Sometimes, The Twins Just Don't Make Up For It All

Some days, I hate being a woman.

I haven't gotten my period yet, but I have started having days of major mood swings again.  Whee!  I certainly didn't miss those.  For some reason, being pregnant actually leveled me out some.  But it's back with a vengeance.  I think my body hates me.  Yes, it most certainly does.

Yesterday was particularly bad, and being tired didn't help with the swinging from being happy and content to being angry and frustrated to being depressed.  Oh so much fun.  The plus side; I'm enjoying all this great hormonal action without getting a period.  THAT is truly a blessing.  I hate cramps, and I can't say that I'm unhappy that I haven't had any for a year now (no, labor does NOT count as cramps.  Sorry).  Though with not having one in so long, I'll probably not be paying attention and one day WHAM!  Woman-ness running down my leg.  Good thing having a baby that is exclusively breastfeeding ties you to your home, because it would most certainly hit me while out grocery shopping or something, and I'm not smart enough to keep the tools of the trade with me.

And now for breastfeeding.  I love breastfeeding, most of the time.  When she is quiet as she eats anyway, not thrashing around and trying to skin me alive with her sharp little baby nails.  I'm not sure why she does that.  She doesn't come off my breast or cry when she does, so I'm pretty sure it doesn't have any thing to do with something I ate.  She just tries her best to tear my boob off.  Sometimes tucking her arms in against my belly works to calm her down, but most times she just squirms until she gets one out and she goes after my skin again.  I try adjusting her position, re-latching her, anything I can think of, but most time, she just keeps at it.  Very frustrating.  She's also taken to biting me a little bit already.  Usually when she's done nursing and is just sucking away for fun.  Thankfully I can fix that by re-latching her, or taking her off if she's fallen asleep.  And that's another thing.  She almost never un-latches herself.  I have to do it, because she will lay there, asleep for half an hour or more after I'm pretty certain she's done, but still latched on.  She used to pull away when she was finished; I'm not sure why she doesn't now.

But breastfeeding is also something that I hate about being a woman.  I can't wait until she's eating food that I'm not making.  Just for a break.  Even if she would go longer than 1.5-2 hours between feedings would be nice.  She goes about 3 hours at night, and only eats for 20 minutes at a time then, but baby, I'm tired of being tired.  She doesn't sleep long enough during the day, usually, for me to nap with her.  If I put her in her cradle, or her crib, she wakes up about 15 minutes later, right when I'm falling asleep.  Poop on that.  Right now, she is fast asleep, probably out of pure frustration.  She couldn't keep her pacifier in her mouth, and when it fell out, it was always just out of reach.  And mom isn't always quick on the draw and wouldn't put it back as soon as it came out.  She has her angry face on.  I love it.  Maybe I'll go take a nap on the couch.

Breastfeeding is not lewd, it’s food

Breastfeeding is not lewd, it’s food

This Is AWESOME!!!

Please tell me that I'm not the only one who remembers acting like this.......just a little bit.

Challenges

I've been struggling lately.  A lot has been going on in my life (besides the new baby!) and I've been having a hard time coping with it.  I had to have my gall bladder removed this week because of gall stones that developed while I was pregnant.  That was hard enough to deal with, because I had to go on a non-fat diet.  Great diet plan for someone recovering from an eating disorder, but I had no choice.  It was that, or suffer through attacks that put me in the ER.  I tried to continue to control the gall bladder attacks after my baby was born with the diet, but it turned out to be too difficult for me to do.  And I couldn't really narrow down what was giving me the attacks. So out it came.  But one side effect to not having a gall bladder is that I will now gain weight easier, and have a harder time losing weight if I need to.  I've been in panic mode.  It doesn't help that if I do gain weight, there is a good chance my mom will say something to me.  I've told her not to, that it's not helpful in anyway, but she has a hard time NOT pointing it out when she thinks I'm fat.  She does this very passive-aggressively, and I really don't think she knows how much it hurts me to hear some of her comments, even though I tell her.  She thinks she's being helpful.

Anyway, I've been feeling out of control lately and really struggling to eat during the day, and to eat better at night.  I know I need to stay healthy for my little girl, especially since I'm nursing her.  But it's been hard.  I cried on my husbands shoulder one night because I was so afraid that he wouldn't love me if I got fat (he told me he would).  And I argue with myself over whether to eat a biscuit, or have ice cream, or some other sugary or sweet thing (I have a major sweet tooth, and love white bread).  

I have a pretty good idea why I feel out of control, but I can't do anything about it.  Besides that, it's the holidays, which means parties revolving around food, and my family coming to visit.  It's hard, and some days, I just want to crawl into bed and stay there.  Instead, I'm constantly cleaning out the fridge, throwing away food that's probably still good, or fighting to eat something that my rational mind knows isn't going to make me fat.  I've lost my ability to cope any other way.  

But I have hope that I'll get past this.  I don't want to do this again, and I'm watching myself.  I always make myself eat the thing that part of me is afraid of, and then I point out to myself that I didn't balloon.  I remind myself that my husband likes the way I look now (after gaining weight) BETTER than he did when he met and married me.  I remind myself that I have to eat, and eat right, so my baby can grow right, and grow strong.  And I remind myself how terrible and even more out of control I felt when I was in the midst of my eating disorder.  I know that I can figure this out and move on.  I just needed to vent about it.  I hope that someone out there reads this and sees that even those well on the recovery path have their bad moments.  It doesn't mean that giving up and going back is the only option.  Because it's not.  And I won't let it be an option at all.

Wait, This Is Baby Stuff Too

`So I had lots of stuff I wanted to write about and wax eloquent on, but I forgot what it was.  Sorry.  I know you are disappointed.

So......baby news instead!  Yay!

~Daughter 1 is holding her head up when we hold her against our chest.  She can hold it up a little bit when she's on her stomach, but not much, and not for long.  It's still cute to watch her try.
~She's starting to smile now.  No, not fart smiles, though she does do those a lot (takes after her mom).  She doesn't smile a lot yet, so who knows when we'll actually get a picture of one, but she's doing it.
~She can pass out in 2 seconds flat, if she lets herself.  She likes to fight sleep.  Also like her mom.
~She has this soft book that can attach to a crib that is red, black, and white.  She loves looking at that.  It keeps her fascinated, which keeps her calm, and eventually she will go to sleep.
~Speaking of sleep, she won't sleep in her co-sleeper.  She wakes up as soon as she is put in it, and pretty much stays awake.  She'll doze, but she won't sleep for any length of time.  So she sleeps on my chest instead.  Sweaty.

I am constantly amazed how something that only eats, sleeps, and poops, can take up so much time.  Most of it relating to laundry.  And sore nipples.

I have to say that, so far, I have been lucky.  I've had no depression, which was something I was worried about, since I have a tendency for it.  But I've never been happier.  I like to think that I was made for this.  Brag, brag.  Though now that my dream of being a mother has finally come true, I'm not entirely sure what to do with myself. I'm still going to get my Master Herbalist diploma, and I'm still trying to talk myself into selling my crochet projects, but everything I ever planned to do, to become, has been fulfilled by Daughter 1's birth.  It's a little confusing.  I guess I'll figure it out.  Though I do feel a bit as if I'm floating loose.

I am also constantly amazed at how much my feelings change from day to day.  No, not that.  I love her unconditionally (how can I not?  She's super cute).  One day I never want her to grow up, but stay small and cute forever, and the next, I can't wait to see the kind of person she will become.  To see the kind of life she will lead.  I hope and pray that it will be, ultimately, a happy one.  And that she will know that it is.  And then I don't want her to grow up at all.  Can't stop it, I suppose.

The grippy things on the bottom of my socks are coming off.  I probably wear them too much.  They are so comfortable though.

It's Just Something In My Eye, I Swear

I can't believe she's here.  And has been for a week.  A whole week.  I've been a mom for a whole week.  She still makes me cry when I look at her sometimes.  I'm tearing up right now, actually.  I never once doubted I would love her, but I never, ever understood what it would be like.  How totally different this love is to everything and everyone else that I have ever loved.  How could I?  It can't be described, no matter how hard people try.  It's amazing to me.  She's so beautiful.  You'll just have to believe me, because The Man doesn't want pictures of her posted on here.  You'll just have to be my facebook friend, I guess.  Ha!

Oh, the birth.  That's what you all want to read about.  Yep, I did it without drugs.  I wanted them during transition, oh did I ever!  The gall bladder pain was absolutely terrible, it even surpassed some of my labor pains.  But it was such a different pain.  It can't compare, because it wasn't remotely similar.  But I'm already forgetting what it was really like, so I thought I would get it out there before I came on here and gushed about how beautiful it all was and so totally not painful, not really, if you think about it.  

Because it was.  So totally painful.  And beautiful.

I started having contractions sometime on Thursday, probably in the afternoon.  I'm not entirely sure when, because, having never had contractions before, I didn't know what I was looking for.  I was uncomfortable, but I didn't feel any real pain, and I didn't think I was experiencing that nesting thing that is supposed happen, though I did paint her dresser.  Maybe that was my nesting.  I was doing it because it needed to be done before she came.  

ANYWAY.

I had a midwife appointment that day, so when I went in, I asked if she could tell me if I was having contractions.  By that time they were getting more painful, but they were so inconsistent, and so mild, that I figured they were Braxton-Hicks (which I never really had, except one time when I was walking the river with The Dog Friends).  But she showed me how hard my stomach would get during one.  So I was really having them.  Ooooo!  How exciting!

I got no sleep that night.  Oh, I tried, because I knew that I would need energy for labor.  But silly me and my habit of staying up late......

Let's just say it didn't happen.  When I went to lay down, the contractions got bad enough that I had to get up again.  So I took a shower, counting through the contractions out loud so I could know when I couldn't talk through them any more.  Then I went to get something to eat.  And finally, at 4 in the morning, I woke The Man up to have him time the contractions.  We left for the birth center a little after 5 am.  I wasn't too worried they would send me home, because it was hurting pretty bad, and the contractions were pretty frequent.  And thus labor was officially started (in my mind anyway).  There was lots of walking around, lots of talking with The Man when I could talk, lots of moaning and groaning.  I did get into the tub for quite a while, in the hopes of it helping with the pain, but it only slowed things down and made my back labor worse, unfortunately, so I ended up getting out after they told me that my cervix and my uterus weren't lined up yet.  The options they gave me to change that were not ones I wanted, so I got out in the hopes that walking would change it.  Did it ever.  I was also in transition for a long time before I really realized it.  I talked a lot about wanting to go home and sleep, about never doing this again without an epidural, about wanting it to be over, how I didn't want to do it anymore.  I think I said a lot of other things too, but I can't remember them now.  You'd have to ask The Man.

Then, my water broke.  It was a very interesting sensation, and I wasn't even sure it had.  Maybe I had just peed a little or something.  The Man got the midwives though, and it had.  All of a sudden, it's like my brain cleared up.  I could kind of think straight, and contractions almost didn't hurt.  There were actual pauses between contractions.  I was in bliss then.  At some point after that (I don't want to say soon after, because it could have been 6 hours or 6 minutes for all I could tell) I started to want to push.  I got back in the tub to finish off, and with my first push in there is when I heard the pop.  Yeah, I broke my tail bone.  It may have been the position I was in (squatting, not sitting), but I had to push at the time, so I did.  I didn't feel any pain from it, but I certainly heard it.  Apparently, this happens frequently.  Thanks for telling me.

Ultimately, I didn't end up doing a water birth.  I was sad about that, but being in the water actually made my labor harder and slower.  My back would hurt so much, and nothing would happen while I was in there.  So I had to get out.  I ended up giving birth on a birthing stool (they preferred that over the toilet, for some reason).

Oh, and my Lamaze breathing?  Went straight out the window.  I tried to do it, I really did, but labor and how it went was so unexpected.  I didn't expect it to hurt like it did.  I knew it would hurt, and hurt a lot, but it's such a different kind of pain.  But at least I got to yell when I was pushing, instead of having to keep up the moaning stuff (which did help with contractions, but I was just sick of it by that time).  I don't think I could have helped it anyway.

The worst part was right before I started pushing.  That was definitely the most painful.  I couldn't talk, I could barely breathe, and I could only walk a few steps before I had to stop and hang off of The Man during a contraction.  The actual pushing wasn't so bad, it really just felt like a lot of pressure.

Thankfully, it only took 55 minutes of pushing to get her out.  My Lamaze video had said to expect 1-3 hours of it.  I was so glad it didn't take that long (and I'm sure The Man's arm was glad for that too).

I cried when I first saw her.  But don't tell anyone that.  I have to keep up my heart-of-ice biker girl image you know.

I'm so, so, so glad she is here.  She has already made up for all the pain she caused me getting here.  I love you, baby girl.

Oh yeah, I should probably take that baby counter thing down.

Anticipation

Is making me late,
is keeping me waiting.....

Okay, today is supposed to be the day.  Do I think it will happen today?  No.  Does The Man?  Maybe.  He says she'll be on time, whatever that means.  I just don't want to get to 2 weeks over and end up being induced.  I don't think I will.  But no temple trip for us now, even though I finally have a slip that won't squish my boobs.  I really wanted to go this weekend (of course totally forgetting it's conference weekend and it's probably closed), and we really need to go, but The Man was smart and pointed out that it wouldn't be much fun to go and end up having my water break in the middle of a session.  He knew a girl who threw up on the altar during her sealing.  How embarrassing that must have been.  Amniotic fluid probably isn't much better to clean, I don't care that it doesn't smell or have a color.  Ick.

5 things I didn't get while pregnant that I wanted:
1.  No cravings.  Of any sort.  So no midnight runs to the grocery store by The Man to accommodate me.
2.  No pokey-outie belly button.
3.  Not getting hugely big.  As uncomfortable as I am now, I'm sure that I would be a hundred times more uncomfortable if I were bigger.  I still want to be.  I think the women that get big are super cute.
4.  Thick, lustrous hair.  At least, not that I noticed.  I stopped losing it, but it didn't turn all wonderful and beautiful and easily managed.
5.  Huge boobs.  At least not yet.  I can still fit into my old bras.  Though that might be more of something The Man wants.  It's not like I'm teeny tiny anyway.

5 things I got that I didn't want:
1.  Throwing up.  I really did want to skip that part. 
2.  Itchy belly skin.  It didn't start until very recently, but it's driving me nuts.  The only time it doesn't itch is when I'm not wearing clothes.  Can't really walk around naked with my parents in the house though.
3.  Stupidity.  I was taking DHA for a while, and it helped, I think, but then I stopped.  No good reason, really, other than I didn't want to be taking so many pills.  I've gotten stupider as I've gotten farther along.
4.  Dog nose.  That ended after the 1st trimester, thankfully.  Though it was fun being able to smell my co-workers lunches and going and begging food off of them if it smelled good.
5.  Gall stones.  Yeah.  THEY are fun.

5 things I did/didn't get that I'm glad about:
1.  No stretch marks.  Yet.  I thought for sure I would get them, since they sprouted overnight when I gained weight after getting married.  But I'm still growing, so we'll see.
2.  Good skin.  It's really dry, and I still get a little pimple here and there, but no zits, at least not on my face.  My shoulders have finally cleared up too.  I think I may have gotten one or two zits the whole time.  But they went away quickly.  I haven't had such good skin since I was in middle school.
3.  Fast growing nails that don't easily break. 
4.  I didn't gain a ton of weight.  I'm not sure how I would have handled that.  Not well, I think. 
5.  Strangers didn't touch me.  I've never had anyone I don't know touch me and ask when I'm due.  I've never had anyone I don't know ask me when I'm due, period.  And only one stranger (a customer at work) commented that I was "heavy with child".  Yeah, he was a weird one, especially since I was barely showing at the time.  But he also said that my baby would be lucky to have me as a mother.

Now I'm just waiting for something else to happen.  Like contractions.  Contractions would be nice.  Only because it would be nice to finally know for sure that she won't be in there forever kicking my bladder and my ribs.

Give Me Your Money

So, I've decided that I should probably try and sell crochet projects.  

Doing so gives me an excuse to make them, and they won't pile up around our house, waiting to be used.  I've made this decision multiple times, mostly because I felt like I was just being lazy if I didn't try to sell them.  I sold one blanket years ago.  And I've got 2 friends who have ordered a hat and a scarf recently.  So I've sold some stuff.  But now I'm wanting to sell because I want to contribute SOMETHING to our household funds.  Both The Man and I know, that, while getting a job would help immensely with paying our bills, it's not what Heavenly Father wants me to do right now.  I need to stay home and take care of our baby.  With all the financial stress that's been put on our plate recently, it's a hard decision to stick to.  Especially since The Mother-in-law is moving in with us soon.  Built in baby sitter!  But nope, it's not for us.  So, the only option I have is to sell things I make.  

Biggest problem?  If I make a blanket, I have a hard time asking for even the cost of the yarn back.  (Scarves and hats are cheap and easy.)  The blanket I sold a few years ago?  I sold it for 25 dollars.  The yarn to make it cost me 75.  If I charged 25 dollars for labor, that's 100 bucks I would have had to charge.  Would someone really pay that much for a blanket?  And it wasn't even that fancy yarn you can only get at specialty yarn shops that cost 80 bucks a skein.  It wasn't plain old Red Heart, either, but still.  I was pretty disappointed in the sale.  

I'm very picky about my projects too.  At least for blankets.  With how many millions of patterns there are out there, I never like to make a blanket twice.  One reason is so that if someone does have a blanket made by me, they won't run into someone else with the same blanket made by me.  Keeps it unique.  Another reason is because by the time you finish a blanket, you generally don't want to ever look at that pattern again.  I get thrilled when it's done, I don't want to start another one.  I want to start a different one.  

I'm also not good at selling myself.  I feel guilty saying "Hey!  Look at how amazing I am!  I am the Amazing Crocheter!  You want to spend money you probably don't have on what I can do!  You totally do!  Because I'm AMAZING!!!!!"  I don't feel amazing.  The Mother-in-law, she's amazing at crocheting.  Me, not so much.  And yes, plenty of people have told me multiple times that I really am good at it, but shut-up, all of you, because I don't believe you.  I know I'm good, but only because I keep doing it.  I'm not so sure I'm good enough to sell it.

But I want to.

Another problem is what my options are for selling.  Ebay takes a percentage of the money you get.  While I understand that, I don't like it.  Plus, it goes to a PayPal account, not my bank account.  Doesn't really help me there.  I'm not sure how Etsy works, but I feel like I would have to be much more prolific in my project making to justify having an Etsty shop.  Since I watch TV while I crochet, I feel pretty lazy when I do it.  It doesn't feel like work to me.  So, if I'm not making something that someone specifically asked for, or that I'm planning on giving to someone as a gift, I don't work on it very hard.  I'm not sure I would build much of an inventory.  And I would much rather keep it as close to home as possible.  I'm not good at getting things shipped out.  

At any rate, I guess I'll pimp myself now.  If anyone wants me to make them something (don't ask for clothes, like sweaters.  I've only made one.  I'm not good at them yet), I'm selling it.  Little things, like hats, probably about 10 dollars, depending on yarn type and complication.  Blankets have to be negotiable, because of size (baby blankets would be cheaper than regular blankets), cost of the yarn, complication of the pattern, etc.  It would help if you already know what pattern you want, and in what colors.  If you want something, but don't have a pattern picked out, I have tons.  Let me know if you want something.  

Random Thoughts While Scooping Poop

Can I count mucking out 5 months of dog turds as a service project?  I'm sure my neighbors appreciate it.  It did take the fact that the family is descending on our house this weekend to get me to do it.

I'm not looking forward to cleaning up after 5 dogs.  Maybe I'll make The Dad do it.  Retirement has made him far too lazy.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be able to breathe again.  Whoever thought just sitting in a chair would make you feel like you just ran a mile?  Or a block, since we are talking about me.

While part of me knows we will be okay, I really wish just enough money to pay for our medical bills would magically show up in our bank account.  Or better yet, that the next set would come to us as paid in full.

I've been told many times to study the Atonement.  Where do I even start with that?  I know the basics, but what next?  I can hardly get through the interesting non-fiction books, let alone religious ones.

Why must my sandals make my feet stink so very, very much?

I greatly appreciate that both of The Dogs poop in one spot in the yard.  Too bad they each have their own spot.  But at least you can still walk through the yard without stepping in a turd bomb, as long as you know where the spot is.

I hope I get my brain back after The Daughter is born.  I'm tired of forgetting what I'm talking about in the middle of saying it.

2 weeks!  Gah!  I want it over with and I want it to never happen.  I don't like uncertainty.

I hope I have the energy to at least vacuum before every one gets here.  The dog hair has taken over again.

Looking at dog poop for an hour makes you think about dogs.  Huh.

Maybe I'll weed the front yard tomorrow.  Probably not, though.

Adventures with Rocks

Oh the joys of being pregnant.  And everything was going so well.

Yesterday, I was told that I have gall stones.  What joy!  What fun!  Getting to this diagnosis was also a joy (warning, novel ahead.  Seriously, I'm not kidding).

Starting at, say, midnight I guess, I started to feel pain in my upper abdomen, right below my sternum (when you're pregnant, there really isn't anywhere else to feel pain in your abdomen).  I figured I had an impacted fart, because that's what it felt like.  I also felt sore in my back, right across from the pain, but with my history of back pain, I blew it off.  It sucked, and it hurt a lot, but what with all the other crap going on in our life, this couldn't be that bad.  So I kept ignoring it, even though I could barely sit still it hurt so much.

I was super tired (this should have been tip off for me, I'm never that tired until 3 or 4 am), so I decided to just go to bed.  But laying down just made the pain worse.  So I think to myself, "A shower will help my back not hurt at least."  Nope.  Didn't do a blasted thing, and my stomach hurt worse than before.  So I fill up the bathtub, hoping that the warm water and the floating would take some gravity off my stomach and that would help.  Also nope.

I tried every possible position to get comfortable, at least comfortable enough to make the pain bearable. Nothing.  By this point, I was making noise and talking to myself.  I did consider contractions, but, while the pain did come in waves, it was also constant.  Everything I had heard about labor, even active labor, said that contractions aren't constant until you are in transition.  So I was certain it wasn't labor.  So I paced the bathroom floor and begged God to take the pain away so I could sleep.

Finally, at 3 or 4 in the morning, I woke The Man up (scaring him to death in the process), and asked for a blessing.  He gave me one, and then stayed up with me while I continued to pace and moan and say things that probably didn't make a lot of sense.  We looked stuff up online about abdominal pain and pregnancy, but so much can happen that doesn't mean anything.  And it felt so much like gas pain, that that's what I concentrated on in my search.  Nothing serious.  I did see something about gall bladders, but I ignored it.  I mean, it couldn't possibly be that, I'm only 29.  That's an old person problem.

Finally, the pain subsided a little bit, and I thought maybe I could sleep, if I slept sitting up.  The Man went back to bed, and I tried sleeping in our recliner, with a heating pad on my back.  But it was a no go.  Not long after that, the pain came back.  I tried eating something, to see if that would help, and pretty much immediately threw it up.

At about 8 am, The Man convinced me to call The Parents and see if they knew anything about what it could be.  The Dad told me to go to the doctor.  Since I was pregnant, it didn't matter if it was minor, I needed to see someone.  So off we went to Insta-Care, since it was the only place open.

The pain at this point, while still extremely bad, wasn't super unbearable.  They took a quick look at me and sent me to Labor & Delivery at the Orem Hospital, where I throw up, again, in the parking lot.  We get inside, they have me pee in a cup, hook me up to monitors, and check me.  Oh, I hated that part.  And the whole time the pain is getting worse.  The nurse told me that, even though I wasn't really effaced, and barely dilated to a 1, she was pretty certain I was in early labor, because I was having contractions.  Oh man, did I EVER freak out.  I start crying, while The Man is trying to help me remember my breathing, because it hurt so much.  I just wanted it to stop hurting, I didn't want it to get worse,  I didn't want to go through labor anymore if that's what early labor felt like.  I really just wanted to go to sleep, and kept saying so.  And still, the pain is constant, with peaks lasting, it seemed to me, for 5 minutes at a time.  I start making more noise, hoping it will help distract me.  They check my pee, to make sure it's not a UTI, tell me it's not, therefore, it's most definitely labor.  So we call our midwife and head over to the birth center.

I go through all the checking again, and she says it's NOT labor.  The pain is too constant, and too concentrated in one spot, plus the pain and tenderness in my back, and where it's located, indicate either kidney stones or gall stones.  So she sends us BACK to Labor and Delivery at Orem Hospital, where they take me to the ER.  I'm barely able to walk anymore, and can't even talk much.  The Man is taking care of everything, filling out paperwork and answering questions, while I'm trying not to scream (the pain is growing progressively worse).  Thankfully there wasn't anyone before us, so I got into a room right away.

I get my vitals checked AGAIN, and the nurse says he will get me some pain meds.  While waiting for the doctor to show up, I throw up yet AGAIN.  I haven't thrown up with this kind of frequency since I was a kid.  Even at the beginning of my pregnancy, I only threw up once a day (usually around 1 in the afternoon.  My body has a thing for timing).  I don't even know what I'm throwing up, because my stomach is completely empty.  But there was a lot of empty in there.  And the pain is absolutely unbearable.  I can't stop moaning and making noise, even if I wanted to.  They get me on the table, flat on my back and start getting me hooked up to an IV.  I'm shaking uncontrollably, all over.  The Man is rubbing any part of me he can touch; my legs, my arms, my head.  I'm squeezing any part of him I can reach, which I'm sure didn't feel great.  He keeps telling me to breath slow and deep, but I can barely take a breath at all.

They finally get me hooked up, and give me a dose of morphine.  I'm laying there, shaking and moaning, praying it will work, and wondering why it wasn't.  The Man tells me over and over that it takes some time, but I was feeling nothing.  So they come back, eventually, and give me more.  In just a few minutes, I had a nice woozy feeling, like my arms and legs were just going to float away.  And the pain, the pain was almost gone!  Oh, happiness!  It was still there, but I could finally sleep.  Which I did.  Oh, bliss!  I think I only slept for about an hour, but still.  It was a drugged sleep, where you can still hear everything going on, so I didn't feel very rested when I woke up.  But still, I slept!  I woke up just in time for them to send me to have an ultrasound to make sure that it was my gall bladder, and to make sure the baby was okay.  That went well, and we went back to the room to wait for the results.  Oh, and I got to ride in a wheelchair!  The morphine made it so that there was no possible way I could even stand for more than a few seconds.

Results:  Gall stones.  They said they showed up on the ultrasound, so there's no doubt I have them.  One got stuck up at the top of the gall bladder, which is what caused the pain.  They gave me a prescription for loratabs (or however you spell that) and an anti-nausea pill, since gall stones cause nausea (hence, me throwing up 3 times).

Now, I'm can't eat fat, pretty much at all.  No fried foods, no fast food, no butter, sauces, gravy, cheese, or milk.  Dairy all together is pretty much out.  I can try skim milk, and non-fat yogurt, but dairy alone can cause the pain again.  And while I have pain, no solids at all.  Just clear liquids.  Good thing they have prenatal vitamins out there.  But I do get to eat a lot of carbs!  Woot!  The paper they gave me specifically says to eat a high-carb diet!  How I love carbs.  Just no fat.  Boo!

So, I'm pretty much pain free at the moment.  Loratabs are heaven-sent, let me tell you.  I haven't had to take any today, and I'm hoping it will stay that way, because clear liquids do nothing to fill you up.  I actually went to bed at 10 last night, after sleeping for 3 hours yesterday afternoon.  And slept through the night (I only had to get up once to pee!).  I got up when The Man did for work, but I think I'm going to go back to bed now.  Just writing about this has made me sleepy again.

Here's hoping that going through labor is the last time in a long time that someone in our family will have to go to a doctor of any sort, and that we will all be healthy.  Oh, and after yesterday, I'm thinking labor will be cake.  Maybe not a good cake, but cake nonetheless.      

It's Freezer Time, Kids! Yay!

I've been interested in learning to freeze some of our leftovers or making pre-cooked freezer meals so that I don't have to cook every night if I don't want to (I HATE cooking with a fiery burning passion that only surpassed by my hatred of gory movies). Freezing straight up fruits and veggies I'm not so interested in, because I just buy those. But freezing meals/leftovers has become much more important now that we will be spending any extra money we have on hospital bills. The problem is, is that I don't really know how to do this. I don't recall The Mom ever doing freezer meals, since she likes to cook. Also, I avoided the kitchen at all costs. I'm sure that had nothing to do with it though.

So, my questions are these:

--What can I freeze after cooking it? I'm assuming pretty much anything, but I need to know the huge no-no's.

--How do I go about thawing it when we are ready for it? Every time I've frozen leftovers (in single portions sizes), when we go to thaw them out in the microwave, it takes almost as long as cooking because the middle is always still frozen, and then it tastes nasty because the outside is over cooked. I've mostly tried this with a rotini lasagna thing that I think SHOULD freeze well, and therefore taste good, if I could just get it to thaw.

--What about breakfast foods, like pancakes, waffles, or french toast? I'm assuming you can just pop those in the toaster like you would the store-bought counterparts. I'm really interested in the frozen breakfast stuff because sometimes you just don't want cereal. They also make for good snacks at 2 AM.

So, if any of the 5 people who read this blog have tips, I would love them. Recipes would be nice too, but we don't have a lot of freezer space (I am no longer a fan of freezers with baskets instead of shelves) because I am not organized, so no recipes that require large portions of something to be frozen all together, please.

Here's to saving money and my sanity!

Parmesan Crusted Chicken Tenders

So, to keep you all coming back for more, and since pregnancy stuff is boring to those who aren't, and probably to those who are, I'm posting a recipe. The Mom sent it to me months and months ago, and we finally tried it a couple of weeks ago. It's super good, AND easy, which means it gets an automatic 4 stars at least. So, here it is:

Parmesan Crusted Chicken Tenders

Spray cooking oil (I used Walfarts 100% olive oil spray)

2/3 C. bread crumbs

1/4 C. Parmesan cheese

2 Tblsp. parsley

1/4 tsp. black pepper

1 Tblsp. mustard

2 egg whites

1 lb raw chicken tenders

Place oven rack in top third of oven. Heat oven to 425. Set a wire rack on a baking sheet and spray rack with cooking oil. In a small bowl, stir together bread crumbs, Parmesan cheese, parsley, and pepper. In another small bowl, beat together mustard and egg whites until frothy and opaque.

Dip each chicken tender in egg white mixture, then in breadcrumb mixture to coat all sides, then place on prepared baking rack. Spray each tender with oil, all sides. Bake until golden brown and crisp, about 15-20 minutes.

For any I know who are on low carb diets (The East-Coast In-Laws, I'm looking at you), this might be a good recipe for you. A coating of bread crumbs shouldn't be too many carbs, right? Just skip the delicious, delicious fries you could serve them with. Mmmmm, fries.

Oh my holy banana crap! I'm going to be a mom in less than 2 months!

Guts and Goo

Oh so much fun in our household this week.

So, Tuesday night, as I crawl in to bed, The Man rolls over and says that his stomach hurts really bad. He had been feeling sick earlier, some nausea, so I'm figuring it's just some indigestion, or that he's gotten the flu. He tells me that it's on his lower right side, and is a really sharp pain. The location made a bell go off in my head that it might be appendicitis. But it could also be an impacted fart (those never feel good), so I had him take some Tums, to see if that would help. He fell asleep after that, so I figured that's what it was and went to sleep too. But when he got up for work, he was still in pain, and he could barely walk. (This whole time I'm thinking about the M*A*S*H episode where Colonel Blake gets appendicitis.) So, to the Insta-Care we go, with him calling people at his work the whole way.
Lucky it happened so early in the morning. We were the first to be seen by the doctor. After checking him over, he said that it probably is appendicitis, and sent us to the hospital for a CT scan to be sure. That was a long wait.
First he had to drink 6 cups of contrast (which The Man chose to have mixed with grape juice. He said is tasted like grape juice and barbeque sauce) every ten minutes, then wait half an hour for it to get to his intestines. It was freezing down there, besides the fact that he had a fever and so was even more cold than I was. He finally got in for the scan, and then we had to wait for the doctor to call. Result? We were sent to same day surgery.
There was another wait because the doctor that they wanted to have operate on him was still on his first patient, which he had started at 5 that morning (It was now around noon). Still, the wait there was the shortest wait we had. The found another doctor pretty quickly, and got us all checked in, while simultaneously prepping him for surgery (his tummy was nice and smooth for a few days. It's all stubbly now). The surgeon came in and told us what they were going to do, which, thankfully, was NOT cut him open. The poked 3 holes (basically) in his stomach: One to put carbon dioxide into his stomach cavity so they could inflate it to see what they were doing, one to put the camera and light into, and one to do the work through. The last one was by his belly button, which is where they pulled the appendix out of. He was sent to surgery at 1:30, and I was sent to the waiting room where I valiantly (if I do say so myself) tried not to freak out by imagining it bursting while in surgery and him dieing on the table. Thankfully I was distracted by The Kansas friends' texts, a phone call from The Little Brother, and a phone call from The Mother-in-Law. Then one of The Dog Friends showed up and she sat with me until the surgeon came.
Everything went fine (obviously, since he's still here). The surgeon even fixed his apparently herniated belly button. The Man is a little disappointed about that, since now he has a belly button like everyone elses'. We went up to the hospital room to wait for him to come up. It was only a few minutes before I heard his voice in the hall telling jokes to the nurses who were wheeling him up (none of this he remembers). He was so groggy and out of it (It was kind of cute). The best thing he said was "I don't think I've ever had oxygen before (he had one of those nose things for oxygen). It smells funny." That made me and The Dog Friend crack up. He also doesn't remember saying that.

We were told by the surgeon that he should be out by the next day, but that didn't happen. His white blood cell count was too high, so they had him stay for another day to keep him on an IV of antibiotics. Neither of us got much sleep, because he couldn't roll off his back to sleep, and I had to sleep in a recliner that wouldn't stay reclined. The nurses were all great, and they all gave him compliments for being a good patient and doing what he was supposed to do (breathe into this thing that is supposed to prevent pneumonia, and take walks around the floor). I mostly stayed with him, until the 3rd day he was there. I had to go home then, because our dogs were stressing out so much that Dog 2 was having the mad poops in her kennel. They are still stressed, I think, because neither of them is showing much interest in their food, and Dog 2 still has diarrhea, but she is keeping it in now, and they eventually eat all their food.

He is finally home now, and is still doing good. He walks around the house as ordered by the doctor, and is being a good boy and taking his pills. We are both sleeping better. Who knows how long this will take to pay off, but I will be eternally grateful that my inner Scrooge stayed away Wednesday morning and that we went to the doctor right away, instead of waiting to see if it got better so we could save money. As it was, his appendix was already leaking some puss by the time they got in there, so who knows how long he actually had before it would have burst.

But he's safe, he's alive, and we will find a way to pay for this, even if it takes until the day we die.

Oh yes, we got pictures from the surgeon. Maybe I'll post them in another 6 months, after you've all forgotten about this. You know how on top of posting pictures I am. One of my best qualities.

Tom Cruise on Home Teaching

This is awesomely funny.

Bad Backs and Bad Dishwashers

Really? That's clean? Come now dishwasher fairy, I feed you. Maybe not the best, but you don't have to crap all over my dishes. Are you really going to insist that I get the expensive stuff? Maybe I'll just get a new dishwasher fairy. How's THAT make your wand sparkle?

So, fairy stuff aside, we did have to switch detergents. I don't know what was on this plate to make the soap residue stick like that, but it just wouldn't come off. We washed it 3 times. I finally washed it by hand, after The Man threatened to throw it away. We probably need to just clean the dishwasher, but I'm not entirely sure how to do that. Still, I don't recommend Kirkland brand dishwasher detergent. At least not in older dishwashers. The dishwasher fairies don't seem to like it.

And here, good readers, is the reason why I have a massage therapist:


This is me (please ignore the giant zit in the middle of my back) about halfway through a session. My massage therapist wanted me to see for myself how bad my back is messed up. He told me to sit up straight, but relaxed. This is the result. I'm completely off kilter. And this is after about 2 years of work. He says I'm tons better than I was, and I feel tons better, but there is still a lot of work to be done.

Here's what it looked like when he was done:

Crazy, no? Too bad it doesn't stay that way. I'm still a little tilted to the right, but not nearly as badly. And look! My elbows are level!

These aren't super recent pictures; they were taken in April. But they are a pretty good idea of what is going on with my back, because I haven't been able to get work done on me more than once a month, thanks to both of our work schedules not coinciding. My word of advise for those pregnant ladies out there: get massages. Regular ones. I had super bad round ligament pain for a while (to the point of not being able to walk very well without it hurting super bad), until my massage therapist figured out what kind of magic to work on me. I can now stand at my job for the most part without wanting to cry, and I can walk. My back also isn't hurting (though that might be from my lack of belly) like I thought for sure it would with the extra weight. Plus, it just feels good. For the most part. If you don't need to be fixed, like me, the relaxing ones are the best. Maybe I'll make him do one of those next time. . . . .

And You Thought Jabba the Hut Was Big

Look at me, I'm huge!!!!!

Okay, not really. Not for 6 months. This is 27 weeks (and 1 day, but who's counting? Certainly not ME). I'm also pulling my (non-maternity) dress back so you can see that I actually do have a stomach. You can see it really well when I'm naked. Promise.

Don't worry, I won't post that. No one wants to see that.

Can I say though, in all honesty, that, except for on our anniversary, when we went to the zoo, I am jealous of NOT being bigger. I probably won't be so "upset" about it with my next ones, but for my first, after waiting 6.5 years to even get pregnant, I wanted it to be super obvious. Yes, I know, I really don't want to be big, especially in the summer, count my blessings, blahdy blah blah. Phooey. I think big bellys are cute, and I wanted one (insert pouty face and foot stomp here). I've been hearing for 6 months that I don't look pregnant, I really hope I'm not hearing it at 9.

Some good things: I'm not nearly as hormonal as I thought I would be (I'm not crying at commercials anyway), I'm not sick anymore, I can still squeeze into my regular bras, I haven't had to buy maternity underwear, my feet aren't swelling (yet) and my skin has never looked better.

Best thing: She kicks like mad. I'm just glad to know she's in there and doing fine.

Oh yes, my amniotic fluid is now at a normal level, but I still have to drink a gallon of water every day to make sure it stays there. Goody. My midwife said I could leave out 8 ounces if I really wanted too. What a bargin. Whoever thought you could get heartburn from water?

Bad things (better stick with the theme): Heartburn, though it isn't super bad yet, just a little uncomfortable, vomit burps, peeing every 20 minutes, phantom pees if she's kicking my bladder, not being able to bend over completely any more, not fitting into my regular pants, but my maternity pants are constantly falling off (is this just me?), and constant round ligament pain on my left side.

Hmmmmm, those aren't nearly as bad as they could be. I should stop whining.



Nah.

Well, At Least It APPEARS To Be Human. . .

IT'S A GIRL!!!!!! Nah nah to all you boy predictors out there!

We are extremely excited. We both wanted a girl first. The news is mostly good too. She is developing just fine, a little small for 24 weeks, so they may push the date back. Boo to that. Also, my fluid level is low, which is either because I'm not as far along as thought, or because I'm not drinking enough water. So I get to go in again for an ultrasound next week, and I have to drink a gallon of water every day. The Man says it's not that much if you spread it out, but I say, and my bladder agrees, that's a lot of freaking water. I wish I could just stick an IV in my arm and do it that way. I hate water. It's so boring. But pop dries you out, unfortunately, so I can't just drink that. Phooey.

But it's a girl! Yay! Cute girly stuff!!!! I already have a little velvet dress that is waiting for her to wear, that is so tiny she should be able to wear it right off the bat. Exciting!

Updates Shmupdates

SO, I seem to be on a roll for posting once a month. Sometimes I just forget that I have this thing.

UPDATES: My nausea is gone! I can eat again! Yippie skippie! I still get slightly sick some days, but I haven't thrown up in weeks, which makes me so uber happy. But let me all remind you, pregnancy is weird. I have no cravings for anything, and I'm not super hungry all the time (though I drink about 3 times as much water as before). I'm 24 weeks as of today, and apparently I'm carrying around a uterus the size of a soccer ball, but no, OF COURSE it's not showing on ME (this is why there have been no belly pics. I just look kind of fat, unless I'm naked and laying down. And no one wants to see that). But the baby kicks me if I wait to long to eat after getting hungry, kicks me A LOT if I do nothing but sit all day, especially if I play Guitar Hero, kicks even more when my massage therapist is messing with my pelvis to keep it forward to try and prevent back labor (he can feel those). It is weird that the kicks no longer feel like fart bubbles, and actually feel like kicks. I can see them if they are particularly hard. Sometimes the kicking weirds me out, other times I get all pregnancy-sappy and coo and giggle over it. One interesting fact that I learned from one of my pregnancy books (Prenatal Parenting. I recommend it): The uterus has no touch sensory nerves in it, so you're not feeling the baby hitting it, your feeling your uterus actually stretch out when the baby kicks. Crazy.

Also, we are finding out what the sex is on Monday. I am scared and sooooooooo excited. And I want a girl. I think "she" when I think about it, and I've had a couple of baby girl dreams, but not many. The Man wants a girl too. All the girls at my work want a girl too, though all the boys want a boy. Imagine that.

Non-Preggo Updates: We have the worst luck with computers. This one broke last week, right before I had a school test due. And of course, it doesn't get fixed until yesterday (thanks Dog Friends). This time, it was a bad RAM stick. We have two, thank goodness, but we will need to get another one if The Man ever wants to play much WOW again. And we really need to get our hard drives in order. We have 3 or 4 in there, and when we got the computer back from the shop, it wouldn't boot because it was looking on the wrong hard drive for Windows. But our friends brother helped our friends figure out which hard drive it was, and all is good, for the next 3 or 4 months, when our motherboard will probably fry or something. I had to go to the library to do my school work. All the computers there are so slow and it's so aggravating. But I managed to get most of it done in the hour allotted to me. Except an essay. That took me days. Why is there no where on the Internet that explains the mechanics behind nerve endings going numb? Like, what signal is sent to the nerve endings by the brain, and what chemical is released to make it happen? Really. There is nothing. I ended up just doing a different essay question because I couldn't answer that one to my own satisfaction. But it was still super late. Hopefully I won't get docked points.

Now I am off to the vet to get dog food for Dog 2. Here's hoping I get back before they shut down our street for Orem Crapperfest.

10 Things That Make Me Happy

Since I have absolutely nothing else to write about, and I can't find the camera-to-computer cord, so I can't post pictures, and it's been over a month since I posted, and I figure you all are salivating to hear about MY THOROUGHLY ENTERTAINING LIFE!!!!!! you're getting a list, in no particular order, of things that always make me extremely happy.

1. BOOKS!!! Oh how I love books. Fiction mostly, though I consistently try to get myself to read non-fiction books. I love to learn things, but non-fiction books are hard to get through. Most of the time. The bookshelves we have in our house are crammed, mostly, yet I still don't feel there are enough. I must be surrounded by books. They are soooooo comforting. Also, I love the library.

2. Nice weather. And no, I'm not just saying that because the weather is actually nice today (hallelujah!). I hate winter with a passion that drives me to stay in bed until spring. And if spring isn't springy enough, I will stay until it changes enough to make me happy. I'm also terrified of freezing to death, which may contribute to my love of nice, warm weather. I also like the green.

3. The Man (I would be a bad bad wife if I didn't put him on the list). He's so HOT. And nice to boot. He picks on me all the time, but I think I can live with that. The last particularly memorable thing he did, was tell me not to make noise when I threw up, because it was gross. I was leaning over the garbage can, just waiting for it to come, and trying not to cry, because I was soooooo sick of being sick and throwing up. He asked what I was doing, I told him, and he said to keep it quiet. That made me laugh, which, thankfully, also made me feel better (though he did tell me to shush when I gagged a few minutes later).

4. Soft serve vanilla ice cream. I love the stuff. And I'm not boring because I like vanilla. Chocolate ice cream looks like poop on a cone, and tastes nasty. I just have more refined ice cream tastes than most people.

5. Fresh cherries. Do you have any idea how happy I am that cherry season is coming? Do you? Do you really? I don't think so. I plan every summer to eat enough cherries to make myself sick. And I enjoy every delicious moment of it. Too bad frozen and canned aren't nearly as good. Lack of cherries is one more reason I hate winter.

6. Heaters. Of all sorts. We have a small portable one we keep (mostly) under our computer desk, and I almost always have it on, even when it's 80 degrees in the house. I'm not cold, not really, it's just comforting. I blame the old furnace vents in the house I grew up in. They blasted hot air when the furnace was on, and me and The Little Brother would sit in front of them until they turned off. Sometimes we would stay there huddled, until it came back on. I'm sure it drove my parents nuts. But it was SO WARM. Made it very hard to get dressed for school.

7. Colors. I love colorful things. I'm too lazy to be very proactive in making things colorful, like painting my walls, but I love to look at them. I can't really describe what I mean, because there are certain colors, or maybe combinations, that don't make me very happy, but aren't necessarily ugly. Then there are others that just make me want to stay in one place and stare.

8. Baths. Again with the heat. If I don't want to get naked, I will fill up the tub just enough to cover my feet and have the water go up my calves a little, and just sit on the edge of the tub until my butt is numb and read, with my feet in the water. I will periodically drain some of the water when it gets cold and refill it with hot. I used to do this in the sink, when we didn't have a tub.

9. Sunlight. Also having to do with heat. And the fact that it literally makes me happy. I have Seasonal Affective Disorder (probably yet ANOTHER reason I hate winter), so being in the sun gets my vitamin D thing on, and I get happy. Just ask The Man. I am much easier to be around in the spring and summer than fall and winter. And it's warm. I can't pass up warm things. I'm like a cat. My dream home will have a window that constantly has a patch of sunlight shining through, just so I can lay on the floor (sitting in a chair just isn't as good) in it. I will negotiate with God to get the sun to stay in one place. Or maybe I'll just have an all glass house and follow the sun around.

10. Animals. If I could live on a farm, all I'd want to do is take care of the animals. I love them all, as long as they aren't mean. I have had a multitude of pets growing up (dogs, cats, turtles, rats, hamsters, guinea pigs, and fish mostly), and I would love to house a zoo at my home. Mostly I want a couple of rats, but The Cats would probably try to eat them, since they seem to be mousers. I would also like to have an iguana, turtles again, maybe some frogs, a ferret, a tortoise, an owl because they are just cool, a pig, a horse, a goat, and a cow (I think cows are cute. Stupid, but cute). Just to name a few.


The End.

P.S. I'm 20 weeks as of yesterday! Halfway there baby! Though I'm barely showing yet, which is annoying. And I'm not feeling any movement yet, which is a little worrisome, but I think everything is okay at the same time. I can't wait for all this to be over. Then I can worry about something I at least can SEE.

P.P.S We will be finding out in June what it is. We want a girl. We will probably get a boy (which we won't be sad about. Girl clothes are just so much cuter though!). We waited as long as we have because
A) this being our first, it kind of came up fast. We are still in a semi-state of shock. At least I am.
B) We also wanted to make sure that (if it's a boy) his junk was big enough to actually see without a lot of guessing and thinking it might be a thumb or something. Though that may happen anyway.
C) Probably a little bit of fear mixed in there. Hearing the heartbeat at our first midwife appointment also did that. Actually seeing it, wow. And what if something is wrong with it? But, we will be making the appointment for the ultrasound this Wednesday. I'm guessing we will then have it done at our appointment after this one, which will be in June.

WARNING: Extremely Long But Critically Acclaimed Novel To Follow

I. Hate. Eating.

I finally was able to cook dinner tonight, which made me quite happy and made me feel like I accomplished something today, other than sitting in front of the computer with terrible posture reading other blogs. The nausea just wasn't as bad. So, I dished it up, sat down, and realized, though hungry, I just didn't want to eat it. While I haven't had it as bad as some people, the nausea has made it extremely hard to eat much, and lots of times, if I eat enough, I end up getting those disgusting vomit burps for hours after, and getting even more nauseous than I was when I was hungry.

But tonight, I made a connection.

When I try to eat, I feel like I've jumped back in that wonderful cesspool of learning to re-feed myself. I had to learn how to eat again, basically, and I had to do it twice. Once in the hospital, and once on my own. It sucked giant hairy balls. I would just sit and stare at the food on my plate, knowing that one bite of that salad with RANCH DRESSING (DUN dun duhhhhhn) would make me gain at LEAST 10 pounds, and if I ate the whole thing (which I really wanted to do but would never, ever admit to), well, just roll me out the door. But I knew I had to do it, because I knew I was killing myself, and I didn't really want to die. I would cry almost every time, and I would be ranting and screaming and throwing plates and things in my head, but I would choke it down, just telling myself, "One more bite, just one more, and then you can stop."

I remember the day that I managed to drink a glass of lemonade from Barnes and Noble instead of just getting water (that bloated feeling from drinking too much just sucked). While I don't know about my friend who was with me, a small part of me was glad I did it. I was a little proud of myself. This progressed to eating 3 pieces of pizza, without feeling like crying, or hating myself afterwards. And eventually (especially thanks to The Mother-in-law, who is a cooking GODDESS), I learned to relax and just eat. It wasn't (usually) torturous to me anymore, and I didn't worry about how much weight I was going to gain from it. I just enjoyed it.

Well, that wonderful feeling of having to force myself to eat is back. Thankfully though, very thankfully, it's not because of feeling like I'm going to get fat. I just don't want to feel sick anymore. I'm pretty certain that my stomach has shrunk because I've been avoiding eating a lot at one go, and that's why it's gotten hard to eat a full meal (unless it's Cafe Rio. I can down that pork salad like I'm going to die in 10 minutes). The Man has gotten very harsh with me on my eating habits, because now it has very little to do with me. And I know that, and it doesn't make it any easier, let me tell you.

But I managed to eat my dinner tonight. It wasn't a lot, but it was more than I have been able to eat for dinner for a long, long time. Here's hoping that I don't get nauseous and throw it up later. I'm quite proud of myself (hence the posting).

In other news, Dog 2 had to have exploratory surgery on her neck yesterday. It all started when we took her to the vet because we thought she was having ANOTHER allergic reaction to her food AGAIN (stupid dog has the digestive tract of a wet paper bag). We almost didn't bring her, but when I went to pick up some food that we know she can eat (she just doesn't gain weight on it), I just went ahead and made an appointment. This poor dog was miserable (just ask our New Mexico friends, and the Dog Friends). She was hot, she was listless, she had goopy eyes, and she wouldn't eat or drink anything. While the vet was checking her over, she found a lump in her neck which we hadn't noticed, thanks to the fact that she has too much skin on her head. It was soft and squishy, so she was pretty sure it was an abscess, caused by a small puncture wound, either in the back of her mouth, or from playing too rough with Dog 1. So she put her on pain pills and antibiotics. By the time The Man got home from work, it had already gotten bigger, and harder. We realized that the reason she wasn't eating was because her neck hurt, so we started soaking her food (HOLY BANANAS wet dog food stinks!) and putting her food dish and a water dish on some kind of elevated surface so she wouldn't have to bend her neck to get to them. And she started eating and drinking again. And the thing got bigger. And bigger. We brought her back to the vet to see if she could drain any fluid, but couldn't, so she took a needle biopsy to send off to see what it could possibly be. It came back negative for anything except blood cells, which brought up the C word. By this point, it had started leaking fluid, and it looked like she needed a bib or something. It was quite gross. SO, we scheduled her for exploratory surgery/core biopsy surgery. The exploratory was to see if there was a foreign object in there that was causing the lump, though since it was so hard, and so big, the vet was pretty sure that it wasn't an abscess. I got up at the unholy hour of 7:30 and drove her to the vet (we go to Payson. The vet there is totally worth the drive) for surgery that morning. The vet who performed the surgery said that (after getting in there) it looked to him like it was just an extremely fibrous abscess, but couldn't find any foreign object, so he got a sample to send to the lab again. The lump, which was between the size of a baseball and and a softball before it started draining, is now about the size of a golf ball, right in the middle of her neck, so they must have gotten a lot of fluid out. And now she is wearing one of those lovely collars to keep herself from scratching at the drain that's in her neck (dripping fluid every where. So gross). It's pitiful, because of the attempts to back out of it and the whining, and funny, because of the attempts to back out of it, and because she doesn't know how big her head clearance is now, so runs in to absolutely everything. She goes in on Saturday to get the drain removed, and hopefully, have a good, long, and satisfying scratch at that spot.

Pictures will be posted if I ever get around to taking them and uploading them and then posting them. I'm extremely lazy, and it's a long process.

Here's hoping that this is the last of her health problems, and we can just enjoy her as a dog, and not a sick dog.

Burnt Like My Husbands Steak: Randomness

That's his.^

That's mine.^ (Okay, not really, but it's pretty close.)

So yes, I'm feeling a bit burnt out. I have so many projects that I'm supposed to be doing right now. I'm STILL not done with "Christmas" gifts. I was seriously over ambitious on how quickly I could get those suckers done. And I have 2 quilts that need to be finished, one of them being The Man's gift. And I have a kitchen to finish de-wallpapering, and now, I have baby stuff I'm supposed to be thinking about. We'll probably be buying all the needed stuff 2 weeks after the baby is born. That's how we roll in our house. So, I'm burnt out. I have no motivation to do any of this, even BEFORE the nausea (which I think is easing up, but I'm trying not to jinx it, so pretend I didn't say that) hit me like a ton of galloping hippos in my stomach. AND now I have to study for a test at work, and school started up again and it's a class that moves fast and has a ton of studying at the same time. How I loathe those kinds of classes. Plus I have to work. Shut up, 2 days a week is a lot for lazy me.

I locked my keys in the car last Saturday. The same day I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day at work for something I would totally love to spill all over the Internet, but it's really not a good idea to do because of lawsuits and all that fun stuff. I so want to quit. I finally got my keys out yesterday, because we were trying to have to not pay a locksmith, but no luck. Automatic locks are not wire hanger friendly. Though I did get lucky and find a good locksmith who didn't charge me my arm to unlock my car. Oh, and the check engine light is on. Yippee.

I can see a bump. The Man thinks I am imagining things. But when you spend 15+ minutes a day naked in front of a mirror trying to see something, you're definitely going to be seeing it before anyone else. I swear the little dip above it isn't just how my fat likes to roll. It wasn't there before!

Oh yeah, my zipper broke on my pants at work. Thank goodness for aprons.

The door to our breaker box has been open for almost a year. I'm not sure why. It's starting to bug me, but I have to move our monster computer screen to get it to shut. That's probably why it's still open.

I was at a loss on how to decorate our baby's room until reading some Calvin and Hobbes comics recently. I'm not a fan of cutesy stuff, or the anthropology look. It works so well for others, and it always looks so good, but I just don't want it in my house. I actually love stuff from the 60's and early 70's, but The Man thinks most of that looks like throw up, so that's out too. But I announced yesterday that The Man should totally draw cartoons on the walls, which I would then paint. Nothing fancy, I'll just be using those paints you get at craft stores. Because we are cheap. And poor. But I'm quite proud for finally coming up with something to do in there that we will probably both like. Though I'm not sure if it will just be a hodge podge of different stuff, or if we will try to go for some kind of theme or story. All I know is that it is going to be awesome. If I actually get around to painting it. Our kid just may grow up in a bedroom with penciled in cartoons on the wall.

I've started going back to the library. I have discovered that if I don't get on the computer as soon as I get home, and stay off after The Man goes to sleep, I get to bed hours earlier than I did before. I like to force myself to stay awake well past my sleepy time. But I had nothing to do instead, so I started going to the library and checking books out and ACTUALLY READING THEM. Weird, I know. I'm on late tonight for 2 reasons. 1) school and 2) I ran out of reading material days ago, but I couldn't go to the library because I had no car (yes I'm close enough to walk. No, I'm to lazy to do it. I already said I was lazy!). Reading blogs counts as reading, right?

I don't get peoples fascination with Lost. I am glad this is the last season. Survivor should be the next to go. Along with all the other "reality" TV shows.

Maybe I should go to bed now.

It Was Too Hard Not To

I know, I know. But hey! It's my first! I'm entitled to be obsessed with it, and I want to force everyone to see my little parasites progress! So :p At least it doesn't have a "tail" anymore.

In Case You Haven't Heard Yet

Totally not my test. Gross. I'm not going to take a picture of something I peed on. But I can certainly count on the Internet to host multiple pictures from people who do not have the scruples I do. (Would that be scruples, values, morals, or cleanliness?)

I did check the test I took 5 or more times to make sure it didn't change. It was all quite surreal, let me tell you. I always imagined when I did get pregnant, that I would be so excited, so happy.

But noooOOOOOOoooooo.

I freaked.

My first thought was that the test was wrong. I've taken so many tests, and they've never been positive. I didn't even bother to tell The Man that I was taking one this time, I was so certain that I wasn't pregnant. All the tests say that it takes 3 minutes for the test results to show up. Yeah, that's a lie. MAYBE 30 seconds. I was gearing myself up for the let down when THAT showed up. Oh man!

My next thought was how was I going to tell The Man? He would be mad! (I don't know why I thought that, I just did.) I ended up just showing him the test, mostly because he heard me say "Oh my G**" and asked what that noise was. He was a little upset, but only because I hadn't told him that I thought I might be pregnant, and that I didn't tell him I was taking the test. Then he told me to let go of my hands, because they weren't going anywhere.

After some major panicking in the kitchen because I didn't know what to do next, we started calling family. After all the phone time, I eventually calmed down and got busy getting excited.

We planned on keeping this all under wraps for another week, but my all-day-sickness made it pretty impossible to keep telling people I must have the flu or something. So I gave up and gave The Man permission to tell his work, and I posted on Facebook and announced it in Relief Society this morning. So, if I have previously informed you that you can't tell anybody, the cat's out of the bag now, so spread the word.

We are so excited, and so happy. But let me tell you (multiple times. Deal with it it), the nausea alone is enough to make me wish I wasn't pregnant. I was so hoping I'd be one of the lucky ones who didn't get it. I haven't thrown up yet, but I sure wish I would. Nothing helps for very long, so I keep having to try new things. I can't eat much (who wants to eat when they feel like blowing chunks?), which makes the nausea worse, so I eventually choke SOMETHING down, that generally doesn't help at all, unless it's night time. Saltines are gag-inducing (as is the smell now coming from my refrigerator), so don't suggest those. I tried them. I could barely choke them down. I think I got three down in about 10 minutes before I gave up. I'm praying that this only lasts another month, tops.

But, I would go through head-in-the-toilet-unable-to-work nausea, though, if it meant that I get to keep this baby, and that it's healthy.

I just forget that sometimes.

Anyway! Congratulations to us! We can make babies! All that practicing has paid off.

Good Thing My Resolution Wasn't to Post More

Life has been crazy and busy. Unfortunately for you, not with things that I can talk about yet. Man, I'm busting an artery trying to not talk about it, but I do have a deadline, so you will all know, someday. Try not to think about it.

I am debating on applying for a position at my work called Wellness Counselor. I'd have to take at least one test, if not several. And when I talked to the manager of that department, she didn't seem to eager to encourage me, or to hire me on. Mostly because they are trying to streamline that department too (meaning, less people. Yay economy!). I might take the test anyway, just to see how I do. But we will see. They are also less flexible with their scheduling, and I hate working mornings. I know, I'm lazy. I like my sleep.

Soooooooo, that pretty much sums up what I can talk about. Otherwise, I'm working (boring), or watching The Man play WOW (also boring), or sleeping (fun), or eating (meh).

My life is FASCINATING!!!!!!

*cough*

I apologize for my last post. As I said at the beginning, I was pretty emotional. After talking to The Man (which I should have before posting a rambling, long, and pointless pity party), he told me that I over analyze situations, especially regarding my perceived lack of ability to notice/believe that people like me. And of course he's right. But don't tell him that. Shhhhhh!

I need to get over myself. Any tips?

Frustrations, Jealousies, and Secrets. Boo Yah!

I've been thinking about this post since last night. Granted, I'm probably PMSing, and I always get more emotional when it's late at night too, and I obsess about so much stuff when I try to go to bed (a big reason I avoid it). So, probably not a lot of wittiness in this post. It's nice to take a break from my astounding wit, I promise!

So, let's start with jealousies:
1. I'm jealous of those that at least appear to have money, if not have it. For some strange reason, I am under the impression that if I had a lot of money, I would be more satisfied and secure feeling. Not happy, just secure. I wouldn't have to worry about how much food I am buying every week. I have no idea if I would feel more secure, but I imagine that I would. It would also mean that I could quit working and actually do what I want, which is learn to take care of my house.

2. I'm jealous of naturally organized people. Because I'm not. Not that this usually bothers me. It just does right now. I blame genetics for it. You should have seen my dad's office when he had one. The Mom tried very hard to beat . . . .errrr, train this out of me growing up. It didn't work.

3. I'm jealous of those who have kids. Partly because I feel if I just had some, I would have some way to connect with someone my age in my ward, at least as a conversation opener. But it's a pretty small part. The rest of my reasons are a pretty sore subject.

And for the first secret:

1. I hate the telephone. Hate it with a fiery, burning passion. I will ignore phone calls just because I don't want to pick up the phone. Not because I don't want to talk to the person calling, but because I hate the phone. This is a true secret, because I don't think I've ever told anyone this. I've never had someone call and leave a message on my machine telling me to pick up because they know I'm there. They just assume I'm not there, and leave a nice message asking me to call back. And I never do. Because I hate calling people back, too. Because of this, people stop calling me. It's a very big reason I don't have, and won't get, a cell. It's still cheaper to have a house phone, for the 2 calls we get a week.

2. I would love to get so many calls from people who want to do stuff with me that I would have to get a cell. But I don't. I do have a hard time doing things without The Man (I love him so), but still, I would love to have my own friends who would hang out with me even if he wasn't around. This makes me very, very sad. Extremely. Totally not kidding. Really. *sob*

3. I have problems feeling like I have gotten my point across and that people understand. I also worry a lot about how much of me people can tolerate before they find me disgusting or weird.

4. I have an eating disorder. I will probably always have it. No, I don't look like I have one, but trust me, it is a daily struggle. If I'm given the opportunity, I will talk my brains out about it. It drives me nuts that people don't talk about it. It's not something I'm ashamed of, but it does make other people uncomfortable, which I am desperate to show isn't necessary. Yes, be sympathetic, or empathetic, or whatever word would fit, but you don't need to squirm. If you have questions, ask. Please. The more people know about this, the better it will be for everyone.

5. I LOVE dirty jokes. LOVE THEM. It's hard to keep my mouth shut sometimes, because you never know who would be offended. But my mind is always in the gutter. And I love it. And if I could, I would swear like a sailor. But I want people to actually read my blog. And talk to me. So I keep it under wraps, for the most part. Unless I'm mad.

6. If I didn't wear garments, I would totally dress like a slut. Of course that would mean I would have to exercise, so that I didn't look absolutely disgusting.

7. I hate exercise, almost as much as I hate the phone. The only exercise I have ever done, that I loved, was horse back riding. And if I ever get all the money I want, I will have at least one horse. The Man will just have to deal (he doesn't like horses).

8. I want to learn about computers. But not enough to go to school for it. I just want someone computer savvy to give me lessons. Awesome. And I want to know how to make my own damn blogger backgrounds and stuff. I see all these cute blogs, but I don't know the first thing about getting my own to look that way, and looking for instructions online has been a futile effort. So I'm putting out the call. Teach me!

9. My thoughts revolve around food.

Frustrations (since I'm apparently labeling the lists):

1. My job. I love where I work. I hate being a cashier. I'm 28, why am I still doing that kind of work? Because I have a crappy, crappy back. Though The Massage Therapist friend did say that it's gotten tons better since he started working on me (if anyone needs a really good massage therapist, I can totally hook you up). And the sessions have gotten a lot less painful. But because of my back, I can't do most of the higher up positions at my job, because they require a lot of heavy lifting, and from awkward positions. Poop.

2. Not being able to stay at home and take care of said home. I hate the days I work. I never do anything around the house because if I get started, I have a hard time stopping so that I can go do MORE work. You'd think my house would be a lot cleaner than it is, but alas, I'm not wanting to clean. Not every day at least (once a month is more my style). I just want to move things around and change stuff. That's fun.

3. That The Man is so stressed. And I can do absolutely nothing to make it better.

4. When I see someone that I know has no money, constantly buying things they really can't afford. This is especially annoying when it involves food and kitchen things. I know some name brand things taste better than the generic, but really, it doesn't happen that often. Yet there they are, buying the name brand stuff, because they believe it tastes better, or because that's what they grew up with and they refuse to switch, or whatever their reasons. I just want to shake them and tell them how silly they are and show them how much money the could save if they just switched to generic stuff. I guess this is more of an annoyance, really. But I know how much you can save by switching, because I had to do it. And for the same reason, I know it tastes the same. (I am talking about canned goods and processed crap here. I don't buy generic meat, and don't recommend buying generic meat, because the quality is just shit. And my body knows it.) Of course, they may be using coupons, something I don't do. So maybe I should keep quiet. I'm not good at that though.

5. That my thoughts revolve around food. How nice it must be to not constantly be thinking or worrying about it.



Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand, I guess that's it. I had a bunch more stuff in my head last night, but sleep apparently wiped all that from my memory. Oh well. This is stuff I've been wanting to get out for a while, but it took me a long time to decide to post it. The next post will be much better, and loads more interesting. Something interesting has to happen to me first, though. So it might be a while. ANYway.............

Because Everyone Wants To Know

Yet another one! Because I'm bored! And because I secretly love these things! Because I'm nosy and love to read everyone else's! Exclamation points are COOL!!!!!!!!

Marriage Tag:

(Ha! You thought it was more crap about ME! Okay, it kind of is.)

•What is his name? The Man. Because he is.

•How long have you been together? 7 years next March, total.

•How long did you date? 1 week.

•How old is he? 28

•Who said I love you first? I don't remember who said that particular phrase first, he is much better at remembering that stuff than me. He did say he "thought" he was falling in love with me first, though (it was in the parking lot behind my apartment). He later said that he was really trying to say that he loved me, but didn't want to scare me off by saying it. Especially since he hadn't kissed me yet.

•Who is taller? Him

•Who sings better? Me

•Who is smarter? Depends on the subject. If it's movies or video games, art, and music, him. Books, natural health, food, or computers (I'm really not that good at them, just better than him), me.

•Whose temper is worse? Me. I like to yell.

•Who does the laundry? Him (hallelujah!)

•Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? If you are in the bed, me. If you are facing the bed, him.

•Who pays the bills? Me.

•Who mows the lawn? Me. All the way. He has "allergies". Okay, he really does.

•Who does the dishes? It's supposed to be me, but usually him.

•Who cooks dinner? Me, unless I'm working, then him.

•Who drives when you are together? He drives his car, I drive mine.

•Who is more stubborn? Me

•Who is the first to admit when they are wrong? Him

•Who kissed who first? He asked if he could. So it was a mutual agreement. He had to sign a contract first, though, dictating the requirements of the kiss.

•Who proposed? He did. All 3 times.

•Who is more sensitive? Me, unless it has to do with his mom. He's a momma's boy. I love it.

•Who has more friends? Even with all my work friends, I still think he has more. Everyone loves him. It can't be helped, apparently.

•Who wears the pants in the family? Him, because I do occasionally wear skirts, under great duress.