead leaves that have fallen. And by the time I take 20 more steps into my kitchen, I have forgotten all about it.

This morning, I had two sets of keys in my hand, one for my car, and the other for our office. I looked down, and realized that only my car keys were in my hand, and immediately began lamenting to everyone in the elevator about how I lost my key and it was probably in the snow in the parking lot and so basically it was gone forever. Everyone laughed and told me "Good luck getting a new one" since our office manager DOES NOT appreciate when you lose your key. I was more upset about the pewter Golden Retriever key chain that came from a store in the mall which is now closed. After I got to my cube and was taking off my coat, I decided to check the pockets. And there it was, right next to my sunglasses. Apparently, I had the foresight to drop the key in my pocket so I wouldn't lose it!

I have actually walked from our master bedroom to the office in our house, which again, is about 20 steps, and completely forgot why I made the trip. And then I'll sit down at the computer and get on facebook, and log off, and then go back to the bedroom and remember why I went to the office in the first place! Usually, the second time around, I can make it there for the right reasons. Unless I get sidetracked by a potty break.

Don't even get me started on letting the dog out. He is boundary trained, which basically means that he doesn't leave our yard. (He especially doesn't go into our neighbor's yard, because they have two little ankle-biters who terrorize him and chase him. He has actually slid to a stop before when I let him out and he hears them bark. It's like he is saying, "Please mom, don't make me go out there...the bully's are out!") The problem with just letting him out is that I forget that he is out there. And sometimes I'll be all snuggled up in bed, watching the Olympics, and Workaholic is in the shower for an hour and a half, and it isn't until the shower turns off that I hear the faint scratching on the back door. He won't bark, even though he knows if he does that he comes in immediately, he just scratches. And scratches. And scratches. And then I have to get out of bed, put on my slippers, go down the hall, down the stairs, across the living room to the back door without losing my way. Lucky for me, he keeps scratching so I don't forget him.

I know it is just going to get worse too. And the more kids you have, the more you lose your mind, because that is the only way to deal with the insanity of newborns to teenagers. Oh well brain, it was nice knowing ya.

Death, Life, and Miracles

Yesterday, I was feeling all scared about the idea of having another child, because of the change that a new baby brings to your life. And even though I have been through it before, I think bringing a second child into this world will be almost more difficult than bringing the first. All of the sudden, I can’t hand off my baby to my husband and go relax; now I will have to hand off both babies. And while he is dealing with a screaming tantrum with one, I have to be taking care of another. Yes, so goes the life of parents. Doesn’t make it any less scary.

And then I woke up this morning. The Today Show and Meredith Viera reminded me that today is September 11th. That awful day, 8 years ago, when my mom came into my room and said, “Two planes just hit the World Trade Center.” And I thought, “What is the big deal?” Thinking that the pilots of those small planes would surely get into a lot of trouble with the FAA for flying so close to buildings. And then, I turned on the TV, and me and Peter Jennings became fast friends. I didn’t change from ABC for the rest of the morning. I called everyone I knew, those who I didn’t call, called me. I remember watching the towers fall...ABC had cut away to Washington for a moment and when they came back, you couldn’t tell what had happened. Peter thought there had been an explosion at the base of the South tower, not realizing that it had collapsed. And when they showed the replay, he just was silent. As was everyone else.

I remember looking at the footage of the South Tower, and thinking, “Oh my God, all of those people are trapped in a collapsed building, they will never be able to reach them in time to save them. Surely people are hurt and bleeding and they are going to die a long and terrible death.” It took me a couple of days to realize that those people had died a terrible death as ABC had cut away to the Pentagon. That moment changed me. It impacted the decisions I made in my life, especially over the next several months dramatically, and not always in a good way. I lived for the day, instead of thinking things through. I was quite unstable for a while there, not sure of my life or what was going to happen in the future.

I was thinking of this as I got in my minivan to drive Sam to daycare and myself to work today. As I turned on 101.9, The Mix (in Chicago), and Eric and Kathy are having their 10th Annual 36 Hour Radio-thon for Children’s Memorial Hospital. For those of you not from the Chicago area, Children’s Memorial is a great hospital for kids. They do a lot of research, and take great care in coordinating the child’s care with all the doctors involved, and focus on the parents as well. They take on the rare and deadly diseases that other hospitals give up on. Eric and Kathy have this fundraiser every year, and every year they have parents tell their heartbreaking stories of survival and loss. And every year I listen to the stories and every year, I wind up crying on the way to work. This year, the stories made me think of blogs that I read, from Heather who lost her Maddy; to Hope’s Mama, who lost her daughter while she was in labor and had to deliver her sleeping; to poor Mirne, who has lost not one, not two, but three children.


And I remembered something. I don’t want to say that I realized something, because that would imply that I’d had an epiphany of some sort. I simply remembered that a child, every child, is a gift. And to have a happy, healthy child is an even more amazing gift. To have a good, uneventful pregnancy like I did, (except of course for the stabbing pains in my ass…but they were worth it) to have a labor which was appropriately painful, and to get a healthy, happy, beautiful daughter is a miracle. All children are miracles. I will try my hardest to keep this in mind when Workaholic and I continue on our journey of being parents. And when I forget, just whack me in the back of the head…and maybe then, I’ll remember. There is plenty to be scared about, but the risks are worth the reward.




(this was taken about 8 months ago...but she still looks just as angelic when she is sleeping)

A Late Update

There are two kinds of people in the world, those who believe in the phrase “Why wait until tomorrow to do what you can do today?”, and those who think that statement is crap. I mean, sure, it sort of makes sense. But why do today what you can put off until tomorrow…so you can do something more fun today???

To say that I am a procrastinator would be an understatement. I am shocked that I made it through college, because I never understood the point of doing homework in a timely manner, or studying for exams too much ahead of time (because I probably would forget everything anyway) (and I actually got a decent GPA in college too!!)

To say that Workaholic is a procrastinator would be the understatement of the century. He worked so much in college, he had to take a class twice because he never got around to doing the necessary work to pass the first time. (in his defense, he was .25% short of passing…the professor wasn’t much for leniency) (and it wasn’t even that he had to work, he just liked to. He said that it made him manage his time more efficiently-ha!!) I remember more than one all-nighter at the end of a semester finishing up a project that most students took 4 months to do, he would complete in 1 night. And now he is finishing up a side job right now that the woman asked him to do a year and a half ago.

The reason for the rush to finish the side job is because I am due tomorrow. As in, less than 2 hours. And I can promise you, tomorrow will come and go, and there will be no baby. I went to the doctor today, after being up all night with “contractions”, positive that I had to be effaced and dilated and would be in the hospital as I type now. And you know what he said?? With a smirk on his face??? That there was nothing going on down there. NOTHING. (I don’t think that he was being mean…turns out he had to have the exact same conversation 2 appointments in a row) This is how I felt after the doctor took his hands out from between my legs and broke the news...

So throughout my pregnancy, I’ve said that I would be late, and that if I didn’t have the baby by the 6th I wanted to be in the hospital on the 7th. Now, after talking to my doctor, he wants me to wait until Monday-ish. I go back on Thursday to get re-checked (and yes…that is exactly what it sounds like…aka, I get violated) and to take a non-stress test, to make sure the baby is OK. I’m still having these “practice contractions”, which sucks because they hurt!!

After getting over the initial shock that the discomfort (aka pain) that I had been enduring for the past 12 hours was for nothing, I decided that it was OK. Because we’re such procrastinators, there are several things to do around the house that probably should get done before the baby makes its appearance. Not fun things, (although one of them may just be cleaning out my DVR of all the Dirty Sexy Money’s I’ve recorded since the season started). And Workaholic still has lots of work to do…so he’ll never finish, but he’ll feel better the more he gets done.

So in short, my back still hurts, I still have cramps, the kitchen is still not organized, the memory card in the camera is still full, and there are still 9 Dirty Sexy Monday episodes to be watched. And I still haven’t moved my crap from the bathroom on the main floor of our house to the upstairs bathroom of our house. Which means that if you are looking in our windows after I shower, you can see me run naked through my house. So that the kid is going to be late making it's appearance really shouldn't surprise us. What’s the rush? Why do it today when you can do it tomorrow?? (or, you know, next week?)

Dreams and stuff

So I’ve been having these really weird, f-d up dreams lately. Some of them are pregnancy related, some are not. Many of them have to do with the end of the world…which probably could be interpreted to me being scared about having a baby. (I mean eeks! I am personally responsible for entertaining this thing for the next 18 years, and along the way, make sure I don’t kill it by letting it eat lead paint and jump off the roof of the house, and at the same time make sure that I am creating a productive member of society.) (and yes, I often do refer to the baby as it…purely out of laziness…it’s a lot easier to say or type “it” than “the baby” over and over) (and since we aren’t going to find out what it is, it’s an it until it’s a him or her…you know, when it’s screaming it’s head off because it doesn’t want to come out) On that note, my friend told me that the baby won’t come out screaming, it’ll come out yelling “FFUUUUUCCK!!!” (guess whose been dropping the f-bomb a lot lately?)

Oftentimes, I’ll wake up in the morning and have to lie in bed trying to decipher my dream. This has caused me to be late for work, oh…every day in the past 3 weeks. Today I was a half hour late. Oops. I’ll also compose my blog in my head at that time, and then promptly forget what ever I was going to type as soon as my feet hit the floor. So instead of you guys getting a genius incredible blog from me at 8am, you get crap at 4pm. Sorry ‘bout that.

So I’ve been reading a new blog lately, and even though this chick totally does NOT need a plug from me, who gets no comments on her blog, (she gets about 500+ a day), I have to link to her. I want to be her…at least take her pictures and get to stay home and blog all day. She makes enough money off of the advertising from her blog that her husband was able to quit his job. Seriously??? (and if you were wondering, no, I don’t have any advertising on my site…mainly because I wouldn’t know how to do it…I don’t have my own personal IT department in my head) Her name is Heather and this is her website…check out her Daily Chuck, which are pictures of her dogs, and her Daily Photo, which are other pictures, that I haven’t really looked at. She’s pretty cool, ya know, for a Mormon. (or ex-Mormon…at least non-practicing Mormon)

Update

You will all be glad to know that I am feeling much much better. I still get a little nauseous if I don’t eat, or if I drink too much of one thing, but other than that, all is well. (no emergency trips to my new frenemy, the porcelain god) I did finally cave and buy a new pair of jeans, one size up, even though I don’t think I’ve actually gained any weight?? How exactly does that work? I am looking forward to this weekend…although the exact plans have yet to be laid. Can we still be this spontaneous when we have a kid?

I Really Thought I was Doomed

If you haven’t noticed, I am a bit nervous about this baby thing. I haven’t really gotten to the part in my head where I actually have it/him/her yet, so I’ve been reading tons of books about pregnancy. And the one thing they all go on and on about is morning sickness. And the one thing they all say is that you are pretty safe/lucky if you get out of the first trimester without experiencing it. Meaning, you won’t get it.

So imagine my surprise, when, at 15 weeks, I felt nauseous. I mean, it was sitting in my throat all day, right there, just bursting to come out…I couldn’t eat, I got no work done, and I slept after leaving work early just to keep it at bay. That was Monday. Tuesday, I thought I would be smart and head it off, so I ate as soon as I got out of bed, but once I got to work, it kept getting worse. Around 11am, I gave up and trekked down to the 3rd floor, which is unoccupied, and girls? If you ever notice that I have disappeared for an extremely long time, you might want to check the third floor to make sure I didn’t fall and hit my head and am lying bleeding, never to be found. Because really...there is no more private place in the building than the bathroom on an unoccupied floor. Just be careful if you get seasick in the elevator. (yes, it can happen)

The first time I yakked wasn’t so bad. It was when I had to run down there after I ate lunch where I was shaking and crying and had puke all over myself because apparently, if you vomit violently enough, it’ll just bounce right up out of the porcelain god back at you. (this is something new to me…I am usually a very clean puker...then again, that is for hangovers, and there is nothing but remnants of alcohol in your stomach at that point) (speaking of hangovers, I have the worst. Meaning I get all nauseous and have to throw up at least 10-12 times before I can even consider putting food into my stomach...I had figured that since I was cursed with such terrible hangovers, that someone upstairs had decided to go easy on the morning sickness)

I had to have looked awful, because the two office gossips chose this moment to ask me “How was I doing? And have I been sick? And when am I due? And are we going to find out what it is??” Please, kill me now. (wait, that is a terrible thing to say consider I am an incubator right now) Can’t you see that I am shaking and pale and have been crying?? Leave me alone!!

Even though I had a sore throat Sunday night, and the nausea was non-stop and laying down was the only thing that helped, (as long as I was in my own bed, of course…the little bench on the 3rd floor is a crappy substitute), I never believed that it was possible that I had a bug. Everyone kept telling me, “Call the doctor.” And say what? I am nauseous and vomiting and can’t eat. Yeah, that’s called being pregnant. I was sure that I had been cursed with the “morning sickness” and that I was doomed to be sick for the next 6 months and that I was not going to survive it. OK, I’ll admit it, I am a wuss. (and perhaps a bit of a drama queen??) But what was really killing me was the headache, it was like an Amtrak train was rolling over my brain. I finally caved and took one Excedrin on Tuesday night.

So before leaving work only 20 minutes early Tuesday, I e-mailed my wonderful husband a grocery list. Which consisted of things like chicken noodle soup and Gatorade and 7-Up and saltine crackers. And I got home and proceeded to cry and puke some more…but that was after having to pull over on the way home to projectile vomit out the car door, because who has the foresight to unbuckle your seat belt??

Fortunately, I was able to hold down Campbell’s chicken noodle soup, just the plain stuff, and 7-Up around 8:30 Tuesday night. And by 10pm, I was able to walk down a flight of stairs without stopping at the toilet first. I took the day off yesterday and thankfully, was vomit-free…although, to be fair, I was horizontal most of the day. In the evening, I started to feel normal again, you know, not pregnant?? But around bed-time, the headache and nauseau started to attempt to make a comeback. I killed it with a Tylenol PM. (yes, I can have that, it's just Tylenol and Benadryl)

So I would officially like to thank my mother and the advertising people at Campbell’s around 1984. My mother, for buying the stuff and teaching me how to make it in the microwave, and telling me to eat it whenever I got sick, and the Campbell’s people for telling me that if I ever got sick or cold, to eat their soup. The brainwashing totally works…it’s been all I’ve eaten all day. And it is the only thing that I’ve eaten in the past 2 days that hasn’t come back up. I even brought it for lunch today, a minute and thirty seconds from my little bowl of heaven.