.jpg)
Sweet little baby girl hand, which when sleeping gives mom the one fingered salute while it's partner looks cute and munchable.
Friday, April 25, 2008
H is for ...
Hand!
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Sweet little baby girl hand, which when sleeping gives mom the one fingered salute while it's partner looks cute and munchable.
Sweet little baby girl hand, which when sleeping gives mom the one fingered salute while it's partner looks cute and munchable.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Query
Is our baby monitor so powerful, so sensitive, so state-of-the-art, that it can pick up the sound of Lady Bean 'dropping a load' when on voice activation mode OR is Lady Bean such a loud pooper that I would have been able to hear said load dropping even without the monitor?
Either way, when she started screaming after twenty minutes of almost unheard of uninterrupted peace (during which I managed to get a few rows of my knitting done ... sweet!), I totally knew why.
Either way, when she started screaming after twenty minutes of almost unheard of uninterrupted peace (during which I managed to get a few rows of my knitting done ... sweet!), I totally knew why.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Emerging
I think we might be exiting the two week haze of figuring out this newborn-with-no-manual-ness. I may be jinxing myself by saying that but I have high hopes that we are going to have some routine at some point soon. Or maybe my brain is just delusional with having to function on snippets of sleep instead of full blown nights. Hell, I am finally reading my e-mail so that is a start. I'm not complaining. I revel in the little things.
And, I know this will surprise you, but I haven't been getting much knitting done lately. Any by much, I mean any. As in, my sock hasn't left my purse since it left the delivery room. That's not to say we haven't been indulging in hand-knits lately as Lady Bean has received some really cool hand-knits including teeny tiny socks from home-dyed yarn ... home dyed? That sounds hinky. There is a better, more proper term but my brain, it can't find it. Anywho, in addition to the teeny tiny socks, Lady Bean received a little sweater, hat and sock set from someone neither she nor her parents has ever met. The kindness of knitters, it is pretty damn cool. This woman is a volunteer at the hospital my MiL volunteers at and heard about Lady Bean and whipped her up the outfit. So nice. All the fiber though, it makes me want to knit. So I am thinking that instead of cleaning ... okay, I haven't been cleaning, that is a total lie, but it sounded better than "instead of listening to bad daytime television while I stare at Lady Bean to verify that she is still breathing." So, instead of doing other things I am going to set a goal of knitting five rounds on my sock a day. I won't break any speed records, but maybe, maybe I will finish the sock sometime this summer!
And, I know this will surprise you, but I haven't been getting much knitting done lately. Any by much, I mean any. As in, my sock hasn't left my purse since it left the delivery room. That's not to say we haven't been indulging in hand-knits lately as Lady Bean has received some really cool hand-knits including teeny tiny socks from home-dyed yarn ... home dyed? That sounds hinky. There is a better, more proper term but my brain, it can't find it. Anywho, in addition to the teeny tiny socks, Lady Bean received a little sweater, hat and sock set from someone neither she nor her parents has ever met. The kindness of knitters, it is pretty damn cool. This woman is a volunteer at the hospital my MiL volunteers at and heard about Lady Bean and whipped her up the outfit. So nice. All the fiber though, it makes me want to knit. So I am thinking that instead of cleaning ... okay, I haven't been cleaning, that is a total lie, but it sounded better than "instead of listening to bad daytime television while I stare at Lady Bean to verify that she is still breathing." So, instead of doing other things I am going to set a goal of knitting five rounds on my sock a day. I won't break any speed records, but maybe, maybe I will finish the sock sometime this summer!
Friday, April 11, 2008
The Labor Post
I've been wanting to memorialize our labor story but this whole mommy thing is taking up a ton of time. Go figure! Lady Bean is currently sleeping and so I thought I would give a quick and dirty version of our labor as another note-to-self.
3:45 a.m.: The alarm goes off. This sucks! Why must we wake up so early? The getting ready part is pretty easy since we essentially slept walk through it.
5:00 a.m.: We leave the house and are on the way to the hospital. We have a good laugh as Bush's Machine Head (Breathe in, Breathe out, indeed!) and the Ramones' I Wanna Be Sedated play on the radio.
5:30 a.m.: We enter Labor and Delivery exactly on time and there are already two other women laboring there.
6:30 a.m.: We have met our L&D nurse, Stacey. We are her only patient and we really like her but for her Red Sox sweatshirt. Boo asks if there is way to get "fluids" on it so she has to change. We meet with a resident who gives me a once over and then I am juiced up on pitocin. I start having contractions. They appear on the monitor and I giggle. So cute, my little contractions. This shit is easy! I start knitting on my second sock.
7:00 a.m.: We meet with the doctor and she comments on my sock. She approves. We discuss the game plan and I giggle at how easy this labor thing is. She smiles and ask if I am going to want drugs. I explain that my plan is to wing it. Wait and see. She thinks this is a great idea and asks if we have an actual labor plan. We reveal that our entire labor plan is to: 1) have a healthy baby, 2) keep me alive with all of my parts in tact, and 3) keep Boo at my head end. This is a big hit and voted in as one of the best labor plans ever. Man is this birthing a baby thing easy.
7:30 a.m.: Boo gets an awesome, comfy chair that reclines, but nearly cries when it's revealed to be broken. Nurse Stacey gets him another one and he forgives her for her Red Sox sweatshirt. There is no more talk of fluids ruining the shirt.
9:45 a.m.: The contractions are more real. Not painful per se, just noticeable as contractions. They are getting stronger, at least in my back. I fear that at this rate, I'll birth the baby out of my ass. That can't be good. I start to walk around and the back pain ebbs to some extent. I am still drug free and feeling pretty good. Stacey gets me a heating pad for my back which also helps. I labor pretty uneventfully and am bored enough to send out a few e-mails, though I have a hard time typing with all of the monitors on me.
1:00 p.m.: I am dilated about five to six centimeters and the doctor decides to break my water. This is quite a nasty feeling as it feels like I am peeing myself. Constantly. I'm told that labor will really start now. I (foolishly) say, "Bring it!"
1:15 p.m.: Wow! The contractions are kicking it up a notch. I start to discuss pain medication with Boo.
1:30 p.m.: Stacey comes to check on me and asks if I have any interest in pain medicine or an epidural. She, Boo and I discuss it and I decide to go with an epidural.
1:50 p.m.: The anesthesiologist goes over all of the medical and legal stuff and then gets to work. He is a really nice guy and he an Boo chat about sports as if he isn't going to stick a huge needle in my spine. The actual epidural part is unbelievably easy. There is no pain and not even any discomfort. I am glad I hadn't been stressed over it.
2:15 p.m.: I feel good and my legs are kind of warm and toasty. I can move my toes, sort of.
2:30 p.m.: All of my machines start beeping from the baby warmer to the epidural. It is almost comedic in that every time I fall asleep (love you epidural!), something goes off. Stacey apologizes profusely but I tell her it is fine as I am amused
4:50 p.m.: I wake up feeling as if I have to take the most massive dump ever. It is really uncomfortable. I immediately regret my last Outback dinner and wonder if anyone will let me use the loo with the epidural in. It is then that I realize my legs are normal and not warm and toasty. I fear my best friend epidural has died.
5:00 p.m.: The shakes kick in. I am shaking like an epileptic and it is weird. Stacey is in with us and assures me that I don't have to poop, and instead that I am about to go into active labor. I politely tell her she is wrong and that I totally have to pooh. She smiles and contacts the doctor and anesthesiologist.
5:15 p.m.: I am checked out and almost fully dilated but my cervix has a lip so I can't push. I am given a small shot of juice in the epidural which does nothing for my lady parts but does ease the contractions in my belly. I continue to shake. A lot. Boo comments that my milkshake brings all the boys in the yard. I continue to fret over the massive dump I am sure to take any second now.
5:55 p.m.: By now I have a death grip on the bed railing. It helps with the contraction pains and the shakes. Boo is patting my back and being encouraging. Stacey has everything prepped and is also cheering me on. A new nurse, the baby's nurse, comes in and finger prints me. This strikes me as odd.
6:00 p.m.: The doctor tells me to push. Time stops. For the next hour I push whenever I feel a contraction. It is painful, but not unbearable. I push and I push. I do not, however, pooh. The whole thing is very intimate as it is only Boo, Stacey, the baby's nurse and the doctor.
6:45 p.m.: I joke that this hurts more than the time I gave birth to the gall bladder anesthesia pooh. The doctor jokes that she bets I will want to keep this thing that I am giving birth as opposed to the other.
6:55 p.m.: My crotch is on fire. I announce this and am told, vary sternly and forcefully, to push.
6:58 p.m.: Crotch? Still on fire. I tell everyone this again, in case they missed it the first time. I also note that this hurts A WHOLE LOT. But, I do not cuss. Nary a fuck, shit, or holymutherfuckinjesus passes my lips. I push and I push and I push.
7:00 p.m.: Lady Bean is born. She is perfect. She is immediately placed on my belly and my first words are, "Wow, she is tiny!" I forget all about my fiery crotch. Her cord is cut and she is swooped over to the warming tray to be tagged with Baby LoJack and wiped off. We get some pictures while I deliver the placenta. Much to my all of my (weird) friends' dismay, I don't ask to see the placenta or ask to save it for stew. Lady Bean and I have some skin to skin time and I am amazed that she is over seven pounds, she looks so small. Lady Bean is bundled up and given to Boo. He cuddles her while I am stitched up. I need a local anesthetic because I feel everything. The doctor repeatedly requests extra packets of sutures. I am freaked out by this. I ask exactly how many stitches I am getting and she says it isn't something you count, that it is like a seam. My vagina is being whip-stitched. Everyone makes general conversation and I learn that the doctor was worried towards the end. I'm not sure if it was for Lady Bean's well being or my crotch's, and I don't ask. Lady Bean is brought to the nursery for the pediatrician to check out and I am cleaned up and then am allowed to walk to the restroom to clean up some more. There is a lot of ... fluids. I still do not pooh.
10:00 p.m.: I am in my new room with Boo. Lady Bean is brought in from the nursery. I have to use the loo again and as I am cleaning up more fluids, Lady Bean starts to cry. I hear Boo immediately work some magic and she is soothed. I start sobbing in the bathroom. I am the luckiest woman in the world to have a healthy perfect little girl and a husband who loves her lots.
As soon as it was over, and now, over a week later, I can only see my labor experience as positive. My bits are sore from the tearing and my boobs are not being cooperative. My hormones make me cry. A lot. We've had some ups and downs trying to get the boob thing, the sleep thing, and the what-does-this-cry-mean thing going. Nonetheless, I feel very lucky.
3:45 a.m.: The alarm goes off. This sucks! Why must we wake up so early? The getting ready part is pretty easy since we essentially slept walk through it.
5:00 a.m.: We leave the house and are on the way to the hospital. We have a good laugh as Bush's Machine Head (Breathe in, Breathe out, indeed!) and the Ramones' I Wanna Be Sedated play on the radio.
5:30 a.m.: We enter Labor and Delivery exactly on time and there are already two other women laboring there.
6:30 a.m.: We have met our L&D nurse, Stacey. We are her only patient and we really like her but for her Red Sox sweatshirt. Boo asks if there is way to get "fluids" on it so she has to change. We meet with a resident who gives me a once over and then I am juiced up on pitocin. I start having contractions. They appear on the monitor and I giggle. So cute, my little contractions. This shit is easy! I start knitting on my second sock.
7:00 a.m.: We meet with the doctor and she comments on my sock. She approves. We discuss the game plan and I giggle at how easy this labor thing is. She smiles and ask if I am going to want drugs. I explain that my plan is to wing it. Wait and see. She thinks this is a great idea and asks if we have an actual labor plan. We reveal that our entire labor plan is to: 1) have a healthy baby, 2) keep me alive with all of my parts in tact, and 3) keep Boo at my head end. This is a big hit and voted in as one of the best labor plans ever. Man is this birthing a baby thing easy.
7:30 a.m.: Boo gets an awesome, comfy chair that reclines, but nearly cries when it's revealed to be broken. Nurse Stacey gets him another one and he forgives her for her Red Sox sweatshirt. There is no more talk of fluids ruining the shirt.
9:45 a.m.: The contractions are more real. Not painful per se, just noticeable as contractions. They are getting stronger, at least in my back. I fear that at this rate, I'll birth the baby out of my ass. That can't be good. I start to walk around and the back pain ebbs to some extent. I am still drug free and feeling pretty good. Stacey gets me a heating pad for my back which also helps. I labor pretty uneventfully and am bored enough to send out a few e-mails, though I have a hard time typing with all of the monitors on me.
1:00 p.m.: I am dilated about five to six centimeters and the doctor decides to break my water. This is quite a nasty feeling as it feels like I am peeing myself. Constantly. I'm told that labor will really start now. I (foolishly) say, "Bring it!"
1:15 p.m.: Wow! The contractions are kicking it up a notch. I start to discuss pain medication with Boo.
1:30 p.m.: Stacey comes to check on me and asks if I have any interest in pain medicine or an epidural. She, Boo and I discuss it and I decide to go with an epidural.
1:50 p.m.: The anesthesiologist goes over all of the medical and legal stuff and then gets to work. He is a really nice guy and he an Boo chat about sports as if he isn't going to stick a huge needle in my spine. The actual epidural part is unbelievably easy. There is no pain and not even any discomfort. I am glad I hadn't been stressed over it.
2:15 p.m.: I feel good and my legs are kind of warm and toasty. I can move my toes, sort of.
2:30 p.m.: All of my machines start beeping from the baby warmer to the epidural. It is almost comedic in that every time I fall asleep (love you epidural!), something goes off. Stacey apologizes profusely but I tell her it is fine as I am amused
4:50 p.m.: I wake up feeling as if I have to take the most massive dump ever. It is really uncomfortable. I immediately regret my last Outback dinner and wonder if anyone will let me use the loo with the epidural in. It is then that I realize my legs are normal and not warm and toasty. I fear my
5:00 p.m.: The shakes kick in. I am shaking like an epileptic and it is weird. Stacey is in with us and assures me that I don't have to poop, and instead that I am about to go into active labor. I politely tell her she is wrong and that I totally have to pooh. She smiles and contacts the doctor and anesthesiologist.
5:15 p.m.: I am checked out and almost fully dilated but my cervix has a lip so I can't push. I am given a small shot of juice in the epidural which does nothing for my lady parts but does ease the contractions in my belly. I continue to shake. A lot. Boo comments that my milkshake brings all the boys in the yard. I continue to fret over the massive dump I am sure to take any second now.
5:55 p.m.: By now I have a death grip on the bed railing. It helps with the contraction pains and the shakes. Boo is patting my back and being encouraging. Stacey has everything prepped and is also cheering me on. A new nurse, the baby's nurse, comes in and finger prints me. This strikes me as odd.
6:00 p.m.: The doctor tells me to push. Time stops. For the next hour I push whenever I feel a contraction. It is painful, but not unbearable. I push and I push. I do not, however, pooh. The whole thing is very intimate as it is only Boo, Stacey, the baby's nurse and the doctor.
6:45 p.m.: I joke that this hurts more than the time I gave birth to the gall bladder anesthesia pooh. The doctor jokes that she bets I will want to keep this thing that I am giving birth as opposed to the other.
6:55 p.m.: My crotch is on fire. I announce this and am told, vary sternly and forcefully, to push.
6:58 p.m.: Crotch? Still on fire. I tell everyone this again, in case they missed it the first time. I also note that this hurts A WHOLE LOT. But, I do not cuss. Nary a fuck, shit, or holymutherfuckinjesus passes my lips. I push and I push and I push.
7:00 p.m.: Lady Bean is born. She is perfect. She is immediately placed on my belly and my first words are, "Wow, she is tiny!" I forget all about my fiery crotch. Her cord is cut and she is swooped over to the warming tray to be tagged with Baby LoJack and wiped off. We get some pictures while I deliver the placenta. Much to my all of my (weird) friends' dismay, I don't ask to see the placenta or ask to save it for stew. Lady Bean and I have some skin to skin time and I am amazed that she is over seven pounds, she looks so small. Lady Bean is bundled up and given to Boo. He cuddles her while I am stitched up. I need a local anesthetic because I feel everything. The doctor repeatedly requests extra packets of sutures. I am freaked out by this. I ask exactly how many stitches I am getting and she says it isn't something you count, that it is like a seam. My vagina is being whip-stitched. Everyone makes general conversation and I learn that the doctor was worried towards the end. I'm not sure if it was for Lady Bean's well being or my crotch's, and I don't ask. Lady Bean is brought to the nursery for the pediatrician to check out and I am cleaned up and then am allowed to walk to the restroom to clean up some more. There is a lot of ... fluids. I still do not pooh.
10:00 p.m.: I am in my new room with Boo. Lady Bean is brought in from the nursery. I have to use the loo again and as I am cleaning up more fluids, Lady Bean starts to cry. I hear Boo immediately work some magic and she is soothed. I start sobbing in the bathroom. I am the luckiest woman in the world to have a healthy perfect little girl and a husband who loves her lots.
As soon as it was over, and now, over a week later, I can only see my labor experience as positive. My bits are sore from the tearing and my boobs are not being cooperative. My hormones make me cry. A lot. We've had some ups and downs trying to get the boob thing, the sleep thing, and the what-does-this-cry-mean thing going. Nonetheless, I feel very lucky.
Monday, April 07, 2008
G is for ...
Girl! Gorgeous, great, baby girl!
Lady Bean has arrived! She swooped in Thursday, healthy and hearty, all seven pounds, twelve ounces.
Lady Bean has arrived! She swooped in Thursday, healthy and hearty, all seven pounds, twelve ounces.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
The Pregnancy Post
Good God people! I'm suppose to have a baby today. Can you say, "Totally surreal?" I haven't been real diligent about blogging my pregnancy. I figure most people would find it boring and also, I am paranoid and didn't want to jinx anything. Now that the end is in sight, I do want to make myself a reminder of how things were ... a note-to-self, so that if/when we decide to try this again, I have something to look back on and say, "Oh yah, right, that is how I work." Feel free to enjoy nine months of my ramblings, or, um, skip this post and come back tomorrow (am I being overly optimistic with my tomorrow?) for interesting tales of ... something.
September 25, 2005: We make the big decision (which is actually recorded in my calendar) ... "You wanna have a baby?" "Um, sure, okay." "Let's do it. Let's have sex." "Heh. Sex!"
September 25, 2006: A year later, and we have made no progress ... "Um, are you sure we're doing this right ... we ain't got no baby." "We're doing it right, let's try a little bit longer."
May 2007: Now it's just getting ridiculous ... "Fine, I give up. I'll go see a doctor ... Um, the soonest I can get in is July." "I guess we can have more sex." "Great, more sex."
July 2, 2007: "Sorry, we have to cancel your appointment with the doctor today. How about August 9?" "Greeeaaatttt, more sex." Well, we can try one more time. I mean sex is fun, right?
July 21, 2007: We decide to re-do the small bedroom and create a yarn room since there is no baby in sight. We start the process of wall repair and painting and so on. We don't worry about perfection because fifteen years from now when we finally have a kid via some black market adoption, we will have to redo it again anyway. We adopt a motto of "Better than Before" and chant it during each step of our remodeling.
July 28, 2007: "My period never came today." "That's odd." "Maybe we're pregnant. HAHAHAHA." "Wake me up in the morning before you take the test."
July 29, 2007: It's early in the morning and I totally have to pee ... "You wanted me to wake you up when I had to pee." "M'kay. I'm up." "No period, I'm peeing on a stick." ... tinkle tinkle tinkle ... wait wait wait ... "Um, that's weird, I think it says we're pregnant." I crawl back in bed thinking the stick is messing with me, "You go look." Boo crawls out of bed and glances at the stick ... "Yah, I think you're right. It says you're pregnant. How bout that?" He pees (there is a lot of peeing going on that morning) and comes back to bed. "I'm tired." "Me too" and back to sleep we go. We are more skeptical than excited because come on, our one last chance before I go and get poked and prodded, whatever.
July 30, 2007: I'm still not a believer. "Another test, another positive." "Weird."
August 1, 2007: Still not convinced, I plunk down more of our hard earned money on outrageously expensive home pregnancy tests. "Another test, another positive." "Weird. Do you feel pregnant?" "Nope, I'm bloated like I'm going to get my period." "Huh."
August 4, 2007: We continue to work on the yarn room. We rip up carpet and beginning staining bookcases. We joke that this might all be futile because, haha, this could be a baby's room and maybe stain isn't the best thing in the world for a pregnant person to be inhaling but ha, come on, us and baby. Hardy har har.
August 6, 2007: "Another test, another positive." "Weird. Ya feel pregnant yet??" "Nope!"
August 7, 2007: It is the fifteen year anniversary of our first date. We celebrate with another test, and another positive. "This is so weird." "Maybe we really are knocked up?!?" Then we go to dinner and I have swordfish. I later learn that this is a high mercury fish and that I am an asshole for eating it.
August 9, 2007: We have our first doctor's appointment where the nurse cheerfully tells me that the stick turned pink and I am at the right appointment. We are given a bunch of information and we meet the doctor who looks eerily like my college president, Donna Shalala. "Congrats! Now I need a gallon of blood." We walk out laughing at the thought of Donna Shalala delivering our baby.
We look through the stuff they give us, including the food list and I start mourning the loss of sushi. Then I see that swordfish is bad and wonder how hard it is going to be to raise a child with an extra-ear growing out if its forehead.
August 13, 2007: I finish the yarn room and lurve it. It is, indeed, 'Better than Before.' It is also going to be a huge pain in the arse if we have actually have this kid and have to move it.
August 17, 2007: I'm almost seven weeks along and am sent for my first ultrasound. It seems that yes, there is a baby-to-be in there, though I think it looks like a bird. Or a bean, with a beak. There is only one, and it has a heart beat. I walk out of the office with a wonky, shit-eating grin because hey, I have a bean in my belly! I also wonder if the swordfish gave the bean a beak. I toughen my resolve to avoid sushi.
For the next few weeks I feel exactly the same as I always have. The pregnancy doesn't seem all that real. Sometimes I am a little sleepy, sometimes I am bloated, sometimes I am crampy. But for the most part I feel like me. I think, "This whole pregnancy thing is easy." I'm at a high risk for developing gestational diabetes so I get extra monitoring which is actually nice because I get reinforcement that the bean is still in there and growing.
September 17, 2007: I catch a cold. I realize that the pregnancy thing is not easy since I can't take any decent drugs. I am nasty and grumpy and Boo becomes scared that the next nine months of his life are going to be pure torture.
September 20, 2007: We fly to Florida for BeFri's wedding. I leave my doctor prescribed antibiotics in Connecticut. I am an asshole. Several calls later a new prescription is waiting for me in a twenty-four hour drugstore, in the Miami ghetto. I marvel at the possible irony of getting killed while picking up antibiotics. I survive the antibiotic pick up. Even though we are only twelve weeks, we bring one of the ultrasound pictures and decide to tell my uncle in person that we're having a baby. Even though we tell him and it is very exciting it still doesn't feel all that real. I also miss my mom and aunt and try not to dwell on the fact that they aren't around for the big news and to answer questions and tell me what their experiences were like.
September 24, 2007: We have the first trimester screening ultrasound. The bean is breech and uncooperative but they decide all looks well. Boo is surprised I can't feel all the hurkey jerky movements we see going on during the ultrasound.
October 6, 2007: We are fourteen weeks and out of the first trimester. It still feels unreal, but we go to Jersey to see Boo's family and tell them the news in person. Everyone assumes that we are pregnant and gossips that this is why we are visiting so we tell them we are moving to Ireland. The family is shocked about our move and we are smug. Heh, don't mess with us! We do finally tell them the truth.
Over the next few weeks we tell our friends. I am worried about jinxing things but Boo isn't and tells me to chill. I say I do, but I don't really. I still feel bloated and sometimes crampy. I have some sort of ligament pain which I am told is normal. I'm not stressed over the discomfort because it seems like it is just part of the pregnancy ride. Even acknowledging this whole pregnancy thing doesn't make it any more real. I wonder, shouldn't I feel pregnant?
November 1, 2007: We are eighteen weeks and have our level two screening. We are hoping to learn the baby's gender. Ha! The baby is uncooperative and we don't get gender, or good measurements. We have to go back in a few weeks. Boo, still surprised I can't feel any baby movements when they are so obvious on the ultrasound, thinks maybe I am an alien.
November 7, 2007: My favorite work pants are tight when I sit down. I don't look any different and I haven't gained any weight (but the doctors say this is normal and okay considering I could stand to lose a few anyway) but something must have shifted because the pants don't work when I am sitting.
Around week twenty, I have still not felt the baby move. I conclude that there is no baby. It is all a ploy. Boo thinks I am insane. I conceded that maybe there is a baby and I just can't feel it do to residual numbness from my gall bladder removal surgery or because I have belly flub. Though I don't feel the baby, I have developed a shooting pain in my left hip and butt cheek. My first real pregnancy "symptom" is sciatica. I am not stressed over this new discomfort because, again, it seems like it is just part of the pregnancy thing. I do wonder if, however, my mom or aunt ever had similar pain. I try not to dwell on it. We start getting gifts from friends which is awesome but also weird because hey, are we really having a baby?
November 22, 2007: I am sitting at my vanity getting ready for a trip to Jersey for Thanksgiving dinner and I feel the baby move for the first time. I interrupt Boo's shower to tell him this. We both are psyched. Kind of a cool way to ring in Thanksgiving.
November 28, 2007: Crazy tells me I am developing a gut. Boo who sees me naked on a daily basis disagrees.
November 29, 2007: We have our re-do of the level two screening and are still hoping to learn the baby's gender. Ha! The baby is, yet again, uncooperative and is breech. The ultrasound doctor, overwhelmed by the scent of our desperation, takes pity on us and really works hard. He determines that the bean is a girl bean. She's got "three lines." We giggle. Three lines. Now we must decide on a girl name. We decide we'll each submit a list of ten names come February. Three lines, hehe!
For the next month or so I still feel exactly the same. My sciatic pain has gone away and while I do feel the baby move, I often think it is phantom gall bladder pain, or gas. Every now and then she gets caught on my internal organs and reminds me that, "Yo, woman, I am a baby, NOT a gall bladder." She also likes to do a little River Dance on my cervix. I puke for the first time in the beginning of December, mostly because I messed up the prenatal vitamin taking schedule. Overall though, the pregnancy still doesn't feel real. I think I should feel more different. I feel fine and not-so-preggers. I have gotten stretch marks which is weird since I figured my body had stretched all it could since I have been heavier that I am now. My clothes, with the exception of my favorite work pants, still fit and I can't really tell a difference in how I look. Even my boobs are the same, much to my chagrin. I've had to start testing my sugar every other day and it is typically fine. I learn, however, that Panera Bread and Five Guys Burgers will raise my sugar, no matter what I eat. I still mourn sushi.
January 2, 2008: I wear my jeans and they fit fine. The pregnancy doesn't feel real.
January 3, 2008: I bend over to tie my shoe and vomit. I vow not to mess with the prenatal vitamin schedule ever again.
January 5, 2008: My jeans don't fit. Well, not if I want to sit down and breathe, at the same time. This makes no sense since they fit three days ago. I am confused but figure that I'm at twenty-seven weeks and pretty lucky that I haven't had to buy new clothes yet. I order maternity jeans which are ridiculous and so I return them. I then go through my wardrobe looking for all of my stretchy type pants and pants that were previously too big. I decide I have enough pants for now and so I don't bother looking for new ones to buy.
January 7, 2008: I am just over twenty-seven weeks pregnant and it is the first time a random person has noticed I am pregnant. I guess I am starting to show. Maybe my jeans were telling the truth. My boobs? Not bigger, still the same. Such underachievers.
January 8, 2008: My extra monitoring really kicks in and I have to schedule NSTs and ultrasounds for the next few months. I also start scheduling classes. I figure some of this will make the pregnancy thing feel real. It doesn't.
January 12, 2008: We start the registry process. I am sure this is a jinx and a bad idea but all of the books say we need to get on the ball. The registry process makes me cranky because not only do I fear the jinx, I don't know what any of the shit is and what we'll need. I mean come on, special towels for the baby? She is human right? What is wrong with my towels? We also look at a crib and dresser. We can't decide on anything so we put it off for a week knowing that it could take "up to ten weeks for delivery" and we have eleven weeks until Lady Bean's arrival. We feel no stress since Brian, the sales guy we spoke to, assures us that it usually only takes two weeks for furniture delivery.
January 22, 2008: We make a decision on the dresser and crib. Boo orders the dresser and is told that it will be in by April 5 - our due date. They assure him that it will probably be ready in about two to four weeks but they have to say ten weeks to cover themselves. The crib, however, is in stock so Boo brings it home. We look at the box and then prop it up against the wall. No need to rush to put it together, we have ten plus weeks.
January 23, 2008: We have an ultrasound and learn that Lady Bean is big. Birthable, but big. This is Boo's fault since he was a big baby. Even knowing he was gig, I am somewhat surprised since I haven't gained any weight. Is she sucking the fat out of my ass? Am I making a baby out of butt fat?
January 29, 2008: It is my last girls weekend for a while and I have my first surprise shower. We now have baby stuff. Cool! Um, what do we do with it?
February 7, 2008: We have our first class. On breast-feeding. Nothing like jumping into the deep end. There are some odd ducks in the class with us. I'm impressed that a thousand year old woman can whip out her boob for a doll and not show a thing. I am angry that my peers can't do the same thing. I'm also bummed because I can't have sushi while I'm nursing. I'm just paranoid enough that I will follow the rules ... if only I hadn't had that damn swordfish!
February 9, 2008: We tour the Labor & Delivery area, as well as the Maternity area of the hospital with a group of morons. We realize that we might not know much, but we know more than the people surrounding us. We hope that none of these people end up giving birth when we do. Boo decides that I have somehow signed us into the reject group and is worried about the rest of our classes.
February 11, 2008: I have my first NST. It is easy peasy and I realize I am going to have plenty o' time to knit. We also have an infant care class. We still seem to be attracting the fruit loop contingent as classmates. Nonetheless, we pay attention and manage to put a diaper on a doll. We are so ready for this. If only it felt real!
February 16, 2008: We, and several of the fruit loop rejects, take a childbirth prep class. We watch a video of five births. Boo and I decide that the baby shall not be leaving my womb after all. We are both cool with this. She shall stay in utero until she is eighteen, at which point I will molt my skin like a snake and become and eighteen year old girl. I am told this is not possible. I think someone is lying.
February 18, 2008: We have an ultrasound and learn that Jumbolia is ... still largeish. We meet with the doctor and there is discussion of inducing me at thirty-nine or forty weeks. Nothing is set in stone but it does not seem like we will have to be induced at thirty-seven weeks so we are relieved. We still have no done anything about picking a name. People are getting peevish about this but it doesn't spurn us on.
February 23, 2008: We head to Jersey for a family shower. It still seems surreal because I don't feel pregnant. The shower is either close family or family I have met only once, at my father-in-law's funeral. I am worried this is like a big ole gift grab and tacky. No one else thinks this way though and I have a good time. I learn that one aunt-in-law is a Labor & Delivery nurse and offers any help or advice we might need. We ask her to live in our basement. She lives over three hundred miles away and doesn't want that kind of commute for to work. As if three hundred miles is all that far. Whatever. We also learn that you can throw away baby clothes if there is a blowout in public. We never ha thought of this. We think it's brilliant.
February 27, 2008: We begin the removal of the yarn from the yarn room. My awesome plan is not awesome. It sucks. Boo is doing ninety-nine point nine percent of the work, so I don't want to complain too much. But oy! What a pain in the ass.
March 1, 2008: I have my friend shower and it is fun! I wear the one shirt that makes me look preggers and everyone is impressed with the belly. I laugh knowing it is only the shirt. I bring home a lot of baby stuff and realize we have no where to put it. Huh, where is that furniture we ordered? Surely it has been two to four weeks.
March 3, 2008: We call the furniture store to track the dresser. We learn that there is no way to track the dresser and that it will arrive on or before April 5, 2008. Gee, great. As I have no nesting urges, I figure this is not a big deal. The stuff can stay in piles in the family room. Since my sleeping has started to suck, I wonder if being tired is why I have no nesting urge.
March 10, 2008: I have my first pregnancy pelvic exam and all is closed and normal. I am like a lock box. There is more discussion concerning delivery options and of inducing me at thirty-nine or forty weeks. Still nothing is set in stone but it looks like I will be having a baby by forty weeks. Still no nesting urge and still no dresser. I do manage to organize the piles of clothes by size. I learn that there is no rhyme or reason to the sizing.
March 15, 2007: The dresser finally arrives and Boo and a friend get it in the room. Holy crap the room is small. Boo is excited and wants to put the stuff away. I want to take a nap and maybe eat a donut.
March 17, 2008: We have another ultrasound and learn that Lady Bean is still large, but not too largeish. Assuming the calculations are right, which they may not be because this ultrasound is not so reliable. In fact, this is the least reliable ultrasound we are going to have. The doctor determines that Lady Bean is large enough that they will want her out at forty weeks so if I do not go into labor on my own, we'll be induced. I am officially full term so I might go into labor on my own, but since I haven't even had a practice Braxton Hicks contraction, I think this is unlikely. I mentally prepare for an induction. I continue to work out with my trainer who strikes a deal with Lady Bean that if she stays put while I am working out, PT will give her a gift later on. I still have no nesting urge and Boo takes the reins and does Lady Bean's laundry. Feeling guilty, I finally fold one load and realize I have no clue on how to fold something so small. I swear my granny panties are bigger than her clothes. Boo doesn't really know how fold it either, and I giggle at his months and months of Gap employment failing him miserably. We wing it.
For about a week I have wicked heartburn, pain in my right hip and butt cheek, and my sleeping sucks. I deduce that I finally feel pregnant but still don't feel like the whole 'having a child thing' is real. I am cool with feeling craptastic because so far the pregnancy has been smooth and there looks to be a real live human coming out at the end. I am also cool with more new stretch marks since I can play head games with myself and tell myself that I must have been thinner than I thought I was. It is crazy talk, but it works for me.
Marsh 24, 2008: I go in for my weekly exam. I am dilated 3cms. UM, WHAT? I have dilated through the early part of labor and didn't know. I have had no contractions. Not a Braxton Hicks, not a nothing. I am somewhat shell shocked. The doctor thinks I could go into labor on my own, but if I don't, come next Monday we will schedule an induction. For the second time during this pregnancy, I walk out of the hospital with a wonky grin on my face. I call Boo as I exit and respond to his, "Hey Babe!" with, "My cervix is dilated 3cms." He is now shell shocked too. I am nothing if not willing to spread the love. I am scared to walk around. What if this baby falls out of my gaping cervix? We wonder whether this will kick into gear my as of yet non-existing nesting urge. I sort of feel like this pregnancy might be real after all. I immediately go home and read some of the books we have. I learn heartburn and back pain usually accompany contractions in early labor. Well, I had two out of three. Go figure. I wonder if my yarn fatality that morning caused my gaping cervix. I vow to be more careful with my yarn. Boo comes home and we decide we should pack a hospital bag and think of a name. I offer up Justice Mariano. I note Justice is a tribute to my legal career and Mariano is a tribute to Boo's beloved Yankees. The name is voted a total dud. We decide to table the name discussion a little bit longer. We also don't pack a hospital bag. I go to bed with my gaping cervix and sleep better than I have in a week.
March 25, 2008: The shell shock of having a gaping cervix has worn off (though the joy of saying gaping cervix has not). I no longer feel the need to pack a bag or think of a name. The pregnancy has returned into that surreal realm and I go about my day like normal. I work out with my trainer. She reminds Lady Bean of their agreement wherein Lady Bean does not fall out at the gym.
March 26, 2008: Boo is entering crunch time for a huge project at work. A project that will effect seventy-billion-gazillion viewers, or some shit. I worry our baby is going to fall out at an inopportune time. I decide I shall put myself on my own version of bed rest which involves a lot of time on the couch. This does not suck. I start to ponder what type of jewelry I should wear during delivery. Do I go with my locket that has a picture of my mom and my dad, the same locket that I wore to pass two bar exams? Or, do I go with my mom's diamond flower necklace that I wore during our wedding. I realize that normal people would be practicing breathing or planning the items for their hospital bags. I am a freak.
March 28, 2008: I visit my clients in jail for the last time. In the car, while I am on the way, I tell Lady Bean that this will be the thirty-ninth and final time that she ever visits a prison AND I'M NOT MESSING AROUND YOUNG LADY, I MEAN IT! I'm not sure that she understands, but I have hope. I "pop my cork" so to speak. Scientifically it is kind of interesting but in reality it is odd. I still haven't had contractions, and though I am relieved that I am not contracting while Boo is working, I wonder if my uterus is broken. I go to our safe deposit box to get peruse my jewelry and end up sobbing over an old watch. I realize my hormones are really flying.
March 30, 2008: Boo's project is successfully launched. We have met the goal of not letting Lady Bean fall out while he was working. We celebrate by running errands to finish getting what we need for her arrival. We get nothing of importance and instead spend money on things like room decor. I still have no nesting urge and Boo is mentally fried so we go to dinner and plan to do the real stuff later.
March 31, 2008: The doctor determines everything was pretty much the same (I am thinking this could be because I spent my entire weekend reclining on the couch like a lady of leisure fearful of going into labor while Boo was working). In any event, if nothing happens on its own, I/we will be induced on Thursday, 04/03/08, at 5:30 a.m. Personally I think it is cruel to do anything at 5:30 a.m. other than sleep. I very circuitously, and with a whole lot of verbiage doing my legal education proud, asked the doctor, on average, understanding that there is no exact science to know how long these things take, but maybe he could make a guesstimate on how long it could take based on his years of practice and general experience on all things baby delivery related, factoring in me and whatever my medical files tells him, and considering same if he could make such a guesstimate when he thought we'd have a baby ... he says 6:20 p.m. I suspect he is laughing at me on the inside. I tell all this to Boo and explain that we will have a brand new baby at 6:21 p.m. on 4/3/8. Boo says, he would prefer 4/4/8 and that I should hold her in. He is the first, but not the last to tell me this. I hypothesize that I could name the baby Jamiroquai and get less shit than I am for not demanding the 4th. By the end of the day I am in a maudlin mood. I figure it is hormones.
April 1, 2008: I am in a better mood and survive my last full day at work. Crazy hasn't been talking to me so that makes things easier. I work out at the gym and feel really good. I think the exercise may have positive effects on my hormones. I hate exercise so this is a first for me. Once Boo gets home, we do some work on the house and I note that all of Lady Bean's decorations are bird themed. I worry she is going to have issues.
April 2, 2008: I am working my last three and a half hours with a grin on my face. Crazy, resumes talking to me having been silent for a week, and tells me she is going to pick on me and make fun of me and kick at me since I am leaving. I'd be confused except that her insanity doesn't faze me ... I only have to deal with it for three and a half more hours. Sweet! I get Dogbert and her bag and take her to daycare/boarding. I cry sob as I load her into the car. I feel as if I am abandoning her and ruining her little puppy life. I am a nut. A teary sobbing nut. Dogbert's tail is going a mile a minute at the thought of daycare and she is oblivious to my distress. I get through the dog drop off with mild to moderate humiliation. I work out one last time and then get a pedicure. I decide to go with red toes. Should something go terribly awry, I want to go out with red toes.
As I pack the hospital bag, I intentionally try not to think about my mom and aunt or the fact that Boo and I are basically on our own. My family is almost non-existent and twelve hundred miles away. His, though larger, is also far. Neither one can ride to the rescue if we need a break or want to have dinner out. I have no doubt that we can do this, and do it well, all by ourselves. Nonetheless, I try to ignore the fact that we have to and swallow any bitterness that I have about it. We have our final dinner together, just us, and then Boo goes to get a new camcorder. We will NOT be recording the birth, but since it has been given to us as a gift, we figure we should get it.
April 3, 2008: I wake up at 3:45 a.m. and am tired. I'm not nervous, but this is probably because I am so tired that my brain can't function. Why the fuck does this have to start so early? I am a little put out because I haven;t had a chance to prrof read my ramblingbbgs but I figure guck it, I'm going to have a baby, I deserve some leeway.
Overall this pregnancy thing has been pretty easy and I am lucky. Getting pregnant, not so easy, but once we got there, I can't complain. Physically, it has not been difficult. The hardest part for me, emotionally for sure, has been re-mourning the loss of my mom, dad, and aunt. Sometimes that hurt is so fresh it surprised me. In any event, the overall experience has been pretty damn cool, and gloriously uneventful.
Even now, heading off to go birth this baby, it still seems somewhat vague or unreal. The best example I can come up with is a long planned vacation ... We've never been to Italy but we hear it's great and we are excited at the idea of going. For two years we talked about going but we couldn't afford it, couldn't make it work. And then, nine months ago, we won the lottery. We had the cash, we could finally take our trip. We booked airline tickets, reserved hotel rooms, and planned day trips for some great location in Italy. So for the last nine months we have talked about our trip and played the what-if game; we've discussed dining options, entertainment ideas, the weather and what to wear. We've taken classes on Italian and boned up on cultural stuff, but still there is no sense of reality. It is kind of one-step removed. All the prep work was just prep work. Even now, stepping on the airplane, I can't quite wrap my brain around this huge journey we are about to embark on. Intellectually I know that we're going to another country and it is going to be like nothing we have known before. But the reality is not real. I suspect that once we land in Italy, things will click. In the meantime, I am hoping the flight is smooth and terrorist free!
September 25, 2005: We make the big decision (which is actually recorded in my calendar) ... "You wanna have a baby?" "Um, sure, okay." "Let's do it. Let's have sex." "Heh. Sex!"
September 25, 2006: A year later, and we have made no progress ... "Um, are you sure we're doing this right ... we ain't got no baby." "We're doing it right, let's try a little bit longer."
May 2007: Now it's just getting ridiculous ... "Fine, I give up. I'll go see a doctor ... Um, the soonest I can get in is July." "I guess we can have more sex." "Great, more sex."
July 2, 2007: "Sorry, we have to cancel your appointment with the doctor today. How about August 9?" "Greeeaaatttt, more sex." Well, we can try one more time. I mean sex is fun, right?
July 21, 2007: We decide to re-do the small bedroom and create a yarn room since there is no baby in sight. We start the process of wall repair and painting and so on. We don't worry about perfection because fifteen years from now when we finally have a kid via some black market adoption, we will have to redo it again anyway. We adopt a motto of "Better than Before" and chant it during each step of our remodeling.
July 28, 2007: "My period never came today." "That's odd." "Maybe we're pregnant. HAHAHAHA." "Wake me up in the morning before you take the test."
July 29, 2007: It's early in the morning and I totally have to pee ... "You wanted me to wake you up when I had to pee." "M'kay. I'm up." "No period, I'm peeing on a stick." ... tinkle tinkle tinkle ... wait wait wait ... "Um, that's weird, I think it says we're pregnant." I crawl back in bed thinking the stick is messing with me, "You go look." Boo crawls out of bed and glances at the stick ... "Yah, I think you're right. It says you're pregnant. How bout that?" He pees (there is a lot of peeing going on that morning) and comes back to bed. "I'm tired." "Me too" and back to sleep we go. We are more skeptical than excited because come on, our one last chance before I go and get poked and prodded, whatever.
July 30, 2007: I'm still not a believer. "Another test, another positive." "Weird."
August 1, 2007: Still not convinced, I plunk down more of our hard earned money on outrageously expensive home pregnancy tests. "Another test, another positive." "Weird. Do you feel pregnant?" "Nope, I'm bloated like I'm going to get my period." "Huh."
August 4, 2007: We continue to work on the yarn room. We rip up carpet and beginning staining bookcases. We joke that this might all be futile because, haha, this could be a baby's room and maybe stain isn't the best thing in the world for a pregnant person to be inhaling but ha, come on, us and baby. Hardy har har.
August 6, 2007: "Another test, another positive." "Weird. Ya feel pregnant yet??" "Nope!"
August 7, 2007: It is the fifteen year anniversary of our first date. We celebrate with another test, and another positive. "This is so weird." "Maybe we really are knocked up?!?" Then we go to dinner and I have swordfish. I later learn that this is a high mercury fish and that I am an asshole for eating it.
August 9, 2007: We have our first doctor's appointment where the nurse cheerfully tells me that the stick turned pink and I am at the right appointment. We are given a bunch of information and we meet the doctor who looks eerily like my college president, Donna Shalala. "Congrats! Now I need a gallon of blood." We walk out laughing at the thought of Donna Shalala delivering our baby.
We look through the stuff they give us, including the food list and I start mourning the loss of sushi. Then I see that swordfish is bad and wonder how hard it is going to be to raise a child with an extra-ear growing out if its forehead.
August 13, 2007: I finish the yarn room and lurve it. It is, indeed, 'Better than Before.' It is also going to be a huge pain in the arse if we have actually have this kid and have to move it.
August 17, 2007: I'm almost seven weeks along and am sent for my first ultrasound. It seems that yes, there is a baby-to-be in there, though I think it looks like a bird. Or a bean, with a beak. There is only one, and it has a heart beat. I walk out of the office with a wonky, shit-eating grin because hey, I have a bean in my belly! I also wonder if the swordfish gave the bean a beak. I toughen my resolve to avoid sushi.
For the next few weeks I feel exactly the same as I always have. The pregnancy doesn't seem all that real. Sometimes I am a little sleepy, sometimes I am bloated, sometimes I am crampy. But for the most part I feel like me. I think, "This whole pregnancy thing is easy." I'm at a high risk for developing gestational diabetes so I get extra monitoring which is actually nice because I get reinforcement that the bean is still in there and growing.
September 17, 2007: I catch a cold. I realize that the pregnancy thing is not easy since I can't take any decent drugs. I am nasty and grumpy and Boo becomes scared that the next nine months of his life are going to be pure torture.
September 20, 2007: We fly to Florida for BeFri's wedding. I leave my doctor prescribed antibiotics in Connecticut. I am an asshole. Several calls later a new prescription is waiting for me in a twenty-four hour drugstore, in the Miami ghetto. I marvel at the possible irony of getting killed while picking up antibiotics. I survive the antibiotic pick up. Even though we are only twelve weeks, we bring one of the ultrasound pictures and decide to tell my uncle in person that we're having a baby. Even though we tell him and it is very exciting it still doesn't feel all that real. I also miss my mom and aunt and try not to dwell on the fact that they aren't around for the big news and to answer questions and tell me what their experiences were like.
September 24, 2007: We have the first trimester screening ultrasound. The bean is breech and uncooperative but they decide all looks well. Boo is surprised I can't feel all the hurkey jerky movements we see going on during the ultrasound.
October 6, 2007: We are fourteen weeks and out of the first trimester. It still feels unreal, but we go to Jersey to see Boo's family and tell them the news in person. Everyone assumes that we are pregnant and gossips that this is why we are visiting so we tell them we are moving to Ireland. The family is shocked about our move and we are smug. Heh, don't mess with us! We do finally tell them the truth.
Over the next few weeks we tell our friends. I am worried about jinxing things but Boo isn't and tells me to chill. I say I do, but I don't really. I still feel bloated and sometimes crampy. I have some sort of ligament pain which I am told is normal. I'm not stressed over the discomfort because it seems like it is just part of the pregnancy ride. Even acknowledging this whole pregnancy thing doesn't make it any more real. I wonder, shouldn't I feel pregnant?
November 1, 2007: We are eighteen weeks and have our level two screening. We are hoping to learn the baby's gender. Ha! The baby is uncooperative and we don't get gender, or good measurements. We have to go back in a few weeks. Boo, still surprised I can't feel any baby movements when they are so obvious on the ultrasound, thinks maybe I am an alien.
November 7, 2007: My favorite work pants are tight when I sit down. I don't look any different and I haven't gained any weight (but the doctors say this is normal and okay considering I could stand to lose a few anyway) but something must have shifted because the pants don't work when I am sitting.
Around week twenty, I have still not felt the baby move. I conclude that there is no baby. It is all a ploy. Boo thinks I am insane. I conceded that maybe there is a baby and I just can't feel it do to residual numbness from my gall bladder removal surgery or because I have belly flub. Though I don't feel the baby, I have developed a shooting pain in my left hip and butt cheek. My first real pregnancy "symptom" is sciatica. I am not stressed over this new discomfort because, again, it seems like it is just part of the pregnancy thing. I do wonder if, however, my mom or aunt ever had similar pain. I try not to dwell on it. We start getting gifts from friends which is awesome but also weird because hey, are we really having a baby?
November 22, 2007: I am sitting at my vanity getting ready for a trip to Jersey for Thanksgiving dinner and I feel the baby move for the first time. I interrupt Boo's shower to tell him this. We both are psyched. Kind of a cool way to ring in Thanksgiving.
November 28, 2007: Crazy tells me I am developing a gut. Boo who sees me naked on a daily basis disagrees.
November 29, 2007: We have our re-do of the level two screening and are still hoping to learn the baby's gender. Ha! The baby is, yet again, uncooperative and is breech. The ultrasound doctor, overwhelmed by the scent of our desperation, takes pity on us and really works hard. He determines that the bean is a girl bean. She's got "three lines." We giggle. Three lines. Now we must decide on a girl name. We decide we'll each submit a list of ten names come February. Three lines, hehe!
For the next month or so I still feel exactly the same. My sciatic pain has gone away and while I do feel the baby move, I often think it is phantom gall bladder pain, or gas. Every now and then she gets caught on my internal organs and reminds me that, "Yo, woman, I am a baby, NOT a gall bladder." She also likes to do a little River Dance on my cervix. I puke for the first time in the beginning of December, mostly because I messed up the prenatal vitamin taking schedule. Overall though, the pregnancy still doesn't feel real. I think I should feel more different. I feel fine and not-so-preggers. I have gotten stretch marks which is weird since I figured my body had stretched all it could since I have been heavier that I am now. My clothes, with the exception of my favorite work pants, still fit and I can't really tell a difference in how I look. Even my boobs are the same, much to my chagrin. I've had to start testing my sugar every other day and it is typically fine. I learn, however, that Panera Bread and Five Guys Burgers will raise my sugar, no matter what I eat. I still mourn sushi.
January 2, 2008: I wear my jeans and they fit fine. The pregnancy doesn't feel real.
January 3, 2008: I bend over to tie my shoe and vomit. I vow not to mess with the prenatal vitamin schedule ever again.
January 5, 2008: My jeans don't fit. Well, not if I want to sit down and breathe, at the same time. This makes no sense since they fit three days ago. I am confused but figure that I'm at twenty-seven weeks and pretty lucky that I haven't had to buy new clothes yet. I order maternity jeans which are ridiculous and so I return them. I then go through my wardrobe looking for all of my stretchy type pants and pants that were previously too big. I decide I have enough pants for now and so I don't bother looking for new ones to buy.
January 7, 2008: I am just over twenty-seven weeks pregnant and it is the first time a random person has noticed I am pregnant. I guess I am starting to show. Maybe my jeans were telling the truth. My boobs? Not bigger, still the same. Such underachievers.
January 8, 2008: My extra monitoring really kicks in and I have to schedule NSTs and ultrasounds for the next few months. I also start scheduling classes. I figure some of this will make the pregnancy thing feel real. It doesn't.
January 12, 2008: We start the registry process. I am sure this is a jinx and a bad idea but all of the books say we need to get on the ball. The registry process makes me cranky because not only do I fear the jinx, I don't know what any of the shit is and what we'll need. I mean come on, special towels for the baby? She is human right? What is wrong with my towels? We also look at a crib and dresser. We can't decide on anything so we put it off for a week knowing that it could take "up to ten weeks for delivery" and we have eleven weeks until Lady Bean's arrival. We feel no stress since Brian, the sales guy we spoke to, assures us that it usually only takes two weeks for furniture delivery.
January 22, 2008: We make a decision on the dresser and crib. Boo orders the dresser and is told that it will be in by April 5 - our due date. They assure him that it will probably be ready in about two to four weeks but they have to say ten weeks to cover themselves. The crib, however, is in stock so Boo brings it home. We look at the box and then prop it up against the wall. No need to rush to put it together, we have ten plus weeks.
January 23, 2008: We have an ultrasound and learn that Lady Bean is big. Birthable, but big. This is Boo's fault since he was a big baby. Even knowing he was gig, I am somewhat surprised since I haven't gained any weight. Is she sucking the fat out of my ass? Am I making a baby out of butt fat?
January 29, 2008: It is my last girls weekend for a while and I have my first surprise shower. We now have baby stuff. Cool! Um, what do we do with it?
February 7, 2008: We have our first class. On breast-feeding. Nothing like jumping into the deep end. There are some odd ducks in the class with us. I'm impressed that a thousand year old woman can whip out her boob for a doll and not show a thing. I am angry that my peers can't do the same thing. I'm also bummed because I can't have sushi while I'm nursing. I'm just paranoid enough that I will follow the rules ... if only I hadn't had that damn swordfish!
February 9, 2008: We tour the Labor & Delivery area, as well as the Maternity area of the hospital with a group of morons. We realize that we might not know much, but we know more than the people surrounding us. We hope that none of these people end up giving birth when we do. Boo decides that I have somehow signed us into the reject group and is worried about the rest of our classes.
February 11, 2008: I have my first NST. It is easy peasy and I realize I am going to have plenty o' time to knit. We also have an infant care class. We still seem to be attracting the fruit loop contingent as classmates. Nonetheless, we pay attention and manage to put a diaper on a doll. We are so ready for this. If only it felt real!
February 16, 2008: We, and several of the fruit loop rejects, take a childbirth prep class. We watch a video of five births. Boo and I decide that the baby shall not be leaving my womb after all. We are both cool with this. She shall stay in utero until she is eighteen, at which point I will molt my skin like a snake and become and eighteen year old girl. I am told this is not possible. I think someone is lying.
February 18, 2008: We have an ultrasound and learn that Jumbolia is ... still largeish. We meet with the doctor and there is discussion of inducing me at thirty-nine or forty weeks. Nothing is set in stone but it does not seem like we will have to be induced at thirty-seven weeks so we are relieved. We still have no done anything about picking a name. People are getting peevish about this but it doesn't spurn us on.
February 23, 2008: We head to Jersey for a family shower. It still seems surreal because I don't feel pregnant. The shower is either close family or family I have met only once, at my father-in-law's funeral. I am worried this is like a big ole gift grab and tacky. No one else thinks this way though and I have a good time. I learn that one aunt-in-law is a Labor & Delivery nurse and offers any help or advice we might need. We ask her to live in our basement. She lives over three hundred miles away and doesn't want that kind of commute for to work. As if three hundred miles is all that far. Whatever. We also learn that you can throw away baby clothes if there is a blowout in public. We never ha thought of this. We think it's brilliant.
February 27, 2008: We begin the removal of the yarn from the yarn room. My awesome plan is not awesome. It sucks. Boo is doing ninety-nine point nine percent of the work, so I don't want to complain too much. But oy! What a pain in the ass.
March 1, 2008: I have my friend shower and it is fun! I wear the one shirt that makes me look preggers and everyone is impressed with the belly. I laugh knowing it is only the shirt. I bring home a lot of baby stuff and realize we have no where to put it. Huh, where is that furniture we ordered? Surely it has been two to four weeks.
March 3, 2008: We call the furniture store to track the dresser. We learn that there is no way to track the dresser and that it will arrive on or before April 5, 2008. Gee, great. As I have no nesting urges, I figure this is not a big deal. The stuff can stay in piles in the family room. Since my sleeping has started to suck, I wonder if being tired is why I have no nesting urge.
March 10, 2008: I have my first pregnancy pelvic exam and all is closed and normal. I am like a lock box. There is more discussion concerning delivery options and of inducing me at thirty-nine or forty weeks. Still nothing is set in stone but it looks like I will be having a baby by forty weeks. Still no nesting urge and still no dresser. I do manage to organize the piles of clothes by size. I learn that there is no rhyme or reason to the sizing.
March 15, 2007: The dresser finally arrives and Boo and a friend get it in the room. Holy crap the room is small. Boo is excited and wants to put the stuff away. I want to take a nap and maybe eat a donut.
March 17, 2008: We have another ultrasound and learn that Lady Bean is still large, but not too largeish. Assuming the calculations are right, which they may not be because this ultrasound is not so reliable. In fact, this is the least reliable ultrasound we are going to have. The doctor determines that Lady Bean is large enough that they will want her out at forty weeks so if I do not go into labor on my own, we'll be induced. I am officially full term so I might go into labor on my own, but since I haven't even had a practice Braxton Hicks contraction, I think this is unlikely. I mentally prepare for an induction. I continue to work out with my trainer who strikes a deal with Lady Bean that if she stays put while I am working out, PT will give her a gift later on. I still have no nesting urge and Boo takes the reins and does Lady Bean's laundry. Feeling guilty, I finally fold one load and realize I have no clue on how to fold something so small. I swear my granny panties are bigger than her clothes. Boo doesn't really know how fold it either, and I giggle at his months and months of Gap employment failing him miserably. We wing it.
For about a week I have wicked heartburn, pain in my right hip and butt cheek, and my sleeping sucks. I deduce that I finally feel pregnant but still don't feel like the whole 'having a child thing' is real. I am cool with feeling craptastic because so far the pregnancy has been smooth and there looks to be a real live human coming out at the end. I am also cool with more new stretch marks since I can play head games with myself and tell myself that I must have been thinner than I thought I was. It is crazy talk, but it works for me.
Marsh 24, 2008: I go in for my weekly exam. I am dilated 3cms. UM, WHAT? I have dilated through the early part of labor and didn't know. I have had no contractions. Not a Braxton Hicks, not a nothing. I am somewhat shell shocked. The doctor thinks I could go into labor on my own, but if I don't, come next Monday we will schedule an induction. For the second time during this pregnancy, I walk out of the hospital with a wonky grin on my face. I call Boo as I exit and respond to his, "Hey Babe!" with, "My cervix is dilated 3cms." He is now shell shocked too. I am nothing if not willing to spread the love. I am scared to walk around. What if this baby falls out of my gaping cervix? We wonder whether this will kick into gear my as of yet non-existing nesting urge. I sort of feel like this pregnancy might be real after all. I immediately go home and read some of the books we have. I learn heartburn and back pain usually accompany contractions in early labor. Well, I had two out of three. Go figure. I wonder if my yarn fatality that morning caused my gaping cervix. I vow to be more careful with my yarn. Boo comes home and we decide we should pack a hospital bag and think of a name. I offer up Justice Mariano. I note Justice is a tribute to my legal career and Mariano is a tribute to Boo's beloved Yankees. The name is voted a total dud. We decide to table the name discussion a little bit longer. We also don't pack a hospital bag. I go to bed with my gaping cervix and sleep better than I have in a week.
March 25, 2008: The shell shock of having a gaping cervix has worn off (though the joy of saying gaping cervix has not). I no longer feel the need to pack a bag or think of a name. The pregnancy has returned into that surreal realm and I go about my day like normal. I work out with my trainer. She reminds Lady Bean of their agreement wherein Lady Bean does not fall out at the gym.
March 26, 2008: Boo is entering crunch time for a huge project at work. A project that will effect seventy-billion-gazillion viewers, or some shit. I worry our baby is going to fall out at an inopportune time. I decide I shall put myself on my own version of bed rest which involves a lot of time on the couch. This does not suck. I start to ponder what type of jewelry I should wear during delivery. Do I go with my locket that has a picture of my mom and my dad, the same locket that I wore to pass two bar exams? Or, do I go with my mom's diamond flower necklace that I wore during our wedding. I realize that normal people would be practicing breathing or planning the items for their hospital bags. I am a freak.
March 28, 2008: I visit my clients in jail for the last time. In the car, while I am on the way, I tell Lady Bean that this will be the thirty-ninth and final time that she ever visits a prison AND I'M NOT MESSING AROUND YOUNG LADY, I MEAN IT! I'm not sure that she understands, but I have hope. I "pop my cork" so to speak. Scientifically it is kind of interesting but in reality it is odd. I still haven't had contractions, and though I am relieved that I am not contracting while Boo is working, I wonder if my uterus is broken. I go to our safe deposit box to get peruse my jewelry and end up sobbing over an old watch. I realize my hormones are really flying.
March 30, 2008: Boo's project is successfully launched. We have met the goal of not letting Lady Bean fall out while he was working. We celebrate by running errands to finish getting what we need for her arrival. We get nothing of importance and instead spend money on things like room decor. I still have no nesting urge and Boo is mentally fried so we go to dinner and plan to do the real stuff later.
March 31, 2008: The doctor determines everything was pretty much the same (I am thinking this could be because I spent my entire weekend reclining on the couch like a lady of leisure fearful of going into labor while Boo was working). In any event, if nothing happens on its own, I/we will be induced on Thursday, 04/03/08, at 5:30 a.m. Personally I think it is cruel to do anything at 5:30 a.m. other than sleep. I very circuitously, and with a whole lot of verbiage doing my legal education proud, asked the doctor, on average, understanding that there is no exact science to know how long these things take, but maybe he could make a guesstimate on how long it could take based on his years of practice and general experience on all things baby delivery related, factoring in me and whatever my medical files tells him, and considering same if he could make such a guesstimate when he thought we'd have a baby ... he says 6:20 p.m. I suspect he is laughing at me on the inside. I tell all this to Boo and explain that we will have a brand new baby at 6:21 p.m. on 4/3/8. Boo says, he would prefer 4/4/8 and that I should hold her in. He is the first, but not the last to tell me this. I hypothesize that I could name the baby Jamiroquai and get less shit than I am for not demanding the 4th. By the end of the day I am in a maudlin mood. I figure it is hormones.
April 1, 2008: I am in a better mood and survive my last full day at work. Crazy hasn't been talking to me so that makes things easier. I work out at the gym and feel really good. I think the exercise may have positive effects on my hormones. I hate exercise so this is a first for me. Once Boo gets home, we do some work on the house and I note that all of Lady Bean's decorations are bird themed. I worry she is going to have issues.
April 2, 2008: I am working my last three and a half hours with a grin on my face. Crazy, resumes talking to me having been silent for a week, and tells me she is going to pick on me and make fun of me and kick at me since I am leaving. I'd be confused except that her insanity doesn't faze me ... I only have to deal with it for three and a half more hours. Sweet! I get Dogbert and her bag and take her to daycare/boarding. I
As I pack the hospital bag, I intentionally try not to think about my mom and aunt or the fact that Boo and I are basically on our own. My family is almost non-existent and twelve hundred miles away. His, though larger, is also far. Neither one can ride to the rescue if we need a break or want to have dinner out. I have no doubt that we can do this, and do it well, all by ourselves. Nonetheless, I try to ignore the fact that we have to and swallow any bitterness that I have about it. We have our final dinner together, just us, and then Boo goes to get a new camcorder. We will NOT be recording the birth, but since it has been given to us as a gift, we figure we should get it.
April 3, 2008: I wake up at 3:45 a.m. and am tired. I'm not nervous, but this is probably because I am so tired that my brain can't function. Why the fuck does this have to start so early? I am a little put out because I haven;t had a chance to prrof read my ramblingbbgs but I figure guck it, I'm going to have a baby, I deserve some leeway.
Overall this pregnancy thing has been pretty easy and I am lucky. Getting pregnant, not so easy, but once we got there, I can't complain. Physically, it has not been difficult. The hardest part for me, emotionally for sure, has been re-mourning the loss of my mom, dad, and aunt. Sometimes that hurt is so fresh it surprised me. In any event, the overall experience has been pretty damn cool, and gloriously uneventful.
Even now, heading off to go birth this baby, it still seems somewhat vague or unreal. The best example I can come up with is a long planned vacation ... We've never been to Italy but we hear it's great and we are excited at the idea of going. For two years we talked about going but we couldn't afford it, couldn't make it work. And then, nine months ago, we won the lottery. We had the cash, we could finally take our trip. We booked airline tickets, reserved hotel rooms, and planned day trips for some great location in Italy. So for the last nine months we have talked about our trip and played the what-if game; we've discussed dining options, entertainment ideas, the weather and what to wear. We've taken classes on Italian and boned up on cultural stuff, but still there is no sense of reality. It is kind of one-step removed. All the prep work was just prep work. Even now, stepping on the airplane, I can't quite wrap my brain around this huge journey we are about to embark on. Intellectually I know that we're going to another country and it is going to be like nothing we have known before. But the reality is not real. I suspect that once we land in Italy, things will click. In the meantime, I am hoping the flight is smooth and terrorist free!
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
Ten on Tuesday
I almost missed it. Two on Tuesday almost passed me by, again AGAIN! It is a good thing I decided to put off working on things that need to be worked on (Me: What about Joba for a girl, you know, like Joba Chamberlain? Boo: Are you high?) and decided to fart around on the computer. Otherwise you would never have the joy of learning about ...
Ten Things I'd Fix in My Home (if I had the time and money)
10. Two words: New. Kitchen.
9. Two (more) words: New. Bathrooms.
8. Hire someone to paint the living room (damn you cathedral-esque ceilings that our ladder can't reach).
7. Expand the front area of house to make the dining and living rooms bigger while creating a front porch.
6. Even out the back yard and put up a fence.
5. Use the fence to keep our new, in-ground, uber deep and long swimming pool with an attached hot tub/jacuzzi safe from intruders.
4. Replace the subflooring under the hardwood floors.
3. Add a fireplace in the family room ... right after we rip out the gawdaful faux wood paneling.
2. Build an addition as part of the kitchen remodel that also includes a master suite.
1. Install a winch and pulley system to pull my car up the driveway when it is super snowy and icy.
Geeze, after reading this, I wonder why we are still living in our house. Oh right, because we don't have the time and money to do these things. Duh!
And thus concludes my farting around.
Ten Things I'd Fix in My Home (if I had the time and money)
10. Two words: New. Kitchen.
9. Two (more) words: New. Bathrooms.
8. Hire someone to paint the living room (damn you cathedral-esque ceilings that our ladder can't reach).
7. Expand the front area of house to make the dining and living rooms bigger while creating a front porch.
6. Even out the back yard and put up a fence.
5. Use the fence to keep our new, in-ground, uber deep and long swimming pool with an attached hot tub/jacuzzi safe from intruders.
4. Replace the subflooring under the hardwood floors.
3. Add a fireplace in the family room ... right after we rip out the gawdaful faux wood paneling.
2. Build an addition as part of the kitchen remodel that also includes a master suite.
1. Install a winch and pulley system to pull my car up the driveway when it is super snowy and icy.
Geeze, after reading this, I wonder why we are still living in our house. Oh right, because we don't have the time and money to do these things. Duh!
And thus concludes my farting around.
No Foolin'
According the the forces that be (or my doctors), I will be birthing Lady Bean on Thursday. In preparation for this event, Boo and I decided we needed to narrow down the name thing to three choices, pack the hospital bag, decide how long we are going to board the dog, make arrangements for boarding the dog, pack a bag for the dog, finish decorating Lady Bean's room, clean the house, buy some groceries, and basically get everything ready for a smooth transition home. So far, we've ... um ... well, we watched Law & Order, had Taco Bell for dinner, discussed the merits of ordering Showtime when the new season of Dexter starts, researched camcorders, debated the merits of Spearmint (I say no good: smells and tastes like Pepto-Bismal - which is intentionally misspelled because that stuff tastes and smells abysmal; he says: yum; obviously he is WRONG), and thought up all of the worst names possible without coming close to getting three good ones. Oh, and we argued about the stuff that needs to go on the list of stuff we need to get done before Thursday. In other words, we have done nothing productive.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Well That Was Quick
Somehow I have managed to knit an entire ped in about twenty-four hours.
Granted, I've put myself on pseudo-bed rest for the weekend so that I don't go into labor while Boo is working on his big project (and also because Crazy swore I was going to have this baby this weekend because "she knows these things" and there is something grating about her proclamation that makes me contrary). But still, I've gone out. I've shopped. I've done some laundry. I've done some cooking. I've done some napping. I've also knit. And a decent amount at that apparently!
Granted, I've put myself on pseudo-bed rest for the weekend so that I don't go into labor while Boo is working on his big project (and also because Crazy swore I was going to have this baby this weekend because "she knows these things" and there is something grating about her proclamation that makes me contrary). But still, I've gone out. I've shopped. I've done some laundry. I've done some cooking. I've done some napping. I've also knit. And a decent amount at that apparently!
Friday, March 28, 2008
F is for ...
Finished object! More specifically my finished Clapotis! I've been lax about taking fotographs (yah, yah, photographs ... I claim poetic license) of the finished Clapotis until this afternoon when Dogbert needed to go o-u-t. I mean is there anything more inspiring for a fotoshoot than a dog doing her bidness and cold, rainy, overcast weather?
Yah, as you can see, my first batch of photos didn't exactly capture Clapotis in all of her glory. Hardly any of that French panache that Kate Gilbert was going for. Aside from my own personal cheese, Clapotis was all bunched up AND clashed with my shirt. The pictures were, how you say, fuked. So I decided to give it up for my art and pose sans shirt. Mind you this isn't the first time I have paraded topless in my back yard. Only this time I didn't have an audience other than Dogbert.
I did, however, have a raging case of the giggles. There is something very funny about baring your big ole round pregger belly in the damp cold weather all in the hopes of getting a semi-decent picture of a handknit. Or maybe there isn't. Maybe it was my hormones.
Anywho, I did take several pictures in my skivvies which kinda show off the Clapotis (as well as the fact that I am one pasty white chick).
Since I was having so much fun with my photoshoot, I took one more of Clapotis in all of her glory.
Yarn: Blue Heron Yarns, Rayon Metallic, 2 skeins (550 yards/100 grams each), color Garnet
Needles: Addi Turbo, size 4.5 mm (US 7)
Pattern: Clapotis
Modifications: None.
Time: 44 days.
Care: Hand wash cool, dry flat.
Yah, as you can see, my first batch of photos didn't exactly capture Clapotis in all of her glory. Hardly any of that French panache that Kate Gilbert was going for. Aside from my own personal cheese, Clapotis was all bunched up AND clashed with my shirt. The pictures were, how you say, fuked. So I decided to give it up for my art and pose sans shirt. Mind you this isn't the first time I have paraded topless in my back yard. Only this time I didn't have an audience other than Dogbert.
I did, however, have a raging case of the giggles. There is something very funny about baring your big ole round pregger belly in the damp cold weather all in the hopes of getting a semi-decent picture of a handknit. Or maybe there isn't. Maybe it was my hormones.
Anywho, I did take several pictures in my skivvies which kinda show off the Clapotis (as well as the fact that I am one pasty white chick).
Since I was having so much fun with my photoshoot, I took one more of Clapotis in all of her glory.
Yarn: Blue Heron Yarns, Rayon Metallic, 2 skeins (550 yards/100 grams each), color Garnet
Needles: Addi Turbo, size 4.5 mm (US 7)
Pattern: Clapotis
Modifications: None.
Time: 44 days.
Care: Hand wash cool, dry flat.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
!&^$#@!
Gawdammit! I missed Ten on Tuesday, AGAIN! I was so psyched to do this and now, now, I've repeatedly spit the bit. So in honor of this weeks miss ('10 Things to Do Before You Get Married'), I am going for Ten On [cough, cough] Thursday ... BUT before I do, I have a short little Crazy tale to share.
As I walked into the office this morning, Crazy was lurking behind a door or something because I never saw her. When I went to check my mailbox she popped up behind me and said, "Hi!" Startled, I turned around and greeted her with a, "Good morning." She then just starts rambling on and on about some woman at her gym who is pregnant. She is going on and on and I am starting to tune out when she says, "And I told her your breasts really filled out. They look full today." Um, WHAT THE FUCK? And now, on with my list ...
'10 Things to Do at Work Before Going on Maternity Leave'
10. Create a countdown clock listing the days, hours and minutes you have left. Ensure that the countdown is written in several places so that you can always catch a soothing glimpse when the crazy factor amps up (like say your boobs are critiqued by your psycho boss). FYI, my clock reads the rest of today plus two and a half more days, or about 22 hours, or 1,320 minutes, or 79,200 seconds, give or take a few.
9. Practice looking slightly sad at the thought of missing three months of work. Just because you can't win an Oscar for your performance, doesn't mean you shouldn't act as if you can. Bonus points if you can tear up, without actually spilling a tear, and get the quivering lip going all the while laughing manically on the inside.
8. Go through your desk and pull out all of the old resumes and job applications you've filled out for other, less crazy places. Pack them up and bring them home to shred. Why tempt the crazies by throwing them out at work?
7. Copy and export your bookmarks of blogs and online shopping and porn, e-mail them to yourself and then delete them from your computer's hard drive. No need for some nosey fuck to find out that you like to read about one armed, albino, zombie prostitutes and celebrity gossip while you search for deals on shoes.
6. Check office food items for expiration dates. Triscuits gonna expire before you return? Be kind, give them to a co-worker. M&M's gonna go bad? Open that mouth and start eating!
5. Copy all of your work files and bring them home with you. It's good to have copies of all of the crap you've done over the years in case you are asked not to return.
4. Get on your hands and knees and look under your desk. You might find ... a safety pin, a peanut M&M, a phone message from 2005, a knitting marker, and some dental floss.
3. Copy, print, e-mail and re-print the memo concerning your maternity absence and when you are leaving and returning. This is your insurance should someone claim that you need to be back at work now and demand an early return.
2. Scour the cabinet of office supplies for anything that you might need over the next three months ... like post it notes, an easy, non-toxic way to have your newborn remind you of things like "feed me"; and, paperclips, McGyver uses them for everything, you probably can too; and, rubber gloves, good for sketchy inmate mail AND diaper blow outs.
1. Plan your celebratory dance for when you make it to your last day without killing anyone, while at the same time perfecting your alibi in case you don't make it.
As I walked into the office this morning, Crazy was lurking behind a door or something because I never saw her. When I went to check my mailbox she popped up behind me and said, "Hi!" Startled, I turned around and greeted her with a, "Good morning." She then just starts rambling on and on about some woman at her gym who is pregnant. She is going on and on and I am starting to tune out when she says, "And I told her your breasts really filled out. They look full today." Um, WHAT THE FUCK? And now, on with my list ...
'10 Things to Do at Work Before Going on Maternity Leave'
10. Create a countdown clock listing the days, hours and minutes you have left. Ensure that the countdown is written in several places so that you can always catch a soothing glimpse when the crazy factor amps up (like say your boobs are critiqued by your psycho boss). FYI, my clock reads the rest of today plus two and a half more days, or about 22 hours, or 1,320 minutes, or 79,200 seconds, give or take a few.
9. Practice looking slightly sad at the thought of missing three months of work. Just because you can't win an Oscar for your performance, doesn't mean you shouldn't act as if you can. Bonus points if you can tear up, without actually spilling a tear, and get the quivering lip going all the while laughing manically on the inside.
8. Go through your desk and pull out all of the old resumes and job applications you've filled out for other, less crazy places. Pack them up and bring them home to shred. Why tempt the crazies by throwing them out at work?
7. Copy and export your bookmarks of blogs and online shopping and porn, e-mail them to yourself and then delete them from your computer's hard drive. No need for some nosey fuck to find out that you like to read about one armed, albino, zombie prostitutes and celebrity gossip while you search for deals on shoes.
6. Check office food items for expiration dates. Triscuits gonna expire before you return? Be kind, give them to a co-worker. M&M's gonna go bad? Open that mouth and start eating!
5. Copy all of your work files and bring them home with you. It's good to have copies of all of the crap you've done over the years in case you are asked not to return.
4. Get on your hands and knees and look under your desk. You might find ... a safety pin, a peanut M&M, a phone message from 2005, a knitting marker, and some dental floss.
3. Copy, print, e-mail and re-print the memo concerning your maternity absence and when you are leaving and returning. This is your insurance should someone claim that you need to be back at work now and demand an early return.
2. Scour the cabinet of office supplies for anything that you might need over the next three months ... like post it notes, an easy, non-toxic way to have your newborn remind you of things like "feed me"; and, paperclips, McGyver uses them for everything, you probably can too; and, rubber gloves, good for sketchy inmate mail AND diaper blow outs.
1. Plan your celebratory dance for when you make it to your last day without killing anyone, while at the same time perfecting your alibi in case you don't make it.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Holidays
Last weekend was a weekend of holidays. First, Boo and I celebrated our anniversary, which I guess technically is not a holiday and it wasn't even our actual anniversary, but whatever. I have pictures in my camera, none of which are my finished Clapotis, and I am bored at work, so work with me. Holidays. Us, celebrating, enjoying our four year anniversary with fondue and presents.
For year four the gifts are something like plant/flower, linen/silk, and appliance. We usually try to mix it up a bit and so we decided that the big gift, the real gift, would be the pet hair eating Dyson. I'm sure you've seen the commercials. Basically James Dyson claims that Mr. Vacuum will never lose suction and our house shall become pet hair free mecca. I haven't actually used the Dyson yet, but Boo loves it and swears it is sucking the shit out of some pet hair. Mind you, for the amount of money this thing costs, Boo better love it, this biatch better not lose suction and pet hair better quake in fear. If not, well I am prepared to go all Marsellus Wallace on Mr. Dyson ... if we shelled out hundreds of dollars and still lose suction, well then I'm prepared to scour the the Earth for that motherfucker. If he goes to Indochina, I want a dude waiting in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.
So we bought a Dyson as the big gift (appliance) and then were left to our own devices for the rest.
Which meant that Boo received fresh linen car air freshener and Silk soy milk, which in case you are curious, taste like warmed-over ass. I received an Apple i-tunes gift card and two knitting books with patterns for linen and silk yarns. Needless to say, one of us is a much better gift giver.
The second holiday for which I have pictures was a bit more mainstream as a bunch of people celebrated Easter. As non-believers, we don't really do Easter. I mean, we'll indulge in candy, but that is just because its fun. Not religiously significant to us, and really, I've heard that chocolate is a religious, and sometimes even orgasmic, experience but I can't see the connection between chocolate bunnies and Christ. Anywho, when Easter does roll around, I do like to be sure that the candy we partake in is good candy and over the years I have found the perfect candy blend.
You take a bag of candy coated milk chocolate eggs, and a bag of candy coated peanut butter eggs and you mix them together in a bowl.
Then you leave the bowl in some easily accessible place where you often will walk by. Each time you do, you grab a handful of goodness. Maybe you get all chocolate, maybe you get all peanut butter, maybe you get a mix. It is a mystery. A mystery that can only be solved by eating the goodness!
For year four the gifts are something like plant/flower, linen/silk, and appliance. We usually try to mix it up a bit and so we decided that the big gift, the real gift, would be the pet hair eating Dyson. I'm sure you've seen the commercials. Basically James Dyson claims that Mr. Vacuum will never lose suction and our house shall become pet hair free mecca. I haven't actually used the Dyson yet, but Boo loves it and swears it is sucking the shit out of some pet hair. Mind you, for the amount of money this thing costs, Boo better love it, this biatch better not lose suction and pet hair better quake in fear. If not, well I am prepared to go all Marsellus Wallace on Mr. Dyson ... if we shelled out hundreds of dollars and still lose suction, well then I'm prepared to scour the the Earth for that motherfucker. If he goes to Indochina, I want a dude waiting in a bowl of rice ready to pop a cap in his ass.
So we bought a Dyson as the big gift (appliance) and then were left to our own devices for the rest.
Which meant that Boo received fresh linen car air freshener and Silk soy milk, which in case you are curious, taste like warmed-over ass. I received an Apple i-tunes gift card and two knitting books with patterns for linen and silk yarns. Needless to say, one of us is a much better gift giver.
The second holiday for which I have pictures was a bit more mainstream as a bunch of people celebrated Easter. As non-believers, we don't really do Easter. I mean, we'll indulge in candy, but that is just because its fun. Not religiously significant to us, and really, I've heard that chocolate is a religious, and sometimes even orgasmic, experience but I can't see the connection between chocolate bunnies and Christ. Anywho, when Easter does roll around, I do like to be sure that the candy we partake in is good candy and over the years I have found the perfect candy blend.
You take a bag of candy coated milk chocolate eggs, and a bag of candy coated peanut butter eggs and you mix them together in a bowl.
Then you leave the bowl in some easily accessible place where you often will walk by. Each time you do, you grab a handful of goodness. Maybe you get all chocolate, maybe you get all peanut butter, maybe you get a mix. It is a mystery. A mystery that can only be solved by eating the goodness!
Monday, March 24, 2008
Roadkill
"Um, excuse me! Um, ma'am??" This phrase seems so innocuous, that is, until you turn around to answer and see yards of bright colored yarn blowing in the breeze and connecting your purse to ... some place far off in the distance. And, at the same time, you realize that "Um, excuse me! Um, ma'am??" was a polite way of saying, "Um woman, you have created a yarn road block which is preventing me from wheeling my father in this honking wheel chair out to our car. You need to move your shit."
This morning I had my early morning NST and grabbed a sock for entertainment. A sock that I had re-started (again) this weekend and had finally just given up on, and picked a pattern and committed to a plan. So, I had my sock to knit on and when I parked my car, I carefully put my knitting and my cellphone in my purse. Apparently I wasn't as careful as I thought because at some point after exiting my car, I dropped the ball of yarn. And then walked into the hospital. All along creating multiple yarn road blocks over sidewalks and parking lots.
After I realized my yarn gaffe, i.e, I realized why the woman was calling me, I quickly started to retrace me steps while grabbing up my yarn. I apologized to the woman and her wheelchair-bound father, and joked that I must have dropped my yarn in my car and ha! isn't this embarrassing, ha! And then I apologized again, because man I felt like an ASSHOLE. I retraced my steps, frantically grabbing my yarn and following the trail, across the sidewalk and parking lot, and down a flight of stairs. I grabbed up yarn and grabbed up yarn and thought about stopping to take a picture because ha, it was embarrassing AND funny, but I didn't want to stop or slow down with the grabbing of the yarn.
So, anyway, I was frantically grabbing handfuls of yarn from bushes and concrete walls where it had been snagged and taking down yarn stuck on stair handles. I even had to unwind it from the antenna of some random car. I kept grabbing and walking, grabbing and walking, and that is when I realized that my yarn, it didn't go to my car. No, it went out across the parking lot, into the road, across the road and then, somewhere else, somewhere I couldn't see because my vision, it is not the best. I think it was at that moment that the whole situation then went from funny and embarrassing to nauseating and embarrassing and just bad. My mind registered the never ending yarn and in trying to make sense of it, deduced that I dropped my yarn between my car and the stairs, and another car had HIT MY YARN, causing it to stick to the car and dragging it to god-only-knows. In other words, I was grabbing up yarn roadkill.
Now, you have to realize, my appointment was first thing in the morning and all of these doctors and nurses were showing up for work, briskly walking into the hospital, and here I am swimming against the stream, following some bright colored string, wadding it up, muttering to myself, and looking somewhat panicked because WHAT THE FUCK? I am sure they thought I was a head case. And, honestly, at that point, I was a bit of a head case. I had probably picked up about fifty yards of yarn and was totally coming unglued. I wasn't sure if I should just try to break the yarn, leaving the remaining yarn behind, and skitter off to my appointment or if I should keep going and grabbing because then end had to be near. My brain would say, "Leave it! Who cares if it is blocking the sidewalk, people can go under it. No! Pick it up! I mean really, how far can it go? You can't finish the sock without the yarn and the sock, well you still have that part." My mind was racing and would interrupt itself with other thoughts like, "Shit, how long does this go on for? What should I do? Will I be able to make it on time to my appointment?" So me = unglued, unhinged, and panicky.
I was still picking up yarn, trying to configure a plan and freaking the fuck out on the inside, as I approached the main security guard gate entrance area to the parking lots. The guard lady saw me, started to stand up and exit her guard house and I was just about to lose my shit. Like for real. Shit? Gonna lose it. And this was the precise moment when I saw that there is no more yarn. No nice ball waiting to be picked up. No, my yarn was just a ripped end, blowing across two lanes of traffic and into the breeze.
So, I did what any other head case would do, I said, "MUTHERFUCKER!" as I executed a one-eighty, and walked the other direction, back towards the entrance. All the while madly winding the yarn into a mess as quickly as I could and hoping against hope that another car did not rollover my yarn, creating tension, and jerking me back on my ass. Once I got the wad into a containable, um, wad, I shoved it into my pocket and made my way to my appointment, thinking ... this is funny, this fucking funny, it will be a good blog post, you should have taken pictures as you were following the yarn trail, you need to relax, you're fine, this really was funny, ha ha, funny. I never quite convinced myself of this (and even now, looking back, I still get that panicked HOLY SHIT WHAT DO I DO? feeling).
Despite my angst, I got to my NST and I was on time, with three minutes to spare actually, and once I was checked in and shuffled over to my regular room, I learned that my regular NST nurse was out today. Now my NST nurse is good. She sees me twice a week and knows where Lady Bean likes to chill. She gets me hooked up right away and then measures the fluid lickety split. Assuming Lady Bean behaves, I can be in and out in thirty minutes or so. But a new person, well that might be a little longer which would be no big deal except my knitting, the thing I do while I sit there and um, gestate, well it is a big ole clusterfuck.
But I figured this was fine, no big deal, I could untangle my yarn and see what, if any, of it was salvageable. So I started to untangle. And then I untangled some more. I removed twigs and then untangled some more. Somehow in my frantic parking lot winding, I had created a big fat knot. A knot that was evil and unwilling to untangle nicely. And then, while struggling with the tangled wad of knottedness, I dropped the partially wound ball that I had managed to make and of course it rolled across the room. Which sucked extra hard because I was strapped to a machine and couldn't go fetch it. So I had to pull it. Pull it while unwinding the progress I had made, and causing me to start the whole damn balling process all over. Eventually I did managed to control the uncontrollable and ended up with a very small ball.
How this stretched as far as it did, I have no idea, because really, this a joke. What the hell can I knit with this little yarn? I sure as shit can't finish the sock I started since all I had was a heel and a bit of foot.
Of course, because nothing else was going well, Lady Bean was uncooperative and after the adrenaline high of chasing yarn just wanted to snooze. So not only did I not have anything to entertain myself with, I had to sit there an not entertain myself for over an hour and a half. Which basically meant I sat sulking over my sock situation.
In case you were curious, I had started to make the Socks of Kindness, in ped form, using my Sweet Peas yarn. I have half a ball chilling with a toe I started awhile back, and I have the mess from this morning. The yarn makes weird colored somewhat unattractive stripes, so it isn't like I've lost a masterpiece, but still, I am cheap enough (and hormonal enough) to be irked over the whole damn thing.
I suspect this will be one more pile o' yarn that goes to a new home ... or to yarn heaven via the fireplace.
This morning I had my early morning NST and grabbed a sock for entertainment. A sock that I had re-started (again) this weekend and had finally just given up on, and picked a pattern and committed to a plan. So, I had my sock to knit on and when I parked my car, I carefully put my knitting and my cellphone in my purse. Apparently I wasn't as careful as I thought because at some point after exiting my car, I dropped the ball of yarn. And then walked into the hospital. All along creating multiple yarn road blocks over sidewalks and parking lots.
After I realized my yarn gaffe, i.e, I realized why the woman was calling me, I quickly started to retrace me steps while grabbing up my yarn. I apologized to the woman and her wheelchair-bound father, and joked that I must have dropped my yarn in my car and ha! isn't this embarrassing, ha! And then I apologized again, because man I felt like an ASSHOLE. I retraced my steps, frantically grabbing my yarn and following the trail, across the sidewalk and parking lot, and down a flight of stairs. I grabbed up yarn and grabbed up yarn and thought about stopping to take a picture because ha, it was embarrassing AND funny, but I didn't want to stop or slow down with the grabbing of the yarn.
So, anyway, I was frantically grabbing handfuls of yarn from bushes and concrete walls where it had been snagged and taking down yarn stuck on stair handles. I even had to unwind it from the antenna of some random car. I kept grabbing and walking, grabbing and walking, and that is when I realized that my yarn, it didn't go to my car. No, it went out across the parking lot, into the road, across the road and then, somewhere else, somewhere I couldn't see because my vision, it is not the best. I think it was at that moment that the whole situation then went from funny and embarrassing to nauseating and embarrassing and just bad. My mind registered the never ending yarn and in trying to make sense of it, deduced that I dropped my yarn between my car and the stairs, and another car had HIT MY YARN, causing it to stick to the car and dragging it to god-only-knows. In other words, I was grabbing up yarn roadkill.
Now, you have to realize, my appointment was first thing in the morning and all of these doctors and nurses were showing up for work, briskly walking into the hospital, and here I am swimming against the stream, following some bright colored string, wadding it up, muttering to myself, and looking somewhat panicked because WHAT THE FUCK? I am sure they thought I was a head case. And, honestly, at that point, I was a bit of a head case. I had probably picked up about fifty yards of yarn and was totally coming unglued. I wasn't sure if I should just try to break the yarn, leaving the remaining yarn behind, and skitter off to my appointment or if I should keep going and grabbing because then end had to be near. My brain would say, "Leave it! Who cares if it is blocking the sidewalk, people can go under it. No! Pick it up! I mean really, how far can it go? You can't finish the sock without the yarn and the sock, well you still have that part." My mind was racing and would interrupt itself with other thoughts like, "Shit, how long does this go on for? What should I do? Will I be able to make it on time to my appointment?" So me = unglued, unhinged, and panicky.
I was still picking up yarn, trying to configure a plan and freaking the fuck out on the inside, as I approached the main security guard gate entrance area to the parking lots. The guard lady saw me, started to stand up and exit her guard house and I was just about to lose my shit. Like for real. Shit? Gonna lose it. And this was the precise moment when I saw that there is no more yarn. No nice ball waiting to be picked up. No, my yarn was just a ripped end, blowing across two lanes of traffic and into the breeze.
So, I did what any other head case would do, I said, "MUTHERFUCKER!" as I executed a one-eighty, and walked the other direction, back towards the entrance. All the while madly winding the yarn into a mess as quickly as I could and hoping against hope that another car did not rollover my yarn, creating tension, and jerking me back on my ass. Once I got the wad into a containable, um, wad, I shoved it into my pocket and made my way to my appointment, thinking ... this is funny, this fucking funny, it will be a good blog post, you should have taken pictures as you were following the yarn trail, you need to relax, you're fine, this really was funny, ha ha, funny. I never quite convinced myself of this (and even now, looking back, I still get that panicked HOLY SHIT WHAT DO I DO? feeling).
Despite my angst, I got to my NST and I was on time, with three minutes to spare actually, and once I was checked in and shuffled over to my regular room, I learned that my regular NST nurse was out today. Now my NST nurse is good. She sees me twice a week and knows where Lady Bean likes to chill. She gets me hooked up right away and then measures the fluid lickety split. Assuming Lady Bean behaves, I can be in and out in thirty minutes or so. But a new person, well that might be a little longer which would be no big deal except my knitting, the thing I do while I sit there and um, gestate, well it is a big ole clusterfuck.
But I figured this was fine, no big deal, I could untangle my yarn and see what, if any, of it was salvageable. So I started to untangle. And then I untangled some more. I removed twigs and then untangled some more. Somehow in my frantic parking lot winding, I had created a big fat knot. A knot that was evil and unwilling to untangle nicely. And then, while struggling with the tangled wad of knottedness, I dropped the partially wound ball that I had managed to make and of course it rolled across the room. Which sucked extra hard because I was strapped to a machine and couldn't go fetch it. So I had to pull it. Pull it while unwinding the progress I had made, and causing me to start the whole damn balling process all over. Eventually I did managed to control the uncontrollable and ended up with a very small ball.
How this stretched as far as it did, I have no idea, because really, this a joke. What the hell can I knit with this little yarn? I sure as shit can't finish the sock I started since all I had was a heel and a bit of foot.
Of course, because nothing else was going well, Lady Bean was uncooperative and after the adrenaline high of chasing yarn just wanted to snooze. So not only did I not have anything to entertain myself with, I had to sit there an not entertain myself for over an hour and a half. Which basically meant I sat sulking over my sock situation.
In case you were curious, I had started to make the Socks of Kindness, in ped form, using my Sweet Peas yarn. I have half a ball chilling with a toe I started awhile back, and I have the mess from this morning. The yarn makes weird colored somewhat unattractive stripes, so it isn't like I've lost a masterpiece, but still, I am cheap enough (and hormonal enough) to be irked over the whole damn thing.
I suspect this will be one more pile o' yarn that goes to a new home ... or to yarn heaven via the fireplace.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Clueless
I have no idea what this movie is about. I've never even heard of it.
But when I saw the picture I thought, "Hey, Knitting!"
But when I saw the picture I thought, "Hey, Knitting!"
Friday, March 21, 2008
Whoops!
Seems I spoke too soon ... my suck ass bracket dropped me into fifth! But I did get the Miami v. St. Mary's "upset" right. Go Canes!
Steak and Shrimp
Yah, we weren't kidding!
Outback and cards, a combination for the ages.
Also a great combination? Me and my NCAA basketball bracket. Who is currently tied for first place? Yes, that would be me.
Outback and cards, a combination for the ages.
Also a great combination? Me and my NCAA basketball bracket. Who is currently tied for first place? Yes, that would be me.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Quatre
Not surprisingly, last year at this time Crazy was giving me fits. So basically it's a year later and not one damn thing has changed on the job front. Pathetic. I really should do something about that. I haven't. But I should. Last year I think it was easier to deal with though, since Boo and I were taking a mini-jaunt for our three year anniversary and my hormones were, well, mine and mine alone.
Anywho, today marks year four and um, well we aren't what you would call prepared for celebration. Four years ago we were married in a garden in Las Vegas and held a reception at Morton's. The following year we decide that, in a nod to our wedding itself, we would always celebrate our anniversary either on vacation, with gambling, or at a steakhouse. We've managed to do it too. Until now. Fearful of our baby just randomly falling out of me while we were in Fiji, or Trump's Taj Mahal, neither of which would be ideal, or even pleasant, we put off planning anything. Now that our anniversary is here and I am no more ready to give birth than I was a month ago, we realize we could have gone to Fiji, or at least to a nice dinner out. Since it is a little late to plan something now and we haven't done squat in coming up with a lovely romantic evening, I proposed dinner at Outback. Fancy, huh? Boo upped the ante and said, "Yah, and we'll bring some cards and play poker while we wait for our food." We are all class!
Not to be a total dud, I did go out of my way to do something extra special for Boo. Something so grand, so big, so damn thoughtful, that it would overshadow the lack of other stuff, you know, like a gift, or a dinner reservation. So, for my grand gesture, I had Google give us our very own specialized Google logo that everyone who Googles today will see:
Yep, am I the most awesomest wife ever or what? I am so awesome that I convinced Google to give Boo a very public gift, a personalized Google logo with some pretty "oo" flowers, to help celebrate the greatness that is our marriage.
What? You think this is bogus? You think I am making this up? Go to Google, you'll see. Ohhhh, you think the logo has nothing to do with me or our marriage? For real? Okay. Okay, I confess. Maybe Google doesn't know me from Adam and instead just happened to create a fun logo to celebrate the first day of Spring, a day which (conveniently) coincides with our anniversary. But come on, you have to admit, my version, it is much much cooler and makes me seem like less of a douche.
Anywho, today marks year four and um, well we aren't what you would call prepared for celebration. Four years ago we were married in a garden in Las Vegas and held a reception at Morton's. The following year we decide that, in a nod to our wedding itself, we would always celebrate our anniversary either on vacation, with gambling, or at a steakhouse. We've managed to do it too. Until now. Fearful of our baby just randomly falling out of me while we were in Fiji, or Trump's Taj Mahal, neither of which would be ideal, or even pleasant, we put off planning anything. Now that our anniversary is here and I am no more ready to give birth than I was a month ago, we realize we could have gone to Fiji, or at least to a nice dinner out. Since it is a little late to plan something now and we haven't done squat in coming up with a lovely romantic evening, I proposed dinner at Outback. Fancy, huh? Boo upped the ante and said, "Yah, and we'll bring some cards and play poker while we wait for our food." We are all class!
Not to be a total dud, I did go out of my way to do something extra special for Boo. Something so grand, so big, so damn thoughtful, that it would overshadow the lack of other stuff, you know, like a gift, or a dinner reservation. So, for my grand gesture, I had Google give us our very own specialized Google logo that everyone who Googles today will see:
Yep, am I the most awesomest wife ever or what? I am so awesome that I convinced Google to give Boo a very public gift, a personalized Google logo with some pretty "oo" flowers, to help celebrate the greatness that is our marriage.
What? You think this is bogus? You think I am making this up? Go to Google, you'll see. Ohhhh, you think the logo has nothing to do with me or our marriage? For real? Okay. Okay, I confess. Maybe Google doesn't know me from Adam and instead just happened to create a fun logo to celebrate the first day of Spring, a day which (conveniently) coincides with our anniversary. But come on, you have to admit, my version, it is much much cooler and makes me seem like less of a douche.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Now With Less Crazy
A new day, less insanity? I'm hoping so. The whole Crazy thing yesterday really did creep me out. For months now I've been hearing how she wants to deliver my baby and what she'll do if I have contractions at work (including graphic details on the things she would do to me) and how she keeps seeing things that the baby MUST HAVE and how she must visit my baby because she is REALLY good with kids so I need to bring her to work and how I should rethink my stance on 'no visitors' in the hospital and how her only regret is not having children of her own; not to mention all the nasty and mean things that I hear from other people that she has said about me behind my back. Thus far it has been comical, or at least weirdly amusing, but that card totally crossed the line into Fatal Attraction territory and I don't want my bunny boiling in that bitch's pot. Ya know? Anywho, I could go on and on about the sick comments that Crazy kept dropping yesterday and the apparent intent to give me/us yet more items, but instead I am going to focus on the good, the happy, the not creepy. So let us begin.
Did you know that there is no number that starts with the letter W? I know this because I was going to make up for bailing on Ten on Tuesday by giving you, um, Weven on Wednesday? Yah, that doesn't work. I could have been ghetto and done "Won on Wednesday" acting like won was one, but I restrained myself (just barely) because there is something already out there for Wednesday ... WIP Wednesday. I'm not sure if it is an organized thing, or if people just do it on their own, but either way I am calling dibs on it today. So, here we go, my works in progress.
First we have Clapotis in all of her pink and purpley sparkly goodness.
She is probably not as close to done as I think she is, but I am on the decreases and it is moving right along. I hope to have her done by Sunday. Maybe. We'll see.
Then we have the Sweet Pea socks. I wasn't digging on the Un-Ridged Feather so I ripped back to the toe(s). Now I need to figure out where to go from here.
When you get up to an average sock number of stitches, the yarn seems to stripe with the purple and yellow going together which is okay, I guess. It reminds me of the LSU Tigers. I have no affiliation with LSU and so this isn't really a good thing. On the other hand, I don't hate the Tigers, so I guess it isn't a bad thing either.
Last, we have the old Kangaroo Duo chestnut. I haven't worked on this in ... well quite some time. I think at some point I wanted to have it done for this winter.
At some point I must have been high. I wonder if I can have it done by next winter. I need to use my brain to do some sleeve math and quite frankly that is about as appealing as ... spending time with Crazy. Well, maybe not that unappealing. But you catch my drift.
And how about re-visiting a finished handkint? Like my cozy pedicure socks. My feet are swollen little sausages and I can't reach my toes for shit. Add the Crazy factor in, and all I can say is that it was extremely fortuitous that I had a pedicure scheduled for last night. Apparently I was still a little stressed as my polish is um, somewhat dark. Not what one would call "Spring-ish" but that is okay because the experience was great.
Even Dogarella was into the pedicure wanting to check out my toes and compare the color with her fur-tone. We decided it was too dark for her complexion and that she needs something a little brighter.
Also warm and fuzzy, if not cozy ... The cuddly lovebugs that I come home to and that are always happy to see me and don't want talk shit about me when I am not around or, you know, boil my bunny.
I was going to say "Also not crazy ..." but let's be honest here, these guys have their own brand of crazy, like someone who removes her bedding from her crate and takes it up two flights of stairs to place it in the middle of our bed. Or someone else who has an unholy attraction to heat vents and likes to rub his furry belly all over them and then collapse on top of them in a big ole pile a mush. I think it's that they are cute so their crazy is totally acceptable.
Did you know that there is no number that starts with the letter W? I know this because I was going to make up for bailing on Ten on Tuesday by giving you, um, Weven on Wednesday? Yah, that doesn't work. I could have been ghetto and done "Won on Wednesday" acting like won was one, but I restrained myself (just barely) because there is something already out there for Wednesday ... WIP Wednesday. I'm not sure if it is an organized thing, or if people just do it on their own, but either way I am calling dibs on it today. So, here we go, my works in progress.
First we have Clapotis in all of her pink and purpley sparkly goodness.
She is probably not as close to done as I think she is, but I am on the decreases and it is moving right along. I hope to have her done by Sunday. Maybe. We'll see.
Then we have the Sweet Pea socks. I wasn't digging on the Un-Ridged Feather so I ripped back to the toe(s). Now I need to figure out where to go from here.
When you get up to an average sock number of stitches, the yarn seems to stripe with the purple and yellow going together which is okay, I guess. It reminds me of the LSU Tigers. I have no affiliation with LSU and so this isn't really a good thing. On the other hand, I don't hate the Tigers, so I guess it isn't a bad thing either.
Last, we have the old Kangaroo Duo chestnut. I haven't worked on this in ... well quite some time. I think at some point I wanted to have it done for this winter.
At some point I must have been high. I wonder if I can have it done by next winter. I need to use my brain to do some sleeve math and quite frankly that is about as appealing as ... spending time with Crazy. Well, maybe not that unappealing. But you catch my drift.
And how about re-visiting a finished handkint? Like my cozy pedicure socks. My feet are swollen little sausages and I can't reach my toes for shit. Add the Crazy factor in, and all I can say is that it was extremely fortuitous that I had a pedicure scheduled for last night. Apparently I was still a little stressed as my polish is um, somewhat dark. Not what one would call "Spring-ish" but that is okay because the experience was great.
Even Dogarella was into the pedicure wanting to check out my toes and compare the color with her fur-tone. We decided it was too dark for her complexion and that she needs something a little brighter.
Also warm and fuzzy, if not cozy ... The cuddly lovebugs that I come home to and that are always happy to see me and don't want talk shit about me when I am not around or, you know, boil my bunny.
I was going to say "Also not crazy ..." but let's be honest here, these guys have their own brand of crazy, like someone who removes her bedding from her crate and takes it up two flights of stairs to place it in the middle of our bed. Or someone else who has an unholy attraction to heat vents and likes to rub his furry belly all over them and then collapse on top of them in a big ole pile a mush. I think it's that they are cute so their crazy is totally acceptable.
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