Monday, June 30, 2008

Sexy socks, Day 1

Today was my first day in my sexy socks. The box says they "look like fine fashion hosiery." I say "bullshit." Unless, of course, some hosiery designer makes opaque, flesh-colored tights. And someone considers that fashion. B laughed hysterically when I got home and took off my pants to show them off. I can't blame him. I feel like an old lady. I thought thigh highs were supposed to be sexy! They aren't horribly uncomfortable, but the tops keep slipping down, and constantly pulling them up is no fun. I think my feet are still a bit puffy (I haven't taken the socks off to check for sure yet), but nothing like they have been. I'll give them a few more days before I chuck them as completely obnoxious and worthless.

I got tagged

I got tagged by Ms. Schwartz, so here it is.

The rules: Answer the following questions about yourself. At the end of the post you pass on the questions to 6 (or so) other bloggers and list their names. Then write them a comment telling them that they've been tagged and ask them to read your blog.

1. What did you do 10 years ago? Let's see...summer after freshman year of high school...I was 15 and working at my first real job at an ice cream place. It kinda sucked, but the free ice cream was great. I miss the days when I could eat ice cream at least once a day almost every day and not gain a single pound.

2. Five items on your to-do list today: we'll go with tomorrow, since it's almost bedtime. Hide the cat before the landlord gets here to show the house, put my clothes away, mail a wedding gift, start picking out registry crap, and get to bed at a decent hour

3. Snacks I enjoy: goldfish, Cheerios, any kind of dessert-type food. I'm not a huge fan of this stuff, but Lump really enjoys greasy, salty foods, like potato chips

4. What would you do if you were a billionaire? Buy a house, pay off student loans (the bane of my existence), quit my job and become a full time lady of leisure so I could volunteer and shop and lunch, vacation (frequently) to exotic locations, and buy a cool car

5. Places I would live: Charlotte, NC; anywhere warm; anywhere with a beach; a real city

6. Bloggers I am passing the challenge onto are: I don't know that many bloggers, so I'll just pass on this one.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

Our baby's going to be a hippie

In my 25 years, a good many of which have been spent attending or assisting with things such as Girl Scouts, summer camp, and Bible school, I have never tie dyed anything. Until last night. My dear friend Brittany (I figured it out! I'm so S-M-R-T!) invited me over and told me she had "devised a little baby craft". Our craft ended up being tie dying onsies. So, we head off to Wal-Mart to purchase our essentials, where it quickly became evident that I still don't know anything about buying baby clothes, despite my Baby Bargains education.

When we get back to her house, she gives me a tutorial in how to make all kinds of snazzy designs. Here I am making circles.

Turns out tie dye is an easy craft to get the hang of. Good thing, because I am the least crafty and creative person in the world. I think these turned out pretty well, though. Here are the results. Sorry the pics are blurry...there were some camera issues.




Not bad for a beginner, if I do say so myself. I should also note that the green and orange ones have different designs on the back than they do on the front. Now all I have to do is wait for them to dry so I can add them to my box o' baby crap where they can anxiously await baby Lump's arrival. Now we just have to hope Lump's got a hippie streak and likes the tie dye more than its daddy does.

Friday, June 27, 2008

Compression socks and Zoloft

After a solid week of nagging from my mom and an entire department of women at work, I finally called the doctor this morning regarding my elephant feet. I wanted them all to shut up, and I figured the whole thing could be taken care of with one little phone call. I was wrong. The doctor decided I need to come in this morning for what basically amounted to a blood pressure check.

So, I made the hour long trip from work to the doctor's office, only to be told - surprise! - that my BP is fine and I'm just retaining massive amounts of foot water (told you so, Mom and coworkers!). Doc also decided that I need compression socks. Thigh high compression socks. Sexy. So sexy, in fact, that I've already nicknamed them my "sexy socks". I'll be fighting the boys off with a stick, I'm sure.

I also chatted with my doc regarding the unhealthy levels of craziness I had going on since I was about 8 weeks pregnant. After our talk, she decided that I needed a bit of medicinal assistance to combat the deleterious effect my whacked out hormones have been having on me. Thus, a Zoloft prescription. There's just something about being given an antidepressant that makes me feel like a major loser. I kinda want to hide them in my sock drawer (actually, I've already done that) and pretend they don't exist. I'm also not sure I want to tell B about them. It's embarrassing. We'll see if it comes up in conversation tonight.

After my fun doctor's appointment, I went in search of compression socks. After five or six phone calls to different departments of my oh so wonderful insurance company, I finally found a place that carries them, and that the insurance company will apparently consider in network, since the only place they know of for such equipment in the area doesn't do socks. Luckily, I'm resourceful, or I'd still be driving around aimlessly trying to figure out where to buy the damn things. I get there, start the paperwork, tell the guy that he's going to have to make a phone call to get the store considered in network, and wait and wait and wait while guy places the phone call. After about 30 minutes of being on hold, I called the number from my phone call, and get a message that they're closed for lunch, and won't be back until 1:00 (this is around 12:15). The company apparently just abandoned this guy on hold when they left for lunch (he called around 11:45). Nice, right? Guy sends me off on my own for an hour or so (yay for an impromptu Costco trip!), and when I come back, he's STILL waiting on confirmation from the insurance company! WTF? He gave me my socks (opaque and in silky beige...I told you they were HOTT), explained that I'll owe the store $90 a pair if insurance doesn't end up paying, and sent me on my merry way. After guy finally hears back from the insurance company, he's supposed to call (sometime before 6:00) to confirm that insurance is going to cover them. I refuse to put them on until I get the call because at least one pair is going back if I have to pay for them out of pocket.

Two hours and a lot of irritation later, I'm home with my sexy socks. These bastards better work. I'm not giving up the little fashion sense I have and my flip flops for ugly thigh highs that don't unswell my feet.

Monday, June 23, 2008

I need to slow down

My weight gain, that is. Everything I've read says I should be gaining about one pound a week right now. Over the past three weeks, I've gained 2.5, 3, and 1.5 pounds. That's twice as fast as I should be gaining. Granted, with the weight I lost during the first trimester, this still only puts me about 2.5 pounds above what I weighed the day I found out I was pregnant, but I'm still worried. I don't want to put on a ton of weight. I'm terrible at losing weight, so the less I gain between now and November, the better, as far as I'm concerned. Starting today, I'm making a renewed effort to eat healthfully. I know I can't do more than that right now, but I'm hoping it helps.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Give me (not my husband) a break

Tonight, I was perusing a daddy-to-be book B's cousin included with the massive bags of maternity clothes she lent me. B's not much of a reader, so I know he'll never, ever bother picking it up, and I want to know why it takes almost 300 pages for the author to say "She's pregnant. She's going to get crazy, hormonal, bitchy, and fat. Be nice to her." (If I were writing a daddy-to-be book, that's all I would put in it. What more do they need to know?) So, I picked it up and did some reading.

At the end of the chapter on the third month, the author (a man, naturally) suggests that the father-to-be take some time to get away from it all, if he finds the pressures of the pregnancy are getting too overwhelming. Are you fucking kidding me??? This whole section of the book has seriously enraged me. I would give my left nut to be able to "take a breather" from this fucking pregnancy. If anyone needs a break from a pregnancy, it's the mother. The father has nothing physically holding him to the baby at this point, and he can take off (permanently or not) any time he wants to. Obviously, unless the guy is a complete asshole, he won't, but the option is always there for him. I would seriously give anything to be able to remove my uterus for just a few hours, so I could fit into my regular jeans, drink a glass (or bottle) of wine, and forget all about the little bladder-punching parasite inside of me. As far as I can tell, B hasn't had to give anything up or make any drastic lifestyle changes, so why does he get to take a break? And what is he taking a break from? Crazy me? Seems like dealing with my craziness is the least he can do.

It's times like now, when all I want is some time away from the mess I've gotten myself into, that I most regret being stupid enough to get pregnant. I absolutely do not see how any of this is going to be worth it in the end. If I could do it all again, I would go back, use a condom, and wish the baby I'm stuck with on someone who deserves and wants to be a mother. My poor kid is getting so screwed; it's stuck with me, who obviously doesn't want it, and is going to be a terrible mother.

Anyway, back to where this post was supposed to be going in the first place. Dumbass daddy book author is lucky his book is borrowed, or I very well might have gone out and burned it tonight. Also, he has lost all credibility with me; anything else he says in this book will be immediately disregarding. Oh, who am I kidding, I'm not going to bother reading any more of the book because he's an insensitive a-hole. He would have been much better off if he had just said, "She's pregnant. She's going to get crazy, hormonal, bitchy, and fat. Be nice to her."

Saturday, June 21, 2008

Babies are expensive

I started reading Baby Bargains (I really need to learn how to do links...) last night. This book is guaranteed to save you money when shopping for your brand new baby's crap. If it actually does this, it will definitely be worth its $14 purchase price.

After getting through Chapter 1, which details exactly how much an average baby costs through its first year of life, I'm a bit panicked. For example, did you know the average woman spends $1,260 on maternity clothes? 1,260 dollars! That's freaking ridiculous. I'm pissed that I've had to spend approximately $200 so far, and I refuse, REFUSE to buy any more (except some work pants and something to wear to my showers...I can't get around buying those, no matter how much I want to). The other first year necessities (not including food, insurance, medical expenses, day care, and the like, so purely stuff) average around $6,000. Obviously, if that's the average, you can do it cheaper, but even cheaper is probably several thousand dollars. That seems like an awful lot of money for such a little person. And on top of that, you have to feed it, and take it to the doctor, and buy it Christmas presents (would we be terrible parents if we didn't buy our six or so week old baby Christmas presents this year?), and pay for daycare, and the list goes on and on.

So, this got me thinking. I need to come up with a way to scam people into buying baby stuff for me. I'm talking something beyond baby showers. Something big. Do you think I could do some kind of "Support My Baby" telethon? Maybe the yam guy on TV would do a commerical asking people to take pity on me and my poor baby and sponsor it for just $18 a month. If I get enough sponsors, the baby will pay for itself! This could work, right? Right?

Friday, June 20, 2008

Adventures in shopping, part 2

Tonight's shopping experience went much better than Wednesday's. I made B go to Kohl's with me, since it was on the way home. The store we stopped at actually had a halfway decent in-store maternity section, and they were having a really good sale (everything I bought was 60% off...still more than I would generally pay for regular clothes, but amazing compared to other maternity clothes). I ended up with three shirts - two short sleeve, one dressy tank - and a jean skirt for $50, plus I got $10 in Kohl's bucks to use next week. Unfortunately, there wasn't a single pair of long pants in sight, so my search for pants continues. If I can find some work pants somewhere this weekend, I will be a happy little girl (and pretty much done shopping...I might end up getting a couple of tank tops or pairs of shorts, but I don't think I have to have much more than that. Yay!)

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Ultrasound pics

Well, I got the scanner to cooperate tonight, so here are the terrible pictures we got of our little parent-defying baby.

This is the best picture we got. It's the baby's foot, in case the label isn't clear enough for you.

This is the best shot of its face. You can sorta see it, I guess. You can also kinda see its hand and some ribs.

Another shot of the face, arm, and ribs.

Another face shot. You could probably see it better if I had turned this picture on its side, too. I can't, but maybe you could. I really think the ultrasound tech was just making stuff up when she labeled this shot.

So, there you have it. Nothing to put in the baby book, that's for sure. I'm guessing at least one of them will end up on our fridge anyway.

So much for good days

For the past few weeks, I've been doing really well with the whole pregnancy thing. I was ok with the whole thing, I wasn't resenting the baby's existence, and I was actually starting to get a little - dare I say it - excited about having a baby. I haven't felt that way since about 8 weeks, if that tells you anything. All my progress came a screeching halt yesterday afternoon. It all started when I got pissed at the baby for not cooperating at the ultrasound. I know it's absolutely ridiculous, but in my mind, beyond making sure the baby is healthy (which is obviously the only real reason for getting an ultrasound), the point of an ultrasound is to get some cute pictures of the baby to take home with you. I won't even try to justify being upset about it because I know there is no justifying it. However, it's how I feel, and I'm honestly still a little pissed.

Things got worse while we were shopping. Normally, I love shopping, and retail therapy is one of my favorite things. However, when I'm shopping for stuff I do not want and stuff that is ugly, expensive, and makes me look like a cow, it's not nearly as enjoyable. In fact, it took all my strength not to break down in tears in the dressing room. To try to put it in terms someone who's never been there can understand, this was worse than bathing suit shopping on a fat day while you're PMSing. I vowed yesterday that unless I am in the process of incubating a child, I will never, ever, ever wear anything empire-waisted ever, ever again. Ever.

Also, somewhere along the line yesterday, I managed to do something to piss B off, and him being mad at me made me feel even worse about myself.

So, that brings me to today, when I'm feeling pretty close to as low as I've gotten throughout this pregnancy. I'm struggling today. I hate that such little things have the ability to send me spinning out of control this way. To name just a few of today's issues, I resent the baby's existence, I feel and look disgustingly fat, and I'm more terrified of what this kid is going to do to my social life and my relationship with B than I am of being responsible for a little human being. And my feet are really swollen. Again. I also feel like I'm the only woman on the planet over the age of high school student who feels like this, and it feels really, really lonely.

Wednesday, June 18, 2008

Ultrasounds, and rentals, and shopping. Oh my.

It was a busy day for the S family. My 20 week ultrasound was this afternoon. Baby looks good, and, no, we didn't find out what flavor it is. Heartbeat was 157, but it was moving around a ton until right at the end (when it moving around would have been greatly appreciated). The head and abdomen measurements put the bebe somewhere around 21 weeks (absolutely dead on with my own personal due date calculations, and a week ahead of the doc's due date calculations). Its little thigh bone, however, is HUGE! It's measuring at 23 weeks 5 days. Almost four weeks ahead! The baby doesn't have my short, stubby legs. Yay! The measurements put my due date at October 23, but the tech said that's probably not entirely accurate, due to baby's large thighs. Which probably means my original thought that October 28 is my due date is right. Baby also weighs exactly one pound right now, and has awfully chubby cheeks for not really having any body fat.

We also found out that our child does not listen well. It fell asleep facing my back, and the little shit refused to roll over (despite the tech poking it repeatedly in its cute little butt), so we didn't really get any good pictures. We saw a LOT of its spine, though. And apparently it has a "beautiful" spine. I'll update with our craptastic pics once I get the scanner to start cooperating with me.

After that, we went to the mall for an extremely unsuccessful shopping trip. I was shooting for three pairs of work pants, a pair of shorts or a skirt, two or three short sleeved shirts, two pairs of flats, and maybe a bra. $60 and a lot of anguish later, I came out with one pair of work pants, one short sleeved shirt, and two pairs of flats. I'm feeling really cheated. I should have been able to get a LOT more clothing for $60. This also means that I have a lot of internet shopping to do tonight because I truly cannot keep wearing my regular pants. I NEED maternity pants. I do not want them, but I need them.

Finally, we went to check out a rental house. B and I both agree there's something really weird about that place, but it's probably doable for a year or two. The landlord was just super!, but doesn't seem to have anything against cats, which moves him up a notch in my book. We'll probably put an application in this week, and go from there.

So, that was our day. Despite the lack of pictures, baby's healthy and has all its bits, which is all that really matters.

Tuesday, June 10, 2008

Follow up to "On conception"

We can all breathe easy now, internet. My mom doesn't know the when or where of my conception (or my little brother's). She does, however, know the details of my little sister's, which she told me and my sis over dinner the other night. Sis was squirming, and I was breathing a huge sigh of relief. I could care less about the details of the magical night that made my sister, but knowing that I will never be told the gruesome details of my own conception made my night.

In case you're wondering how we got to that topic of conversation (especially given my pathological fear of knowing my conception story), we were discussing gender prediction methods (boy is leading 2 to 1, in case you care). One of the methods B and I looked up was the "sex in relation to ovulation" thing. Without thinking, I told my mom and sis that two methods say boy, and one says girl. I didn't think to stop myself before I got to a point where I had to explain the three predictors we had looked at. Ooops. So, I tell them the predictors, then I go off on a bit of a tangent that was more or less the contents of the "On conception" post. Then, my wonderful mother volunteers that she has no idea about me and bro, but remembers that sis happened after a night of drinking strawberry daiquiris at my godmother's house. Priceless.

So, let's all sleep easy tonight knowing that one of my ridiculous neuroses has been permanently put to rest. Thanks, Mom, for not having memorable sex the night you got knocked up with me.

Monday, June 9, 2008

Still hanging in there

The baby is, that is. At my appointment today, the doc said its heartbeat sounds good (even though it took her a while to find it), my uterus is measuring where it's supposed to, my baby belly is cute, and my pee is clean (I'm so glad the narcotics finally worked their way out of my system! Took 'em long enough...I'm Kidding.) All in all, a good day. I also scheduled my ultrasound. It's on Wednesday. I'm so excited to see the baby again! I'm also excited to get a day off work for it, and to spend my extra day off with B. Maybe this whole baby thing does have some perks - it gives me a ready-made excuse to get out of my soul-crushing job for a few hours at a time.

Sunday, June 8, 2008

The good, the bad, and the lack thereof

So far this pregnancy, I have been blessed to have very few negative pregnancy symptoms. *Knock on wood* Sure, I felt majorly hungover for the first three months, I've had a few nasty headaches this trimester, and I've had the random food and smell aversions, but, really, nothing all that bad.

Unfortunately for me, along with the lack of the bad comes a lack of the good. I heard of all of these unexpectedly good things that come from pregnancy, and I haven't ended up with one of them. Greats nails? They're growing a little faster, but they're still crappy and brittle. Fantastic hair? I was dying for this to happen to me because my hair sucks, but I had no such luck. My hair sucks just as much now as it did 6 months ago (and maybe even more so). That pregnancy glow? Nope. Just lots of acne. Increased sex drive? I wish. Amazing sex dreams? Not a chance. A cute pregnant belly? Sorry, I just look fat.

Though it's a bit disappointing, I can't complain too much. This pregnancy has been so easy on me so far, and I know that makes me incredibly lucky. Still, would it kill the baby to give me the shampoo commercial hair I've been dreaming of?

Sunday, June 1, 2008

An interesting proposition

When I tell people that we're not planning on finding out what flavor baby we're having, I get a combination of shocked and disappointed reactions. Lots of people seemed shocked that I don't want to know what it is, and others seem disappointed that I'm not finding out because they want to know what I'm having. I have no desire at all to find out what the baby is because I'm excited for the delivery room surprise.

Yesterday, a friend made me an interesting proposition. She thinks I should just let her find out what I'm having. You know, slip the ultrasound tech her phone number on the way out the door, and give the tech strict instructions to call and share the info once B and I are out of earshot. She even bribed me with nursing decorating (I don't do decorating, so she'd be saving baby from plain eggshell walls, but that's a whole different entry). While I must admit that I was intrigued by the idea, I also see its extreme potential for danger. If one friend knows, others will want to as well - I can think of three right off the top of my head who would be particularly vocal in trying to find out the secret. The more people who know, the higher the likelihood that it will somehow get back to me, and I don't want that at all. It's not that I don't trust this friend's secret-keeping abilities (she's proven that she can do it), but it's too risky for me. Plus, I've heard of other women doing similar things, and I've always found it really odd. I don't want to lump myself into that group of weirdos. On the other hand, it would mean potentially having something resembling a nursery, and not just a room to stick the baby in, which is a major draw for my interior decoratingly challenged self.

I've got two and a half weeks to think about this. B laughed when I told him about it, but he didn't say no, so the option is still there. Hmmm....