So, today is December 14, 2011. I found out on Monday. I'm about to poop my pants every time I think about it. I can't think straight. I made chilli today, and wiped the knife off with my sweat shirt sleeve, and then put my contacts in and wiped my eye off with that same shirt sleeve. I've been a mess ever since.
I went in for a blood test yesterday. They called me last evening to confirm. They told me that I need to go in for another blood test on Thursday to make sure the numbers are doubling up like they should be. I will also schedule my first appointment at this point.
I'm pregnant.
I'm scared.
Yes, it's what I wanted.
But it's sort of like when you really really wanted that Skip It! when you were 7. Sure you practiced your saxophone everyday for 5 months to get one, but once you had it you realized it was sort of a short lived love affair since the almost albino kid down the street decided to play with it. Then he broke it and his family all wouldn't admit he did and so I was left with NO skip it!, and one excellent set of skills on the smooth sounds of Kenny G. Am I really comparing my unborn child to a skip it!? Yes. Because at this point it's more like 10 months of saxophone lessons, while playing the drums at the same time. (Charlie is the drums, which I am now realizing is a horrible thing to use as an analogy due to the fact that you hit them. I don't hit Charlie for the record.) Then, I finally DO get the "skip it!," but I can't stop playing the drums!
I worry there won't be enough of me. I fear the end of pregnancy with Charlie active and running around. I don't know where I will find the energy. Hell, I don't even know where I will be. My first pregnancy was how I imagine snails to feel when they are sliming around leaving their booger trail. BTW I am still scarred by the amount of snails in England. I have NEVER encountered as many slugs and snails. They were also the size of an adult male finger.
There's just so much uncertainty in these next few months. Chad will be divorcing the Army, with lots of dramatic flare, like throwing their clothes on the proverbial lawn, and going out to bars talking about how bad they treated him. We will be on the hunt for a job, and scrambling to pay our bills in the mean time. Then, I am adding in baby number 2. We are going to need an SUV. It's already like a sardine can traveling with 2 dogs and a baby.
My insides feel like Danny Devito looks. If you don't know what that means, it's sort of like a college hangover from keg beer. It could come out either end, and the bad feelings come on unexpectedly and leave just as fast. Then you are left with some strange soreness that you aren't sure why you have, to later find out it was because you were throwing up off a deck railing and the railing was the only thing suspending you from face planting onto a holly bush. The soreness is also due in part to the level of heaving you have accomplished, and the diarrhea you swear you will never have again from friggin Milwaukee's Best keg beer. I'm not even sure they made keg beer. But they did make parties at our house.
The weird cravings are setting in. I want Chipotle, chili, and pepper steak, followed by sour cream and onion Pringles. I crave Pringles once a year, mostly because why would you crave them? You either want chips or tater tots, but somehow Pringles seem to be this weird love child they made together.
I knew I was pregnant before the tests started coming up positive. There was a candle inside a drawer in my bedroom, and I made Chad locate it and move it. We are about to drive up to Ohio. No one in the family knows about bambie 2.
_____________________________________________________________________________
I wrote that last part before we told errbody. I've decided that errbody needs to make a comeback. After all, there were a lot of errbody's in da club gettin tipsy.
Things that happened since this post was written...
Had a conversation with my Mom that went a little bit like this:
Mom: You remember that one boy you dated in high school?
Me: There were a few. Can you be more specific?
Mom: The Anglo one.
We told both of our parents the same way. It was amazing. I had told my mom I wasn't pregnant, so we decided to use dirty pee pee sticks as Christmas gifts. We wrapped them up tightly in a few layers of paper. My mom got to the pregnancy stick and got all pissed off. She said "It's not funny to give this stuff to old ladies." Then she looked at the result window and started crying. Hahaha My Dad asked how old the test was.
Things I learned on this trip home:
I don't HATE the idea of moving to Ohio. I just need a 3 hour barrier between my Mom and myself. That being said, I will probably need her when Lil' Bay comes along. Yes, my friends I have named #2. Due to my recent obsession with Lil' Wayne I felt I would pay homage to him.
Our final destination is the west coast, but if Chad takes a job in Ohio we are still a few hundred miles closer to Cali, and NOT in Crapstown, NC.
To make the best trip time you must: pee in a McDonalds cup, drive at night, make no stops. Don't travel on Christmas. I peed in several gravel lots between Ohio and NC because we couldn't get our McDonalds pee cup because there was not a single McDonalds open.
This year Chad learned about my ghost of Christmas past. Growing up, kids asked me tons of questions about being Jewish. Let's do a brief synopsis as to why everyone thought that we were Jewish. Every year, we would pack up and head to south Florida for the holidays, we never had a Christmas tree, and we never put up lights. The questions started around first grade. At first I would say, "I'm not Jewish!" By the 3rd or 4th grade of dealing with this, I started just making up answers. Kid on bus, "What's a dradle?" Me, "It's a pair of girls underwear."(sing the song, it will make you giggle)
Until this year, Chad didn't really know how bare bones my childhood Christmas experience was. My Mom waited until we got to her house to decorate her newly purchased tree. She made Chad and my brother in law head down to the basement to retrieve the ONE box of decorations we own. Chad and my brother in law sat in disbelief as we unpacked the 12 ornaments, and 2 Christmas candles my grandma made in 1982. Then, Chad shed a singular tear, as my sister and I sniffed the candle and both said, "It smells like Christmas!"
I named this post "Now and Later" due to the fact that it was written 2 weeks apart...I would also like to mention that Now and Laters were the WORST Halloween candy you could get. Don't be those people.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Something I Needed To Say On Here To See Who Actually Reads These.
Hey ahhhhhhhhhhh in case you didn't know, I'm pregnant again.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Ca-Caaaaaw!
I'm writing this while it's still fresh in my mind, and I am recovering from the bloating from tonight's food. Let's start with the basics.
As we were walking into the place we saw her....Chad's boss came walking passed us.. Her jerry curl in full effect (she's not black so no, I'm not being racist) and she was all nicey nice. She said, "Hi! How are you guys doing?!?" To which I replied with, a long blank stare and awkward silence. We continued walking into the facility.
From the outside we were impressed. We walked into the place, and thought, wow for a military hall this is really nice. We saw the nice dining area and were immediately excited to see what we were in for. We were then escorted to where we would be dining. It was in the back of the facility, and it was a small gymnasium with those weird wrestling floor mats, and it smelled like sweat, and balls.
The lady that organized the event walked in....She was wearing HEAD TO TOE DENIM. Like, it was a jean jacket with puffy shoulders, and a bell skirt all made of dark colored denim. She looked like the princess from Super Mario Brother's except made of denim. What's the best part of Super Mario Bros? Denim denim denim. (think of the theme song doo doo, dunn dunn, dunn dunn.)
Chad's boss tried to sit at our table. I kept making awkward long stares until she would look away. THAT'S RIGHT B I'M THE ALPHA! She then got up and walked around aimlessly looking for other people to chime in with. The tone of her voice is also similar to that of a black crow. This lady is that type of conversationalist that just repeats the last 4 words of your sentence and adds a "yeayah yeayah" at the end. Yeayah yeayah, yeayah yeayah at the end! She kept commenting on how much Charlie looked like Chad. To which I replied at one point, "Well, I had sex with Chad to make this baby, so usually they do look like their parents." To which she replied, "yeayah yeayah look like their parents!" Ca-caaaw!
It came time to find out what treats we would be dining on for the evening. She was sitting in some lurker chairs behind the actual tables, and when they dismissed our table to go eat....she offered to HOLD CHARLIE. I promptly responded to her face, "Heck no!" Chad stayed back, and I used all my server skillz to score us 2 plates of food and 2 drinks. I wish we had only gotten one. It actually smelled like Charlie's baby food. It was like bad church food mixed with a little vomit, and a lot of water. Seriously, there was no need for teeth. The turkey was canned, and was floating around in gravy that looked more like rubber cement. The turkey also came in cubes. There was macaroni and cheese, stuffing that had the same consistency as the gravy, and hush puppies. Yes, my friends, welcome to the south. Hush freakin' puppies. I guess the cornmeal was the veggie.
Ca-Caaaaw!
Back to Chad's boss...she sat in the lurker chair the entire time we ate, staring at Charlie. Smiling at him, and Charlie stared back. When Charlie is unsure of someone, he just open mouth stares at them with this blank stoic glare. That's exactly what he was doing. It was awesome. Even my baby is judging you lady.
Ca-Caaaw!
It got to be 7:30 with an hour drive ahead of us. So, I started just being a jerk and saying loudly, "If this really is a family event, they will understand if we leave to put our son to bed since it's already past his bedtime." Finally, the crow says, "Yea yea it's past his bed time! Ca-caaaw!" So, I just packed us up and we left.
Ca-Caaaw!
I can't think of a better way to end this, than by simply stating......
Ca-Caaaw!
As we were walking into the place we saw her....Chad's boss came walking passed us.. Her jerry curl in full effect (she's not black so no, I'm not being racist) and she was all nicey nice. She said, "Hi! How are you guys doing?!?" To which I replied with, a long blank stare and awkward silence. We continued walking into the facility.
From the outside we were impressed. We walked into the place, and thought, wow for a military hall this is really nice. We saw the nice dining area and were immediately excited to see what we were in for. We were then escorted to where we would be dining. It was in the back of the facility, and it was a small gymnasium with those weird wrestling floor mats, and it smelled like sweat, and balls.
The lady that organized the event walked in....She was wearing HEAD TO TOE DENIM. Like, it was a jean jacket with puffy shoulders, and a bell skirt all made of dark colored denim. She looked like the princess from Super Mario Brother's except made of denim. What's the best part of Super Mario Bros? Denim denim denim. (think of the theme song doo doo, dunn dunn, dunn dunn.)
Chad's boss tried to sit at our table. I kept making awkward long stares until she would look away. THAT'S RIGHT B I'M THE ALPHA! She then got up and walked around aimlessly looking for other people to chime in with. The tone of her voice is also similar to that of a black crow. This lady is that type of conversationalist that just repeats the last 4 words of your sentence and adds a "yeayah yeayah" at the end. Yeayah yeayah, yeayah yeayah at the end! She kept commenting on how much Charlie looked like Chad. To which I replied at one point, "Well, I had sex with Chad to make this baby, so usually they do look like their parents." To which she replied, "yeayah yeayah look like their parents!" Ca-caaaw!
It came time to find out what treats we would be dining on for the evening. She was sitting in some lurker chairs behind the actual tables, and when they dismissed our table to go eat....she offered to HOLD CHARLIE. I promptly responded to her face, "Heck no!" Chad stayed back, and I used all my server skillz to score us 2 plates of food and 2 drinks. I wish we had only gotten one. It actually smelled like Charlie's baby food. It was like bad church food mixed with a little vomit, and a lot of water. Seriously, there was no need for teeth. The turkey was canned, and was floating around in gravy that looked more like rubber cement. The turkey also came in cubes. There was macaroni and cheese, stuffing that had the same consistency as the gravy, and hush puppies. Yes, my friends, welcome to the south. Hush freakin' puppies. I guess the cornmeal was the veggie.
Ca-Caaaaw!
Back to Chad's boss...she sat in the lurker chair the entire time we ate, staring at Charlie. Smiling at him, and Charlie stared back. When Charlie is unsure of someone, he just open mouth stares at them with this blank stoic glare. That's exactly what he was doing. It was awesome. Even my baby is judging you lady.
Ca-Caaaw!
It got to be 7:30 with an hour drive ahead of us. So, I started just being a jerk and saying loudly, "If this really is a family event, they will understand if we leave to put our son to bed since it's already past his bedtime." Finally, the crow says, "Yea yea it's past his bed time! Ca-caaaw!" So, I just packed us up and we left.
Ca-Caaaw!
I can't think of a better way to end this, than by simply stating......
Ca-Caaaw!
Because Someone Wanted A Story
I can count on one hand the number of people that I have hated with such a passion that I wanted to do bad things...very bad things. The first one pissed me off unknowingly. It really wasn't her fault but I just couldn't help it. In the 5th grade I had to do a diorama of the Island of the Blue Dolphins. I was partnered with a girl in my class that I couldn't stand. She looked like a human gerbil. Her younger brother had glasses and buck teeth, and I am serious he looked like the one chipmunk with glasses and buck teeth. Ugh. Anyways back to me being even more mean. I had to play against her recreational soccer team and stare at her stupid gerbil face as she stood there with one hand on her hip. Her team would get all pissed off when they would lose. Um you just stood there. Her dad was a coach. He walked up and down the sideline like he had a potato chip wedged in his butt crack and he was bound and determined not to break that sucker. So, yeah, I was paired up with her. We start making the diorama, and I start getting really into it. We used coffee grounds as the dirt, and we needed a beach like effect, so I decided we should make homemade play-doh. For those of you that don't know how to make it, it's like one giant thing of Morton's salt and like 2 other super cheap ingredients. She let me play duck hunt while she found all the things we needed, and I started to like her at this point.We made the playdoh, and finished the diorama. I remember my Mom getting super excited at how awesome it looked to have been made by two 5th graders. Even her weird Dad was all like "So-n-so this is so NEATTTTOOOOO BURRITTOOO SKAJEEETO!" Then he went inside while so-n-so stood outside with my Mom and myself looking at our creation some more. Weird Dad comes march-a-prancing outside and comes within one inch of stabbing us. Why? Because we used all the salt! That's insane! My Mom offered to buy more. He said that wasn't the point, and that he was taking this out of her allowance. My Mom leaned over to her and said, "It's 35 cents so-n-so, your Dad is overeacting." Which made him EVEN MORE INSANE. He told her to go inside and no more duck hunt ever for her EVER!
After that day, we barely made eye contact. Until high school. My first true love, we'll call him "douche" (which is ironic since it rhymes with his real name), and I had broken up after a year of pretty awesome times. His Mom made him break up with me (I am not joking about this) for another girl in the class below us because her parents owned a carpet store and Douche's Mom was finishing her basement. This is my life luck. Anyways, before Douche actually started dating carpet girl, I saw him at the fair with so-n-so. In all my life, I have never wanted to punch someone in the face as much.
Until college but that's an entirely different story not even worth discussing. I'm over that shiznit. Not so much over gerbil face. She looked over at me smugly as they walked passed me, her arm in his. She had on red lipstick to draw away from her bottle opener of a mouth. She smiled at me and pulled him a little closer. At first I felt like all the air had been let out of my balloon. Then, I was like "awwww hellllzzzzzz no she didn't!" And this sense of power came over me. I walked up to her and offered to fight her. Not like, "Let's go B*!#% !" But, more like, "If you would care to join me grassy area where our cars are parked, I would be willing to punch you in the face." (remove hat and bow)
That happened in the summer. Then, it got to be football season, and my Mom did one of the coolest things EVER. I had been dreaming of a way to get back a douche. He broke up with me right after I had my wisdom teeth out. Like puffy bruised face, sorry Liz it's over. OH! AND he did it over the phone. I was so hurt. I needed revenge like in all the songs of the late 90's! But all the things I was thinking of were harmful to property and therefor unacceptable.
My Grandma was in town the week she did this. I remember my Mom telling me to go get ready for the football game. So, I ran off to go put on my glitter eyeshadow and purple paw print. I heard the blender running. I came out to the kitchen to smell the most horrible smell of my late teens. My Pap had died 3 years earlier, and there was still a can of sardines left in his refridgerator. She pureed those with some dish soap and put it in the dish soap bottle. She handed me the bottle and a few trash bags and some paper towels. Then she leaned in as my Grandma ran off like "I'm outta here!" She said, "Wait until half time. You will be able to leave, and come back in without a ticket in the 3rd quarter. Find his car, and make sure to get under all the door handles and the windshield." My friend and I did as told, and moved our car to a better location so we could see when douche and friends that were BAKED came out to his car. They touched the door handle, felt it, smelled their fingers, and then started gagging.
Fact: The car wash in town was broken, and he didn't carry napkins in his car. Sardine doesn't come off with windshield wipers. It only comes off with fabric.
Chad's boss the lady (ish) brings out the fury of a thousand gerbil faces and douches. I have to go be in an enclosed space with her tonight, and I am trying to decide the best way to insult her without really insulting her, but the truth is she's really really really stupid. So, I could do passive aggresive awesomeness and her barely there pulse won't even register the insult. I think I am just going to have to wait for her to say hi and just stare blankly at her for a moment and then look away or ask Chad, "Is this her?" She responsible for so many days of heartache for Chad, and my family. Once you become a Mom it's like this weird thing takes over and you unwittingly become the dog curled around her family snapping at anything that comes near. Or the weird goose that charges you when you are feeding the ducks. However due to my fear of birds, I figured I would go with the dog thing.
I want to Sardine her. She drives and electric blue low rider truck, parked at Ft Bragg. Anybody wanna help a sista out?
After that day, we barely made eye contact. Until high school. My first true love, we'll call him "douche" (which is ironic since it rhymes with his real name), and I had broken up after a year of pretty awesome times. His Mom made him break up with me (I am not joking about this) for another girl in the class below us because her parents owned a carpet store and Douche's Mom was finishing her basement. This is my life luck. Anyways, before Douche actually started dating carpet girl, I saw him at the fair with so-n-so. In all my life, I have never wanted to punch someone in the face as much.
Until college but that's an entirely different story not even worth discussing. I'm over that shiznit. Not so much over gerbil face. She looked over at me smugly as they walked passed me, her arm in his. She had on red lipstick to draw away from her bottle opener of a mouth. She smiled at me and pulled him a little closer. At first I felt like all the air had been let out of my balloon. Then, I was like "awwww hellllzzzzzz no she didn't!" And this sense of power came over me. I walked up to her and offered to fight her. Not like, "Let's go B*!#% !" But, more like, "If you would care to join me grassy area where our cars are parked, I would be willing to punch you in the face." (remove hat and bow)
That happened in the summer. Then, it got to be football season, and my Mom did one of the coolest things EVER. I had been dreaming of a way to get back a douche. He broke up with me right after I had my wisdom teeth out. Like puffy bruised face, sorry Liz it's over. OH! AND he did it over the phone. I was so hurt. I needed revenge like in all the songs of the late 90's! But all the things I was thinking of were harmful to property and therefor unacceptable.
My Grandma was in town the week she did this. I remember my Mom telling me to go get ready for the football game. So, I ran off to go put on my glitter eyeshadow and purple paw print. I heard the blender running. I came out to the kitchen to smell the most horrible smell of my late teens. My Pap had died 3 years earlier, and there was still a can of sardines left in his refridgerator. She pureed those with some dish soap and put it in the dish soap bottle. She handed me the bottle and a few trash bags and some paper towels. Then she leaned in as my Grandma ran off like "I'm outta here!" She said, "Wait until half time. You will be able to leave, and come back in without a ticket in the 3rd quarter. Find his car, and make sure to get under all the door handles and the windshield." My friend and I did as told, and moved our car to a better location so we could see when douche and friends that were BAKED came out to his car. They touched the door handle, felt it, smelled their fingers, and then started gagging.
Fact: The car wash in town was broken, and he didn't carry napkins in his car. Sardine doesn't come off with windshield wipers. It only comes off with fabric.
Chad's boss the lady (ish) brings out the fury of a thousand gerbil faces and douches. I have to go be in an enclosed space with her tonight, and I am trying to decide the best way to insult her without really insulting her, but the truth is she's really really really stupid. So, I could do passive aggresive awesomeness and her barely there pulse won't even register the insult. I think I am just going to have to wait for her to say hi and just stare blankly at her for a moment and then look away or ask Chad, "Is this her?" She responsible for so many days of heartache for Chad, and my family. Once you become a Mom it's like this weird thing takes over and you unwittingly become the dog curled around her family snapping at anything that comes near. Or the weird goose that charges you when you are feeding the ducks. However due to my fear of birds, I figured I would go with the dog thing.
I want to Sardine her. She drives and electric blue low rider truck, parked at Ft Bragg. Anybody wanna help a sista out?
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