Fruity

When people ask me what I’ve been craving during these past 5.5 months, I want to answer “dirt with frosting” or “sardines and jello”, but turns out I’m the least interesting preggo eater ever.

All I want is fruit.

Fruit, FrUiT, fRuIt, FRUIT.

This is particularly strange because in my pre growing-a-baby days, I actively didn’t like fruit. It tasted eh to me, it made my tummy hurt a little, I’d rather eat a brownie. Growing up, I dreaded playing at those kids’ houses where, after a long day at school, the mom handed you a piece of fruit and told you to go play. (I actually still think that’s weird.)

But now. Now! I can’t think of anything tastier.

It was watermelon, plums, peaches, and grapes this summer.

Now it’s apples (Honeycrisp!), apples (Fuji!), apples (Gala!), and some (Valencia!) oranges on the side.

Last night, in the middle of some content-viewing (what up, Mr. Holland’s Opus?) I scurried to the kitchen for some refreshments.

“Want an apple?” I asked Clay.

He paused.

“Sure.”

Now I paused.

“Do you REALLY want an apple?”

“Um...no? It would taste good, but I don’t really care either way.”

I pause again, hand quivering over the refrigerator’s fruit drawer.

“Are you deciding if I deserve an apple?” Clay asks.

“Yes.”

“Wow.”

In the end, he got one.

Because I'm the most giving person I know.

Bumpdate: 22 weeks, 2 days

Please ignore my gaping mouth - I've got a cold and can't breathe otherwise. Of course, I'm always a little shocked at my appearance, too. Let's just say shaving is getting...athletic.

This isn't an early bumpdate

Just a documentation of the bizarre things I put together before I run out the door to copyedit video game manuals with my robot arm.

Those Uggs are bona fide super originals from the first wave of insanity in 2003. I wore them every single day of senior year at BU and yeah, you can tell. I believe I see some pot brownie batter splashed on the back. Kidding. Um.

The dress was 9.99 at Marshalls two years ago for a Goodby trip to Napa. Stretchy!

Thanks to Manj for the leggings, a godsend from Gap maternity.

The sweater, bulging over my ample bosom, is a regular non-maternity Gap cardy. Its days are numbered.

Robot arm is a Walgreens original! Only 19.99 at your local retailer!

A date with a laydee

So I got to visit with our little buddy this morning. (Who, incidentally, is looking less and less like a robot. Sorry, friends.)

Clay's in NYC for work stuff, so he missed the rendezvous - but we've got three or four more ultrasounds, so it wasn't too sad. Although I'm sure he missed making his favorite "When can we take a paternity test?" joke. Badum ching.

The great news is the placenta issue seems to have resolved. Woot! It definitely moved up and away from the naughty place and I'm free to get sexy, fly, and train for that marathon like I was planning. Or just keep watching SVU reruns in sweats with a milkshake. Whatever.

My cervix, the real reason I keep getting all these ultrasounds, is measuring just fine, too. It's good news that it's looking good, but the real test will be when the bug gets chubbier and starts pressing down. Again - not too worried, but very happy I'm getting the extra attention.

But onto the fun stuff!

She was being super shy and stubborn today, not wanting to show us her face one bit. Her position for most of the visit was:

Head to her knees and turned away, arms in front of face, legs crossed. Sort of like she was tucking for a dive. Or stretching after barre. Or saying leave me alone, buttheads. Adorable, yes. (DON'T YOU WANT TO EAT THOSE LEGS FOR LUNCH?!) But I wanted to see her lil facey! After lots of flopping and walking around she finally cooperated a tiny bit toward the end.

But listen. While I find her little face cute as a button, she still kind of looks like a gremlin. And dude, she's a lady. So I won't post gremlin pics. She'll thank me later.

A very unbirthday

Today, my cousin and aunt got on a jet plane and zipped home to Maine.

We had such a fun (and packed) long weekend and I was sad to wave goodbye.

There were long walks and yummy lunches and knitting lessons and baby girl snuggy hand-me-downs and tea parties and autumn sunburns.

For the win!

I'm a terrible picture taker, in that I just don't remember to do it, but they took lots of pics of our adventures that I'll post when I get my hands on 'em.

The only one I walked away with is below, our tea party treat tray. If you want to make the ladies in my family happy, serve us tea and treats.

Soon, it was all gone.

Love you, ladies!

Bumpdate 21 weeks, 2 days

My Buddha belly and Buddha.


-- Posted from my iPhone

I want to set up some kind of challenge

For Clay and me. To accrue as little and spend as little on baby stuff as possible.

Because have you ever seen a baby? They are small. Very small.

They need things - a place to sleep, a place to be changed, a place to hang - but they don't need 12 roomfuls of it.

Because have you ever seen babies in other countries? They be rolling simple, man.

As I've mentioned, my cousin and aunt are in town (yay!), and we've been working on a list of the must-haves for baby's first months. Christie had her third baby last year and is keeping it even more simple than with the first two - using a sling to carry the little lady around, cloth diapers, hasn't even taken the swing out of the box. I love talking with my peeps - they think like I do.

And because so many of those must-haves can be bought secondhand (strollers, clothes, etc) it just isn't my priority to buy spanking new things. Even if they're really purty.

(For those wrinkling their noses right now, let's keep in mind my Mom used to pack my lunches with juice held in old pickle jars. I'm pretty comfy with pre-used items, mmkah?)

So. For the mamas or papas or nannies or any babies that can type (Lucy, I'm looking at you), what were/are your must-haves? If you're preggo, what do you plan on getting? If you're reading this on your Blackberry, sipping a martini and just starting a long night out, well, you probably want to sock me in the eye. Lo siento!

The Yankees are coming the yankees are coming!

In the spirit of their arrival, and perhaps cruelly ignoring last week's nasty news, I'm posting this video because:

1) I can't tell you the number of times I played it on our record player during Massachusetts winters - age 8, 9, 10, 11...infinity.
2) LOOK AT THAT HAT.
3) This arrangement is cooler than the studio version.
4) I live here now and it still kind of thrills me.
5) THE HAT.

This is a picture

To show you what I look like with clothes *over* the belly.

1) Isn't the bump so strange and high?

2) Holy shit, I have a BOOTY.

3) I finally bought cute pants that don't fall off!

4) Look! I folded laundry!

Mover and shaker

The past few days, our little lady is kick kick punch kick punch elbow flip! What before was the occasional and thrilling poke, is now a constant do-see-do, a little dancing sidekick while I grocery shop, watch Netflix, eat trailmix, cook chicken, eat trailmix.

Every time she starts up, I make Clay run over and put his hand on my belly. But dude, she can seriously tell she's being watched (felt?) and clams right up. Kind of like her mama.

She relaxed a little tonight, though, and let her dada feel a couple small pokes after he rushed over at my yell. It's lovely to finally share her with Clay; I've felt a little bit shellfish lately, feeling all the crazies she does, all by my lonesome.

In other news, I'm back obsessed with my slow cooker, a wedding prez from Clay's mom. (Thanks, Cindy!) Once fall arrived, I started thinking about it all the time (admit I'm the most interesting person you know) and even bought a new book o' recipes for it.

Tonight, I whipped up some yummy chicken, later in the week I've got pork chops and sweet potatoes planned. But I'm really excited (again, my coolness is otherworldly) to make Indian Pudding, a New England favorite. Wanna come over and eat some wif me? Just as long as you do the dishes.

Bumpdate: 20 weeks 2 days

Work bathroom! Huge belly! All very sexy!


-- Posted from my iPhone

Sure, I'm a nut

But I've also got a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles thermos.


So life ain't all bad.

A little long, a lot personal

I was just lying in bed, beating myself up for having a super irrational preggo moment, unable to fall asleep. I realized I was writing out my feelings inside my head, as a way to explain them to...myself I guess. So why not just type it out here and hopefully konk out after?

Lots of people make jokes about being "OCD" when they like a clean car or have to be on time somewhere. But actual obsessive compulsive behaviors... suck. (I was going to write "are no laughing matter" but, um, that's creepy.)

When I was little, I used to get obsessed with these thoughts or ideas that wouldn't leave my mind no matter how hard I tried. They were stuck there and I would fixate on them, no matter how insane, until I thought I couldn't stand it anymore. Eventually they'd disappear, but not before stealing hours of sleep and happy thoughts.

The first one I can remember, I was about five. This thought just...came to me that sitting in my attic, just waiting for someone to open the door, was this sinister Sumo wrestler guy. What?! I know. That's it. He just sat there. But I could think of nothing else and I wanted it/him GONE.

These obsessive thoughts were soon joined by certain compulsions, things I had to do. Count to a certain number before leaving my room, brush my teeth a certain way, make a certain facial expression at a certain time. I had to do these things or...I have no idea. Because I never let there be an or.

As I got older and learned some management techniques, a lot of my obsessions and compulsions waned. I still had the desire RIGHTTHERE all the time, but I knew how to fight it and keep going.

Pregnancy has pretty much thrown all that work out the window.

My mind is now pretty much ruled by intrusive thoughts, completely involuntarily, about...22 hours a day? I'm shaving a couple hours off for when I'm really enjoying some pie or watching Columbo or cuddling my cram or peeing. You probably want me to take off some hours for sleeping, but that's when I have all my nightmares and so nope! Can't do that.

Most of my worries, not surprisingly, are about the baby, or me, or Clay, or my family. Is the baby choking on her umbilical cord right now? Will Clay get cancer in the next 3 hours? Did my mom just go on a date with a serial killer? Fun stuff like that.

But there's a slight finesse I like to give my worries. It's this idea of fixating on how everything's okay NOW, but in two or five or ten or one hundred minutes...everything will CHANGE. For the absolute WORST. I'll focus on a song on my iPod and think, "I'll so remember this tune because in a minute I'm going to be hit by a car" or look around me and think, "This building is so nice - I wonder what it'll look like when the earthquake strikes after lunch." This goes on all day.

I went through this particular obsession about 5 or 6 years ago. I think it's because that things-are-good-now-they're-not sort of came true, on two separate occasions. Two separate times I took the time to realize how good and solid and healthy things were in my family. Then two separate times, within 24 hours, they suddenly...weren't. For a good year there, I was convinced every single phone call or email would bring more bad news. Pretty relaxing.

So yeah. Which leads me to tonight. After a whole day of obsessing and fretting and wringing my hands, my whole self was just worn out. I should have just gone to bed and hidden under my pillows. But instead, I latched onto this minute little comment and just blew it up. And I just get so mad at myself when I can't contain it anymore, when it leaks out into other things and other people. Because! Because then I've created a whole new thing, a whole new incident to obsess over tomorrow.

I don't have a pretty ending for this, and bless any of you who are still reading; I just had to get it out. But I do feel a little better and a little bit sleepier. Which is progress. Night, friends.

Knit purl knit purl knit purlae ajeworiueproieueire

Yes!

NO!

Yesterday I was running a mild fever and just felt...off. I went home early from work and took it easy, taking my temperature roughly every 6 minutes and popping Tylenol on schedule. Every single person in the entire world is sick right now and I really don't want to follow suit. Whether it's a cold or the piggy flu, it's just no good getting sick while asthmatic and preggo.

I woke up this a.m. after sleeping hard and decided to stay home for the day. Once afternoon hit, my fever was gone, but I just wanted to really rest up and keep tabs on any changes. I think I'm better.

To pass the day, I picked up my knitting again. I bought some delicious yarn this weekend and decided on a simple pattern for a baby blanket for my baby girl. I wanted a project that would take a bit, but wouldn't stress me out too much. So I started! And it went so well for quite some time.

Until the dreaded dropped stitch. If you're a knitter or have attempted The Knitting, you know how horrifical these can be if caught too late. I think (?!) I can fix the situation, but it will take every ounce of my spatially-challenged gray matter to figure it out.

I pulled out half my hair and brewed a cup of tea with my ear-steam before realizing I needed to put it down, step away, and try again later.

*watches Columbo*

*eats choco-covered nuts from Billy the Doorman*

*pees 12 times*

*drinks cran-grape out of the jug*

....is it later yet?

Frasier Crane had one

And now, so do I.

Clay and I (mostly Clay) have been researching cars for the past few months, ever since we found out a new buddy was joining the family. Our current mobile is a (lovely, zippy) two-door Volkswagen GTI. Ain't gonna cut it with mama's back, yo.

So! The hunt began.

We were mostly deciding between wagons and SUVs, wagons and SUVs. We've got experience with both and like them both - it was just going to come down to comfort, style, price, etc. At times I pushed for the Subaru (a major favorite with my New England fam), but ya know - I drove A LOT of those in my time and I figured it was time for something new.

Because we were most likely trading for something a little parent-y, we wanted to have it semi-fun for Clay to drive. It's just not safe to jump from zippy car straight to minivan.

Anywho.

Clay started reading about the BMW 540i wagon and I fell in love with how it looked. Then we decided we actually preferred the older model to the newer one, which narrowed the search. Then (this is a really fun story, right?) he found a 2001 model that was all purty and affordable and so we drove (an hour zzzzz) and fell in love with the real deal. And so it was done.

We still keep wondering if we're the only people who've actually downgraded their vehicle...

(We currently have both cars, but hope to sell the VW stat. Ben? Interested?)

But I heart my "new" ride to the max.

It's roomy, safe, stylish, lightly worn-in (I say "I like old things" about 10 times a day so this is a plus in our household), comfy, and um - close your ears, Moms - fast. Not that we'll utilize this feature, of course. It's just...there.

Plus, I dunno. I've always drooled over Beemers. Maybe because my TV idol Frasier had one. Maybe because Lelaina from Reality Bites had one. Maybe just because they're bad ass.

Let the judgments commence!

My new steering wheel

Bumpdate: 19 weeks, 2 days *Now with better picture*

*Post-edit: For some reason, last week's picture looks bigger than this week's. Um wrong. I'm suddenly HUGE now, much more than last week so...blame me and my awful iphone skillz. Back me up here, Clay? On second thought - please don't.*

Writing this in a cab so I'm using the "1974" setting on my camera app to lighten up the shadows.

Overslept like woah, but zzz I needed it.

Almost exactly halfway to b-day/d-day, people.

Woot! Or, on the other hand, AH!

A picture of a picture

From left to right: My little bro T, me, cousin Ben, cousin Christie.

Hanging on Gram's porch in Maine. (Sorry you couldn't make it, Sawyer! Another 18 years till you made the first cousin scene.)

This one hangs on my fridge and makes me happy.

Tho a little jealous of all those blondies. Baby lady has a shot, methinks...

Elmo fans, shield your eyes

So our buddy Casey threw his boyfriend (and also our buddy) Steve a surprise birthday party this weekend. At a rollerskating rink on a Saturday morning. Needless to say, it was awesome.

The only bummer? Preggos aren't really supposed to rollerskate. But I cheated a little and took a few laps around the rink before everyone's disapproving glares and Clay's nervous hand gestures made me sit down and sip some Sprite. I felt like Sarah Jessica Parker in Footloose, waiting on Willard. (I tried so hard to find a clip. Boo.) (Also, RIP Chris Penn. You were my first I-want-to-eat-that-boy crush. Whew.)

We somehow didn't get any pictures of me either wearing the big, bad, brown skates or actually skating, but I'm hoping someone else did. I'll keep you posted.

After skating, we moved the party outside, so as to not scare the children beginning to stream in. Then Steve killed Elmo.

It was a beautiful morning.

Bumpdate: 18 weeks, 2 days

Here they be! (In all their terrible-qualitied splendor.) The first one is a tasteful view of what others see as they pass me by and I struggle to stay awake longer than 3 minutes. The second one is, well, a lot of belly.

Off to work!

The baby lady waves hello

Before we get to the feature film, thaaaaank you thank you for all your happy, happy comments! It was so fun to post the reveal and read everyone's reactions. HOW DO YOU NON-FINDER-OUTERS WAIT?!??!

Next order of business: A few comments on these 4D video things. First, I always thought they were a little creepy. Second, I thought something wacky had to be done to get that picture. Third, I thought you had to request that something-wacky.

But there we were yesterday, checking the profile and making the measurements ("we" weren't doing that part, exactly), when the technician suddenly just switched a button on her little machine and with the same wand in the same place, a 4D video of the little lady started dancing around. Nuts! And adorable!

She's really snuggled close to my placenta (terrible word, I apologize), so it was difficult at first to see all her little parts. This one is my favorite, because she's actually waving! Look at that arm go up and down and her han'y open and close! (Apparently, according to the technician, a great sign. Of catching a softball in the Olympics? Clay hopes.)

But the wave and the little legs and her little face all snuggled up and cozy. It's love!

So as I said, the baby looks really great. Heart is "beautiful", she's measuring right where she should at 8 ounces, moving a lot, spine fully closed - all the good stuff. It's just incredible to see how developed she is up there and all the little stuff she does all day - and that she's a she!

Mama's doing pretty good, too. My cervix is measuring great (they're keeping a close eye on it throughout the pregnancy) and the only teeny worrisome thing right now = my placenta is lying a little too close/low to my cervix. The only bum deal with this is, if it stays low until late third trimester, I'll need a c-section and possibly bed rest toward the end.

Since I'm only at 18 weeks, there's a very good chance the placenta will move away from the naughty place as I grow more - so the doctor told me not to sweat it too much. He even made a bet that this particular situation won't bring on a c-section.

But still, he told me to take it easy this next month until I see them again. No running (oh, DAMN) and nothing too strenuous or high-impact.

"Just be...normal," he said.

Clay tried his best not to laugh out loud.

The big reveal...

I'll keep this post short, friends, and follow up with more cuteness later (including a baby VIDEO) because I know you're all dying to hear the news...

So here we go.

It's...

a....

!!GIRL!!

I'm TOTALLY shocked. And honestly...totally psyched. Yahoo!!!

More on the appointment to come soon (baby looks great and healthy and lovely), but wanted to get this up here stat.

My little lady and I are gonna go eat some tacos and watch the tube! Check ya lates!

A word about tomorrow; but first, a picture

This is me. Raising my fist in celebration after Clay agreed to eat at a Sizzler with me.

We were about to head home, after a lovely sunsetty, exploratory drive through a South Bay town, and a quick stop at Target, but then I batted my blue eyes under the moonlight and vamoosh! Soon we were eating steaks and baked potatoes and infinite salad bars at 9 pm with about 100 other people. (Is THIS where everyone disappears to on Sunday nights?) Clay almost cried through the whole thing, but I was in fatty coma heaven. As was Robaby.

Speaking of which! Tomorrow, which will probably be today as you're reading this, we find out boy or girl lalala! The appointment's at 4:00 our time, so heads up - I won't be posting the big news till East Coast nighttime.

Now, let's all collectively cross our fingers and wish/hope/pray that the little jam cakes cooperates and shows us his/her stuff so we can start PLANNING. Numz!

Bumpdate: 17 weeks, 2 days

Be careful!

MY BELLY WILL HYPNOTIZE YOU.

It's the Monk in me that insists on keeping these at __ week, 2 days. I can't stop! Plus, it's sort of a little Friday treat, no? My bigger-and-bigger bumpalump says to you, "Yes! You really DO have room for that extra Pumpkin Spice latte."

To do it, to do it, to do it

My buddy Jordan reminded me of this song today on Twitter. God bless her heart, because it makes me dance in my chair like a loon. Think this came out when I was about five, and it makes me feel just that way.

I lurve you, George.

I heart baby appointments

I love them! I do. I take this two block stroll down the hill, hop on the elevator, pee in a cup, and then chill in the waiting room for a little while. And I really mean little while. This practice is magical and only once in the three years that I've gone there have I waited longer than 15 minutes to see the doctor.

Then I toddle into the room and they congratulate me for gaining weight (!) and I show my tummy and we listen to the heartbeat and I just swoon. It makes me so crazy happy and teary and giggly.

She pointed a few inches below my belly button (which is rapidly disappearing, by the way) and said, "That's where your baby likes to hang out."

Hang out! Just kickin back, sippin a cold one, enjoying the Rice Krispies treats I gobble.

The heartbeat is perfect, apparently, and in the 150's. I don't think I'll ever get over the craziness of putting this little wand on my belly and hearing THAT. Right there, super close all the time, shaking a leg. Man.

Of course, I made the doctor take a guess on the gender.

"You know, I'm pretty good at guessing. I usually get a really strong feeling from the mom, one way or the other. And with you...you could be having either!"

Thanks, lady.

"But, if I HAD to guess...I'd guess boy."

Which is where I'm still landing these days, too. (Sorry, MIL...)

But of course I don't have a clue. And won't until TUESDAY. Tuesday! So close, yet so far away.

SO. Spill, people. Whaddaya think I'm cookin'?

I'm waiting on a cheeseburger

Brought via spouse via scooter. To distract myself from the drooling while I wait, I thought I'd give a quick update.

I get a lot of questions about my tummy. Not the baby part, but the ouchy part. Am I feeling better? Can I eat without crying yet? I'm loathe to talk about it, because I'm always wrong, but I think...maybe...shhhh...maybe...I'm actually better. BUT DON'T TELL ROBABY.

I won't write my Ode to Health for a few more days, just to be sure, but yep, I am feeling human again.

Which means I'm actually able to do things like clean the apartment even after a day on the job. This would have been impossible but two weeks ago, you see. So I put on some Godspell and ran around cleaning and singing and dancing. Which felt a little different as a pregnant lady? My 'Turn Back, O Man' number didn't feel quite so sexy with a bump...But more importantly - Robaby really loves gospel musicals. You're welcome, Clay.

The hand puffies have gotten better, although they're still not back to normal. I think it's probably just the way they're going to be for awhile. I've got my monthly appointment tomorrow (heartbeat! yes!) so I'll ask my paranoid questions then. Note to self: Make note to self to remember what the hell to ask because it's impossible to remember on the table.

What else, what else...

The buddy was really active today! I credit Arizona Green Tea. After a few sips, he/she/ro was really shaking a leg. I lurve it.

I think I hear a key jangle...

Must assume position.

aewori[roiepoar

Oh, I'm sorry. Were you not able to understand my title? It's probably because my hands are swollen and I can'taoepruaoerperf type very well.

This delightful new symptom started up yesterday, when I went for a walk down by the piers with my buddy Manjiri. It was hot - truly hot, not fake San Francisco hot - and our "walking" didn't last very long. We strolled for a bit, but soon my hands were puffy marshmallow mittens and I had to sit down to make it stop.

We chilled in the shade on the cool pavement, and drank lemonades and ate sammies, and chat chat chatted, occasionally stopping to gawk at the local talent. Warm weather brings out the CRAZIES - I'll leave it at that.

(No, I won't. This one dude, not a transvestite, in no other way femme, was wearing a DENIM SKIRT. Just, like, hey! It's really warm, the jean shorts are too stifling, this thing looks comfy, yeah!)

But the hand puffies didn't go away. They stayed with me for the rest of the day and through the night, as I watched Clay play his new Batman game, tried playing it myself, and then made us watch Mad Men instead. (Sidenote: Do you ladies truly find Jon Hamm attractive? Am I missing something? I do not get it. At all.)

And they're still here today. Puff, puff, puff the magic puffies. I'm sure I'm just retaining water like a happy preggo is supposed to, but of course I like to consume myself with frantic Google searches, ranging from early preeclampsia to cancer of the fingernails.

Want to come over? It's fun!

Bumpdate: 16 weeks, 2 days

Ha ho! We'z not kidding around anymore, people.

Bump chicka bump wah.

The other day my (female) worker (I don't think male coworkers like to acknowledge my, um, status) was all:

"Wow! I can SEE it!"

Which is good? I guess?

Note the skirt, making a comeback from the 12 weeks bumpdate. They tell me it's going to be hot today (summer in San Francisco starts in September - didn't you know?), so I'm making Team Buddy Bean comfy.

Which will also be accomplished with the Egg McMuffin I'm about to scarf.

Happy Birthday

To my buddiest buddy guy.

Thanks for being my robot daddy.

I hope our robaby looks just like you.

(But maybe a few more nuts and bolts and stuff.)

I love you. Like woah.

*Yep, that's really Clay.*

Like mother like robot

So I thought I'd give the robot building a little nudge by wearing my own gear. You know, osmosis or something.

But isn't this thing hardcore?

My old snowboarding ouchy plus repetitive stress from typing and writing plus weird pregnancy ligament issues equals PAINZ r us. But the fashion opportunity is cereal worth it.

I'm making it WORK, Tim.


-- Post From My iPhone

*!!!Pow Pow Bam Karate Chop Head Butt!!!*

That fight sequence? That was our little robot making sure I remember he's in there. (Sorry for the lack of equal opp pronouns. I'm completely convinced it's a boy and I'm too lazy to pretend I'm not.) Not with lots of fun kicks (the movements are still tiny and finicky), but with a dayful of nausea and heartburn and crazy mood swings. I'm tired, friends. Just when I get a little cocky, remembering those old first trimester days with a shake of my head and a Mona Lisa smile, I get socked to the ground, with a mouthful of dirt to chew on.

It helps to know I get good days now, too, but it's hard not to feel frustrated and jealous of those "at 13 weeks I felt a switch turn the sick off!" people. Me no get it. Where does it come from, after it's been gone for three or four days in a row? THE FIERY PITS OF HELL. That's where!

I watched Rosemary's Baby last night, to make me feel better. Because, ya know, things may get rough and I may feel exhausted and overwhelmed sometimes. But I'm not carrying Satan's son and that's really pretty awesome.

For the record

Bras for the big chested are not sexy time. I sort of knew this already, but since I've usually fallen into the nicely-endowed, but not hugely-endowed group, I didn't think too much about it. But the past week or so it's become very clear that the ol' undergarments weren't cutting it anymore. You're not supposed to spill out of your cups when you lean over to turn on your computer, turns out.

So tonight, after a nummy sushi dinner with my nummy husband (mostly veggies for me, but I had ONE RAW SCALLOP so help me God), I hit the stores and ordered up some new holder-uppers. And wow. First of all, I'm rocking a size further down the alphabet than I thought was in my future. And second, these, uh, garments are...not going to get me in Playboy. Not that I want to be in Playboy. But if I did. I couldn't. I am STRAPPED IN. I am READY TO PLAY, COACH. Locked AND loaded.

But back to your Friday night already! I'll just be over here, requesting a new zip code for my chest.

Bumpdate: 15 weeks, 2 days

Me and the bug!

Sorry for the weird light in these things. I take them right before I run to work, before I've eaten and my belly gets huger, and I haven't quite gotten down the knack of my lil phone yet.

I can't tell if there's much difference between last week's picture and this week's picture, but believe me when I say, in real life? THERE IS.

Apologies to your eyes for having to look at my only pair of too-big maternity pants. Maybe one day I'll wear something else. Although, it gives a real sense of continuity from one week to the next right? RIGHT?

I think they need a new word for pregnant

Kind of like how they rebranded 'prunes' to 'dried plums'? I just find it so awkward, especially around those of the male persuasion. PREG-nant. PREGGGGNANT. See? Ew. Say it over and over and you'll start to shudder, too. Plus, getting that "Pr" sound out is a lot of work, just ask the 900 speech pathologists I have in my family. And I'm too tired to make difficult sounds.

Sometimes I just say "I'm having a baby", but I think that's bad in a different way. Because while, yes, eventually, this thing is coming out, it ain't coming out RIGHT NOW, while I'm eating my Reuben and fries, thanks. Furry and skinny and eyes-sealed-shut.

Also, is there some sort of hormone that kicks in second trimester that makes you want to EAT YOUR HUSBAND? Because I want to do just that. I want to whip out a spoon and dig in. He smells all delicious and looks all precious and, well, it's a little distracting, frankly. Kiss kiss smooch grab snuggle nuzzle dot com.

15 week bumpdate coming stat!

Hello, I am lame sauce

I am unable to keep our apartment clean. UNABLE. We got it in good shape for our houseguest last week (hi, Matt!), but as soon as he (and his help) were gone? The dishes pile up, the clothes spill out of the hamper (hamper? is that a word?!), the junk mail and bags and jackets bury me in a puddle of mush. Fail.

Also? I get out of breath walking up small hills.

Additionally? Cooking has gone out the window. Bye! Hello, pizza and Thai and cereal and brownies.

Oh, and I forgot to drop the Netflix in the mailbox today. And pay our fruit/veggie delivery bill. And cancel my dentist appointment on time.

My pants fall down when I walk because I bought the wrong size and I'm too tired to get a different pair.

My hair is clean only 50% of the time.

But! I'm REALLY GOOD at eating cheese.

I had a dream last night

That my brother and I - current ages - decided to put on a play in my Mom's bedroom, and invite many people. We both played witches and planned on singing songs about bags. We both bombed, people left in a huff, and then I woke up.

In other news, I wanted to say a few things I am grateful for in this pregnancy (obvs aside from the facts that we conceived easily, have had no scary scares, and my husband rocks - I am grateful for those everyday) since most of the time I complain about my queasies.

1. My skin has not rebelled. It looks exactly the same as it did pre-bean. I have no idea how, since everything else has been wildly affected by my wild hormones. But I'm not asking questions, people. I'm just saying thank you.

2. For the past 5 years, I've had this mysterious insane leg/hip problem that caused me lots and lots of pain and moaning and Advil. For some completely unknown reason, it is GONE. Like, no sign of it for the past 3.5 months. Hey, thanks, leg!

3. Full fat milk in my caffeinated beverages. Because my doctor told me I'm allowed a small cup of coffee a day, sometimes I give in. Especially if I can't close my eyes because they're hurting so much from the PAIN THE PAIN. And when I give in? I get a latte with whole milk. Because I can! Lalalala!

4. Old friends reach out and we have lovely catch-up convos.

5. It's okay to cry really hard at Felicity.

6. ELASTIC WAIST JEANS.

Knock three times on the ceiling if you want me

As I lie here, digesting my third meal of the day at 1:21 pm, and blinking my eyes against a blinding headache, I'm trying hard to focus on the sensations of my belly. See, there's always something gurgling or rumbling or retching or churning down there - but last night something different happened. Last night, after eating a bowl of parmesan cheese with a side of spaghetti, I laid down on the couch, on my right side, and suddenly felt

*tap tap tap*

I stayed perfectly still and waited. And it came again, only this time stronger

*tap tap poke poke tap tap flutter flutter tap*

"I think I just felt the baby move?!" I shouted to Clay, who looked up in surprise.

I quickly sat up and googled "quickening", that medievalish term for feeling baby bean's first movements. Lo and behold, the Interwebs told me a small portion of ladies can feel it as early as 15 weeks. Ah!

And then, it was all I wanted to feel. I flip flopped right to left, poked my belly a little, ate some gummy worms, jogged in place. But that was it. Until this morning, when I felt the tiny flutter again, just a little kick to get my day started and feed my buddy some grub.

This rules.

14.5 week bumpdate

I had a bit of a frenzied morning so I didn't get to do my bumpdate as wanted. So I'm winging it from my new phone instead. Here goes....


-- Post From My iPhone

If you're lucky

You caught my religion post earlier this evening. But it's down for now. Dunno. Thought it would help to put it out there, but it didn't. After I posted it, I sat through dinner (a lovely dinner in the Castro with Casey and Clay and Matt and small plates of goodness) and obsessed over the words I'd posted. I felt weird; like I'd told too much, but also not enough, somehow at the same time.

When it comes down to it, I have some very specific things to say to some very specific people and my blog probably isn't the place to do it.

I'm sure I'll get all worked up again and rework it at some point, but for now? Nah.

But! Bumpdate coming Friday morning. Me promise!

Bumpdate: 13 weeks (and change)

So I'm officially at the stage where you can see I've got a belly under my shirt, but it could still be full of jelly doughnuts or Cheetos, instead of a baby. So I get all these sneaky stares throughout the day, like hmm, she's got such slender limbs - pity about the gut.

Good news and a rant

The good! = We got our results from the blood test that screens for Down syndrome and Edwards syndrome (I live in a crazy state where insurance covers these tests for all ladies, not just the over-35 crowd, which is more typical) and they were negatory.

To be more specific, our baby has a 1/9,500 chance of having Down's. And a less than 1/100,000 chance of having Edward's. Seeing that the average risk for an 18-year-old mama (as low risk as it gets, really) to have a baby with Down's is 1/1,198 and for Edward's is 1/4,668 -- I'll take it!

Anything that lets me breathe a little easier is greatly welcomed, so - huzzah!

The rant! = I am super done with city life right now. Everywhere I turn, I smell urine. And garbage. And more urine. And then I'll see some dude shooting up smack behind an abandoned shopping cart. Or another barefoot, shirtless dude strolling into my bagel joint, looking at condiments for his...beer? My pregnant nose and belly and soul cannot take it. I want to be teleported to a green mountaintop, where I'll eat tomatoes and olive oil and read Little House on the Prairie in between skinny dips in a creek. Please?

Most importantly, I wanted to let you know that the steamy pregnancy dreams have begun. Unfortunately, I can't really enjoy them because the whole time I'm all "But I'm married! And pregnant!" which really kills the mood for my seducer. (Last night? John Mayer.) I just hope whoever I get tonight will understand and just buy me some froyo instead.

So I was all gung ho for a birthing center birth

I've read the books, I've seen the documentaries, I've talked to many a mama. And in some ways, the non-hospital, no-chance-of-meds, earthy labor experience was just what I wanted. I wholeheartedly believe my body was made to do this, that birth has become overmedicalized, that birthing centers often offer a more nurturing and satisfying labor experience. So I made my appointment, made the announcement I was doing it, and that was that.

But then? I don't know. I didn't cancel my appointment yesterday with my lady doctor and afterward I remembered I liked her ways - especially because she admitted to eating sushi, hot dogs, and turkey sammies during her pregnancy. Then she reminded me (oops pregnancy amnesia!) about the cervical issue I had surgery on awhile back that we'll need to watch closely to ensure the baby stays up in there toward the end. Should be absolutely fine, but I'm going to need extra ultrasounds and a little extra care to be sure everything stays cozy and closed till it's time to push. Sort of moves me out of the no-risk pregnancy category the birthing centers prefer. Low risk? Yes. No risk? Not really.

Oh and then I remembered - much more noticeable now that I'm out of breath as soon as I climb out of bed - that the doctor's office is a three minute walk from my home. Not a twenty minute drive, like the birthing center...a THREE MINUTE WALK. Not five! Not four! THREE. I could stumble out in my bathrobe if I wanted.

And lastly, while I am fully, totally behind the birthing center concept, I also need to be honest about who I am. And who is that? A basically insane, neurotic, obsessive compulsive worrier who will fixate for the next 6 months on all the things that could go wrong last minute if I'm not at a hospital. It's just the truth. And since I think the whole point of the birthing center is to feel more relaxed...

And so! Onward ho with a hospital birth. I'm going to try my damndest to do it natural, to make it as un-sterile (in the psychological sense - I'd like it sterile in the germy sense, thanks) as possible, and to keep any and all IVs out of my arm. But most importantly, to get this little critter buddy robot friend out safe and sound.

A salty day

Just click here to see where my mind (and stomach) were at around 5 today. And honestly? One of the best things I've eaten all pregnancy. Turns out, our baby gets happy when you feed it two soft taco supremes followed by a long snooze. If all it takes is $3.43 and some shut eye? DONE.

I even used the good tummy and mood vibes to put on some tunes and clean the kitchen. Now, I MAY have broken down in tears when the Beatles' version of Twist and Shout came on (is it because he says "baby" a lot? because I'm really excited to introduce the buddy to the stylings of the Fab Four? because I'm insane?), but other than that! A success.

Oh! Also good was this morning because I had my monthly check-in (where apparently I have to LABEL MY OWN PEE SAMPLE EXCUSE ME?) and I got to hear our little friend's pitter patter heartbeat! She put the gel on the tum and warned me it might take a few minutes to find the little guy, but within a few seconds hi! There you are!

"You've got a cooperative baby!"

Did you hear that in there?! Does positive reinforcement work yet? Keep it up, pal!

The heartbeat is nice and strong and this time I had my actual doctor there, so she wasn't so clinical and cold about the whole thing; she let me listen for awhile and laughed when the heartbeat would go in and out a little because he was moving around so much. *heart breaks into millions of pieces*

Followed up the appointment with my first day back at work after vacation. Got pretty zonked pretty early on, but I've shortened my hours and that's helping. So did the BLT on a salt bagel I grabbed just before sitting down. Heard some guy order it ahead of me in line and realized it was the perfect food. Essentially a salt lick in a wrapper. Nom nom nom.

I'll pause here for the good women of this world who didn't eat Taco Bell and bacon during their pregnancies (OR WHO THINK THEY WON'T GOOD LUCK TO THEE) to judge me. It's cool. I also snort coke on the weekends!

Let's make a list!

Because I have a lot to update on and we all love a good listy format, don't we now?

1.) I loved my trip home. It was REAL SUMMER - barefoot on the lawn, mosquito bites, steaks on the grill, swims in Walden Pond and the Squannacook River, sticky sleepy nights, picnic tables, and driving with the windows down and my ponytail sticking to my lips.

My first full day back was a lovely surprise - the whole fam damly drove down from Maine to party down at our house. They brought cupcakes! and maternity clothes! and fudge! and wedding presents! and baby books! and babies! We grilled yums on the grill, watched the kiddos be reeediculously cute together, and tried to keep ourselves from eating Libby the Perfect Baby alive. It was great - but of course too short.

Here are a couple pictures (stolen from you, Miss Amanda!):

Meredyth, me (and my...bust), Christie, Ben, the Cutest Cupcakes on Earth.

Okay honestly? This baby, Christie's third, was made in a baby factory. Not only is she cute as a freaking button, her personality and temperament need to be cloned. So lowkey, so sweet, so...I HOPE MY TUMMY WAS PAYING ATTENTION.

My Gram, the baby I kidnapped, my chubby tum.

Okay, moving on. So that day was lovely, then Mom and I had some really great lowkey days afterward, swimming and eating and lounging and chatting. She really hucked and jived for me and it was the best thing ever, being totally pampered and lazy and fed. I could have done it for many more days, although Mom...she probably just needed a nap.

More fun was had, visiting my male family members and such, but I'm tuckered out on details, schmetails. Needless to say, I was ready to see my boo back in SF, but was still sad to leave.

2.) This past week has been back to help-me-now in terms of the baby sicks. I have no idea what's going on, but I'm not happy, yo. I thought I was slowly getting better, but lately I've been slammed with that all-day shroud of nausea. There's just so much that can be said about it because blah blah blah. But I'd just like to be honest about how hard this sickness thing is for me. It's hard. I'm upset. Moving on.

3.) Last night I had a complete breakdown when we couldn't get seats to Harry Potter. I cried in the streets. I stamped my feet. If I couldn't be with Dumbledore, I wanted to end it all. But then Clay suggested we take a walk along Crissy Field and then buy some iPhones and surprise! I felt better.

So yeah, that brings me to

4.) I know we're a little late, but we bought some looooooovely iPhones last night. We're in love. Doobie doobie doooooooooo.

5.) Time for Cheerios and gagging!

I kind of can't believe I'm showing you this

But...behold the bump:


Yesterday marked the end of my 12th week. Today starts my 13th. I GET TO FEEL BETTER NOW, RIGHT?!

People don't believe me when I say I already have a bump so early, but as you can see...I ain't lying. And yes, I promise, there is only one bean in there. I just have an overachieving uterus or something.

Been home on the East Coast, swimming and reading and eating peanut butter fudge, so apologies for the light posting. Flying back tomorrow, more then!

I think it has my eyes

Baby person jumping bean buddy has been confirmed! Bam!

I was pretty nervous when I wrote my previous post, but then I drank so much water (to fill my bladder, an ultrasound requirement) and had to pee so bad, I could think of nothing else but waterfalls and garden hoses and slip and slides. I was in cereal pain, people.

We sat in the little room together, waiting while the technician rubbed jelly all over my tum (not as cold as I thought?) and started PUSHING DOWN ON MY BLADDER WITH ALL HER MIGHT.

I tried to remember we were here to see the baby, dammit, but it was hard.

Until! Up on the corner-mounted TV screen (this place was kinda fance) a little HUMAN appeared! Friend? Friend! I kept my cool (didn't want to pee my pants in public), but felt a huge weight off my shoulders as soon as I saw the little guy/doll. Like, finally it's real and I can finally relax (a little). I knew I was pregnant, but I guess I thought there was maybe a grapefruit inside instead of a baby? It's so surreal to see it suddenly, in black and white, this little person that's been making me gag and heave and fall asleep on the sidewalk. I suddenly felt a lot less bitter. I suddenly felt really happy.

I'm officially at 11 weeks, 2 days today; happily in my 12th week and cruising along to my 2nd trimester. Everything looks great and the heartbeat (best song since Gimme Shelter) is strong at 170 bpm. Our bean's a real jumping bean, flailing his/her little arms (two!) and legs (two!) around. Swoon.

And now! Without further adieu.

Our buddy!

(And, incidentally, my uterus. Would you like to meet my liver next time?)

He/she's waving hey! (Arm behind the head, poking out.) Nom nom nom!

Jelly on the belly

I’ve done pretty well up until this morning, not hyperventilating about the ultrasound, and the fact we may realize our baby has three heads or twelve ears. But now it’s only a few hours away and the anxiety is ramping up. I need to be running laps right now, not sitting at desk, adding serial commas to bad sentences.

It must have been so simple in the frontier days, no? You get knocked up, you throw up, you get fat, you have a baby. None of these blood test and sound wave test milestones to reach before we can feel okay. Then again, they had their babies in the field and continued to pick potatoes five minutes later – so I won’t complain.

Send the Cowan clan some happy, one-headed vibes? Thank ye.

I won't lie

I'm wearing maternity clothes now. Not all maternity all the time, but jeans with an elastic band? Check! Bella band? Check! Magical shirts that look normal but have some sort of magic hide-the-tum powers? Check!

I was starting to feel sheepish about it, until my trusty website thing that tells me what I should be feeling each week and where my baby's eyeballs are positioned on a day-to-day basis, told me "You might have to start wearing maternity clothes this week!" -- so I will stop hanging my head.

There appear to be tons of ladies out there who didn't show until their 16th week, or didn't gain weight until the middle of their 2nd trimester or something, and to them I say -- nobody can eat 50 eggs.

So that we're not completely sleep deprived BEFORE the baby comes

Anyone got some sleeping-through-the-night-tips for me? Not "for me" like, to help my baby in six months, "for me" like ME NOW YESTERDAY. This isn't a new topic around here. I've been a terrible sleeper my whole life. But it's worse, people - so much worse.

I can't go more than an hour without peeing, and it's not the urge I felt before. (Urge is a terrible word.) Because before when I really tried, I could shut it off and force myself back to sleep. And when I finally gave in, a very small, thimble-sized amount would exit my person.

But now? Now it's like a train is pushing down on my bladder, zooming into the station once an hour, on the hour. And when I go - I GO. I have no idea where it's coming from, and I'm sorry that I feel the need to tell you so much about my urine flow right now, but there you are.

So there's that.

Then there's the heat factor. I've always been a hot sleeper. My feets are especially sensitive. No socks, no footsie, no nothing. I actually require my feet to stick out the bottom of the blankets at all times. I'm diseased. But now that heat is kicked up like forty eleven notches. My eyeballs feel sweaty and I cannot cool down fast enough. And of course once I get cool enough to relax, it's time to pee again.

Did you think I was done?

I also wake up ravenously hungry at least twice in the night. As in, if you put a full Thanksgiving dinner in front of me, I'd eat three plates and then ask for a slice of pumpkin. But what in the hellz am I going to whip up in the middle of the night? And why does our baby think I'm bulking up to make weight for the next fight? I've already gained five pounds. No mas!

I have to turn my head in shame every morning when it's time for Clay to get up for work. Because I'm a sleep robber and he busted me and I need to do my time, people.

So. Tips? Thoughts? Therapy? Bueller? Mom?

Why today is good

1) I woke up around 4 AM (after waking up at 1 AM, 2 AM, and 3 AM already) to pee, and decided to stop worrying about the blue cheese poison.

2) I cut my fingernails before work. I hate doing it, but I love myself afterwards. So crisp and clean and un-scratchy.

3) Cute outfit!

4) Michaela is flying in for work and her work just happens to take place IN MY OFFICE.

5) I made myself a cup of coffee. Well, mostly really hot milk with a splash of coffee. But it tastes like Christmas morning in a mug.

6) Not Monday!

7) Gagged about 12,000 times before bed last night, but this morning is feeling good.

8) My hair is clean.

9) Jordan, Jesse, Go! in my ears.

10) String cheese.

I thought writing about pregnancy would be a lot easier?

I've been obsessed with reading about other people's nine months for as long as I can remember and I thought the words would just spill as soon as I announced my own. But it's weird. I have so many different takes on the whole thing that the thoughts just pile on top of each other and soon it's cluttered and crazy and I can only make a joke about feeling chubby.

So I write all these posts and then delete them because they sound crazy or boring or maybe it's just the hormones judging?

And now I overcome my OCD and post something anyways:

The past few days I've had a huge tummy and mood improvement. I even went shopping (my least favorite chore next to giving blood or riding a plane or drinking aspartame or talking on the phone) and bought all the clothes in San Francisco. I now have oodles of lovely, stretchy things to choose from, cutting way down on all those morning pre-work tears.

Yesterday was our anniversary - what up one year?! (It was a very good one.) We played it low key and lovely -- a little outdoor time, some crucial couching, and then whipped up scrumpchy steaks and heirloom tomatoes. (And Point Reyes blue cheese, which I've since googled about 74k times, convinced I've maimed my baby because of soft cheese bacteria demons.)

We were maybe going to eat out, but all I could think about was this super specific taste sensation; we figured it was safer to do it ourselves than risk it in the hands of amateurs. Also (obnoxious statement approaching) – tough to beat our view. We wrapped up the night with a little SVU on the telly, then *insert joke about sex crimes of our own*.

I had such a good weekend, I didn’t even remember I was supposed to be upset about returning to work the next day until 11 PM.

Unprecedented!

I ate lasagna for breakfast

Because I could and because I woke up at 3 AM thinking about ricotta. It was a very long five hours till breakfast.

And in full disclosure, I also bought a bagel with cream cheese while walking from car to work, because if more than two hours pass between feedings...are you familiar with that dramatic fake puking sound people make when they don't like something? I make that sound for real, just kinda hanging out at my desk.

I just wrapped up two really bad sick days. I'd been feeling semi-cocky, like I was mostly done with all this heaving nonsense by 9.5 weeks, but sweet Jeebs I was wrong. Lucky for Clay, he was in LA Wednesday night, while I writhed on the couch and shook my fist at the pot belly.

But I have high hopes for today.

Stop laughing!

In other news, I saw this old episode of CSI: Vegas (the only CSI, if you know what's good for you) about this crazy pregnant lady on a shooting spree. At one point, they zoom in on Warrick's (R.I.P.) face, who says, completely deadpan:

"A pregnant lady with a gun?! GET THAT WOMAN OFF THE STREETS."

That pretty much plays in a constant loop in my head -- just swap out "gun" for "car" and he really nailed it.

My belly and I thank you

For all your lovely yays and happy thoughts! It's really a huge relief to finally talk about all this with my Internets; I kept sitting down to blog and I couldn't think of anything other than MY TUMMY HURTS MY HEAD POUNDS MY EYES ARE SLEEPY I WANT A NECTARINE. So I'd just sign off and watch some Murder She Wrote instead. Angela got me through some really rough nights.

So yeah! I'm knocked up!

I've got a lot to say on the subject, but I'll just answer a couple questions quickly, the ones that seem to leap to people's minds first.

Was it planned? Yes.

How have I felt? Terrible. Also: awful, miserable, angsty, and beside myself.

Oh no! So you're not excited? We're super excited. I just feel like I've been poisoned by a mean poisoner. So it's hard to stay chipper sometimes. But yes! We're happy dappy clams.

Will you find out if it's a boy or girl? Of course.

Do you think it's a boy or a girl? Leaning boy.

Did you KNOW before you KNEW? Everyone asks this and I'm not exactly sure what it means, but sure - before I tested, I felt a little dizzy and there was an absence of other symptoms I usually get around that time. We'd also worked it OUT for about 10 days in a row (sorry, oh squeamish ones, but I think we all know how tiny people are made), so this was no surprise situation.

How far along are you? 10.5 weeks. Week from Friday we get to see our first pic of the little buddy. Huzzah!

Much more to come, pals. Back to work.

Oh look! I remembered!

Bam!

The rumors be true; BJA is growing a tiny person.

Baby C makes the scene in February. Nom nom nom!

Some new things about me

1) Apparently I like country music now. I end up listening to it now for the majority of my drive into work. Help? And I'm sorry.

2) I also really like (love/lust/marry me) fruit. I want to inhale it. Peaches and cherries and grapes and melons and grapefruits and nectarines. Like, I'll choose these things over chocolate or cake. What the who am I?

3) Then there’s water! I hate the stuff! OR SO I THOUGHT. Now I can’t get enough. I pass up juice and soda and tea and all other delights to guzzle icy, plain, watery water.

4) And there was something else that’s new about me I wanted to talk about. But I guess it slipped my mind.

It’s a big one, too! Hmm...wait! No, no…it’s…gone.

Hopefully I’ll remember soon?

I just discovered

The vending machine at work. And oh my Jeebus. It doesn't just have chips and gum and Pop Tarts and sodas. It...it has... ICE CREAM. Specifically STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE BARS. One small flight of stairs away lives a treasure trove of artificially flavored goodness.

I ate (inhaled) one today while I typed with one finger and couldn't stop grinning like a fool. It took all the strength I had not to buy a second. In the end, the stairs won.

Christie, this is for you

Because I know I'd have DONE LOST MY MIND by now if I were stuck inside with three kids while Noah's Ark happened outside, I'm going to do a quick post for you. (And my other friends. Hi! I'm not dead!)

So last Saturday night, Clay, out of the blue, says: Let's go to the Moss Beach tidepools tomorrow!"
I had no idea what these were, but anytime he wants to do an activity involving THE OUTSIDE I consider it a miracle, and so I said yes without hesitation.

Turns out they're the cutest things ever. Seals sleeping all over the rocks, warm water, pink and purple flowers, orange starfish, fresh air, wet feet, yes!

A few pics before I run to work.



I don't know how this outfit happened. I called it my religious cult uniform. People stared.



Humming to a snail to make it pop out and say hi. It works!

Sorry, crabby. But you prolly were pretty tasty.

Stud muffin.

I don't remember what this was, but it must have been awesome.

Starfish! I don't think he was supposed to pick that up. But I had to let him, you see. He does NOT like getting his hands dirty/wet/salty, so it had to be remembered.

I want.

Where do I sign the lease?

Oh right, I haz blog!

Not only am I behind in blogging, I am behind in email correspondence - usually a strength of mine. (I no use phone-y.) Apologies to those awaiting my words; I plan to catch up soon.

My new (not-so-new anymore) job is all words all the time and I think I'm a tad bit flooded. Or maybe it's not really the words, because i can still readreadread, but rather my computer screen. I've seen too much of its fancy face* these days.

But good news? I ordered some 30 dolla Levis online and they fit perf. And I found a really old school diner down the street from work that makes the most scrumptious grilled cheeses. White bread, American cheese, tomatoes, lots of butter on the bread, super melty, $3.00. Ooo! And I also found a park near the diner, full of grass and trees and benches and quiet nothingness. I usually sit on a weird concrete structure next to cleaning people on break, so I think I'll lunch there instead.

And....Jessica Fletcher calls.

*Anyone get that?

For cereal

Thank you all for listening to - and commenting on - my strange rant the other night. (And now you all know about my former obsession with the Perfect Ponytail. Hello, OCD! Let's shake hands.)

I'll admit I've been crabbier than usual. For example.

I've been driving to work lately and have to cruise through a really touristy part of the city every morning, Union Square. The road rage I feel toward the inhabitants of that area is...impressive. Chunks of my hair are littering our car's floor. Also? This morning, I went to eat some canned peaches and realized they were sweetened with Splenda. I yelled, "SPLENDA?! MOTHERF#%$ERS!" Of course I ate it anyways.

But! It's the weekend now! And that makes me un-sad. I'm going to buy some non-Costco underwears and read 'Salem's Lot (don't you dare hate on The King) and try to make Clay eat a sandwich with me in the park.

Speaking of Clay and eating.

The other night, I'm sitting on the couch and hear him in the kitchen say quietly, to himself:

"This is going to be great!"

So I look over and see this:


My heart.

Things I hate right now

My clothes. And how they look on me.

I'm having a real fit over here. You think I'm being funny. I wish you knew how not-funny I was being.

Oh, I also hate my hair right now. I'm growing out my bangs and it's terrible. They are neither long nor short and they get greasy and stringy and stupid.

I have one pair of jeans that looks good-ish on me, but they're only semi-comfortable. I have another pair of jeans that look stupid on me, but I have to wear them because they're comfortable. My shirts are all old or stained or my chest is busting out of them. And I wear white socks with black sneakers and my bras are bad and my underwears are from COSTCO (?????). I'm tearing up.

It's nobody's fault but mine. I have enough money to buy some simple, well-fitting things I like. I even haz husband who likes to shop and picks out lovely things for me. But I never get it right. It's one huge fail.

And it makes me angry because there's no reason not to look nice and feel nice about things. I just can't do it.

Oh, also? I always sleep too late to wear makeup and I need to pluck my eyebrows and the spaghetti I cooked tonight was boring. I'm also really bad at running and I got a D in Pre Calculus.

Bye!

Ask and ye shall receive

We'll start with the table, which we received today. Admittedly, we're a little bummed because they kinda screwed up our order. We asked for legs about half the chunkiness and I guess they ignored us? We can't decide whether we care enough to return it or not. We're really pleased with the size otherwise and the stain. I'm mostly pumped for the SPACE -- now we can both eat cereal and read our magazines with our laptops up. Enough of this TALKING.


And no, you're not blind, we also need new dining room chairs. This is a hodge podge of office chairs and such. We've got some wedding cizash left at Crate and Barrel and will probably make the purchase there.

The new couchy! Mustard! Velvet! Long! A little bouncy! We were semi-unsure at first about the ride (we don't exactly sink in), but we're into it now. It's just so darn soft and I love the high arms -- perfect for snuggling in with some pillows and brownie bites and Dexter.

I'm showing you where to look, over my shoulder. Our old white table is now stationed near the window in the extra room. I think it'll be nice for sipping tea and staring into space.

Chilling at the table, taking it all in. Slowly but surely becoming home.

So we're keeping the couch

We've decided it's good and fuzzy. Tomorrow morn our new dining table arrives and then pictures will follow. Ze place is coming together, mein lieblings.

Uh, what else.

I can't stop eating McDonald's at 10 a.m. I eat my cereal and banana and OJ before work, but I have a serious crash around 10 and chicken nugs are the only thing that will do. Help me?

We also can't stop watching Dexter. I started it back when it premiered in 2006, but haphazardly. And now it's on Watch Instantly. We're on day two, episode...10? There's no stopping us!

A few things for Friday

1.) I can't stop singing that good ol' ditty from ABC, circa 1990:

It's Friday night
And the moon is bright
Gonna have some fun
Show you how it's done
TGIF

Now THAT is some serious brand equity, but they really let it go to waste, no? What have they got to show for it now? Me watching Lost, I suppose. Frankly, I miss the Tanners. They live right down the street, though...

2.) Clay suffered through work with a sick tummy (or "busted gut" as he said) and stumbled home around 6:30 begging for a short nap. I granted him one, but it quickly turned into a shared nap. I just woke up, it's currently 9:45, and he's currently still sleeping. Fail! Still felt good, though.

3.) I can't stop coughing. But it's a real loser of a cough, completely unproductive and dry. It's some sort of acid reflux nonsense, I think. It's driving me - and everyone around me, thanks - batty.

4.) I just remembered I went to bed last night feeling really sorry for myself. Like, I shed a tear before falling asleep. Completely made a bunch of stuff up in my head and then felt sad about it. Do you ever do that? It was especially strange timing because we'd just gotten back from

5.) Wicked! Me loved it. I somehow never got around to see it, and lucky us it's in San Francisco for the summer. It's got a catchy score by Stephen Schwartz, fun Oz things, and lots of girl power messages. I think I smiled the whole time.

6.) Our new couch got delivered this morning. I'm sitting on it right now. Love how it looks. How it feels? To be determined...Let's just say it inspires/requires good posture. I'll post some pics soon.

7.) I haven't watched an SVU in like three days! Bye now.

A poll

My new friends at work convinced me to fall in love with Buffy the Vampire Slayer - the Joss Whedon pro-gram, not the movie. (Although me deeply loves an early 90's Luke Perry, so you won't hear arguments from me there.)

I always thought I'd probably hate the show, though the more I think about it, I'm not sure why. It's got all the elements of my type of crack pipe - teen angst, witty banter, things with fangs.

I'm diving right in, currently burrowed into my couch with some brownie bites, a couple quilts, and disc one, season one, episode three on my screen. Sarah Michelle's 1997 bangs are killing me softly and I'd like another glass of milk. All well and good, but this is going to take up some serious Netflix time and space. Right? Right.

The way I see it, there are two - vastly different - solutions to my new addiction:

1) Buy ALL SEVEN SEASONS for one-easy-payment of $180.

or

2) Laboriously trudge my way through Netflix, disc by disc, waiting impatiently by the mailbox with a frown and a few tears.

The answer is easy, right? Just let Clay know and I'll thank you promptly.

I woke up this morning

Desperately craving a Disney cartoon. Preferably something from my heyday - Aladdin, Beauty and the Beast, or Little Mermaid - though I'd definitely take a Cinderella or Pinnochio (or Jungle Book or Peter Pan or Alice in Wonderland or 101 Dalmations). But nothing as "new" as Pocahontas or Hercules. No, no, no. Will not compute.

The problem? I own none of these beauts on DVD. VHS only, because I'm old and shriveled. Also? The damn vault keeps me from buying them whenever I want. Which is insane. I want to throw my money away and they won't let me? Fail.

What do I do, people? I desperately need these in my life yesterday. Someone suggested the library, but I searched online and I don't think they're there? Double fail! Plus, let's get honest here, I think I need to own them. My, my, mine.

Used-from-Amazon appears to be my only option. But have you ever bought used-from-Amazon? It can take AS LONG AS A WEEK. Sniff.

In other less disturbing and important news, I finally got my grades in. Never since middle school have I received straight A's. (Which, through Sherlock-style deduction, should tell you something about City College), but hey - I'll take it. Means I actually brought my flat ass to class and sat through hours of pain, when usually I'd just skip and eat a doughnut.

Speaking of which. My roommate just brought me TWO different cupcakes to choose from. Tasty nom pops dot com!

I was marvelling

To a friend the other day about how breezy it's been, this transition into my new job.

"People are so friendly! And we just, sorta, talk about stuff and laugh! It's easy!"

"Are there a lot of girls around?"

"Actually, no..."

"That's why."

Sorry, ladies.

Most of my jobs have been with scads of womenfolk - much talk of chocolate and shoes, estrogen levels off the charts. There were tight cliques and constant whispers and subtle social boundaries to learn and oh sweet Jesus I'm getting hives just thinking about it. Don't misunderstand me, I had some solid times with these gals and made some strong attachments.

It's just that now that I'm out of it, working in video games (boys, boyz, boiz), a world free of drama has finally been revealed unto me. I do my thing, I make my nerdy comments, I drink my orange soda, no one hates me for having a nice face sometimes, I don't cry in the bathroom.

Success!

A very short post

OUR DOORMAN JUST TOLD US HE'S "GOTTEN COMPLAINTS" THAT WE AREN'T FRIENDLY ENOUGH.

that's all.

For lots of days I talked of pie

And finally, yesterday at Whole Foods, I bought one. Along with an almond croissant for my mouth and a chocolate croissant for Manjiri's. We ate them while we drank chai and played with her little Bean. It was a lovely way to spend a Saturday morning, as the fog whipped around outside.

But back to the pie.

There's nothing quite so lovely as pie, no? It takes a lot of work to make a good one. I didn't always like pie as much as I did cake or fudge or sundaes, but now I can't stop thinking about it. I picked out a peach and blueberry beauty and I've been savoring it...my precious. The microwave just beeped after a 30 second heat-up and I yelled, "Coming, honey!"

I s'pose I should learn to make my own pie? Does anyone have any tips? I know there's something about ice water for the crust. Or I could just keep heading to Whole Foods for all my pie needs. Store-bought when the store is WH isn't too shabby.

In other news, Clay is playing a video game where his character hops in a sewage truck and sprays poo on people. Wanna come over and watch with me?