Daddy's Little Girl

Yesterday we had our 4D ultrasound appointment. It was pretty fascinating and yet, frustrating. The technician had warned us that getting images was 2% him and 98% baby. Well, our baby is stubborn. She preferred keeping her face squished into my uterus the whole time we were there. She had a comfortable spot to nestle into and wasn't about to move for anyone. Mind you, the rest of her was all over the place. Her hands were wailing around and her legs were stretched out and kicking. However, when you get a 4D done, the whole point is to see how your little one is progressing and of course, get a peak at their face. That's about all we got. A peak. The technician was poking on my right side to try to jar her loose while Farrah's father was on my left poking. I was laughing hysterically because my belly was shaking like I was in the middle of a 9.0 earth quake because these two men were absolutely determined to get her to roll over and smile for the camera. (Did you notice that I titled this "Daddy's Little Girl"? Stubborn? Yes, I think so.) Mike kept saying, "C'mon." I'm pretty sure the wheels were spinning in his head as to how he plans to punish his daughter when she comes out for making him wait like that. I was thinking the poor thing was going to get shaken-baby-syndrome after a while.

What we had paid for was a two session package in order to get the early photos and follow them up with her progress before she is born. He felt bad that we didn't get a full view of her so he scheduled us for two more appointments. What a great guy. We will be going back two more times; once on September 26th and the next one will either be at the end of October or first part of November. We haven't quite decided. Well, here is a peak of our daughter. Keep in mind, I'm only 23 weeks so she is still wrinkly and weird looking because the fat hasn't been building up on her body to plump her up quite yet. I will post more when we get more.

A Pregnant Kind of a Day

Yesterday's weird pregnant funk has so far oozed its way into today. The physical weakness isn't so bad today as much as my brain farts are getting in the way of life. Yesterday I stared at my computer screen for approximately 10 minutes (not exaggerating) trying to decide how to draw up an addendum to a contract that I had written about 100 times before. I just couldn't decide how to put the words together. I also asked one of my coworkers how she would write it. She told me, but it just went in one ear and out the other. I didn't want to sound too retarded and ask a second time so I just sat there. Almost magically, it popped in my head and I knew how to do it again. Whew! This morning my boss was talking to me about a couple of transactions we've been working on and I was looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. Wha? I had to explain to him to just be patient with me and my pregnancy retardedness. It will hopefully pass. Of course, however, after hearing that, I think he is testing me. He suddenly has put a shit load of projects on my desk that I need to be responsible for. I should probably stop typing and conserve brain cells to finish the projects. Besides, I honestly don't know of anything else to write about.

Okay, I'm done now.

Heavy

Did I gain 100 pounds over night or what? I am soooooo physically exhausted. I feel weak. Seriously, this kinda sucks. It didn't hit me until a little over an hour ago. I can hardly hold my arms up for the phone. When I get up to fax something (the fax machine is literally 10 feet away) I feel like I just ran a friggin marathon. I'm not so much out of breath as I am feeling like jello. For instance, right now as I type this, my neck barely has the strength to hold my head up so it just sits tilted to the right. Typing requires me to hold my shoulders up so I don't do this: kdlksga;ljdlmlkdaglkadlkbkdkvbkldalw3iroijefdjlkafjkljdlkadf
Mike told me to have a protien shake and that should help. I am currently guzzling one down and seeing if that will work. We shall see. I don't necessarily feel like napping or anything, just floating in a pool so I have no weight on me. Aghhh. Boo hoo.

Ten Thirty

Farrah likes to make her presence known at 10:30 AM & PM. It has become quite predictable now. She'll pop up every once in a while at different times, but I can always count on her doing her little dance for mom & dad at 10:30. Last night she pushed a bit harder than usual. Pretty sure she has inherited the Moody muscles. I've always been able to see my belly roll around, but it poked up twice really hard. There was actual slight discomfort in those kicks. And it's only going to get worse. On Wednesday morning, Mike and I are going in for my doctor's appointment followed by our first 4D ultrasound appointment. The ultrasound appointment is scheduled for 10:30!!! We should get to see her at play. We're both really excited, too. I'll be sure to post pictures when I get them.

On Saturday, Mike and I had Tori (Nick & Corey's sister) and Alex over. We all decided we wanted to go to the big park in our neighborhood. We also wanted to be able to take Titan with us so he could get some exercise. We knew it would be a long trek for Tori, so the guys decided to pull out the golf cart. I assumed I would end up walking him all the way over there, but then we decided to try and see how Titan would do if I just held on to his leash while riding in the cart. Off we went and Titan stayed by my side jogging right next to us the whole time. It was so great! He did so well and was able to get so much exercise that way. Finally, when we were about half way there, Titan was really out of breath. I thought I should get out and maybe walk him the rest of the way. Mike suggested we try to get him to jump in the cart with us and drive the rest of the way. We didn't even have to try to get him in. The second I slapped my leg, the dog was sitting in the front with me, Mike, and Tori. We were laughing so hard. Titan was panting and drooling all over us, but it was still fun. We all went to the park and played for about 45 minutes to an hour. When it was time to go, we all hopped in and headed back home. The cool thing about this little discovery is that I know the importance of taking him for walks and getting him out of the back yard, but I just don't enjoy doing it. I don't like walking, plain and simple. If I have to, then it's on a treadmill. I prefer getting my exercise from the gym. When I'm done there, I'm done. Also, when there are other dogs around, Titan feels the need to protect me by suddenly growing and barking very meanly. He doesn't do anything but just look scary to other people and their dogs. However, he won't pay any attention to other dogs if he's busy running. I'd have no worries. Also, it will get more difficult for me to walk him as the pregnancy progresses. This way Mike and I can just go on a ride together and have him trotting right by our side. When the weather changes and it starts to get dark early, I will still be able to take him out because the golf cart has bright headlights. I can hardly wait to take him out again.

I'm sure we look like we're cheating when we take him out with a golf cart, but I'm okay with that.

We Keep Going, And Going, And Going...

Today is my and Mike's 4 year wedding anniversary. I love it, but I it's not that amazing. People ask us how long we've been married and it seems so insignificant. 4 years. For some reason it feels so...weak. However, back on June 30th we celebrated our 9 year anniversary of being a couple. I love that! Almost a friggin' decade. That's pretty fantastic. The funny thing is, we usually don't celebrate our wedding anniversary. We prefer celebrating our relationship anniversary. We experienced so much in those first 5 years together and they were then followed by an incredible 4 more. I don't like to just celebrate the time we decided to sign a piece of paper giving me his last name and giving us both new titles (husband and wife). There was just so much happening in June that our anniversary came and went. We acknowledged it, but it wasn't the same. Tonight we're going to watch the dvd of our wedding with Alex. He hasn't seen it yet and I wanted him to get to see it on our anniversary. Mike and I thought that would be fun to do. We'll be going out for dinner on Sunday to celebrate both anniversaries.

The funny thing is I usually can't remember the date of this anniversary. I sometimes think it's the 26th. Weird. That's why I had the date engraved in Mike's wedding ring (so both of us wouldn't forget). Unfortunately, it doesn't fit him anymore so we have to guess until we find the ring to be reminded. Terrible.


To my wonderful husband,

Happy Anniversary, Honey. I love you more everyday. It seems impossible, but it is absolutely true. You are and always will be my favorite person.

Fun With Pillows

Any of you girls out there remember when you were younger and would prance around the mirror with a pillow under your shirt and pretend to be "in the family way?" I used to do that. In fact, I did it up until I conceived. I'm sure Mike thought there was something wrong with me. I would take it to the extent of not just sporting this look in front of my bedroom mirror, but walk downstairs through the house and start dinner, and sit on the couch and watch TV. I would casually walk around talking to Mike and picking things up around the house as if this were just a cute accessory like a new pair of earrings. I would wear my pregnancy pillow at times for over a good hour so I could see my profile whenever I walked past any mirror in the house. In fact, I'd get a good gander at myself when I would walk in front of anything that had a reflection such as a window or a shiny door knob.

Now, it's different, obviously. Now, when I'm in a bathroom in front of a mirror all I can say is, "weird," or "God, that is soooo weeeeird." When I look at my profile, my eyes don't just land on my belly. They are now checking out my ass. I believe when I would play dress up, I forgot to add a little pillow to my caboose. Mind you, it's not like it's grown that much and it's really not that bad, it's just...different. Let's just say, lunges will have to remain in my workout routine throughout and after my pregnancy for sure. It is very bizarre watching my body change. It used to be fun just throwing together my pregnancy dress-up look, but I always could go back to looking the way I did 15 minutes prior. Now, I will just keep growing. Keep in mind I am not complaining, not yet. Any of you that have been around me a lot will agree that the rate of my growth has been slow and then sudden. Like I've said in previous entries, I foresee much growth in the near future. It is scary. I am desperately excited about my daughter coming, but a little scared about the changes in my body. Oh well. It is to be expected.

On another note, I was lying down last night with Mike and had him watch my belly move around. It's almost like a weaker version of that crazy pregnancy dream I had (see WTF entry). She is certainly getting stronger. It reminds me a bit of the movie Alien minus the blood, gore, pain, and well...alien. I absolutely love it. I'm very excited for our 4D ultrasound appointment coming up. The time we are scheduled to go in is one of the times she is very active. I would love to see her playing in there on DVD. I promise to upload her picture when we get it.

Movin' On Up

Farrah is slowly inching her way up closer to my ribs. It's weird. It feels like she is about an inch below my rib cage. Soon she'll be playing around with my bones like a harp. Lovely. I am anticipating a huge growth spurt very soon. The last time I predicted this, I was right. When the ligaments get very tight and sore and my belly starts to itch, it's coming. My ligaments are SO tight right now, I've been quite uncomfortable for a couple days. Sunday night while I was sleeping, I experienced a very unpleasant pain. I like to sleep with my legs straight down and knees not bent. I decided to roll over on my side and stretch a bit. AHHHHHHHH!!! It felt like the ligaments on my right side were ripping. I had to throw my face in my pillow, bite down on the fabric, and scream so I wouldn't wake Mike up. It was HORRIBLE. I took it easy on Monday so as to not strain anything. Later in the day, however, I was hunched over by 8 PM unable to stand perfectly straight because the ligaments on my left side were tight and sore. The skin around my belly button has been a little itchy lately, too. It's coming, I just know it. I'm ready.

The Gymnast

Last night I kept myself entertained by watching movement come from my belly. While I was allowing the vitamin E oil to absorb into my skin before pulling the sheets over and getting all gross, the light from the TV was acting as a spotlight on my stomach. I could feel Farrah moving around in there and then I noticed I could actually see her pushing up against my belly button area. She did what looked like a full-on somersault. My belly was rolling around and being poked at. It was awesome. Poor Mike. Every time I would try to show him, she'd get shy. Plus, I was so greasy I didn't want him to have to put his hand on that mess.

I've noticed when I listen to Def Lepard in my car she's all over the place. I'm going to assume that means she likes it and not that she is knocking on the womb walls to tell me to turn that crap off. I had done a little experiment, too. I know it has to be the base that she hears so I decided to throw in a couple more cds to rock out to. I put in Black Eyed Peas and a little bit of Brittany Spears (that's right) to see if the base from that music would make her bounce. Not so much. I also went out and bought a cd full of gentle classical pieces. I guess we'll see what her taste in music will be.

Bitching Again, But Happy

What I'm going to complain about tonight, some of you might be able to relate to but others won't. I'm bitching about a book I had started reading before I got pregnant to just get some ideas. The book is The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy. Any of you who have read this book and loved it, I apologize for what I'm about to say. Those of you who have the same feelings about this book as I do, I send a nod and a wink to you expressing agreement and understanding. I had began reading the book thinking it would be nice to read something light hearted and "real". I enjoyed it in the beginning until I got to the section that talked about miscarriages. This was a very LONG section and it went on and on and on about miscarrying. Usually, when I get to that section (or any section of the books I'm reading that is negative about pregnancy) I simply skip ahead. It took forever to get past it. Since it focused so much on negative crap, I stopped reading it for a while. Well, a couple nights ago I decided to go back and give it another shot. I ended up reading a section that made my head spin and my blood boil. This book said: Don't Exercise. That's right! Don't exercise. Here are the reasons this highly intelligent book gave:

1. You will be too tired.
(Really? I feel so much better when I get to the gym and work out for 45 minutes to an hour. It's actually helped me eliminate any fatigue I might have had. I haven't had much of any and I attribute that to getting plenty of exercise)

2. You will not look good in your leotard.
(I think I look pretty fun in my workout gear. I wear low riding light-weight sweatpants and a long tank top. Not only that, when I'm bent over doing my tricep kick-backs, I know there are some eyes on the new cleavage. Who doesn't love that?)

3. You will get fat anyway.
(What the hell is this woman's problem?!! No shit I'm going to get bigger, but let's not give all the women out there who are having a baby get a nasty complex from reading her crap!)

4. Exercise will not help you in labor or delivery in any way.
(Is she supposed to be some expert? Obviously no. My sister-in-law stayed in awesome shape throughout her pregnancy and I can bet that it helped her out quite a bit in the endurance department when delivering her son and all that she had to go through in that whole experience.)

5. You might endanger the pregnancy
(If you don't know your body or don't pay attention to what you're doing. I stopped preparing for a fitness competition because I'm not a moron. I know sweating profusely, having an extremely high heart rate, and feeling light headed aren't good when you're not pregnant, so, ummm, they probably aren't good for the baby.)

6. Even if you don't endanger the pregnancy, if something, God forbid, goes wrong, you will forever wonder if your exercising caused it.
(Isn't she just a lovely positive woman?)

7. It's Nine months up and Nine months down in the weight-gaining department, no matter what you do. Give or take a few months on the down side.
(Why knock the wind out of our sails? I like to focus on positive outcomes, including the fun of getting back to my old self.)

8. Our compulsion to exercise when we are pregnant is a reflection of our inability to surrender and let nature run its course.
(I had no idea this woman was a psychologist. That's right, she's not. She's an ex Playboy centerfold - not that there's anything wrong with that.)

This is the biggest pile of bullshit I think I've read in a long time (not counting the crap I've read about our government in the last 6 years in the news). How does it make sense to tell women to not take care of their bodies? It is also mentioned in the book to take advantage of this time because it's the best excuse to eat whatever whenever I want. I am after all eating for two! Whhhhaaattt? 300 calories more a day. That's it. Do you want to know what that equals? About 1/2 a cup of yogurt and a banana or apple. That is not an extra cheese burger, a tub of ice cream, a bag of potato chips. It's pretty easy to get to those 300 calories quite quickly.

I have no intention of ever finishing this book or even picking it up ever again. It is not a nice piece of literature nor does it help me get excited about being pregnant and having my daughter. It's not nice, and quite frankly makes this woman sound like a total ass. Skipping through and skimming through that section was enough to turn me off of this book. They promote it as being an uplifting and funny book about pregnancy. It isn't. I will be leaving it in my bathroom for anyone to use whenever we might run out of toilet paper. Feel free to grab a couple sheets from the book after having a big bowl of hearty chili, several cherries for desert and prune juice as a beverage. Enjoy!

By the way, in case you didn't already pick up on it...I don't recommend this book.

Competition

In the race between my boobs vs. my belly:

Belly is now in the lead by 2 inches!

Grunt

It's getting a little difficult to bend over and pick things up. When I sit in my chair at my desk and need to pick something up that I've dropped, simply bending from the waist to get it isn't exactly the same anymore. Without warning, I let out a grunt. I also sound like I'm exhaling with a deep toned whine. I've started to swing my chair around so that I can pick up whatever I've dropped from my side rather than going straight down over my belly. Even hugs are a little more difficult. When I get a good loving hug from Mike, it feels like he's squeezing all the air out of my lungs and you can actually hear the air escaping. It always ends with a little squeak. I don't like hugging with my ass pointing out because it just looks and feels weird, but I believe that's what people will receive from now on. I'll let the boobs absorb all the pressure.

When I was doing squats at the gym last night, I could see my stomach doing that hanging thing. When I would squat, I could see the lower portion of my stomach dipping where it once didn't. So weird to see that. Also, last night there was a guy at the gym that knows Mike, but apparently not that well. He had shared with his girlfriend, "Wow, it looks like Mike's wife is putting on some weight." He then also shared it with someone who knows us both pretty well. "She's pregnant you idiot!" The guy told Mike this in confidence because it was kind of funny, but he didn't want me to know that he thought I was getting heavy. So what was the first thing Mike did when I walked past them? "Hey, Kathy, this guy thought you were getting fat! He didn't know you were pregnant." Poor guy. However, I laughed very hard at that. I'm sure there are quite a few people that have seen me at the gym over the years thinking, "What the hell happened to her? Has anyone told her what beer can do to your figure?" My condition is a little more obvious this week than it was 2-3 weeks ago. It did look like I was just carrying some extra poundage in my belly. I would walk around rubbing it a little to kind of give the signal of "baby inside - not fat". I'm sure people saw that and just thought I had shit cramps and I was just trying to rub them away. Who knows.

Hello, Stranger

Last night, Mike and I decided to have a couple of friends over. Did I say a couple? I meant a small rager with several people I've never met in my life. We were planning on going to a body building show, but were off by an hour for the time that it started. Oops. We figured we'd have some people over after the show and just hang out for a bit. We had our kids and one of the couples was planning on bringing their daughter. That was planned for about 7:00 - 7:30-ish. At that point, there were about 8 of us, not including the kids. That lasted until about 11:00 PM (around the first time I was thinking about going to bed). There were a few more people who had arrived at that point. So, I decided to tough it out a bit longer. Suddenly, at 1:30 AM a rush of people showed up. There were quite a few that I had never seen or talked to a day in my life and just a small handful that I had seen in passing at the gym. I turned to Amanda, who had been at our house in the beginning and said, "Oh, I thought we told them 7:00 pm. My mistake." Suddenly, there was a loud roar through the house of men's voices. Aghhh. It is so difficult being sober in situations like that. However, I would have been just as frustrated had I been two sheets to the wind. Did I say that right? I've never used that expression. Anyway, after about a half hour listening to what had become a high school party (you remember those), I felt like I had to say something. I squeezed my way through the kitchen and genlty got some people's attention, but no one would really listen to me. So, one of our friends raised his voice to get everyone to listen to me and I felt like I had some daggers being shot at me through glassy eyeballs. All I told them was that there were children in the house and asked if they could just bring it down a notch. That worked for an amazing 5 minutes. I also felt like the "party pooper". I chose to stay up and finish it out with the rest of them so that I would not feel like killing everyone had I chosen to try to go to bed and listen to these jack asses make my house shake with their unnecessarily enormous voices. I can't stand that. A few of the guys there were punks, too. Guys that you know for a fact without even having to talk to them were assholes in high school. Those are the guys that walk around like they own the place and don't take the time to introduce themselves to the actual homeowner. Those are the guys that are the ones who spill shit on your new carpet, who feel the need to yell to the guy 1 foot away from him so that everyone can hear how tough and important he is, and is of course the last one to leave even though he's the first one you wanted to leave hours ago. Those are the guys you don't feel too bad letting leave your house when you know they shouldn't be behind the wheel except for the fact you don't want them to hurt any other innocent drunky out on the road at that hour. All night, everyone was slurring to me how great of a trooper I was to stay up with everyone. It's not being a trooper as much as it is the concern for my home, my belongings, my husband's sanity, the poor children sleeping (and yes, they managed to sleep through it), and of course just the pure joy of watching the last one walk out the door and giving a sigh of relief. Ahhhh. "What time did everyone leave?" you ask? Oh, a little after 3:30 in the morning. Only about 4 and a half hours past my bedtime. When Mike and I were finally getting to bed, I had said I didn't want to do that again for a while. His response was, "NEVER AGAIN." I woke up the next morning with what felt like a hang over. No, I wasn't drinking and I wasn't standing around massive cigarette smoke. It was pure exhaustion. It wasn't until 7:00 PM that I finally was able to shake it. It was awful. I had mentioned to Mike again (thinking maybe he forgot what he said tiredly to me the night before) I didn't want to do that again for awhile. Again, his response was, "NEVER AGAIN." So, sorry to anyone who thought the Moodys would hold another rager at their house and wanted to attend, it doesn't look like it will be happening EVER AGAIN. Quite honestly, I'm more than okay with that. I love having my friends and family over for get togethers, but when idiots show up, they tend to ruin it for everyone. Jerks.

Burrrrrrp.

Yes, I know I've been writing a lot lately. This is primarily because I'm trying to document as much as I possibly can throughout this pregnancy so I can later share it with Farrah when she's older. So, from time to time there might be some odd things that you could give a rat's ass about reading, but keep in the back of your mind that this will also be for her to read later in her life. And, no, I will not go back and edit my foul language. It is who I am and she will know, love, and appreciate it. Hopefully.

On another note, I thought I'd share a couple things in my pregnancy I've been experiencing. First of all, I don't get heartburn. Yay! However, on a nightly basis when I'm lying down, I have to throw myself up as fast as I can so as to not... throw up. I get a bubble that inches it's way up my esophagus and I know if I don't sit up fast, the bubble will be followed by some remnants from dinner. Up chuck, if you will. This happens in some of the most embarrassing moments, too. It's timing always sucks. When Mike and I lie there in bed "talking", it's not uncommon for me to shove him away so I can quickly sit up and make that sound that cats do before they share a juicy fur ball in the middle of the hall or on your bed. I'm not barfing, I'm helping that little bubble out of my body. Again, I haven't experienced any morning sickness, food diversions, food cravings, or anything of the like. I just get these little reminders that my body is not my own right now. What's disappointing is when I'm trying to push that bubble out, you'd think with how quickly my body reacts to the discomfort you'd expect to hear some sort of monstrous explosion out of my mouth. Nope. Just a pop. The little bubble sneaks its way up to the back of my throat and pops. That's it.

Lately, I've also experienced what I believe is Braxton Hicks. When I go from a sitting position to standing, from time to time I get a little uncomfortable and my belly is as hard as a rock. At first I thought this was Farrah pushing with all her strength with her beefy muscles and strong bones, but then I remembered that she's the size of a yam and the muscles are just getting going and the bones are just getting harder. I decided to look it up online and found the definition for Braxton Hicks was in a nutshell what I was experiencing. Kinda cool. I have yet to know for sure until my next doctor's appointment on the 30th.

For the past week or so, Farrah has been pretty active and mostly during the day. Hooray! She almost never bugs me at night. I've only felt her a couple times around midnight, but then she sleeps. I hope that continues into the rest of my pregnancy and her infancy (I should be so lucky, right?). During the day when I'm at my desk, she'll start poking at me (like right now). I always feel it about an inch down from my belly button or an inch down and two inches to the left. That's her spot. When she is most active, though, is when I'm in my car rocking out to music. I've already told Mike to be prepared for a little dancer or musician in our family. We should start looking at dance studios for her to attend. Maybe it's too early, but you never know, we could have a prodigy on our hands!

One last thing. I had another weird dream the other night. I was in some church-like place where there were only women. Like a convent. There were about 100 ladies in their 60s. My mom was dragging me in and the women were all cheering for me, then grabbed me and put me on a table in the kitchen to give birth to my child that wasn't quite ready. I don't remember feeling anything, but then there was my mom holding my baby. Only, the baby was about the size of a Polly Pocket doll (those are about 3-4 inches tall). My mom had put a diaper on her that just looked like an origami triangle on her that was about 10 times too big. I remember thinking she wasn't quite done cooking yet. All the women in the room were still cheering for me and then quickly grabbed me and and showed me, my mom, and my daughter the door. That was it. Weird, I know, but I felt I needed to document even the most retarded of things.

I don't know how I feel about sharing that one. I think a little embarrassed.

Sharing is Caring

Okay, so I'm going to share what my daughter's name is. Not what it is going to be, but what it actually is right now and forever. I know I said call or email me for it, but I have to let everyone know so I can stop calling her Baby Moo, my daughter, or little girl in this blog. It just doesn't feel right. Now, even though I'm sharing doesn't mean I am asking for feedback unless it is nothing but warm, fuzzy, positive comments. Remember, it is her name, we love it, and if you flip me any shit about it, you're a butthole. Okay, maybe that's harsh, but I could get very defensive and want to kill you if you start off bashing my kid before she's even finished developing all her senses. I've already got that mother bear complex starting up. Can you tell?

Are you ready? I know, it's probably more exciting for me than it is for you.

Her name is Farrah Raquelle Moody.

No, she is not the product of two parents who are super fans of 70s television. I've always loved the name Raquelle and Mike has always loved the name Farrah. So, we decided to compromise and put them together and loved how it sounded. When Mike asked me what Farrah meant, I looked it up and discovered that it meant Lovely and Pleasant. Now, how is that not perfect and sweet? When we heard it out loud, we both got a little teary-eyed and knew it was her name. Had it been a boy, it would've been Tristan which means Loud. That would've been frightening.

Say it a couple times and hear it roll off your tongue. Wait a couple minutes, it'll sink in. You either love it or hate it. But you better love it, or at least tell me you do. Just don't tell me if you don't. Remember, the beauty is she won't have the same name as everyone else in her class, and we find that to be very important. I'm very happy to share Farrah's name with everyone and I can hardly wait to be able to call her by her name when she's born, teach her how to say it, and show her how to write it. It's fitting for a child, a teen, a woman, and a little old lady.

Yay for our little Farrah!

Like a Race Horse

I have to pee...a lot. I have what the professionals like to call a "tilted uterus". Fun. I was told early on that this might cause me to have to pee more often than usual. What does that mean? More often than a normal pregnant person? This kinda sucks. Why? Because I am only in my 5th month. I'm not even that big, yet nor is my daughter. I know that when you're pregnant you will have to make many trips to the bathroom because of the added weight on your bladder and changes in your chemistry, but I get to have added pressure. I guess it's not that unusual. 1 out of 100 women have it which includes my Aunt and my Grandma. Thanks, ladies. On top of the uterus issue, my daughter likes to use my bladder as a punching bag. Holy crap, that's fun. It feels like she's break dancing in there and constantly knocking the bladder all over the place. It's kinda embarrassing when I have to get up and go to the bathroom 2-3 times an hour, every hour. And no, it is not a bladder infection. The worst is at the gym. The time of the day that I make it to the gym is when everyone else is able to make it in. Therefore, it is very crowded and everyone is eyeballing the equipment waiting for someone to get up so they can quickly run over and grab it. Any type of exercise I do causes me to have to run to the bathroom in between sets. I like to circuit train, so I'm usually using 3 pieces of equipment at a time. A lot of times I'll have to sit there and contemplate the timing of running to the bathroom by looking around the gym and making sure no one is anxiously looking at my station. When no one is looking, I quickly get up and head for the ladies room. So far, I haven't dealt with too many issue when I get back. I've only had to say something twice.

On average, I hit the bathroom 4 times in the 45 minutes to an hour that I'm at the gym. A lot of it is because of the muscle strain (don't worry, it's not that much...I'm being safe). When I do my squats, I'm usually trying not to pee my pants in between each set. Ridiculous, but such is the cost of keeping fit throughout this pregnancy. Last night, a guy at the gym who's friends with Mike asked me how I was feeling, (which is a common question asked to me on a daily basis) and since I had to go pee real bad, instead of responding with, "I'm feeling great, thanks!" I had shared with him that I was just sitting there contemplating whether or not I should get up and pee for the 3rd time in the past 20 minutes or just tough it out. I don't even know this person. I felt bad about sharing so much with someone I've only said hi to 3 times in my life, so I followed up with, "I'm feeling great, thanks!" Too little, too late. Sorry, Charlie. I know it's not really that big of a deal, but in the moment it was somewhat embarrassing. Anyway, I'm going to have to finish this entry on a lame note because the toilet is calling my name...again.

Melons

My boobs are huge. I chose to write about this because Mike pointed that out to me and everyone else in his comment to my last post. As many of you know, my boobs were store bought. Those who didn't know, are you really that surprised? My mother didn't pass down the awesome gene of awesomely big boobies and so I looked anorexic and ill throughout my teens and early twenties. So I turned my excellent credit into crappy credit and financed some fun bags...my choice not his. Since then, I've been one of those that actually thought they were a tad bigger than what I had wanted. Most women go in and are ready to get new ones in a year or so because they're not quite big enough. Not me. I went from having a bad posture because I didn't want anyone to see my mosquito bites to having a bad posture because I didn't want to poke anyone's eye out.

So, now I'm pregnant. Hmmm. I wonder what I thought was going to happen there. Mind you, I had done a year's worth of research before going forward with the decision. In the research I learned that the implants would not effect milk production or nursing should I get pregnant. Well, after about three months in my pregnancy, my boobs got bigger. Then they got bigger. And even bigger after that. Oh, and guess what! THEY'RE STILL GROWING! I apologize to anyone in my family who might be reading this and are getting nasty embarrassment chills, and/or are barfing from the horror, but I like to share EVERYTHING. Just wait until the delivery when I break down every messy and stinky detail. Oooh, can't wait! Anyway, my boobs are freaking me out because I know they're not done expanding and, holy shit, the milk hasn't even come in yet. Oh boy, I'll be able to rest my chin on those pillows. The beauty of implants is you can go running and they hardly move. You can bend over to pick something up and they're not hitting you in the face. Now that there is some extra girth, they're all over the place. If I hunch over just right, they can sit on my new belly. New boobs, meet new belly, now lifelong friends. Luckily there is a bright side. The belly will go back to where she came from and the boobies should go back to where they were, too. Right? Right. These are real knockers. I seriously think I could hurt someone with them. Mind you, my husband couldn't be happier. He looks forward to the monthly change in my upper torso. Fun bags, he likes to call them. Or the twins. Well, I think I'm done writing about my ta-tas for now because I'm afraid the next time I see any of you, you'll be looking at my high beam headlights.

P.S. I have to admit, they are fun. Sorry.

Half Baked

It's a day early, buy I thought I'd share that I am halfway done with my pregnancy, meaning my girl is halfway on her way. Mike and I are doing what we can to enjoy the time we have left together just the two of us. I know we will still go out on dates and find opportunities to have some one on one time, but I've heard how tough it is to break away from a new baby. We'll have to toughen up.

Saturday, Mike, Alex, our friends Talon, Ashley, Eddie, and Jeremy and I went to see some ultimate fighting. It was pretty awesome. I'm not one who usually likes stuff like that, but we went to support a friend. It was very exciting and intense. Luckily, there wasn't a whole lot of blood, but there definitely was some. I hope to go to the next event which is at the end of September.

I looked at a couple SUVs this weekend. We need to look at getting a bigger "family car". We cart around so many kids, sometimes 4-5 at a time. If we ever want to do something as a family with me, Mike, Alex, Nick, Corey, and soon Baby Moo, we will have no more seats! Not only that, sometimes we have Nick and Corey's siblings over (Noah and Tori). If there's not enough room in the car and the little ones are wanting to come over, they can't because it's not safe. Anyhoo, hence the need for a bigger vehicle. I love having an SUV. I get shit from people sometimes because they push the idea of getting a mini van. Sorry, but no thanks. I'm not a big fan of the van. Grew up with one, I think that counts enough. I love my Lexus. It has always been such a reliable vehicle, so of course being the pretentious snob that I am, I want another. The one I've been drooling over is a bit pricey (not the priciest) but is crazy fully loaded. I also looked at the Volvo SUV. It was $3000 less, but much less to the car. There truly was no comparison. I'm going to keep on looking, though. I don't want to be completely married to a car with that price tag without seeing what other fun toys are out there. Fact is, even if I did end up getting the Lexus, it has so many cool and fun features, Mike would probably end up driving it more than me!

WTF?

So, last night I had my first pregnancy dream of my little girl. It was very fascinating. In my dream, I was in the shower and I began to feel the baby move quite a bit. I looked down and I saw my lower abdomen move around vigorously. It looked like a pig in a blanket. Mind you, in my dream I am the same size I am now, not looking extremely pregnant. As I watched my belly roll around I saw an arm poke out (not through the skin), then a leg, and finally her head. Her head pushed out and turned and looked up at me. I could see the outline of her whole face through my skin. I put my hands down and held her head and she spoke to me. She said, "I'm fearful of the delivery because I don't want to be squished." I then responded with, "You can't have any fear. We'll work together and get through it. It will be a breeze." Awesome. That's it. My first conversation with my daughter. I know how it sounds to other people sometimes when you share a dream that you thought was awesome. They usually think it just sounds weird. I loved it. In fact, when I shared it with one of my co-workers, she told me it was a good one. I cried. I'm a little emotional, but I did love it.

Also, my grandpa was in my dream. I am a firm believer when someone you love that passed away appears in your dreams, it is their way of telling you they are alright and they're just there to say hello. Needless to say, I was not eager to hear my alarm clock go off. I wanted to continue my dream. It was great.

I can hardly wait for my next conversation with my daughter.

Dog Lover

Titan has been pissing me off quite a bit lately, but it is my own fault. I haven't been working with him on his training as much as I usually do. This is for a couple of reasons. One of which is the anxiety that he's been pulling on his leash and I'm fearful of losing my balance due to this extra poundage on my front side. Another reason for the lack of attention is sheer laziness. I admit it. I am not a fan of walking especially if I'm supposed to. However, the other day when I was at the gym I felt very guilty when I was on the tread mill for a whole 2 minutes. I shut it off and decided from now on my cardio routine would include my dog. I need to get on this before I simply decide to kill him. He's resorted back to bad aggressive behaviors with me. Not aggressive as in trying to bite my face off, but aggressive as in trying to lick my face off. He jumps at me to try to get his tongue up to my face which is dangerous because he could knock me over. When I'm trying to brush him, he shoves his face as close to my face as possible with his long tongue stretching to reach me. He gets very squirmy when I'm wrestling him down to get his collar on and his head swings to the left and then to the right just to get a taste of my lancome make up. Do I want to pack him up in my car and "accidentally" lose him out in the woods when he does this on a daily basis? Of course I do, but then I read an article in the news like I did today and it makes me feel not as bad about my brat dog.

There was a guard dog in a children's museum in London who went on a bit of a rampage. You may have heard this. Titan is notorious for destroying any plush toy we get him. It usually only takes 2 minutes and the floor is covered with ears, eyes, fluff, and of course, the squeaker. This dog in London came across a gold mine of toys. It was the Teddy Bear collection. It destroyed $900,000 worth of collectible Teddy Bears. One of which belonged to Elvis Presley. I laughed my ass off when I read this story. The best part was the picture of the dog. He showed such shame, but you know he had the time of his life shaking the shit out of those bears until little body parts came flying off. I know I've wanted to kill Titan for chewing the siding off our house, the step on our new Timber Tech stairs, the new fence, our karoke microphone, etc, I can only imagine what the museum people are thinking they're going to do with Barney (the dog). Do you think they'll tap him on the nose with a rolled up news paper? Perhaps they'll kennel him for an hour so he has time to think about what he did. I bet they plan to get even with him by throwing him into the local zoo with a Grizzly and make him see what it feels like. The owners of the donated teddy bears are pretty pissed so I'm sure their vote would be for the Grizzly.

Although, I found it hilarious to read that all dogs have issues they need to get over, it made me realize even more that Titan just needs some fun time with us. It's hard for me to get out and walk him sometimes because I always feel like I'm going to pee my pants as soon as we start going up a hill, but that's why there's adult diapers, right? For the sake of my dog, I just might have to toughen up. Hell, apparently for the sake of my house, my things, my marriage, my baby, my baby's toys, the kid's toys, and anything he can get his paws on, I will have to toughen up. Check out the picture of Bad Dog Barney:

Looky Loos

Whenever there is a car accident, there's always a handful of people behind the wheel that feel it is their duty to look hard and long at the poor people on the side of the road who feel and look like morons for running into the person in front of them. Why is this? If there is an accident up ahead of where I'm heading, I choose not to look. I don't even try to catch a glimpse. I don't want to participate in the already atrocious traffic in this state. Two days ago I was on my way to the gym and I had a looky loo in front of me. There had been an accident involving 4 cars in the opposite lane and people were out of their cars examining the damage and on the phones with their insurance company. We were moving very slowly and I of course assumed it must be because there was a long line of cars in front of us that were trying to make room for any police or ambulance on their way. No. The jackass in front of me chose to take a good look at the mess on the side of the road. There were NO cars in front of him. He was literally going 2 miles an hour with his head turned hard to the left the entire time to see if there was any blood, any bodies trapped under a car, or if someone was running around frantically with their hair on fire. I suppose if I caught a glimpse of that in my peripheral vision, I'd go against my own rule and, too, would have to take a look at that. However, there was no such excitement happening. It was a freakin' fender bender. After we were well past it, we were still crawling along because he had to keep looking through his rear view mirror and side mirrors to see if he'd missed anything. I was finally able to pass him and give the look to him of "You F-in idiot" only he didn't get to see it because he was still too busy looking for corpses. Aghhh.

Ughh. This entry is boring me so I think I'm done now.