tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68646755808907168852024-03-12T19:33:10.794-04:00WTH am I doing?I'm a mommy, accidental career woman, wife, and recent college graduate (yay!) trying to figure out how life works without screwing up my kids or family. This blog is my adventure in learning WTH I'm doing.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.comBlogger93125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-44191749470374947352011-06-06T16:52:00.003-04:002011-06-06T16:56:17.569-04:00Ms. WTH is having A<b><i>Baby!</i></b><br />
<br />
Now, you didn't seriously think I'd make it all that easy, did you?<br />
<br />
I figure what better way to re-enter the bloggy world than with the announcement of the gender of the fetus, right? People will actually click for that, right?<br />
<br />
::crickets chirping::<br />
<br />
Ok, well, humor me.<br />
<br />
...and pay no attention to the fact that it's been 2 months since I've posted. Yes, I know that's not cool & no one wants to follow a blog that doesn't regularly post.<br />
<br />
Again, humor me.<br />
<br />
I had <i>the</i> ultrasound last Friday. The tech was very generous with the pictures.<br />
<br />
Seriously. I have like 20.<br />
<br />
Way back in March, we started out with this:<br />
<br />
<i>Awwww....look at the cute little....uh...Lima Bean!</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=UltrasoundMarch2011.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/UltrasoundMarch2011.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
Then we moved on to this:<br />
<br />
<i>Awwww....it looks kinda like a little baby...</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=Baby_week14.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/Baby_week14.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
<i>...with little stubby appendages.</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=Baby_wk14_2.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/Baby_wk14_2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
And at last, we got to <i>the</i> ultrasound! The ultrasound that would determine whether I could start buying boy onesies or beginning my plans to thwart the sea of pink that would <strike>drown</strike> wash over me.<br />
<br />
<i>Lima is so cute!</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=3DLima.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/3DLima.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
<i>...huh...there is definitely a family resemblance there too.</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=3DLima-2.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/3DLima-2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
<i>so Lima, you think I should let everyone in on the secret?</i><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=Lima_Thumbsup.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/Lima_Thumbsup.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
<i> I'll take the thumbs up as your approval/consent for this next one...so no suing me for inappropriate photos of you later...</i><br />
<br />
<b>IT'S A </b><br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=Lima_ItsA.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/Lima_ItsA.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
<b><i>gratuitously unnecessary arrow!</b></i>WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-46133400109339689992011-04-06T17:26:00.000-04:002011-04-06T17:26:33.793-04:00The Universe and My Body Are in CahootsYou know, I had always thought that my body was on my side. Being that I'm the one who cares for it & all, I kinda assumed it would have my back. So to speak.<br />
<br />
But now? I wonder.<br />
<br />
The morning sickness (<i>morning?</i> Pfft. Yeah. Whatever) and <strike>complete and utter exhaustion</strike> slight fatigue are, I suppose, to be expected. I mean, creating an entirely new human being? Not a minor endeavor. We'll cut the body some slack here.<br />
<br />
Where I start questioning the body's motives, however, is in the fact that it basically turns off its immune system while creating this new human. Which seems like a design flaw to me.<br />
<br />
I mean, I'm not an omnipotent creator or anything, so I'm sure I'm missing something...but does it not seem like a good idea for the body to ramp up the ol' immune system? I mean, should we not be amassing an army of protection for the fortress guarding the developing human? <br />
<br />
Wouldn't a more immunologically robust - thus healthier - mother unit be of benefit? Isn't that the basis for the theory that I'm supposed to eat only organic everything sent from the heavens itself along with my prenatal vitamin?<br />
<br />
I get that the suppression of the immune system is to keep the body from "fighting off" the new lil' life as a foreign invader. I get that. <br />
<br />
But shouldn't the body that is designed to reproduce recognize reproduction in action and not see the new little human critter <i>that the body was designed to produce</i> as a foreign invader? When said critter needs to be expelled, there's a whole process for that. A whole process not really involving the immune system at all. <br />
<br />
Unless it could help push. Ahem.<br />
<br />
The immune system should just mind its own business and stick to the <i>real</i> foreign invaders. That way, it wouldn't just up & go on vacation while I'm busy incubating <i>a human life</i> and allow any ol' Tom, Dick, and Harry germ to just mosey on in and take up residence.<br />
<br />
Like whatever the hell Germ moved into my chest and gave me bronchitis. That Germ? Doesn't belong here. It has made itself entirely too comfy. I mean, it's partying at all hours of the day and night. And it doesn't help that it's dragging Lungs, Throat, and even my freaking Bladder to the parties. <br />
<br />
The Germ gets things started, then the Lungs show up & start with their hacking. The Throat shows up shortly thereafter all sore and usually brings the Nose with it. Although, the nose is a bit sloppy at parties & can't ever decide if it should show up running or stuffed. <br />
<br />
And the Bladder. Hmph. The Bladder has no self-respect whatsoever. When the party gets going? The Bladder just lets it all hang out, leaving me really grateful that the bathroom is a quick dash from the bed. I've tried to send the Kegels after it to keep it in line...but that thing is just incorrigible.<br />
<br />
And here's my body, sending the troops out on leave while I'm trying to grow a person here. Who is supposed to control all of this nonsense?? Isn't that what I have troops for??<br />
<br />
I mean, usually I can enable the germs' bad habits with a little pharmaceutical action, and while they're chilling on the couch, the troops can come in and kinda scoot them out without much fuss. Which would seem ideal, what with the shortage of available troops and all, but no. I'm growing a person and responsible mothers do not fling pharmaceuticals at their germs. <br />
<br />
They use Tylenol. Which, frankly, seems a bit like selling the germs oregano and then being shocked when they get pissed about that.<br />
<br />
<i>cough</i>WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-36160377174004090192011-03-22T12:32:00.000-04:002011-03-22T12:32:56.012-04:00The pain of forgivenessWhat is the truth of forgiveness? <br />
<br />
I do not believe in forgive and forget. <br />
<br />
If you forget what you have forgiven, does that not diminish the forgiveness? <br />
<br />
If you forget what you have forgiven, how can you take meaning from what happened? How can you protect yourself in the future?<br />
<br />
Forgiveness means scars. It means accepting those scars, that they are there. That there was pain in their acquisition. Pain that changes what was there before.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the scars are obvious and ugly. Blistered and twisted like a burn on the soul.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the scars are legion, making their wearers unrecognizable. Only a shadow of what could've been hidden behind hash marks of pain.<br />
<br />
Sometimes the scars are deep and hidden away. These are mine. Stowed away in the darkest night of my soul. <br />
<br />
With the years of childhood I don't remember. With the feelings of helplessness. The sadness. The betrayal. With the mask I wore to hide the real from everyone around me. Because those things doesn't happen in good families. <br />
<br />
Sometimes the wind of memory blows the curtain aside and the scars are exposed. I want to look away as disgust crawls over my skin like a swarm of insects scurrying from the disturbance. The ghosts of the past steal my breath. Cloud my mind. Bind my feet. My soul screams for it to stop. As my mouth remains silent. As it always did. Ashamed. Confused.<br />
<br />
Then I pull the curtain closed. I take my mind somewhere safe and quiet. There is no need to revisit them more often than necessary. Those scars will live with me forever.<br />
<br />
I keep them safely tucked away. Hidden from prying eyes. In the cold. In the dark. In a place where scars should never be. I keep them in the same way they were made.<br />
<br />
I acknowledge them. The one who gave them to me. And I know that I am who I am because of those scars. Because of that pain.<br />
<br />
The value of that strength? Has outweighed the anger from the pain. <br />
<br />
For me, this is forgiveness.<br />
<br />
<center><a border="0" href="http://thereddressclub.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i856.photobucket.com/albums/ab126/kates78/rememberedbutton.jpg"/></a></center>WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-71115231165673295682011-03-22T10:26:00.000-04:002011-03-22T10:26:35.546-04:00WTH happened to Ms. WTH??So my apologies for being gone for a while. This seems to happen to me from time to time. Perhaps it is some kind of mood cycle or lunar cycle or just when all the shit in life finally catches up with me.<br />
<br />
I've been squashed under pregnancy exhaustion, lots of work, a birthday party, some unexpected family drama, and pregnancy exhaustion.<br />
<br />
Have I mentioned that I'm really tired? I am a black hole for sleep. Not sure I mentioned that.<br />
<br />
Sometimes? Something just has to give. And I'd rather not write at all than to dump a boring and/or stinky pile. Although this blog is primarily a cathartic exercise, I am trying to develop my catharsis into more of a "craft" as opposed to haphazard emotional venting.<br />
<br />
So Yeah. <br />
<br />
There it is.*<br />
<br />
*50 "holy crap" points goes to anyone who can identify this movie quote.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-52242831385104008522011-03-08T16:09:00.000-05:002011-03-08T16:09:05.994-05:00I will not sinkI stared at those two lines for a long time. Watching as they began to wobble and blur with the trembling of my hand and the welling of my tears.<br />
<br />
The meaning of those parallel little pink lines washed over me like a flood.<br />
<br />
My life was going to change in a way I had all but decided I never wanted. I was no longer walking the road I thought I was. The landscape was not what I thought it was.<br />
<br />
The nights of numbing escape from my past? The nights of drinking with that handsome coworker? Had yielded unexpected consequences.<br />
<br />
As I sat there, stomach knotted with fear, reality began to warp in my mind. My perspective began to bend and twist in response to this new information.<br />
<br />
Decisions began to take shape before I consciously realized they needed to be made.<br />
<br />
The creepy stalker ex? Twisted into more than an annoyance. Now, he was a threat to my family.<br />
<br />
The blurry carefree nights of stress numbing? Melted into a dangerous health hazard.<br />
<br />
My 1-bedroom apartment suddenly shrunk and filled itself with pointy, toxic choking hazards.<br />
<br />
My income was now squeezed into inadequacy, failing to stretch itself to the new boundaries soon to be required of it.<br />
<br />
A list began to materialize in my mind. My doctor must be called. Prenatal vitamins must be purchased. The handsome coworker must be informed. The income must be stretched, expanded, or perhaps even supplemented. The stalker must be eradicated.<br />
<br />
I knew there were other things, but I allowed those to remain fuzzy at the outside edges of my thoughts. <br />
<br />
This whole baby thing? Was completely alien to me. I was an only child with no experience with children. There was so much I didn't know. The immensity of it all threatened to suffocate me with its weight.<br />
<br />
As it happens so often in my life, I had been shoved into the deep end. Without warning and without the knowledge I needed to swim.<br />
<br />
But as it happens so often in my life, I would refuse to sink. There might be splashing, flailing, coughing, and spitting. It might be ugly at times. But I would not sink.<br />
<br />
Even as I watched those lines tremble, I knew I would not sink.<br />
<br />
<center><br />
<a border="0" href="http://thereddressclub.blogspot.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://i856.photobucket.com/albums/ab126/kates78/rememberedbutton.jpg"/></a><br />
<br />
<i>Assignment: When meeting someone for the first time, describing a scene from your life that would help show the person your true self.</i></center>WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com28tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-82536402890779742202011-03-03T15:34:00.002-05:002011-03-03T16:26:24.729-05:00Dating a pregnant chickWhen I met the man who would eventually become my husband, I was in an <i>unusual</i> state of mind.<br />
<br />
For most of my post-pubescent life, I have been, perhaps, a bit boy-crazy. Once I figured out what they were for, I wanted one of my own. <br />
<br />
I just had a hell of a time trying to find one that I wanted to keep.<br />
<br />
There was the white trash reject, the we-should've-just-stayed-friends guy, the spineless emo guy (complete with tiny junk), the completely unmotivated pothead (with a very hot roommate...coulda, shoulda, woulda...*sigh*), the astonishingly-immature-even-tho-he-was-way-older stalker, the drunk, etc.<br />
<br />
The drunk knocked me up and left the state upon learning of said knock uppage. Real sweetheart, huh?<br />
<br />
By this point, I was 26, had been a serial monogamist for 10+ years and completely done trying to date. I had a kid coming that I had to consider & really, it was just easier to be on my own.<br />
<br />
I met Hub when I was 6 months pregnant and still very determinedly <i>not</i> interested in dating. I was working 2 jobs & was still feeling the sting of being knocked up & left.<br />
<br />
Fuck men.<br />
<br />
Figuratively speaking.<br />
<br />
Hub had previously been with his baby mama who really didn't want to do anything on her own. She preferred to "contract out" any work that might need to be done with a "service exchange" program. With pretty much anyone who might be willing to exchange services.<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
Ew.<br />
<br />
Hub meets me and is all enamored of my "can do" attitude (i.e. the "fuck everyone I'm going to take care of this shit myself" attitude). He was amazed at how hard I was working to make things happen. <br />
<br />
I told him we would not date. I had no desire to date. None. Plus? I was gigantically pregnant. No. Dating.<br />
<br />
So about a month later we were dating.<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
He had told his family (on the other side of the country) that he was dating a woman with a kid. Which was true. He just omitted the fact that the kid? Was still IN the woman he was dating.<br />
<br />
Details.<br />
<br />
I didn't know this until right before I delivered. I was suitably frowny and told him he'd have to own up. If he didn't? It would bite him in the ass later. He agreed.<br />
<br />
On the day I delivered Boo, he called his family to tell them the news. Here's how that went:<br />
<br />
<i>Ring....Ring.....Ring...</i><br />
<br />
"Hi, Mom? I'm Ok. I just wanted to let you know that I'm in the hospital right now."<br />
<br />
<i>POP (this is the sound of my eyeballs flying out of my head)</i><br />
<br />
"What? No, I'm fine. It's the girl I'm seeing"<br />
<br />
<i>Me: facepalm</i><br />
<br />
"Um...you know how I said she had a kid? Well, actually, she just had him. No, just now. Yeah, sorry about that."<br />
<br />
If my son ever makes a phone call like that to me? I think I will implode. Just saying...WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-43545583514660282202011-03-01T11:57:00.000-05:002011-03-01T11:57:35.171-05:00Tell me what you love about your daughters!Because I know how my life works, I am deeply suspicious (read: confident) that this baby that I'm growing (and here I go assuming that it's only one. HA!) will be a girl.<br />
<br />
If you have read more than just this post, you'll know that I've had a tough time with my stepdaughter, Princess. She has not been a great representative for all girlkind. <br />
<br />
I used to be a girl, and I remember being fabulous. Well-behaved, intelligent, and witty. The perfect child.<br />
<br />
I imagine my parents - my mother in particular - did not share my viewpoint of perfection.<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
We may or may not be hoping for a boy.<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
However, I know my life. And if I were a betting [wo]man, I'd put my money on girl. I so would. I am that sure.<br />
<br />
I would like to keep the wailing and gnashing of teeth to a minimum in that 16 week ultrasound appointment, tho. I don't want to get that look from the ultrasound tech. I want to be able to plausibly pull off the "yay! it's a girl!" reaction.<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong. I'm not hating on girls. I'm really not. So many people talk about how much they love their girls and how they couldn't imagine having boys. I want to hear about all those things that y'all love about the girls.<br />
<br />
What I love about my boy? The rationality. The logical thinking. The general lack of drama. The general good-nature. That everything is not a tragedy. The love of science & figuring stuff out. The fact that he is Boo no matter the circumstances - he does not put on a big fake show for people & then turn into Satan when those people leave. He will equally be Satan whether those people are there or not.<br />
<br />
I am not a girly girl. I kinda hate pink. I think princesses suck, on the whole. Not that it stops me from watching their movies on occasion, but they still suck. With their lack of substance, personality, and low standards in men. I mean, prince is all they look for & if he's a idiot or douchebag...eh, whatever. They just sit around & wait for him to rescue them. Who wants to wait around to be rescued? I'll bail my own ass out thank you. And I have yet to meet a prince charging in on a white steed to make all my dreams come true. Pfft.<br />
<br />
I digress.<br />
<br />
I get along better with boys. Let's take this thing apart. How does it work? Let's talk logic & figure stuff out! Let's talk about ideas! Bring me some Tonka trucks so we can dig around in the back yard! Oooh, but watch out for the little brown logs back there...<br />
<br />
I just can't deal with constant travesty. It makes me stabby. Life is always going to suck in some capacity (at least until Princey shows up) so get over it already.<br />
<br />
Parents of girls? Throw me a bone here. What makes them so cool? What do I have to look forward to in a daughter? Other than the fact that I will have more than 1 dusty rack in the corner from which to choose her clothes.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-51043433889486958762011-02-23T14:59:00.000-05:002011-02-23T14:59:06.665-05:00I'm still here...more or lessIt's been a while since I've posted. I actually hate it when that happens. <br />
<br />
Ideally? I'd like to be a 2-3 times a week poster. Not too much, but a couple of consistent posts per week.<br />
<br />
Yeah. That's clearly working out for me.<br />
<br />
Hmph.<br />
<br />
As I'm sure many of you will be <i>shocked</i> to discover...I'm actually feeling a little run down lately.<br />
<br />
<i>gasp!</i><br />
<br />
In some ways this pregnancy has been easier than my 1st. I sorta know what's going on, etc.<br />
<br />
In other ways? Even tho I'm only 6 weeks? It's been harder. I've been queasy for the last couple of weeks. Usually, it's not too bad. But if I don't nibble regularly? It can get kinda bad.<br />
<br />
I have yet to throw up. <i>::knocking vigorously on wood::</i> But I have come very close.<br />
<br />
And I'm tired. Well, tired-er.<br />
<br />
On the whole, I'm not too psycho. I've been even-tempered enough that Hub's head has time to grow back between "episodes."<br />
<br />
I'm also rounder than I want to be. Already I have jeans that are quite uncomfortable around my middle. Everything else fits fine (thank God), but the waist? Muy uncomfy.<br />
<br />
I continue to hope that this is because it is my 2nd child and not because I'm incubating a litter.<br />
<br />
So, physically? I feel pretty "bleh." Mentally? I'm pretty happy. Combined? I'm generally in a robust state of "meh."<br />
<br />
I am still (slowly) making the rounds to everyone's blogs...but I'm not feeling as commenty as usual. So my apologies for my lurking.<br />
<br />
I'm trying to work up some good writing...but my general state of "meh" has made it challenging.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-7649692397677920582011-02-14T11:32:00.001-05:002011-02-23T14:42:21.581-05:00A V-day quickie. Woo!Happy Valentine's Day!<br />
<br />
And welcome to my 100th post! Which I actually just noticed. And my super awesome 100th post? Is going to be a quickie.<br />
<br />
I hope you like quickies.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Because I am absurdly busy with work. Which is not a bad thing, as I am rather fond of the regularly occurring paycheck & all, but it does cut into my quality blogging time. Work is one of the few places that I can get 20 minutes of uninterrupted time to crank out a post (on my break time, of course...ahem).<br />
<br />
Being that I don't want to blog at 3am. <br />
<br />
Or from the toilet. <br />
<br />
Also? I think my family might become suspicious, or perhaps even concerned, if I spent half an hour in the bathroom with my laptop. I mean, I would probably become <strike>suspicious</strike> concerned if Hub sequestered himself in the bathroom with his laptop for half an hour.<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
Anyway, I would like to extend my heartfelt thanks to everyone who <a href= "http://wth-am-i-doing-24-7.blogspot.com/2011/02/i-was-wrong.html"> left congratulations</a> for me regarding my knocked upness. That was not only very awesome to feel that level of support, but it was also pretty awesome to smoke my record for number of comments.<br />
<br />
I may have mentioned that I'm a bit of a comment whore. <br />
<br />
But, not to let the day pass without a Valentine's Day story...<br />
<br />
As I was getting ready for work on Friday morning, Hub "nonchalantly" asks me about my shipping habits. I often purchase things from <a href= "http://www.amazon.com">Amazon </a> because <br />
<br />
1. I hate shopping, and <br />
<br />
2. I like buying things & having them just <i>arrive</i>. I pay & it comes. No hassle for me. No long-term commitments or anniversaries to remember...wait...what?<br />
<br />
I usually have my packages sent to my office. Because I know there will always be someone to receive them. Plus, we have regular deliveries from the major services, so in my mind, my stuff may arrive sooner.<br />
<br />
It's like getting little presents at work. <br />
<br />
But why is hub asking me about having stuff sent to work? Perhaps he wants his <a href= "http://www.amazon.com">Amazon </a> stuff to start arriving at his job? Or maybe my job?<br />
<br />
He continues. <br />
<br />
"So, um, have you ever accidentally sent something to the wrong address?"<br />
<br />
"Um...huh? What do you mean the wrong address?"<br />
<br />
<i>::Lightbulb::</i><br />
<br />
We recently (as in last June) moved to a new office. We are a half mile in the other direction now.<br />
<br />
"You mean have I ever accidentally shipped to my old office address?"<br />
<br />
"Um...yeah."<br />
<br />
"I dunno. I don't think so. We have had some idiot vendors who can't seem to get our new address straight, but I don't think I have done that..."<br />
<br />
"Oh."<br />
<br />
<i>::crickets::</i><br />
<br />
"So, um...what do you do when something is going to the wrong address...?"<br />
<br />
<i>My mental lightbulb is starting to flicker at this point.</i><br />
<br />
"We sic our highly efficient Admin on them & that usually fixes the problem"<br />
<br />
"Oh. Um...I can't do that."<br />
<br />
"What?"<br />
<br />
"Um. Nothing..."<br />
<br />
My husband almost managed to surprise me. Almost.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-74553538283523802342011-02-09T10:48:00.000-05:002011-02-09T10:48:02.044-05:00I was wrong<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=Iwaswrong-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/Iwaswrong-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
Apparently? I was <a href= "http://wth-am-i-doing-24-7.blogspot.com/2011/02/so-is-there-baby-or-not.html">wrong</a>.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-4371254099724732902011-02-08T12:43:00.000-05:002011-02-08T12:43:14.646-05:00A tale of 2 chihuahuas...and a cat.So we have this dog. She is actually chihuahua #2.<br />
<br />
She is the second chihuahua we never expected to own. But here she is. She has a much different personality than our 1st chihuahua. She's also shaped somewhat differently than our 1st chihuahua. <br />
<br />
Boxy. <br />
<br />
And somewhat loafish.<br />
<br />
And there are a few conflicts.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=ChiPair-1.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/ChiPair-1.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
The 1st has been the sole dog for probably 6+ years. Now, we have introduced an interloper. An interloper who has a much more dominant personality.<br />
<br />
She is also about as graceful as a brick.<br />
<br />
This square loafish brick often tries to mount the much larger cat, Gandalf.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=Gandalf.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/Gandalf.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
Boo, upon witnessing this feat once, announced to me "Look mommy! She's trying to pick up Gandalf!"<br />
<br />
But I don't think it was the same kind of "picking up" he had in mind.<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
Another fun tidbit about this dog? If there is attention to be had? She bull-dozes her way in because SHE must be the center of said attention. She has forcibly plowed into and knocked over the smaller, more demure chihuahua #1 to get in on petting action. <br />
<br />
If there are other animals between her and what she wants? Pfft. Whatever.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=SweetieonBrownie.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/SweetieonBrownie.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
Species is really irrelevant.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=SweetieonGandalf.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/SweetieonGandalf.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
When the kids aren't around, we have come to call her the whore loaf. Because she so is.<br />
<br />
A couple days ago, I'm pleasantly scratching chihuahua #1 behind the ears. She is loving this. Yeah, that's the good stuff right there. <br />
<br />
Enter chihuahua #2. Forcibly.<br />
<br />
Chihuahua #1 goes sprawling, with an expression of great offense.<br />
<br />
With my customary eye roll I inform chihuahua #2 that she is, in fact, a hooker.<br />
<br />
"Mommy, what's a hooker?"<br />
<br />
Dammit.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-71467084015558412282011-02-06T23:03:00.000-05:002011-02-06T23:03:48.262-05:00Dichotomous HeartThis evening I got some news I didn't want.<br />
<br />
I can't say that I'm surprised. That happens a lot, actually.<br />
<br />
It tends to happen when I get my hopes up for something. It seems to happen more often when I tell people about that thing about which I have my hopes up.<br />
<br />
I know that is just perception. That I just notice the bad things more. That I make a note of things that reinforce my belief and kinda disregard the rest.<br />
<br />
I don't remember if I got that tidbit from my psych education or a book on tape I listened to. Either way, it came with a bunch of references and citations. None of which I ever bothered to verify. Because I'm just not that anal.<br />
<br />
Nonetheless, because something was not unexpected? Does not make it any less disappointing. And I often don't handle disappointment well. Especially if others are around to witness my disappointment.<br />
<br />
Again, I think it's perception. I really don't handle the disappointment any better by myself, I just don't feel like a boob acting like an ass in front of myself.<br />
<br />
Hub told me that I should prepare to have Princess with us for at least another year. That he has not seen her mother (Skankula) prove that she can be at least semi self-sufficient. Which is his requirement for returning custody to her mother.<br />
<br />
And he is right. Fuck if he isn't right.<br />
<br />
And I so profoundly wish that he was not. So much.<br />
<br />
I am not bonding with this child. She epitomizes much of what I have hated in children before I had Boo.<br />
<br />
See, Boo surprised me with the knowledge that I could love a child. That I could have that ooey gooey mommy feeling. <br />
<br />
One of my greatest fears during pregnancy - aside from being a total and complete failure as a parent - was that I would not bond with my child. I had never liked children. I did not have that squishy "I'm going to be a mom!" glow while I was pregnant.<br />
<br />
But as much as I want her out of our house, and as much as I don't miss her when she's not here (hate me if you want...but I'm being honest)? As much as I really feel all of that? I can't in good conscience send her somewhere that I know is actually bad for her.<br />
<br />
As I may have mentioned before? I have all these stupid principles. And sometimes? they really get in the way of what I <i>want</i>. What I also believe the other members of this household want. What her mother wants. What <b>she</b> wants.<br />
<br />
Despite my frustration with our situation and the problems she brings to our household, I can't send her into an awful situation. Plus? I support my husband. I agree with his logic.<br />
<br />
So? I focus on the logic. I try to harness my feelings. I try to make the best of a less than ideal situation. <br />
<br />
I just wish I could be happy about it.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-1154032509091285642011-02-03T16:49:00.001-05:002011-02-03T16:57:42.870-05:00The Monster Inside MeYesterday I posted about some of my <a href= "http://wth-am-i-doing-24-7.blogspot.com/2011/02/so-is-there-baby-or-not.html"> fears</a> about having a baby.<br />
<br />
In retrospect, I almost feel like a bit of a boob. Almost.<br />
<br />
I know that the things that are freaking me out are either superficial or statistical anomalies. My brain knows this. Truly, it does.<br />
<br />
But other things sneak in. Little tidbits, like barbed seeds, they stick in my brain & begin to grow.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Every time I hear some tragic story about death, loss, or great pain - usually with a tag line akin to "appreciate what you have, because at any moment it could be ripped away from you!" - I feel the monster stir.<br />
<br />
I am acutely aware of this. That there are no guarantees.<br />
<br />
A meteor could plummet to Earth obliterating us all in a fiery maelstrom. <br />
<br />
Earthquakes. <br />
<br />
Tsunamis. <br />
<br />
Plagues. <br />
<br />
Serial killers. <br />
<br />
The end of the Mayan calendar. <br />
<br />
Car wrecks. <br />
<br />
Freak accidents.<br />
<br />
Political Unrest.<br />
<br />
I understand that life as I know it? Could be gone in an instant.<br />
<br />
And most of the time, I ignore this and go on about my day. Living in the moment. Enjoying the little things. Occasionally blowing stupid things out of proportion.<br />
<br />
But ever once in a while? Those nasty, prickly little seeds grow. They spread thorny vines of worry and fear through my mind and my heart.<br />
<br />
The thorns scratch and poke until they rouse the monster. <br />
<br />
Anxiety.<br />
<br />
And the monster takes over. Pushes out all thoughts of reason. Drives me to obsession with my fear. Fuels the obsession with worry and "what ifs."<br />
<br />
It shows me all the myriad possibilities of what <i>could</i> go wrong. All the awful things that <i>could</i> be.<br />
<br />
And I can't argue it into submission. Because all of those things <b><i>could</b></i> come to be. Even if there is a .02% chance of something happening, there is still a chance. I cannot conclusively exclude it from the realm of possibilities.<br />
<br />
And that .02% of people to whom that thing happens? Don't suffer any less because of the rarity of their circumstances.<br />
<br />
I am not special. There is nothing that precludes catastrophe from happening to me. Nothing at all.<br />
<br />
The odds of a plane crashing into my head on my walk out to my car? Are minuscule. Laughable, even. But there is nothing unique about me that conclusively prevents this from happening. It <i>could</i> happen to anyone.<br />
<br />
Safety is an illusion. And the monster never fails to remind me of this. When I say goodbye to my son in the morning. <br />
<br />
As I drive to work every day.<br />
<br />
As I pass by people, not knowing their state of mind.<br />
<br />
As I eat food of which I am unaware of its origin.<br />
<br />
A million things <i>could</i> go wrong. At any moment. And that's where the monster gets a foothold, because I can't argue that it's wrong.<br />
<br />
I am not in control. It's not up to me what happens.<br />
<br />
And those little "always appreciate what you have" lines attached to horrific stories just piss me off.<br />
<br />
I do not need to be reminded that life is fragile.<br />
<br />
I do not need to be reminded that my heart could be ripped out, literally or figuratively, at any moment.<br />
<br />
Those things just rouse the monster.<br />
<br />
I already appreciate the little things. Because losing myself in those little things, forgetting about what <i>could</i> be? Is the only way I can drown out the monster.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-36045898688349977792011-02-02T15:46:00.004-05:002011-02-02T16:54:05.742-05:00So is there a baby or not???In case you're new, or have short-term memory loss, or just don't remember the silly details of my existence, Hub and I decided over Thanksgiving that I would go off the pill.<br />
<br />
What followed? was months of illness, unexpected "visitors," and generally <a href= "http://wth-am-i-doing-24-7.blogspot.com/2010/12/me-vs-universe.html">getting the finger from the Universe</a>.<br />
<br />
So as we bring month 3 of "trying" to a close...the big question is Am I Pregnant?<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>And that would be a no. <br />
<br />
Technically? It's a little early to tell, but based on when we <i>didn't</i> have sex and some of the PMS-y feelings I'm having? I'm pretty confident that it's a no, take 3.<br />
<br />
I have mixed feelings about this.<br />
<br />
Part of me is so sad every time this time of the month rolls around and there is no baby.<br />
<br />
There is a part of me that believes that if I don't get knocked up? It's just not meant to be. I have already decided that I don't want to go down the infertility treatment road. We each already have a child and it's just not something to which we're <b>that</b> dedicated that we'll incur the expense and endure the stress of all of that.<br />
<br />
There is also a part of me that is now a little scared of getting pregnant. And there are a number of reasons for that.<br />
<br />
I've had time to really think about our decision. And I've gotten scared of all the things that <i>could</i> be.<br />
<br />
My son is an amazing child, was a great baby, and an easy pregnancy (except for the 60 pound weight gain). <br />
<br />
Having a baby with my husband will make a different baby. And this could mean anything.<br />
<br />
It could mean I have another moderately easy pregnancy, great baby, and awesome kid. A baby that I can enjoy being a mother to, bond with, and generally revel in all that is new babiness. This is obviously my hope.<br />
<br />
But that is only my hope. I have nothing more than hope that having a child with my husband will be the kind of amazing experience that my first child is. <br />
<br />
I thought I knew what to expect because I've had a baby once before...but really? That doesn't mean much. Every kid is different. So really? I don't know crap about what to expect.<br />
<br />
Which leads me to all the fear. Because I suck with ambiguity and not knowing.<br />
<br />
I fear what will happen to my body by having another child. I am still a good 50 pounds overweight from my 1st pregnancy. It has been an ongoing struggle to get that weight off. An unsuccessful struggle thus far. And even tho I'm not giving up? It's hard to not lose all hope of having a healthy-ish body again. And I'm really afraid of what another pregnancy will do. <br />
<br />
I imagine more pounds that must be lost, the greater lack of energy, and more feelings of sadness and frustration with my body. Because really? Who gets pregnant and doesn't gain weight? I'm <i>supposed</i> to gain like 20-30 pounds and only maybe 10 of that will go when the baby is born. Leaving me 10-20 pounds deeper in the hole.<br />
<br />
This may seem shallow...but the idea of being even further behind with my weight AND having another child to take care of? Makes me a little nervous.<br />
<br />
I fear that I won't be able to handle an infant on top of everything else. <br />
<br />
I fear that we might have a baby that is like <a href= "http://wth-am-i-doing-24-7.blogspot.com/2011/01/stowing-my-emotional-baggage.html">Princess</a>.<br />
<br />
I have the fear of having a "high needs" baby...because I don't think I could do it. <a href= "http://www.nopointsforstyle.com"> Adrienne</a> bravely writes about <a href= "http://www.nopointsforstyle.com/2011/01/love-with-teeth.html"> her experience</a> as a mother to a mentally ill son. And I am fucking amazed at her strength and her ability to keep fighting.<br />
<br />
Amazed.<br />
<br />
But I don't think I have what it takes. Frankly? I don't want to have what it takes. I don't want to be that strong.<br />
<br />
And while I realize the odds of that happening are relatively slim? It scares the shit out of me.<br />
<br />
Then I go back & think about what it could be like...what it <i>was</i> like with Boo. And I think it might be alright. That same kind of amazing experience that made me a mother in the first place. The take-your-breath-away kind of joy that Boo brings me every day...but in another, different child.<br />
<br />
Stupid fear.<br />
<br />
I fucking think too much and it is way annoying.<br />
<br />
This? Is part of the reason that I wanted to get pregnant right away once we decided. Because otherwise? I have all this time for thinking.<br />
<br />
And thinking just freaks me out.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-12870730376863543792011-01-28T17:39:00.002-05:002011-02-02T14:56:56.562-05:00A trip or 5 to the DMVWhen we moved to Maryland, there were all kinds of fun things to do. Get settled in our dumpy apartment infested with <a href= "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cave_cricket"> Rhaphidophoridae</a>, find jobs, and get our cars all legalled up.<br />
<br />
So, Hub and I walk into <strike>a bar</strike> the MVA (which is Marylandish for DMV - or MVD if you only speak Arizonian) and the <strike>bartender</strike> lady at the triage desk says <strike>what are you in for?</strike> what are you in for?<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
We explain that we are here to get our cars properly registered and get driver's licenses. <br />
<br />
Now, this is not the first time we've done the MVA dance. Oh, no. We have been here several times before.<br />
<br />
For many hours.<br />
<br />
With an 18-month-old.<br />
<br />
Waiting for them, as well as the lien holder for Hub's car, to get their collective shits together.<br />
<br />
This would be another episode in disappointment as far as registering his car was concerned.<br />
<br />
Which did not make Hub happy.<br />
<br />
At all.<br />
<br />
Then we move along to the driver's license portion of our trip.<br />
<br />
Whee.<br />
<br />
Hub goes first while I wait off to the left.<br />
<br />
Now, Hub has a suffix on his name. It is numeric. Typically numeric suffixes are expressed as Roman Numerals such as IX, XII, VIII, etc. <br />
<br />
Apparently, the social security office does not like these Roman expressions and Hub's social security card just uses regular old numbers (9th, 12th, 8th, etc). <br />
<br />
In order to be granted a driver's license, we must present 2 forms of official identification.<br />
<br />
Hub presents said identification.<br />
<br />
Keep in mind, Hub has been to the MVA many times, only to be given the bureaucratic run around and sent home in frustration, task not accomplished.<br />
<br />
The clerk at the window informs him that his forms of identification do not match.<br />
<br />
Hub is perplexed.<br />
<br />
"Huh...?"<br />
<br />
His Social Security card uses boring old regular numbers in his suffix, while his AZ driver's license uses the fancified Roman Numerals.<br />
<br />
i.e. his Social Security card says he's the "10th" (he's not the 10th, but I'm not telling how many he is) and his AZ driver's license says he's "X". Thus, they do not match.<br />
<br />
At this point, Hub has an absolute fucking meltdown.<br />
<br />
He starts cursing at the lady asking her what the fuck her problem is. Clearly they are 2 different expressions of the same thing.<br />
<br />
Etc. Etc.<br />
<br />
Shockingly, the clerk does not become any more helpful.<br />
<br />
Then he essentially says "Fuck this." Collects up his materials and angrily leaves to go outside and smoke (we had been waiting inside for a loooonnnnggg time).<br />
<br />
And the clerk calls the next customer in line.<br />
<br />
Guess who that is?<br />
<br />
Yeah.<br />
<br />
Fuck.<br />
<br />
So I go up there with my stuff...understanding Hub's irritation, but nonetheless needing my own driver's license.<br />
<br />
She evaluates my materials. Deems me acceptable. And then asks for payment.<br />
<br />
Fuck.<br />
<br />
Hub is the only one with a job at this point. I have <i>no</i> money. <br />
<br />
Hub is nowhere to be found.<br />
<br />
I now have to contort myself into freakish positions trying to get a cell signal to call my livid mate so he can come back to the very window from which he angrily stalked so he can pay the unhelpful clerk for my driver's license.<br />
<br />
Which may or may not have been awkward.<br />
<br />
Ahem.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-64235799923216629102011-01-25T13:55:00.001-05:002011-01-25T13:56:21.394-05:00Forbidden DesireJust the thought of you fills me with desire.<br />
<br />
In my mind's eye? It's just the two of us. Alone. Away from prying, judgmental eyes.<br />
<br />
I breathe deeply...and the smell of you is subtle, but intoxicating.<br />
<br />
I close my eyes and I can still see you.<br />
<br />
We have a wicked chemistry, you and me.<br />
<br />
I imagine having you all to myself. That in this moment? You are mine.<br />
<br />
All of you.<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I can feel you all over my body. <br />
<br />
From breasts to waist to hips to thighs.<br />
<br />
And my ass. Oh, I can definitely feel you there.<br />
<br />
I take you in my hand. And I can feel the length of you.<br />
<br />
The anticipation is almost more than I can bear.<br />
<br />
I want you.<br />
<br />
So much.<br />
<br />
I bring you to my lips. Take you into my mouth.<br />
<br />
Taste you.<br />
<br />
Feel your fullness.<br />
<br />
Rapture.<br />
<br />
And then the delightful creaminess slides over my tongue and into my throat.<br />
<br />
It is everything I had hoped it would be.<br />
<br />
You take my breath away.<br />
<br />
Alas, you are forbidden to me.<br />
<br />
My sweet chocolate eclair.<br />
<br />
You make me fat.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-47319293837598026942011-01-14T10:17:00.002-05:002011-01-14T11:00:24.438-05:00Feeling CantankerousToday is not going as I had hoped. I need an outlet so that I don't explode or cry. Neither of which is seen as particularly professional. <br />
<br />
And since it's officially a <a href= "http://www.bellebeanchicagodog.com/2011/01/social-media-day-6.html">bloggy boycott day</a>? I feel today would be the perfect day to chuck the (possibly) interesting post I had in mind and just go for the vent since my 7 readers will not be reading today anyway. <a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
I have been battling <a href= "http://wth-am-i-doing-24-7.blogspot.com/2011/01/open-letter-to-evil-head-cold-from-hell.html">a cold</a> for over 3 weeks now, and while some aspects get better, some things come back. Or new things will appear. The past 2 days? I cannot breathe because my nose is all stuffy....which is something I. Just. Can't. Stand.<br />
<br />
Also? My head hurts. Just a little, but it hurts. And it feels stuffy too.<br />
<br />
All of this shit? Means I haven't slept well in weeks.<br />
<br />
I'm also officially not pregnant for month 2. Which is not unexpected, being that hacking, coughing, sneezing, & being generally filled with mucus is not much of an aphrodisiac. It is, however, still a bit of a let down.<br />
<br />
Due to all of the above, I've not been spending much quality time with Hub...which probably contributes to the whole "not pregnant" thing. And it seems lately that, more so than usual, every time I try to talk to him there is something else going on that pulls his focus.<br />
<br />
This is part of the danger in being married to someone with ADHD. Focus isn't really their thing. Most of the time I'm used to it, but lately it has really bothered me. And what's even more annoying? Is that I don't really have anything to say...so even if he gave me his undivided attention? I don't really have a whole lot to talk about.<br />
<br />
Perhaps I'm just feeling needy and pathetic because I've been sick for so long. I don't normally get sick like this & am usually able to just "man it out." Which is a bit of an ironic thought...being that most men I've known are giant pussies when it comes to being ill...but I digress.<br />
<br />
So tonight was supposed to be our evening to spend together. To have some us time. Some <i>special</i> us time. Unfortunately for me, my "guest" <a href= "http://wth-am-i-doing-24-7.blogspot.com/p/wth-am-i-talking-about.html">T.O.M.</a> has arrived 2 days earlier than scheduled and Hub is not into threesomes. Hmph.<br />
<br />
So I suppose I might be a little hormonal and possibly slightly irrational. Perhaps.<br />
<br />
I just want <i>something</i>. Perhaps a nice conversation about a topic <i>I</i> enjoy.<br />
<br />
Or a series of nights where I actually sleep well.<br />
<br />
Or perhaps some good, dirty sex.<br />
<br />
Not necessarily in that order.<br />
<br />
Or for this motherfucking cold to go away. Seriously.<br />
<br />
I'm just feeling very ornery and cantankerous. I feel very cynical and bummed right now...and I don't like being that way. And I don't like having bitchy blogs.<br />
<br />
At some point? I want this blog to reflect my actual writing ability...instead of being a glorified journal that 7 other people also read. <br />
<br />
But that is a post for another day.<br />
<br />
Hmph.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-49392924478070207632011-01-10T12:14:00.001-05:002011-01-10T12:15:24.874-05:00An Open Letter to the Evil Head Cold From HellDear Evil Head Cold From Hell (EHCFH),<br />
<br />
Your Christmas arrival was most unwelcome. The fact that you keep finding new and inventive ways to torment me? Also very unwelcome. You & I need to part ways, EHCFH, because this is just not working out between us. <br />
<br />
In fact? You're just pissing me off at this point. <a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
First? There was the scratchy throat. Yeah, ok. Not impressed. It's the end of December. With the cold, dry weather? A scratchy throat is basically par for the course. Moving on.<br />
<br />
Next? It was a runny nose. Pfft. Whatever. Bring it, EHCFH. I've got soft <i>name brand</i> tissues that I bought when your cousin Evil Allergy Attack From Hell visited for Thanksgiving.<br />
<br />
Then came the stuffiness. Ok. Fair play EHCFH. Fair play. You're not playing around at being some kind of <i>minor inconvenience</i> are you? Ok...that's fine. I'll just root around in my nightstand and viola! Astrogl--no wait, that's not what I wanted....um....Viola! Nasal spray. Ha. I <i>will</i> be able to breathe, at least while I sleep. And only for 3 days because of that whole rebound thingy...but dammit, I will <i>breathe</i> for those 3 nights! HA!<br />
<br />
And this, dear EHCFH, is where you got crafty. You pulled the symptom troops back a bit. You let me think I was defeating you. I fully believed I was well on the road to recovery.<br />
<br />
Then? The sore throat came back. With a vengeance. And hung around for nearly a week. WTF EHCFH? Did you juice up the sore throat on steroids or something, because it was <i>not</i> that strong before. Breathing hurt. Swallowing hurt. There was no sleeping with that sore throat around. And no matter how many fluids, hot teas, and steamy showers I threw at it? I couldn't soothe the bastard. <br />
<br />
Damn if my kidneys aren't sparkly clean tho. <br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
And what is with all this mucus?? I mean really. Is this much lubrication <i>ever</i> really necessary?? My membranes are moist enough, thank you very much. I have been coughing like I've been smoking 4 packs a day for the last 52 years. And that is so not sexy. <br />
<br />
And now? That I'm into <i><b>week <u>THREE</u></b></i> of this skirmish? I'm coughing constantly...all day and all night...because of the stupid tickle you've strategically placed in my throat. Not coughing anything up...just coughing.<br />
<br />
Did I mention all the sleep deprivation? I haven't slept properly in over a week. I know I've been posting all this chatter about having another baby, and it could be argued that you're giving me a taste of what it will be like to have a newborn (since the sleeplessness and exhaustion associated with newborns are currently relegated to Denial Utopia)...But I heartily believe that pretty much any newborn I produce will be <i>way</i> cuter than you, EHCFH. Way cuter. And cute? Will make a lot of annoyances more bearable.<br />
<br />
Oh, yeah. And you've made sure I've been deprived of sex, too. For some reason Hub doesn't find the mucusy, hacking, grouchy version of me as attractive as the normal grouchy version of me. Not cool, EHCFH.<br />
<br />
And the final indignity of it all? I'm now forced to go to <i>the mall</i> (shudder) to obtain some eucalyptus oil for my vaporizer. I am determined to sleep for a whole night without a coughing fit every 2 hours. I'd also like to sleep in my own bed for a whole night and not be driven to the couch from guilt that my hacking is preventing Hub from sleeping.<br />
<br />
I will get you, EHCFH. Make no mistake. You're wearing me down. I'm sleep-deprived, sex-deprived, and hacking...but I get to be a crazy bitch after a while. And this crazy bitch? Is coming after your ass, EHCFH. <br />
<br />
You have been warned.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
....and failing that? This crazy bitch might go to the doctor and get some drugs....WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-60536326258375797492011-01-06T12:57:00.000-05:002011-01-06T12:57:37.250-05:00Stowing my emotional baggageRecently, Kris from <a href= "http://www.prettyalltrue.com"> Pretty All True</a> wrote a <a href= "http://www.prettyalltrue.com/2011/01/to-all-of-us/"> post</a> that really got me thinking. It was a very deep and touching post about her differing experiences as a mother to her two daughters. If you have not already read it, you should. <br />
<br />
Yes, I'll hold.<br />
<br />
<i>::hold music plays::<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
...How on earth did they make elevator music out of Poker Face...?<br />
<br />
...I'll just check my email...<br />
<br />
...they're probably reading through the comments....<br />
<br />
..."Your blog is very important to us! Please remain on the line and readers will return in just a moment!"<br />
<br />
...maybe a quick game of Solitaire....</i> <br />
<br />
You're back? Ok, great.<br />
<br />
I know that it is expected to have different relationships with different people, so it is no great leap in logic to assume that parents would have different relationships with each of their children. Being that each child is a different person & all.<br />
<br />
I also truly appreciate what Kris is trying to say...and not say...with her post. She writes about a gift her youngest daughter gave to her as a mother. <br />
<br />
And I understand this kind of gift. My son has given me a similar gift. <br />
<br />
Except he was mine before I knew Princess. I grew to have certain expectations of what to expect from kids and from myself as a mother. Boo helped me believe that I could not only like children, but love them as well. I did not like any children much before I had him. <br />
<br />
And she? Is pretty much the archetype of what I didn't like about kids before I was a parent...and what I still don't like in many children.<br />
<br />
I didn't fully understand this gift he was giving me initially because he was the one setting my expectations of parenthood.<br />
<br />
Boo set the bar high. And Princess arrived having been taught some very poor habits and having some personality traits that are very alien to me. <br />
<br />
So there is a bit of a gap. And unfortunately for me (but fortunately for my stupid personal growth...dammit...), as the adult? It is my job to find a way to bridge that gap. To try to be a good mother figure to this child that I just don't like much.<br />
<br />
My feelings are ultimately irrelevant. She is what she is. Our situation is what it is. And if I want my marriage to be successful? I must find a way to make it work. Preferably without irrevocably damaging anyone in the process. <br />
<br />
No pressure, right?<br />
<br />
But it wears on me. <br />
<br />
And there is the guilt.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, I know I'm not being the best parent I can be. I can see that in the moment as it happens. But I'm just so tired that I can't seem to stop myself from letting my real feelings show. I behave immaturely and my irritation is hanging out for everyone to see.<br />
<br />
I don't hide my feelings well. But as a parent in a blended family, I find that I need to keep some of my feelings stashed securely in the overhead bin. I'm too cheap to check them...plus, I don't want someone mishandling my emotional baggage and sending it to Abu Dhabi by mistake. <br />
<br />
When I'm tired...whether it be emotionally, physically, or mentally...I get all haphazard with the emotion-stashing and they occasionally drop out of the overhead bin and land on my head. Or, as often is the case, on the heads of my family.<br />
<br />
So, here I am, attempting to add another member to our family, and I still have not mastered myself. And the fact that I have not mastered my feelings toward Princess? Makes me fear some kind of karmic doom with another child. That this new child will be a mini-Princess. A mini-Princess that does not leave every other weekend to allow me a brief respite.<br />
<br />
I was raised religious (not Catholic, so there are no angry nuns with rulers populating my anxiety-ridden imaginings...), so I always anticipate punishment for things I view as failings. I have created great fear in myself that altho I do the best I can do, I do not have the swoony love connection to Princess and therefore? I will have a child just like her that I must develop said swoony love connection to...because I will no longer have the excuse that the child is not "mine."<br />
<br />
Kris tells me that love is more than the swoony feeling. And I believe her. I know that she is right. <br />
<br />
But still, there is the fear.<br />
<br />
The fear that I may be placing expectations upon myself (by having another child) that I may not be able to live up to. <br />
<br />
And it scares the crap out of me.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-34441265065406243092010-12-30T13:38:00.000-05:002010-12-30T13:38:47.049-05:00Development of Important InstinctsMy stepdaughter is not the healthiest of kids. Honestly? If she is <i>not</i> loaded up with mucus I'm surprised. <br />
<br />
We believe that she, like Hub, has asthma and that it is reactive to allergens. Personally, I think it is mold. Much the same way Hub develops Wheeze-a-palooza whenever he visits his mother's house, Princess tends to develop nasty, phlegmy coughs whenever she has spent any length of time in their house.<br />
<br />
More reason for her to not be in over-indulgence central...but I digress...<br />
<br />
So, every time she spends any time at their house, she starts coughing like a 3-pack a day smoker. It's gross. Plus? There's not a whole lot we can do to help her. More often than not, she's not "ill" in the sense that we could give her antibiotics or something. She just gets more breathing treatments and some cough medicine before bed.<br />
<br />
We have also discovered another exacerbating factor. And this discovery has shocked me with its weight. I had no idea that such developments occurred so early in life. <br />
<br />
We have discovered that when she hacks up her considerable mucus, she does nothing with it....and this lack of dealing with it leads her to gag. Usually late at night while she's in bed. Which is fun for all involved, with the cleanup and sheet changing and late-night laundry.<br />
<br />
So, Hub then has to have a conversation with her. "Princess (he uses her real name - Gertrude), if you cough something up, you need to either swallow it or spit it out."<br />
<br />
Who knew that "spit or swallow" was determined so early in life? Because really, you can't just leave it sitting in your mouth or it will so make you gag. <br />
<br />
She still hasn't gotten this concept. And her sitting with a bunch of phlegm in her mouth? Is also making me gag.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-2955507557910827142010-12-29T12:21:00.001-05:002010-12-29T14:19:56.307-05:00So My MIL Drugged My Husband and Other Christmas HappeningsChristmas this year was quite the experience. As usual, we had to have several different Christmas celebrations.<br />
<br />
My Father-in-Law's family is all in North Carolina. And they drive down every year to visit the family. So, they come visit us before hand so we can open gifts with them and send the NC gifts with them. That was the weekend before Christmas.<br />
<br />
Then, we have my Mother-in-law's family. She is one of 5 sisters - 4 out of 5 of whom have multiple kids. And some of the kids are starting to pair off & have kids. So this celebration of 40 of our closest family members takes place on Christmas night in the great-grandparents' 2-bedroom house in the ass-crack of West Virginia. Seriously, I think I heard banjos on our drive in...a few miles down the dirt road to their house.<br />
<br />
The fun part? Happened on Christmas Eve. My MIL's house is, um, not fastidiously cared for. When re-doing upstairs bedrooms? They knocked out a load-bearing wall. And they had some roof leaks which left the boxes in one room green and fuzzy before they got around to fixing it. So, yeah, they're a little blase' about stuff. <br />
<br />
Hub also has asthma. His asthma was great in Arizona. Never saw the man use an inhaler once in the 2 years we lived there together. Once we got here? The inhaler came back. And whenever we visit his mother's? Wheeze-a-palooza. We think it's the mold.<br />
<br />
So, we show up Christmas Eve to do our family gift exchange with them. Almost immediately upon arrival, we are plied with wine. Ok. I'm fine with that. A little bit later, Hub walks in with 2 pills. "What are you taking?" I ask.<br />
<br />
"My mom gave me some allergy pills..." he says, washing them down with the wine.<br />
<br />
"Ok, probably good since we forgot your inhaler." <br />
<br />
About 45 minutes later, we head out to the porch so Hub can have a cigarette. He looks a little off. "Are you feeling ok?" I ask.<br />
<br />
"I feel a little dizzy." He says. "I think it was the wine..."<br />
<br />
"One glass of wine & you're dizzy? Puss." I scoff.<br />
<br />
After a few minutes he says "I really don't feel well...I feel really light-headed & dizzy..."<br />
<br />
At this point, MIL's expression changes a bit. She excuses herself. She comes back & informs us that she may have given Hub her anti-depressants instead of allergy medication. Being that she keeps them both in the same bottle & all.<br />
<br />
WTF.<br />
<br />
By this point, Hub is laying in my lap all non-verbal. He has mumbled that his heart is beating fast & he's short of breath. We call the emergency nurse line & they tell us we need to get him up & walking around.<br />
<br />
Oh, and if he stops breathing or collapses, we should go to the ER.<br />
<br />
<b><i>WTF?!</b></i><br />
<br />
He doesn't want to walk around. He's nauseated and wants to stay horizontal and immobile. Also? He hates going to the doctor.<br />
<br />
I inform him that he will either get up & walk around with me...or I will enlist the aid of his grizzled old redneck Vietnam vet stepfather to wrastle him into the car and he <i>will</i> go to the ER. "Don't fuck with me," I tell him. "You're already poisoned, you won't be able to put up much of a fight...."<br />
<br />
So, we walked around the block several times. He started feeling a little better. <br />
<br />
I knew he'd be fine when he started arguing with me on the way home.<br />
<br />
Oh, and I got a neat head cold for Christmas. Pfft.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-8981831137056849672010-12-20T13:11:00.000-05:002010-12-20T13:11:16.168-05:00An Unwelcome Visitor...and a (swear-laden) RantThis past weekend was a bit of a crazy one for me. I'm likely not in the minority, being that there's some sort of holiday or something coming up I think.<br />
<br />
<a name='more'></a>Saturday was errand-packed with a visit from my father-in-law & his wife. Sunday was allocated to my mother- and brother-in-law for assorted family holiday activities.<br />
<br />
As y'all may or may not have noticed, Hub & I are working on a baby (not right this second...I can't multi-task <i>that</i> well...). I had been feeling <i>suspicious</i> for about a week & 1/2. Sore boobs, and some assorted other gastrointestinal symptoms which I will leave to your imagination.<br />
<br />
Yesterday morning, however, I started feeling crampy. More than just the "beginning of pregnancy" crampy. Being that I'd had a week + change of getting my hopes up, I was somewhat anxious about the cramps.<br />
<br />
Hub finally asked what was wrong and I told him I was feeling crampy and was anxious about that. He had a brief moment of looking horrified, and then resumed discussing breakfast plans.<br />
<br />
Ladies, may I ask...does anyone else find it annoying that men shrivel up into a rocking fetal position when anything even vaguely menstrual is mentioned aloud? I mean <i>really</i>?<br />
<br />
Don't get me wrong, I love my Hub dearly and I am not questioning his masculinity (quite the contrary, actually). I just find that men are <b>huge</b> pussies when it comes to that. I mean, I actually have to get in the trenches and <i>deal</i> with it. It makes me psycho. It makes me goat-like in my ability to eat. It is <i>messy</i> (yeah, I said it). It brings me to my knees with pain. Yet I cope, sans fetal position. It is just a part of my life. <br />
<br />
But I can't even mention <i>cramp</i> to him without deer-in-the-headlights meets whimpering-fetal-position?<br />
<br />
Hmph.<br />
<br />
So, I may have become a little frustrated with Hub for his non-reaction to my stress.<br />
<br />
Perhaps. Just a little.<br />
<br />
Ahem.<br />
<br />
I had hoped that cramps would subside a bit and I could relegate the experience to "early pregnancy symptoms."<br />
<br />
Alas, not so. Mid family visit? I discovered the unwelcome visitor. I had to keep my game face on for the rest of the family event...because if I do get knocked up? We're presenting it as "surprise news" to the family. <br />
<br />
We are trying to conceive because we want to...despite all the drama and stress associated with Princess. We do not wish to allow her that level of control over our lives and relationship. But we <i>will</i> get passive-aggressive guilt trips from family members for having another baby....unless it was a "surprise."<br />
<br />
<b><i>Warning...swear-laden rant ahead...<br />
<br />
Seriously, hell of a lot of swearing upcoming....<br />
<br />
F-bombs galore....<br />
<br />
...you have been warned...</b></i><br />
<br />
Truthfully, I'm about to tell a lot of family members to fuck off anyway. I'm getting really tired of Princess being treated like a poor baby. At almost 6 years old? She's old enough to be responsible for her behavior. And I'm sorry, but screaming, whining, absurdly dramatic behavior is not acceptable behavior and said behavior should yield some consequences.<br />
<br />
Can we quit fucking fawning over her like her shit doesn't stink? Can we quit treating her like she's some poor tortured kitten who needs to be rescued from us evil, cruel parents? Can we quit accusing me of playing favorites when I discipline her for unacceptable behavior while you all but ignore my son? <br />
<br />
Because truthfully? If my son acted the way she did? He would probably get more severe punishment than she does, at least from me. <br />
<br />
Her treatment? Is a direct result of her behavior. And I <i>will not</i> let her off the hook just because someone is watching.<br />
<br />
Fuck you for judging me behind my back without even knowing what it's really like every day.<br />
<br />
Fuck you for being a Goddamn hypocrite saying <b>I'm</b> playing favorites while I watch you <i>consistently</i> ignore my kid and fawn over her.<br />
<br />
Fuck you for indulging her brat behavior making it that much more difficult for us to get her to act appropriately. <br />
<br />
Loving a kid doesn't mean giving them everything they want. <br />
<br />
Loving a kid doesn't mean always making them happy. <br />
<br />
Sometimes loving them? Means bringing down some hell when they fuck up. Because it's OUR job as parents to teach them how to be good, functional human beings. Teaching her that histrionics and manipulation get her what she wants? <i>IS NOT A GOOD THING, PEOPLE</i>. <br />
<br />
Not everything can be solved with hugs and rainbows, so save your fucking judgment...or at least have the balls to say it to my face.<br />
<br />
I'm tired of the stink eye. I'm tired of pulling knives out of my back. And I'm really tired of feeling like I have to <i>fight</i> family to be a good parent.<br />
<br />
Yeah, I don't like her. Sorry, I'm human. I'm doing the very best I can to try & develop a relationship with her. Learning to care for someone? Takes time. Especially when you're trying to care for someone that disrespects you, your spouse, your other child, and your home more often than not. Being able to like a kid with real behavioral problems? Isn't easy.<br />
<br />
But I do care about her and what happens to her.<br />
<br />
I do everything in my power to ensure that I'm fair between the kids, if for no other reason than I don't want Boo to grow up being an entitled asshole. I don't want HIM getting unfair special treatment, either.<br />
<br />
Princess is not making it easy for me OR her father. <br />
<br />
And anyone who has spent any <i>real</i> time with her? Clams up with the judgment pretty fuckin quick. It ain't me just being a bitch.<br />
<br />
Walk a mile or two in my shoes before you decide I'm just a bitch playing favorites. And also? Fuck off.<br />
<br />
<i>**end rant</i><br />
<br />
So, yeah. That's been my weekend.<br />
<br />
Some Mondays? It's good to be back at work.<br />
<br />
On the upshot? I'm supposed to be fertile over New Year's. As someone else said to me...maybe we can ring in 2011 with a BANG. Hehehe.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-29878390985990750232010-12-16T15:42:00.000-05:002010-12-16T15:42:43.129-05:00Antlered UpSo, Kristin over at <a href= "http://www.taminginsanity.com/2010/12/its-antler-time.html"> Taming Insanity</a> has an antler contest going. While I can't compete with the cute kids/pets/modes of transportation already posted...I do have antlers. This is probably about as much of me as you'll ever see.<br />
<br />
Also? I may or may not have inadvertently taken a picture of myself in an embarrassing (should it leak to the public) state of undress. Don't ask why I was taking antler pictures in any state of undress. Ok, Ok, I wanted to take the picture before I took a shower and wilted my hair & removed my makeup. This was a late-breaking idea. <br />
<br />
Sigh.<br />
<br />
I blame <a href= "http://www.prettyalltrue.com/"> Kris</a>. It was accidental, altho obviously <a href= "http://www.prettyalltrue.com/2010/12/snorts-of-the-piggy-sort/"> not an original accident</a>. Like Kris? Mine was immediately <strike>forwarded to my entire adress book</strike> <strike>sent to Hub</strike> <i>deleted</i>. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=WTHAntlers_2.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/WTHAntlers_2.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-75142422155988433062010-12-14T14:59:00.001-05:002010-12-14T16:21:39.913-05:00Random Bits & Boobs...er, BobsToday? Is going to be a random day. I don't really have a whole post in mind...but I have a few odds & ends rattling around in my head that I feel like babbling about. And Hub isn't available. So I guess you (my 7 loyal readers) will be the ones subjected to my random babble today.<br />
<br />
Enjoy!<br />
<br />
Whenever I have to pee in the middle of the night, but am too stubborn to get up and pee? <a name='more'></a> I always dream about finding bathrooms. I will search & find a bathroom, but when I find it? It is the foulest, nastiest bathroom ever. There will be pee all over the floor and the seat. Often times the toilet is backed up with <i>waste</i> and near to overflowing. Perhaps this is my body's way of telling me to get my ass up & pee?<br />
<br />
I attempted to go Christmas shopping at Toys R Us today. Toys R Us is in the shopping center behind Target. So, I set off driving in that direction. Parked. Got out of the car. Realized that I was at Target, not Toys R Us. Damn Autopilot. *Sigh*<br />
<br />
I am constantly amused that Hub, while talking to me on his Bluetooth headset (thus appearing to others as if he is talking to them or himself), is fine telling me he loves me while in the men's room, but is uncomfortable saying so in front of the random people walking around in the lobby as he comes back inside from his smoke break. Apparently professing love around the urinal is less embarrassing than in front of random lobby people.<br />
<br />
Today, we had a minuscule dusting of snow. Even calling it a "dusting" is a bit generous. Yet schools were delayed for 2 hrs. WTF. We got bigger accumulations of snow in the damn Sonoran <i>Desert</i> and school was not affected. Really, people? <i>Really???</i><i>Yes, snow does happen in the desert. Rarely. I remember it happening twice in the 30 years I lived in the desert.</i><br />
<br />
I keep finding myself wandering through baby aisles when I go shopping. I refuse to buy anything until "the deal is sealed," so to speak. <i>(except that cradle swing for $20 on Craigslist...I'm not going to walk away from a $120 savings when it's down the road from work)</i><br />
<br />
I've spoken to my son about how he would feel having a little brother or a little sister. He says that he'd rather have a little brother because he already has a sister. Duh.<br />
<br />
Also? I told him I could grow him a sibling in my "tummy nest." He looked at me and said "Mmm. No." I'd better come up with a baby-growing backup plan PDQ.<br />
<br />
I just realized last night that I need to start chugging the wine that's in our wine cabinet so I don't have to see it there and hear it calling to me once I'm knocked up.<br />
<br />
When the hell did it get to be December 14th already? I had all these grand plans to Christmas shop early online & have everything shipped on time. Dammit.<br />
<br />
Hub had better stop hoarding the sperm. These little tales of "I feel nauseous" and "I think I have food poisoning" will only work for so long buddy...Hmph.WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6864675580890716885.post-12910256111746549242010-12-13T11:06:00.002-05:002010-12-13T15:24:58.542-05:00So, tell me about your pregnancies...Sometimes? This blog is my own little social experiment. I become curious about things, even things I'm not obsessed about...and I can post about it here to pick your brains.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://s740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/?action=view&current=far_side002.jpg" target="_blank"><img src="http://i740.photobucket.com/albums/xx44/wth_amIdoing/Blog%20Stuff/far_side002.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a><br />
<br />
Ahem**.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
So. Being that I'm currently "focused" on reproducing (and the effort has been going well, now that <a href= "http://wth-am-i-doing-24-7.blogspot.com/2010/12/me-vs-universe.html"> the universe</a> has chilled out a little...), I'm wondering what this (hopefully) upcoming pregnancy will be like. If it will differ from my previous pregnancy with Boo. I'm wondering if I will be able to tell the difference if I end up pregnant with a girl.<br />
<br />
Many people I've talked to had different experiences between boys and girls. I've noticed that those pregnant with girls have been more moody and struggled more with morning sickness. I've known a couple of people who gained a ton of weight with their girls, had complications, etc., but had virtually trouble-free pregnancies with their boys.<br />
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So, I'm sending out the request to all you mothers of multiples:<br />
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Tell me about your pregnancies! How were they the same? How were they different? Did anyone have different pregnancy experiences and still have the same gender of child? How about pregnancies that were virtually the same <i>except</i> for the gender? <br />
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Now, since I don't want to ask you all for something that I am not willing to do myself? I'll regale you with the tale of my 1st pregnancy...and we can see how the 2nd one goes...whenever it goes.<br />
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After a Cinco de Mayo of tequila, whatnot, and a guy who didn't do what I thought he was going to do, I noticed that my boobs were really sore. Kinda like the sore right before your period...except that almost never happened to me anymore. Hmm. That's odd. Plus? It went on for like 2 weeks. Even when they did get sore? It was for maybe a day or two.<br />
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I knew the possibility of pregnancy was possible, but it took me several tests to confirm it. I knew something was up well before the pregnancy test.<br />
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Physically? I didn't have too bad a time of it. I didn't have any issues with morning sickness. Other than being tired and stressed the hell out? It wasn't too bad. <br />
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Due to my circumstances (read: the dude was a douche bag and was basically using me (I may have been a bit naive. *cough*), so when he found out he knocked me up? He left the state and left me to deal with the baby on my own. Fine. I can totally handle my own shit.), I ended up getting a 2nd job to help pay for the unexpected baby expenses. <br />
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This 2nd job was actually one of the better things I've done. It gave me a sense of control over my situation, cash to pay for baby stuff, knowledge of how to make special (expensive) coffee beverages, and? A ton of nice maternity pants that I hope will come in handy.<br />
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Unfortunately, the 2nd job also meant that I was always either working or sleeping. There was no time for cooking, so I was not eating as healthy as I should've been and I had zero time for exercise. This? Translated into 60 pounds of weight gain. The weight gain? Was really the worst physical part of my pregnancy. Ok, well, except for the labor part. That hurt. A lot. <br />
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At least none of the doctors were lecturing me about being in labor. Ahem. You'd think a doctor that worked with pregnant women all the time would know better than to tell her she was getting too fat.<br />
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Apparently not.<br />
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I went into labor at about 3:45 am on a Thursday morning. I woke up, had to pee, got the usual "I just peed" contractions, and went back to bed. And laid there for an hour, eventually realizing that the contractions weren't going away. <br />
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I'd read that if they go away while walking around? It's not real labor. I figured this would be an excellent time to pack my hospital bag. I could walk around & if the contractions stopped? Well, at least I finally had my bag packed.<br />
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I again had to pee at about 5:45. Only I didn't pee. But the sound was still there. Yep. This is actually labor. <br />
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Went to the hospital (damn, has this road <i>always</i> been this bumpy??) and tried to "man it out" for a couple of hours. Then they offered the epidural again. I restrained myself from pouncing on the epidural guy, but have since built him a small shrine.<br />
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I had to stay on my right side because if I laid any other way, Boo's vitals got all goofy. By the time I got the "go" to push? My right leg was a big useless slab of meat. Boo was facing up, so I had to push for about an hour to get him out, but even still, he was born at 2:08 (or maybe 2:07...<i>bad mommy for not remembering...</i>) Thursday afternoon. In all? About a 10 hour labor. Pretty quick for a first-timer.<br />
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I'm so going to be that lady giving birth to a 72 pound baby on the side of the highway this time...<br />
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<i>*whimper*</i><br />
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So tell me? What was different for you the 2nd (or 3rd or 4th, etc) go 'round?<br />
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<i>**I love <a href= "http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=The+Far+Side&x=0&y=0"> The Far Side</a> by <a href= "http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gary_Larson"> Gary Larson</a> with all of my little heart. If you've never seen it? Check it out. Assuming you thought the (freakishly large because Blogger won't play nice) comic up there was actually funny. If you think it's sick and deranged? Well, things might not work out between us....</i>WTH am I Doing?http://www.blogger.com/profile/14696642125708468395noreply@blogger.com0