Tuesday, June 30, 2009

It Always Comes Back to the Goats

My favorite maxi-dress that has been a staple of my pregnant summer wardrobe shrank in the wash. I am…devastated. Also, continuing to wear it in all its shrunken glory because I just don’t know what else to do. I hate pants.

Recently I have found myself working late into the night, and yet somehow just falling more and more behind. (I haven’t even been napping all that much.) It has gotten frustrating, and the downside of working from home is that you’re never removed from work. So while The Funasaurus watches his beloved True Blood, I sit upstairs in my office snarling at my computer and cursing invoices everywhere for not being able to process themselves. This has led to near anxiety attacks, and because I now have a new life priority (Try Not to Birth Crazy Baby) and cannot resort to old calming techniques (boxed wine) I decided to Fuck It today and went swimming with a friend this afternoon, and then out to dinner with some neighbors tonight. (Happy birthday not-Wassie, as I had you in my phone for so long. I did finally change it.) Then I watched TV with The Funasaurus for the first time since we’ve been home from California. I feel very Zen. I will not feel Zen tomorrow when my boss asks how far I’ve gotten, but I am not thinking about that for now.

I find myself fantasizing about my goat herd, and thinking this would be an awesome summer to be a pregnant herder, because I wouldn’t have to walk very far because we’ve gotten so much rain there’s a ton of grass and green growth everywhere. Including noxious weeds. And the goats would eat all my stupid pokey thistle and that’d be great because I really hate bending down to pull those suckers out. Goats would solve everything.

I wanted beehives too, but it turns out I am not as loving towards the bees as I professed to be, because I hacked back this huge bush in our alleyway that was just swarming with happy little fuzzy honeybees because it was scratching my car’s paint. Stupid bush. Fortunately, there’s a ton of these bushes growing in the vacant lots to both the north and south of us, so hopefully the bees will find their way there and not die off causing me all sorts of traumatic post-bush-hacking-grief.

I get traumatized easily these days. This is valuable information to share, actually. Please think about dropping a) kittens b) rainbows c) unicorns d) thistle-eating goats into any conversations we might have in the next couple of months. You are much more likely to get a non-hormonally-charged response out of me.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

This Post Brought to You By My Old Friends, Exhaustion and Panic

We are back from California. We got in yesterday, just ahead of some massive thunderstorms. Thank goodness for small blessings. After five nights sleeping in five different locations, four nights of late-night partying (or just delays in travel), driving all over San Francisco and Napa, and a wedding full of incredible wine that I was not allowed to drink, I do not think my nerves would have handled turbulence well.

Happily, the wedding went well, I managed to squeeze into my bridesmaid dress and keep my bouquet strategically placed over the alteration-oopsie for all the pictures, and got a lot of cuddling in with old friends. And now I am back on terra firma for a good long while.

But a big congratulations goes out to my Tweedle-Dum, you were a gorgeous bride, and I know you will be just as gorgeous in England for wedding number two. I continue to be insane with jealousy.

Work piled up while I was gone, and I have spent today alternating between panicking, working, and napping. Which doesn’t really help the panicking so much, but sometimes I am unable to stay awake. Somewhere amidst the chaos, I have also discovered this website: http://www.lets-panic.com/ and jeebus, but where have YOU been hiding my whole life? Or, at least, the last five months? If you have a baby, or have ever thought about having a baby, or have ever stumbled across someone who might have a baby in you life, go read and laugh until you get uncomfortable at how something so tongue-in-cheek can hit so very close to home.

And now I really should get back to work. It’s going to be another late night. At least my toothpaste is now back in a logical spot in the medicine cabinet instead of buried deep in the nether-regions of a much-abused suitcase under a pile of dirty laundry.

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Progress Brought to You Mostly Via Ice Cream

I’m running out of time, we leave this evening for California. We’re going to another wedding, and this one should be extra-fun because a ton of our college friends are all flying in for it, so we are going to have a mini-reunion in Napa. Sadly, there is no wine tasting for me, but pregnant ladies get first crack at the buffet, don’t they?

For anyone who’s curious, I’m 22 weeks along, meaning we’ve passed the halfway mark. I can feel the baby move now, which is exciting because it just about killed me to go a month in between doctor’s visits where she’d tell me yes, everything is still going o.k., you’re o.k., the baby’s o.k., please stop worrying.

The second trimester has been a cake-walk compared to the first, although there are still some adjustments. For example, I only just realized that I am probably not going to fit into the bridesmaids dress for this weekend. Dilemma. And not being allowed to climb all over my stomach does not compute in Sugar world, so there are a lot of late night battles about cuddling, not with my poor husband, but with my love-sick pokey cat. I get a lot of purring in my ear mixed with, “Why don’t you love me???”s. If you think this is bad, cat, wait until I shut you out completely, because somehow I am not confident that you will not climb all over the baby. I am also a little nervous about Tatum chewing on the baby. He’s very into chewing these days. Especially on exposed skin for some odd reason. The cat’s not normal.

I know a lot of people love pregnancy and have magical experiences with it. I’ve had a few glittery moments, but there have been just as many whacked-out, oh-my-god-I’m-pubescent-again-and-can’t-control-my-emotions moments, leading me to wake up my husband just to pick a fight, and post obscure Sylvia Plath quotes on my Facebook status, hoping that someone out there in that cruel, cruel world will understand my pain. It just runs so deep. Sometimes. Sometimes I'm totally normal.

The fascinating thing, though, is with this time around (as compared to when I was fourteen) there’s actually a part of my brain that clings to the real world and is like, “Holy obnoxious, woman, snap out of it. You are bat-shit crazy. I cannot even compute what is wrong because, actually, nothing is wrong.” I drown that part of my brain with tears and more cookies & cream ice cream.

On the upside, The Funasaurus is very awesome about picking up more cookies & cream on a regular basis and listening to me go bonkers without laughing outright at me. Or divorcing me. So that’s nice. Plus, I don’t have to clean the litter boxes anymore! SCORE. 10 points in favor of pregnancy! I like feeling like I have a little buddy everywhere I go now; I’m never lonely. Especially now that I can feel movement. I just can’t believe how fast it’s all going.

Thursday, June 11, 2009

Hard to Top That Last Post

So, yes. I am pregnant. Am with Funasaurus child. We are super excited, although I will admit to a couple of weeks of shock as this was not exactly planned. At all. I like to think of it as a testament to the fact that we have a really awesome sex life. Or, at least, did, right up until I got knocked up and my libido shut down like an American auto factory. Nothing is sacred when you are pregnant, as you shall find out.

On a more sincere note, thank you all for the outpouring of support. I have to say, one of the best parts of this whole thing so far (besides, you know, adding to the Funasaurus gene pool) is getting commenters out of the woodwork. Hey y’all! It was very cool to hear from you. Thanks again.

Pregnancy is a wild ride, and a very awesome trump card. If The Funasaurus wants to go out to restaurant X and I want to go to restaurant Y, we go to Y. I AM CARRYING YOUR CHILD. Also: CRAZY. Don’t fuck with a pregnant lady. He wants to watch an action flick and I want to watch Pride & Prejudice AGAIN, we buckle up for some 19th century repressed British love.

Work now knows, so I felt comfortable putting this information out on the intrawebs. I survived the first trimester and did not get fired, so I call that a success, even though I have had mountains of work to catch up on, thanks to my new habit of napping three hours a day.

Hopefully this explains the recent slowness in posting; it is hard to remember anything, anymore, that isn’t very baby-related. I miss wine, I miss sushi, and I miss sleeping on my stomach. Although the first two have saved me a ton of cash, and the sleeping thing probably explains some of my need to nap all the time, so I am not as lame as you might have first thought. Maybe.

Otherwise, things are pretty much the same. Sugar is pissed that I’ve been traveling so much. Tatum continues to chew on everything, including our most recent ultrasound pictures. I have almost made my way through the Twilight series, instead of my most recent book club books. And The Funasaurus is trying to convince me that it’s totally a good idea to name our firstborn child after Disney’s The Little Mermaid. That, or Thorkill. So far, a consensus has not been reached on names. We are open to suggestions.

Monday, June 08, 2009

Tuesday, June 02, 2009

Moving Right Along

I’m back in Delaware, and while most of the sights and smells are right and good…there is no strawberry pie. Which is tragic. That’s what happens when grandmom moves into an assisted living home, I suppose. It’s probably best for my ever-expanding midsection, but not so great for nostalgia’s sake.

On the other hand, I get to stay with my aunt and uncle in a nice queen bed from this decade, so that’s a plus. And I went and bought a bag of cookies to stash under said nice queen-sized bed so as not to tempt them from their Weight Watchers regime, but still get my refined sugar fix.

My grandmother is as feisty as ever, and still interested in playing bridge, but she’s more forgetful than I have ever seen her, and more tired. She still gave me a hard time for leaving even though she was falling asleep for her afternoon nap. And apparently ratted me out to my aunt that “she knows I have a busy social life and need to see my friends,” even though I explained to her I have to work on this trip, and had to get back to for a conference call. Nothing like a little guilt to make you feel right at home.

Still, the weather’s warm and we had a yummy summertime rainstorm this afternoon. I love warm rain. If it rains in Colorado, it gets really cold. I’m seeing my friend and her new baby for dinner tonight (grandmom wasn’t totally wrong about my social calendar) and quite likely driving through the old Dairy Queen on the way home. And maybe past my old house. Then I need to figure out the rules to cribbage, because my forgetful grandmom is kicking my ass at bridge.