Wednesday, October 29, 2008

I Feel Like (No) Dinner Tonight

I do not want to make dinner.

Not in a casual "I don't feel like it"-way. No, this is a "if I have to make dinner, I will be unreasonably rage-filled"-thing.

I feel the same way about the dishes that need to be done (yet will feel guilty if MotH ends up doing them........I'm such a living contradiction). I'd rather take them systematically into the street and smash them. That way I don't have to sweep up the mess.

The only thing that prevents this is the knowledge that I would then need to go to WalFart and buy more dishes. That place stinks.

Yes, I know I'm grumpy and no fun to be around. Live with it. I don't get a vacation from pregnancy hormones or discomforts and tonight, neither do you. Dealing with me is YOUR burden to bear (and by "your", I mean those trapped in the house with me).

It's not in the budget right now to go out (or bring in) and that really ticks me off.

Note to MotH and AM: eat PB&J. Or don't. Don't whine if you're hungry because I just presented you with your dinner options.

Monday, October 27, 2008

Something's Happening

I had an appointment today.

Last week, there was NO change at all, cervically speaking.

This week, I'm 2 cm and 50% effaced! Yay!

I know I could walk around like this for a good, long time........but at least all systems are pointed in the direction of the finish line :).

Thursday, October 23, 2008

THEN What Happened??

Am I alone in this?

I have always loved a good chick flick or romantic novel. Sure, you know how it will end, but I still love them.

It's an escape for me.

However, there is one thing that absolutely drives me NUTS about these types of movies and books.

I want to know what happens NEXT.

Right now I'm watching Dirty Dancing for the millionth time and find myself wanting to know, for the millionth time, what happens after that final dance. Do Baby and Johnny find a way to make it work? Marry and have 2.5 kids?

I also wonder why the "pretty" sister in Dirty Dancing looks like Freddie Mercury, but that's beside the point.

I'm the same way with books. Once the couple gets together in the end, I feel oddly ripped off when I don't know how far their relationship goes.

Of course IF they show you what happens "next" it's usually an indication that someone's about to be tragically killed in a car accident or get a terminal illness.

That sort of thing kills the romance, you know?

So am I the only one that feels this way?

Monday, October 20, 2008

Indiana Jones and 8 Year Old Boys

I know it's risky to make two posts in one day. Inevidably people will ignore one and read the other, but I'm a "fly by the seat of my pants"-kinda gal, so I'll risk it.

With all the talk about he new little guy, I haven't shared any AM stories lately.

I have one.

It turns out that no matter how often you tell an eight year old boy "REAL archaeologists don't have adventures like Indiana Jones. They don't get chased by bad guys and don't have to swing across bottomless pits with their trusty whip."...........well, they don't really listen.

Because they really, really, really want to believe that someday their lives will be that exciting.

Sometimes, they don't even wait for "someday".

Take Sunday, for example.

I was sitting on the deck going through a box of baby stuff MotH unearthed in attic. AM was playing with his whip (part of a package deal offered at 50% off at Joanns and NOT A REAL WHIP). I suggested he put a ball on his t-ball stand and try to "whip" the ball off the stand.

That kept him busy for a good, long time.

Then I heard it. A distinct series of thuds.

I looked up and he was face-down at the bottom of the slide (Indiana Jones hat STILL in place atop his head). I asked if he was okay (he was) and asked what happened.

I already knew what happened. The whip trailing down the slide told the story.

He had tied the end to the swingset and tried to repel down the slide with his whip. Didn't work out very well.

Although I am proud to say that while he hates tying his shoes, he can apparently make a knot (in a costume-quality Indiana Jones whip) well enough to support the weight of an eight year old boy. The whip didn't fail, he just hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to hold on.

Undeterred, he used the whip to climb back up the slide. Singing the Indiana Jones theme-song at the top of his lungs the entire time. However, I didn't see him try the repelling trick again.

MotH was very impressed by this story (thus further highlighting the difference between men and women). I simply surrendered to the fact that no matter what you do, eight year boys are going to wish SO BADLY that there are adventures out there waiting to be discovered, that they will try to create the adventure themselves.

Even if it's down a yellow slide, rather then a bottomless pit.

35 Weeks......and thanks, I think

That was my ob's original goal for me.

As he told me, most women have "take home" kids at 35 weeks, so we are both jazzed that I made it to this particular milestone.

To be exact, I'm 35 weeks and 2 days.

I'd like this little man to keep baking a little longer (despite my gripings), but feel like I can relax a smidge.

He did tell me that my cervix (we're all grown-ups, right, so saying "cervix" shouldn't be a problem) wasn't doing a darn thing. I'm okay with that, I suppose (because the alternative is????), but it would be nice if I knew my body was at least heading towards the finish line.

He also told me, again, that the baby is measuring big. Then I went to a maternity chiropractor today and she was "feeling" baby and told me he was "pretty big for my gestation". So I evidently have an overachiever.

So that's my update, now on to the "thanks, I think" portion of the post.

My ob is, by far, my favorite doctor. He's been my doctor since MotH and I were newlyweds (so 13+ years) and it just a compassionate and caring doctor. He sat on my bed and cried with us after the twins were born and NOBODY wants this to be a successful pregnancy more then he does.

Today, however, he missed the mark. For a man that makes his living dealing with hormonal women, I would have expected him to be wiser.

He has delighted in pointing out how big I'm getting each time I go in. He's a little like AM. I can tell he honestly considers this to be a compliment.

So I'm sitting on the table today and he says "wow, you look so pregnant. It looks like you're having quads!".

Um, thanks?

How does one respond to such a "compliment"?

I just sat there stupidly and he quickly added "you know, compared to last time".

That's not really helping, buddy.

And because he apparently suffers from temporary short-term memory loss, he made his final pronouncement when I emerged from the room. He saw me come out and announced to his nurse (who had just given me MY LAST SHOT!!!!!!! and is well acquainted with my ample physique) "look at how big her belly is!".

I don't know if he had a delivery last night that made him lose sleep, but he certainly brought a big shovel to work with which to dig himself into a hole.

I just laughed, because I knew he wasn't saying it to tease me. He's just so tickled that I AM this big.

I, on the other hand, do not find this fact to be nearly as delightful as he apparently finds it. I suppose that's to be expected.

I left the office with my cervix closed and my ego in tatters.

But did I mention that I had my LAST SHOT TODAY???!!! If I was capable of doing so, I would do some sort of "end-zone" dance.

No, you can't watch.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

Christmas Music

Seriously.

No, I mean it. Seriously?!

According to a local station's website, they have started their 24/7 Christmas music.

Is it not October 15? Halloween hasn't even happened yet, let alone Thanksgiving (I won't listen to Christmas music until Thanksgiving. I have standards.).

However, I am married to a "Christmas should be celebrated 365 days a year"-man. I've found Christmas cd's in the car stereo in JUNE. He's warped. Anyway, he's thrilled that it's started already.

I heard yesterday that retailers are trying to get a jump on Christmas shoppers since the economy is doing a belly flop (I was going to say "swan dive", but it hasn't been nearly that graceful). Many, including Hell........and by "Hell" I mean Walmart......have reduced some items to "Black Friday" prices already.

Which begs the question: what do they plan to do ON Black Friday. Seems a little anticlimactic to me. Not that I'll be shopping this year.

Hobby Lobby has had their Christmas stuff out for at LEAST a month. I noticed that Target has theirs out too.

Yet despite the efforts of the radio station and various retailers, time still isn't going any faster. Yes, all roads (blog posts?) lead back to pregnancy.

Speaking of pregnancy, do any of my (two) readers have any "must have" ideas for the hospital bag. MotH told me I had to do it this weekend. He's a bossy one.

Monday, October 13, 2008

End of the tunnel

I suppose I can see a light. It's dim. Far away. Still, I see it.

No, not of the end of the pregnancy. The end of "THE SHOTS". I got one today and my last one is next week.

Not a minute to soon.

I'm too tired to be funny. Witty is far beyond my abilities right now. I'm wondering if I can talk MotH into brushing my teeth for me.

Have I mentioned how I hate these things?

The side-effects seem to be ramping up, not reducing. Makes it hard to get stuff done.

MotH keeps harping on me to get my bag packed. Isn't it enough that I've bought most of the stuff to pack?

No, apparently it's not. I think he's afraid he'll be forced to find my breast pads and bring the bag to the hospital for me. You know, because someone might think HE'S breastfeeding. *rolling eyes*

Of course after some of the clothing he bought me when I was in the hospital last time, I should be the one afraid. I ask you, how many pairs of biking shorts does a pregnant woman need?

The nursery letters are still sitting on my dining room table (recently relocated back to the dining room from the kitchen table). I got them repainted (turns out there was no black in the nursery bedding, so I had to do an emergency re-paint). They still need brackets attached to the back before MotH can hang them.

I figure he won't be in his room right away, so I've got some time.

Okay, I just ran out of what little steam I still had. So long. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen, adieu (yes, I had to look it up).

G'night.

Wednesday, October 08, 2008

Being a Camel.........and Opposites Attract

No, I couldn't settle on one topic tonight, but then I rarely do.

I need to talk about the insatiable thirst I have. No amount of water drinking will satisfy. I guzzle the stuff all day, yet still crave more.

Someone asked me what I do with all the water I drink. I told them I'm a camel, only my hump attached on the wrong side.

Surely camels don't drink as much as I do.

As a result, I am single-handedly keeping bathroom tissue companies in business. One double roll a day, people. One. A. Day. I'm like a one-woman deforestation machine.

Now my second topic, on opposites.

I had a doc visit Monday and they did an ultrasound "growth check". Now I know there is a little wiggle room in their calculations, but the long and short of it is the baby is big for his gestational age.

In fact, now my doctor is worried he might get too big (which means what.....he'll have to start paying me rent to live full-time in my uterus?).

Only I could swing from one of the smallest babies (AM weighed 1 lb 2 oz, for those that don't know) to potentially giving birth to a chunker. This little man is already the size AM was WHEN HE CAME HOME, which seemed gigantic at 5x's his birth weight.

This has sufficiently freaked me out. See, it hurt to deliver a one pounder. Yes, I know there are those in my "audience" that have done the whole natural childbirth thing and I'll be hard pressed to garner any sympathy from that person, but the idea of delivering a baby six, seven or even eight times that size causes more then a casual wince.

Yeah, yeah. Women used to squat in rice patties, deliver and go back to picking rice. Good for them.

MotH told me the other day "you'll probably have a 10 pound baby" (he was nearly 10 pounds). Now why would he jinx me in that way? Yes, I'd rather have a 10 pounder then a one pounder, but really.......is there something wrong with a nice, seven pound baby?

I can do this, right? I mean I know I don't have a choice, but......I can do it, right?

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Old Friends

Except, you know, they aren't old. Because then I would be old. We can't have that. "Former" friends doesn't sound quite right either. That suggests something happened that made them "former". How about "retro" friends? I sort of like that, since the music from our generation is now considered retro....so why shouldn't we be?

My highschool graduating class broke the mold with our ten-year reunion. It was an eleven-year reunion, lol. Someone dropped the ball on the planning and it was delayed a year.

Keeping with tradition, there was a somewhat informal sixteen-year reunion this weekend and just like the last one, I missed it (no way was I dragging my large self down there). I have to admit that part of me just wasn't ready to face a reunion without my best friend there, but mostly it was due to my growing girth and it's accompanying discomforts.

So I didn't go. Enter Facebook.

Over the past week or so, I've connected with a number of my retro friends. One of them went to the reunion last night and posted a bunch of pictures.

Oh. my. goodness! How is it possible for people to look exactly the same, yet different? There were only two or three people I couldn't identify (and they may have been spouses), but I saw people I haven't seen since we walked across the stage and flipped our tassels!

I saw pictures of people I got along with. People I didn't. AND a picture of a friend I tried to track down a couple of years ago and couldn't find. I found her!

In fact, she's on Facebook and I'm nervously waiting to see if she'll accept my friend request. A friend request is sort of the cyber equivalent of the "Do you like me, check yes or no" we passed in middle school.

Of course now I wish I had gone to the reunion, but I have delusions of being fit and fabulous in time for our 21st reunion and I'll go then :).

No, the fact that I haven't been fit nor fabulous SINCE graduation hasn't escaped my notice, thankyouverymuch.

Go Spartans!