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.

It Hurts

My body is telling me to get ready for a growth spurt. My ligaments are tight and sore and my hips have been slightly cramping up. I haven't gained a lot of weight and my mom has warned me of the balloon effect. Holy lord, I don't want that to happen. Gradual is preferred. Just in case, I've been using the vitamin E oil like no one's business. Twice a day. I was using the cocoa butter for a while, but it seemed to just sit on top of my skin while the vitamin E absorbs real well. I'm hoping I can put off purchasing maternity clothes for a while longer. I did go into Motherhood Maternity at the Alderwood mall and what a joke that was. I was looking for a tank top. That's all. Nothing complicated. The type of tank tops they had there were ridiculous. They wouldn't even cover the belly! What the hell?!! I had to ask the girl behind the counter about this silly piece of clothing thinking maybe it had mistakenly been left here from Gap Kids. "Oh, the tank tops are designed that way with the intention that you would buy one of these blouses to go over the top." You've got to be shitting me. This was the weekend that it reached 100+ degrees. I reminded the girl of our weather forecast and asked if she thought it was realistic to make us layer when our body temperature is a degree or two higher than normal all the time. She looked at me like I was retarded. No, she was. She was about 17 years old and had never been pregnant nor had she had to get creative with her wardrobe to cover her new big belly. She didn't seem to understand that it isn't "cool" to show off this big bump of skin for the whole world to see. I hate showing skin like that. Yuck. I went down to Anchor Blue and bought several Tank Tops, T-shirts, and blouses that will last me for quite a while. They were inexpensive and long enough to cover me well into my 6th, 7th, and possibly 8th month (when I go shopping, I push the fabric out around the belly and the boobs so as to prepare for the inevitable). I love that the fashion of tunics is in right now. It makes my shopping less expensive and depressing. Now I just need to look at getting some jeans because the top button of mine were hanging on for dear life. I don't like to be cruel to my clothing. I figure if I'm nice to the clothes now, they'll be awfully forgiving when I get to wear them after my girl is born. There's always a little give and take in every relationship, even with your clothes.

Hello, Baby Moo

Drum roll please...





We are having...




A GIRL!!!

I can hardly believe it! When Mike and I were at the ultrasound appointment and trying to determine the sex of the baby, I was looking hard for a pair of balls. Although deep down I knew I was going to have a daughter, Mike's track record consisted of sprouting boys. After waiting a good 20 minutes, the ultrasound technician announced, "Well you two, it looks like you are going to have yourselves a little girl." Tears. Lots of tears. Tears of joy, tears of relief, and tears of pride. The first thing I said was, "Nice work, Mike." Mike was squeazing my ankles. It was the only way at that moment we could hug.

When I started writing this, it was Friday, July 28th. It is actually July 31st. I can't seem to change the date on this blog, but I didn't want anyone to think that I was retarded with my dates for the next little story to follow.

Telling the Grandparents...

We had invited the grandparents on both sides to dinner on Saturday night along with the big brothers-to-be, Alex, Nick, and Corey. Mike and I had put together baskets the night before wrapped in a blue satin fabric and tied with a yellow ribbon to throw everyone off. Right off the bat, we fooled Alex. Ha. Ha. Ha. The Host had placed the baskets on the table so when we all arrived, that would be the first thing everyone saw. We settled in, ordered appetizers and drinks. We told the Grandmas that they got to open their baskets but had to at the same time. Rita was sitting next to me and my mom was sitting next to Mike. As the baskets were opened, I felt a bouncing to my left. Grandma Rita was thrilled! It's a girl! It's a girl! It's a girl! Big hugs. My mom was expressing how she knew it had to be. She kept having dreams about little girls. My mom is very intuative. Inside the baskets were a real looking doll dressed in pink, with a head band, a bib that said, "Thank Heaven for Little Girls", a pink blanket that said, "Sweet Girl", and a pink stuffed animal or rattler. Alex was thrilled. Throughout the whole dinner we could hear him saying, "I am so happy," or "I am so excited," or "Thank God it's a girl," and of course "I'm going to be such a protective big brother, I can hardly wait." The excitement and enthusiasm was so wonderful to hear and feel. Thank you, Alex. You added a lot to that night.

Mike then made the announcement that we had her name picked out and we wanted to share it with everyone. However, the rule was and is, no negativity and no jokes (that was meant for my dad because he enjoys making jokes). We love her name. If we could fill out the birth certificate or get her social security card going, it would be on it. Meaning...it is set it stone and you can't make us change our mind. No poo pooing on our little girl's name. Mike handed cards to the Grandpas and both opened and read the card to themselves. The smile on my dad's face was priceless. He said, "I don't see anything to make fun of. It's perfect." The Grandmas were very antsy and wanted to read the cards. Everyone loved it. I have yet to hear anything ugly from anyone who matters.

It is a beautiful name and flows perfectly. It is a name that everyone has heard, but we highly doubt anyone will have the same name as her. It is not trendy nor has it been on the top 1000 name list with the department of Social Security in 15 years. It's unique.

If you want to know what her name is, feel free to email or call me. Like Mike said, it doesn't do it justice to simply write it down. Hearing her name makes her real. However, it is beautiful written down.

425-330-7444
kmoody@platinumpnw.com

Hint: It means Lovely and Pleasant.


Well, here she is. Our little girl.

Shhhhh

Mike and I know what we are having but we aren't saying anything just yet. We are taking the grandparents and the brothers out to dinner on Saturday to share the news. We're deciding to go about it this way because when we told everyone we were pregnant in the first place, it was very informal and impersonal. We were so excited we just made phone calls. We want to present them with a more meaningful way of introducing our baby to the family. It should be very fun.

At the appointment, the technician worked on measuring everything on the baby and looking for any abnormalities. Everything looks wonderful and perfect. She kept saying how beautiful the baby looked. We saw the creepy baby face that always looks weird in the ultrasound. I told Mike it looked like a cartoon puppy. The eyeballs in the sockets were huge. The baby was very squirmy and not all that cooperative at first. It kept those legs crossed as to not show any of its "junk" to peering eyes. Such a good kid. The spine looked very good, the heart had all the its chambers, the kidneys looked good, and the overall size of everything looked right on track. She measured a foot that was poking out. 1 inch! So tiny. That was to help us get a perspective of how big it really was. Also, saw it's perfect little profile and little nose. It's mouth and nose looked in great shape. When she finally told us what we were having, I could seriously hear a drum roll in my head. Mike and I both cried when we were told. It was amazing. We'd been waiting for so long to know what we were having and no matter what her answer was, we were going to be very pleased. It brings tears to my eyes and a big smile to my face to think about it now. The last time we saw our Baby Moo was when it looked like a peanut on the screen. Here we were seeing a little person moving around, waving, making a fist, opening and closing its mouth. It was such an amazing experience. Getting to experience this with Mike has been so beyond perfect. Not to sound too sappy, but we have so much love for one another, I can't imagine how incredibly loved this baby will be. It will be a very happy baby. We're both so excited, we can hardly wait to start getting the nursery going. Mike says he already has some plans that have been made to prepare the room and it will be a surprise. He's such a good man. His enthusiasm and excitement warms my heart and I love him for that more than he'll probably ever know. I wouldn't have wanted this with any other person.

To my husband, Mike: I love you and thank you from the bottom of my heart for our family and for just being you.

Lump in the throat.

By the way, the baby currently weighs 8 oz. I will post pictures later.

X or Y?

Today we had my doctor's appointment for checking up on my pregnancy progress. I am growing slowly, but surely. I've gained a massive 5 pounds total in the pregnancy!!! Yeah, I know that sounds retarded. Don't worry, I'm sure it will all hit me hard at once and I'll have a panic attack over how quickly it all came on. My cervix is right below the belly button. In fact, I've noticed the shape of my cute little belly button changing. I'm not a big fan of outies. Sorry to any of you out there than might have one, but yuck. Obviously, I'm not looking forward to what awaits my button.

My appointment went well and everything looks great and normal. It was funny when the babies heart rate was being checked. It was beating somewhat slow and Mike had asked the doctor, "Isn't that beat slower than normal?" Just as he was finishing his sentence, the heart beat went up. I told him that the baby recognized his voice and was responding to it. Cute.

Well, tomorrow is the appointment we've been waiting for for 18 weeks. We get to find out what we're having. Boy or girl, that is. Quite confident that it will be a small person. We've been going back and forth on what we want. We're constantly surrounded by boys so part of us wants a girl because we're totally boyed out. Having a little girl would be nice and different. On the other hand, with all the experience we have with boys, we will know what to expect and will know what to do. I'm am still in the mind set that I want our baby to be healthy. We've tried some old wives tales and gone by the Chinese Lunar calendar and I know what they all say, but you never know. Mike has already been on a roll with producing two boys. Maybe he only has 'y' chromosomes. There are so many that are predicting a girl, though. I don't know if I necessarily trust my intuition. I want to say it's a girl, but it could be because so many are guessing that's what it is. Whatever it is a boy or a girl, I'm very excited. I'm excited about the mother I'll be, the father I know Mike will be, the type of brothers the boys will be, and the overall awesome person our child will end up being. As the day comes to an end, I get some serious butterflies knowing first thing in the morning, we will know how to start decorating the nursery. Sorry, folks. I won't be able to announce what it is until after Saturday. That is when we are sharing with grandparents and the brothers. I sure hope I can keep that secret for that long. It's going to be tough.

By the way, as of 5 PM last night, the baby has been making itself known to me. It has been pushing me around from time to time. It's an amazing sensation.

My Husband, My Hero

This weekend we went to Wenatchee with Alex and some friends. We had quite the little experience there. It was 106 on Saturday and 108 on Sunday. Sunday, we decided to go rafting down the Wenatchee River from Cashmere to Monitor which is about an hour long ride. It is an area that people go tubing because the rapids are very weak this time of the year. We had purchased 4 plastic 2 man rafts with ores and headed out. The first trip down was very fun. Mike and I tied our boats together and hung out while we worked together to paddle away from rocks and tree branches. When we got to the end, Mike and I decided we were definitely going to go again. We packed our stuff, drove down to the drop off point, tied ourselves together again and were off. As we were settling ourselves in we noticed a bridge up ahead and a LARGE concrete pillar in the middle. As we were trying to decide whether we were going to go to the left or right of it, the current pushed us so fast we had no choice but to hold on. BAM! We hit head-on into the pillar. Honestly, I was picturing us gently bumping into it a few times until the boats were pushed away from it like if we were in a lake or a pool. How silly of me to think that the massive water coming behind us would just settle down a bit, just long enough so Mike and I could get readjusted. Nope. Both of the front of our boats went straight up and flipped. Off I went. The water was shallow enough that I could hit rocks to try to slow down. Mike had also been flipped out and suddenly turned into a real life Superman. He jammed his feet into some big rocks to brace himself, grabbed not only both boats, but one of my flip flops! He was standing there in the rushing water calling for me. I hadn't answered right away because I had gone under for a moment. First thing I said was, "ARE YOU OKAY?!!!" I worry about him like he worries about me. Can't help it. He told me to grab the boats. I went to grab it and a nice big splash went into my mouth and then I began choking and let go of the boat. At that moment, the thought, "Well, shit, this is how I go. Great. I'm going to be on the news as one of those stupid people who died in some tragic summer accident. This sucks." Mike managed to get to where I was and I found a rock I could push off of. I jumped on the raft and felt like Rose in Titanic. Here I was floating on the door while my husband floated in the icy water. He flipped one of the boats over so I could get in. Mind you, the whole time this was happening we were continuing to float down stream. Also, our friends, Talon and Ashley hauled ass to catch our ores and one of us, if need be. When Mike hopped in his boat, we both were making sure the other was okay. We both started laughing and saying Holy Shit! It obviously wasn't our time to go. I thanked Mike several times for saving my life, because he really did. He used his super-human strength to pull us out of danger and kept a cool head to instruct me what to do so I was safe. Did that experience make us never want to go again? Hell, no. We're looking into getting a bigger, stronger, and better boat that more people can fit in. An unbreakable and unflipable water craft. I can quite honestly say I can hardly wait to do it again. At least we know what to expect. Mike said I have to wear a life jacket next time, though. Yeah right. Those will be lovely tan lines. If I'm going to go out, I'm going to have sexy bikini tan lines doing it. I've already been given a ration of shit for going out there in the first place being pregnant, but give me a break. If you saw the rapids, you'd laugh. We just happened to get stuck in a bad area. I just love doing stuff like that with my husband, family, and friends. Plus, what a great exciting story to tell, right?

On another note, Mike received a text from his sister, Evie, who by the way, had her baby boy Oliver Z Graham on July 17th, saying that her son has his uncle's feet. Oh, no. Have you seen Mike's feet? I like to say Bilbo Baggins comes to mind when I see his feet. You know Bilbo, the Hobbit? Or perhaps picture in your mind, Fred Flinstone or Barny Rubble. Them are some feet. They stop cars, for crying out loud! What we're talking about is a somewhat normal size foot, with somewhat normal size toes until you reach the big toe. Whoa. That sucker is huge. Hey, seriously though. You can't knock it too much because it was those massive feet and that gigantic toe that probably saved both of us in that river. He was able to dig those suckers into the rocks, pebbles, sand, and mud like Fred would when he needed to come to a complete stop in a hurry. If it weren't for those feet and I suppose his strong back, strong arms, strong legs, and total determination to not let me float away and die, I probably wouldn't be writing this awesome blog. I thank my husband, Mike, again and again for being my husband, my best friend, my mentor, and now new to the list, my hero.

Oh, yeah...our sunglasses stayed on throughout that whole ordeal. Awesome.

Snow Angel

Last night was funny. Mike and I were in bed talking about the day and had the TV on pause so there was no sound coming out. As I told my story to Mike and as it grew funnier, I grew louder. As I got louder, Mike instinctually grabbed the remote to turn down the volume because the noise in the room was hurting his ears. Only since there was no noise coming out of the TV he was actually trying to turn my voice box down. He didn't realize what he had done until he noticed that the volume was all the way down on the TV but the loud noise was still piercing his ears. When he did come to realize that the remote wouldn't work on me, he pointed out what he had done to quiet me and we laughed our asses off. This is truly one of those "location" stories where you really had to be there.

Also, I did something not very nice to my baby last night. Lately, I've been feeling a little lonely that my baby only has said hello twice and the last time was two weeks ago. According to the books and websites, he or she should be swimming around there and letting me know that they're okay by now. I've poked and prodded, still nothing. I'm tired of waiting. So, I had had it. I rolled over and laid on my stomach. I waited and it only took about 30 seconds for my child to say, "UNCLE!" It was pretty awesome. It felt like my baby was making a snow angel against my insides. I woke Mike up and demonstrated the feeling. It was incredible. I've started off on a bad note with my child. I will push and be mean until I get my way even with my kid. Poor thing. Might as well get used to it early even while still in the womb. I will punish my child if he or she is not cooperating with me even if they are the size of a large pear.

Ass Breath

I am at my office right now, trying not to gag and ultimately barf in my garbage can under my desk. My boss is having a meeting with a couple of men who hate tooth brushes, tooth paste, mouth wash, showers, soap, deodorant, shampoo, washing machines, and laundry detergent. The office is smelly. It is thick with the stench of dirty old men. By dirty I mean "dirty" with dirt, grime, and anything yuck, not perverted. The reason I titled this entry Ass Breath is because they've been talking for a good hour or so and I can only assume that the majority of the smell is coming from the green clouds floating out of their mouths. However, there was a moment I had to walk past one of them and I had to hold my breath. He wasn't speaking, he was just sitting and being smelly. At one point I had to open the front door and stand there taking in some fresh air that actually wasn't that fresh because the trucks outside were releasing the smell of diesel. However, it was better than what was lingering in my office. I've had to walk around with my hair in my face to smell my shampoo rather than the stink of death in here.

C'mon people. Showers are a good thing. Soap is good, too. Dentists aren't all mean. If someone has to back up when you're standing near them or talking to them, take it as a subtle hint. Those men weren't taking any and I'm sure they never will. If you look like Pig Pen from the Charlie Brown cartoons when you look in the mirror and there is a big dust cloud around you, it's time to consider readdressing your hygiene techniques. They're farmers and they are set in their ways. Unfortunately, the rest of us with noses must suffer while they walk the planet opening their mouths, raising their arms, sweating, and just being icky. Okay, now that they're gone, I can focus on something else that might gross me out. When I discover it, I'll share it.

Size of the baby

Every time I've looked in one of my many books or onto any of the websites to get an idea of how big the baby is getting, they always refer to food. Why? Right now the baby is the size of a Deli Pickle. A little bit ago it was a small apple, before that a lemon, and early on it was about the size of a gummy bear. Do they use these analogies because many pregnant women are thinking about food? Why don't they use office supplies? A lot of us who are pregnant are still working up until the big day. I'm surrounded by office supplies all day so I'm constantly thinking about those items. Why don't they tell me my baby is the size of a small roll of tape? Next week it will be the size of a stapler. A few months from now, the baby will be the length of a three hole puncher and I will be the size of a large computer monitor. I can relate to all of that. I have to say that early on they did mention the weight of the baby was that of 3 paper clips. Cool. I was able to open my desk drawer and hold the paper clips and see how heavy my baby was. Precious.

Debbie Downer

I'm having a boo hoo kind of a day today. Poops in the pants, if you will. Now that I've got that off my chest, I will try to have a better day.

Books, Books, Books

I looked at my nightstand last night and realized that I have an enormous amount of reading to do. Not only have I decided to get myself several "How to be Pregnant" books, but so did my mom. There is a stack of about 6-7 books on my nightstand, 5 in my nightstand, 1 on the bathroom floor, and about 3-4 floating around downstairs in the living room. Those are just the baby books. I have also started reading a book my brother gave me, The Slaughter House Five, which I've been looking forward to, but I constantly get distracted from reading it and have only made it to chapter 3. (Sorry, Steve, I'm trying) I am also in the middle of reading Excuse Me Your Life Is Waiting for the 5th time. Anytime I feel like the shit is piling up and it isn't all good, I grab that book to help put things back in perspective. I guess it's our Moody Bible.

What's funny, is I am actually reading EVERY single one of those books. They've all morphed into one. My baby, which has 50,001 names is forming finger prints and is floating around amniotic fluid like crazy. It will be the happiest baby on the block because it knows how to manifest good things in its life although it has to deal with the holocaust and WWII. It will have fabulous communication skills and will know how to use sign language to talk to us. Awesome.

Most of the books are the week by week pregnancy books. I grab each of them and read what week I'm at and compare each chapter. However, I realized last night that I might need to consider jumping ahead to find out what's going to happen to me 4-5 months from now instead of what to expect for the next week. By the time I reach the end of all of these books, I probably will have already had the baby and put it in preschool. I'm not one who likes to ruin an ending of a book by skipping ahead, but I'm pretty sure it will end with a big bloody mess in the hospital with a crying baby lying in my arms with my husband by my side. Maybe it won't end that way. Maybe the baby will be sleeping rather than crying. In any case, I have a lot of reading to do and not a whole lot of time left to do it. I still have to watch my birthing dvds, breast feeding dvds, and baby's 1st 3 months dvds. I know it seems early, but I'm pretty sure I'll be watching those horror movies more than 3-4 times. Time is going by so fast, I just realized we're almost half way there! Crap! I guess I'll just start getting to bed earlier and read about babies, watch movies about babies, and talk about babies and I'm sure I'll be ready. Right?

Shiny Happy People

I'm starting to get that "glow" from my pregnancy. Why do they call it that? I think I just look a little greasy. It's an over production of my natural oils. It looks like someone took a basting brush and brushed a fine layer of butter over my face. Mmmm...butter.

oops

So, I deleted my ranting about the 4th because I understand that I may have offended some people that I would never have wanted to offend. Of course, it wasn't directed to anybody I know. Not one. However, if anyone took it the wrong way, please accept my apology. The last thing I would want is for anyone to think I was bashing them when I wasn't. I will be more careful in the future so as to not upset anyone. Please remember that I write this stuff for entertaining purposes only.

-Kathy

Dear Kathy:

It has come to my attention that you made the conscious decision to watch a scary movie. Although it was against your better judgment, you thought that watching this scary movie in the daylight would make it okay. It did not. Don't you know better yet? Isn't there a scene from the Exorcist III where an old lady crawls on the ceiling like a spider that still bothers you to this day after watching it over a decade ago? You still keep your hand from hanging off the side of your bed for fear that someone or something will grab it and pull you under. Every night you have to make sure the closet door is closed so that nothing evil will come out. What were you thinking?!! You have the imagination of a ten year old. With that, you're doomed to have several nights of sleeplessness. Christ, you get scared from even the parody, Scary Movie. What's wrong with you? When you do get scared at night, you wake your poor husband up and make him face you so you feel a sense of being watched over. Not only that, there are times that you've had pets sleeping with you and in your crazy imagination you conger up the idea that if something entered your room to kill and devour you, you could throw the cat or dog at it as a quick meal while you got away. How selfish. Do your animals know that is the purpose they serve? All along they thought you loved them and wanted their company. Instead you use them as a get away tactic.

You're a total weirdo, Kathy. You watched The Ring and seriously counted down the days before the little girl would crawl out of the TV and get you. You watched White Noise and now you have to quickly shut off the TV if loud snow appears on the screen so you don't have to hear the dead person's voice coming through. Now you've seen The Exorcist of Emily Rose which wasn't too awful, and you are afraid to wake up in the middle of the night to take your ritual pee. Why? Because in the movie, 3:00 AM is the hour that the demons love to taunt us. What if you wake up to go to the bathroom and make the mistake of looking at the clock? And of course, this morning your husband says in his sleep, "What was that?" and what time was it? Well, 3:00 AM, obviously. Had you not seen that movie, would that have bothered you? Of course, not.

So I ask you now, please stop this stupidity. For the sake of a peaceful nights sleep, your husband not being bothered, and the good hearts of your pets, no more scary movies. You are only allowed to watch comedies and cartoons. That's it! Don't even think about trying the skill of changing channels and going between a comedy and The Ring 2 as a way of not really watching the scary movie. You have enough fear in your brain from stupid horror flicks that should last you the rest of your life. So, if your husband comes home with another for you to watch, just remember he always falls asleep before you do and leaves you alone staring at the ceiling and looking around the dark room waiting for something bad to happen. He can't help you when he's out cold and he doesn't always wake up right away when you're asking him to roll over and face you.

It's this simple: You are no longer allowed to watch scary movies. I would truly appreciate your cooperation with this matter.

Sincerely,

Your Common Sense

Cops and Robbers

It has been a while since I posted anything but that is because our office was broken in for a second time last weekend and I have been without a computer. I walked into the office on Monday morning and noticed that all my files were on the floor. Immediately, I thought our cleaning lady had dropped them and left. Why wouldn't she just pick them back up and put them away? That's weird. Then I noticed that my desk was slightly tipped over. Why wouldn't Julia just put the desk back in its normal position rather than leaving my desk a shamble before leaving for the day? Holy shit! Where's my computer?!! God Dammit, we were robbed...again! Sometimes it takes a while for things to sink in for me. Oh, I was so pissed off. I looked around and saw that Nathan and Rob's computers were gone. The back door was missing it's knob. The sad thing is Nathan had purchased two "fake" survaliance cameras to put up and hope to scare the theives off. They were still in their packaging and had also been stolen. I'm sure they were laughing their asses off when they saw how smart we were. No, this time they did not go through my drawer to steal my snacks, however, they did take out one of my gatorades out of the fridge and ate one of my tapioca puddings. Why?! Needless to say, we have learned our lesson twice and are now installing a security system. I was planning on just putting a sign on our doors that said, "We Have Nothing Left...You Took It All" as a means to send them on their way. When the police came, I told them that I felt like I was in the scene of The Big Labouski when The Dude gets his stolen car back and asks the cop if he has any strong leads yet. The cop then tells him that they have set aside the murders and the rapes to get on the case of the stolen car. I felt like we were probably at the bottom of the priority list to solve this break in mystery. Now we get to decide how to break it to the insurance company and not get dropped.

Wednesday, I had a doctors appointment for my 14th week. We got to hear the baby's heart beat! It was beating at 160 beats per minute. All my blood work came back normal and my iron count looked great. The doctor measured me and said everything looked great and normal. Apparently I'm very normal. She gave us the paperwork to set up the Ultrasound appointment to determine the sex of the baby and suggested on her way out that we try the Drano test. I was pleasantly suprised at the suggestion to test out an old wives tale. She said that all of her patients swear by it and it has been 100% accurate for all of them. She said, if anything, it would be fun. Well, we tried it last night. We're not saying what the outcome was. We don't want to say anything until we have the ultrasound which is scheduled for July 27th. It's our little secret we'll keep between the two of us for about a month. After the ultrasound, I'm sure we'll tell everyone so that we can all go shopping.

Wednesday night I sensed what felt like a little bubble pop in my belly. It wasn't gas.

Mustard Only, Please

I had a hot ham and cheese sandwich from a deli in Mukilteo yesterday. I ordered it with mustard. When I got in my car and began enjoying my fabulous sandwich, my shirt and pants also had the pleasure of having some. When I got home, I had at least 7 lovely bright mustard spots down my new black and white striped shirt and on my white pants including enough crumbs to make another sandwich. I was quite the site. I suppose I'm subconsciously preparing myself for the type of laundry I'll be doing when the little one arrives. Or...maybe I'm just messy.

Faux Pas

Did I accidentally walk into a time machine and warp back to the 70s? I ask this question because I have noticed many men displaying mustaches on their faces. Why? Are there that many women out there that find it attractive? Are they growing this thing on their face because "they can"? I'm pretty sure if I could grow one, I wouldn't. I saw two guys sitting at a bus stop today both sporting a very hairy upper lip and it made me wonder. I started thinking about men that I see from time to time that also wear this crazy accessory. There's a lot of them out there. Goatees do not necessarily fall into the same category. It's a different look all together. The mustache, however, lacks the tough and masculine effect. The goatee looks like the guy started shaving in the morning, got lazy, and ultimately changed his mind and stopped right in the middle of it. That doesn't take much planning. The mustache, on the other hand, takes time and precision. It's kind of like a guy carefully plucking and shaping his eye brows. I don't mean any disrespect to those who have one, but I always think there is something sinister lurking in a mustache. What is the man hiding behind all that gross hair? What about the guys who wear them from the time they were able to grow one? Have they thought about changing things up a bit by shaving it off? I wonder if there is an air valve hidden in there that deflates the man when the mustache is removed. WHAT IS THE SECRET BEHIND THE STACHE? Whatever it is, I don't really care. Just get rid of it because it makes you look evil. Remember, Guns don't kill people, People with mustaches kill people. That's a known fact.

Another wrong doing by this generation's female youth is their choice in fashion. If it looks good on the rack, it should probably stay there. Another good rule of thumb to go by is this: if there is a cute outfit on a mannequin and your body looks nothing like that of the plastic body, you should turn around and look elsewhere for new clothes. My issue is this, why wear very tight low riding jeans unless you have a small waistline and cute ass? There are several young ladies out there that insist on wearing the trendy clothes and offend everyone within eye site. This would be the size 12 girl who wears the size 4 jeans. Her ass is pulled tight into the pants which still looks droopy and saggy, all the while her rolling belly, back fat, and "love handles" are poking out of her too small, too short, too tight top. Then there is the very short mini skirts that are out again in time for this summer to make us all sick. You know the ones. They're usually white. Holy Hell these are awful. We almost never get to see the girls with nice legs sporting this look. It's always the girls whose one large leg should equal two, so there are basically four legs coming out of this itsy bitsy skirt. Yikes. What happens when they drop something? I hope I'm not around when they bend over to pick it up. They should do us all a favor and leave it where it landed. Even if they are her car keys, she should just walk home and spare the rest of us the unnatural view of her cheesy ass. The exercise would obviously do her some good. The only girls who can pull the skirt off are usually 12 years old and at that point the parents should be arrested for tempting the weirdo pedifiles out there. Sick. I am, by no means a fashion guru. I just know what makes my eyes burn and the bile build up in my stomach. I"m sure I've offended some people out there with my comments, but they started it by offending me with their poor taste. C'mon people. Mirrors, although hurtful and cruel at times, can also be your best friend being honest with you as long as you have your eyes open. Try it.

I'm a bitch. I know.

Ewwww, Titan

While things have been busy in our house, one member of our family has unfortunately taken the back seat for a bit. That would be poor Titan. I've really missed him lately and picked things up around the house so he could come sit with me in the living room while I brushed him. He could barely sit still. He was so excited to be in with us, he could hardly contain himself. Eventually, he ended up calming down and was ready for bed. I laid out his new blanket to sleep on my side of the bed. He has to sleep on the floor because there's not enough room for another 120 pounds in or on our bed. He was lying on his bed while I got ready and started watching "Shawn of the Dead." The light was turned of and all you could hear was the TV and Titan breathing heavy, indicating he was wiped out and falling asleep. Suddenly and without warning while I was watching the main character of the movie bash in zombie heads, a horrible odor began to fill the air. God Dammit. The air was thick with Titan ass. It was hard to breath and my eyes began to water. I looked up at the ceiling fan and hoped that it had enough power to dissipate the smell so that the little poo particles would spread through the room and no one would be the wiser of the poison that Titan released. The fan was put on super-high. While I continued to watch the movie with my bed sheets covering my nose, the fan did its work. A few minutes passed and I was able to come out from under the covers and enjoy my movie. Unfortunately, when there is one stink, it is bound to have friends. Aghhhhh. Gross. Dammit Titan! He didn't care, nor did he even know. He slept through the whole thing. Lucky. I don't understand how that works, though. Aren't dogs supposed to have this amazing sense of smell? You'd think it would have rattled his nerves enough to make him open at least one eye to look around the room and hope no one thought it was him. Round two was not good. At one point, I felt like I was trapped in a gas chamber. The fan was no match for the toxin. I waved my white flag in defeat and had to make a decision. If Mike walked in that room, he would've had a fit. It usually smells clean with nice fragrances of various candles. Now it carried the scent of fur, bad breath, oh and dog shit. So I did what needed to be done. I walked him across the hall to sleep with Nick and closed the door. Hey, he was already asleep and didn't know a thing. He likes the company anyway.

My Bed & My Back

Our house has been apart for quite some time now, but has slowly been put back together. Our new bedroom furniture (Mike's mom's) is all set up, polished, and looking wonderful. However, the bedframe called for a King size mattress and all we had was a double. It has been uncomfortable tripping over the metal frame in the middle of the night. Luckily, last night Mike bought a King size mattress. When I got home he had it all set up like a surprise. He bought new linens, pillow, and comforter for the bed. The color is a rich chocolate brown. I jumped on the bed and sunk in it. It is so soft. We were both drooling over how comfortable our new bed was all night. We even went to bed very early.

Well, I woke up this morning and my back and neck hurt. Throughout the night, I had to switch from the big fluffy pillow, to the decorative pillow, to no pillow at all. I'm going to have to get creative in how I'm going to live with this oh so comfortable and yet painful new mattress. Mike already told me if he has to he will lovingly provide me with a beautiful piece of plywood to place under my side of the bed. Unfortunately, carrying the 300 pound mattress back down the stairs is out of the question. I guess I started getting used to the springs stabbing me in my back from the old mattress. If I can't find a comfortable position or better pillow, I am prepared to accept my new piece of plywood.

Heading for Round 2

I am at 12 weeks and counting down the days for my second trimester. Everyone has said that everything just gets easier now. Easier than what? I don't want to toot my own horn or jinx anything, but my first trimester was so easy that half the time I forgot I was pregnant. The times I would remember was usually when the task of moving heavy furniture around the house was at hand. I don't like to lift if I don't have to. I didn't experience any morning sickness. My gag reflex has been pretty strong lately. When I brush my tongue and I hit that little spot in the back, I get that tight feeling in my throat and stomach. My eyes water like crazy and I stare at myself in the mirror waiting to fill the sink. That's it, though. My mom told my that I would probably get constipated, but nope! Perfectly normal and quite comfortable poos. My skin has taken a beating, though. As I have told people, you could probably play connect the dots and discover the Statue of Liberty on my face. Like they said, though, it is getting better. Thank god for Lancome!

Seeing myself in the mirror with my pooch in cute clothes is fun, but naked...not a pretty site. I can only imagine what it will look like down the road. I'm pretty sure when the time is right I will follow my friend's lead (Jen) and get a pregnant professional photo taken. However, it will be in black and white. It's a little more forgiving.

I've had some Debbie Downers actually tell me that I shouldn't be so confident about feeling great during the first trimester because it will get "awful" and I'll end up "hating" it. Who are these people telling me such shitty things? Evie told me from day one, no one can give you much advise on how you'll feel and what to expect because everyone is different and everyone's pregnancy is different. So far, I've loved my experience and I'm glad I get to document it and not bitch too much. Unfortunately, that makes for a somewhat boring blog, but I'm trying. I might just have to tell funny and gross stories about Mike or Titan. I have tons of those. Besides, I can tell many of those because they don't read this. Mike just forgets I have this blog and Titan can't read because he's a dog.

No Thanks, My Plate is Full

How much drama and stress can one put on their plate without it spilling over onto side dishes? Life is insane in the Moody house. They say during pregnancy to limit the amount of stress in your life as much as you can especially in the first trimester. Well, here I am 5 days away from the second trimester and I have peaked on the insanity which is my life. Half the time I can't tell if the hardness in my abdomen is the pregnancy or my tension.

Our house has been taken apart because we recarpeted the main floor and upstairs which meant we had to move the dining table, pool table, all the beds and bedroom furniture, all the clothes in the closets, etc. Aghhhhhh! I can't find my favorite white bra anywhere because it got lost in the shuffle. Perhaps it's just a sign for me to go shopping because it doesn't fit that well right now anyway. I'm kinda "busting" out of the seams (pun intended). On Monday, the carpet guys showed up and were only able to get the old carpet pulled up and lay the new padding down. So, that night Mike and I slept on just a mattress staring practically straight up to watch the TV on the wall. I felt like we were in an apartment. At least once, all of us got poked by the tacks sticking up around the edges of the pad. Yesterday the carpet was finished and the guys neglected to hang the doors back up and covered a couple of our vents with the carpet. Nice.

The house is slowly, but surely coming together again. When it is back to its normal state, I will feel a huge sense of relief. Unfortunately, with everything happening at the Arlington house, we haven't had an opportunity to check on or play at our Wenatchee house. Bummer. It's relaxing over there and we need to get there right away and decompress.

I'm heading to my Grandma's tomorrow so I can get away for a bit. Poor Mike isn't sure if he can handle it, but oh well. I find it a relief to talk to other people about what is going on in their lives so I can have a moment or two to not think of my own trials and tribulations. I'm not a big fan of drama.

I have to apologize for my blog entries being so journally. Once the shit stops hitting the fan, I'll start focusing on the funny and gross things in my life to keep it entertaining.

Idiots and Their Cars

Why is it when you need to get somewhere quickly, someone pulls out in front of you and decides to take their Sunday drive on a Monday morning? That was how my morning started. I am one who likes to go the speed limit and sometimes a little bit over. I was on a road that was 50 mph and the man in front of me decided to take his sweet ass time. By that, I mean 25 Mph. Not only that, it would jump from 25 to 35 and back to 25. Maybe he didn't see the speed limit sign, maybe he was "little" and couldn't reach the pedals, maybe he saw me coming and chose to sneak in front of me and teach me a lesson about patience; whatever it was, it didn't make me very happy. When this does happen, why do I expect that person to be watching me in their rear view mirror the entire time we're driving and understand what I am saying to him either by seeing my hand gestures or reading my lips? He was very busy looking at every cow or horse out in the pastures he passed, where would he find the time to look back and notice my frustrations? I found myself putting my hands up as if to say, "Go!!!!" Sometimes I would rest my head on my and to show boredom with the slow pace. I knew he could've cared less, but something told me I just needed to exert that energy to at least feel like I made some sort of attempt to make him move a little faster. Later, after lunch, I pulled up to a stop sign and a woman was taking a left into where I was. I was well behind the line and she still pulled so close almost hitting me and proceeded to yell at me for being where I was. Of course, I thought this was quite funny. People feel so confident and safe in their little cars, but what if I was psycho enough to throw my car into reverse and chase her to her location? Back in my youth, I was known to do that. I would go as far as driving up on the sidewalk and up a grassy hill to chase down kids that had thrown a rock at my car. I have since calmed down, of course. Although it might seem like my reaction to the slow poke this morning was about as retarded as the old fat lady yelling at me, I don't agree. I didn't deserve her bad behavior, but he did deserve mine. Period.

On another note...My office got broken into over the weekend. If you've ever seen my office, you would wonder why anyone in their right mind would even consider our office. We work out of a double wide, as in a mobile home. We recently had a rat and ant infestation. It is what we like to call the ghetto. It's pretty gross. My computer was still in its place but there was a long cord hanging off my desk. I figured someone was just trying to work on my computer over the weekend. Then as others started filing in, we realized a monitor had been taken, desks had been gone through, a laptop along with its carrying case was stolen and even a phone. It was pretty weird. People had checkbooks in their desks and those were all still there. We have keys to several other buildings and those weren't touched. It looked like they tried to take my computer screen but it was too much of a pain in the ass. However, these clever little thieves did take something of mine. My drawer in my desk is missing two boxes of granola bars, dried apricots, Asian crackers, and some Handi-snacks!!! What the Hell?!! When everyone in the office starts talking about the laptop and computer screen and how awful it is, I make sure that I sneak in and remind them of my crackers and granola bars. How is that not funny? I should ask my co-worker if it's covered under our insurance.

6-6-6

That's all I'm going to say.

My Wardrobe is Slipping Away

I already knew that there were 4 pairs of pants/jeans that I can suddenly no longer wear, but I have added yet another pair. At night, I like to pick out the next day's clothing so I don't get caught standing in my closet staring aimlessly at slacks, skirts, sweaters, blouses, and t-shirts that just tease me with possibilities of cuteness. I tried on today's outfit before I had to run out the door. I pulled in my gut as far as it would go. I had to suck in 3 times to finally get the snap to snap. I let out a sigh and saw my saggy profile. No thank you. The little bulge over my pants would not be able to hide behind any top unless it was a heavy sweater or sweatshirt. Yikes. Not only that, but some of my shirts can't be worn either. What tops used to show just a slight peek-a-boo of midriff now look like I went shopping in the "little girls' department" for a shirt a few sizes too small. My growing boobs pull my shirt up and my belly pushes out between the pant line and bottom of the shirt. Not very cute. I'm having to shuffle my closet around. I'm not spending the money on "new" clothes until I literally can't breath. When I start to notice repeat outfits during the week, I may have to re-address the shopping idea. Crap.

On another note (not about me thank god), I saw a girl at the hospital today that looked about 7-8 months pregnant walking out with her significant other or "baby's daddy". Holy Hell was that a sight that made me shake my head for them both to see. How do I describe her tasteful outfit. She was wearing what seems to be the new cool trend of pajama bottoms out in public (but they have to be 10 sizes too big and you have to be sure to wear slippers or flip-flops). She also wore a lovely tiny black sports bra. How did I know that, you ask? Well that was her top. That, and of course, a tastefully placed oversized Nike sport jacket to cover her exposed shoulders. Her baby's daddy walked with her to the beat of "The Thong Song" with his baseball hat tilted ever so slightly to the right. He used is index finger as a belt by holding his pants up by a single belt loop. Clever. (I just laughed out loud to that. Does that make me a total nerd?) Ah, I bet those two had a long deep conversation about deciding to start a beautiful family together and bring a person into this life that would be a wonderful contribution to society. Am I an asshole for not really believing that that's how it happened? I'm sure I'm going to Hell for that one, but most of you will be there by my side, right?! Good Lord, I can't wait to be that big and just wear whatever I find on the floor that day. It will make the previous paragraph look so stupid for even trying or caring.

Myspace Pervs

I've had a myspace account for approximately 3 months and have never noticed anything weird. I primarily got on it to be reachable for a family member and also as a means to get in touch with people I went to school with. I know I'm almost 30, but I don't think any of you will see me on a Dateline special any time soon. A month ago, the number of times I had been viewed was 8. That's right, 8. I'm not very popular, but I didn't exactly advertise that I was on myspace to anyone. Recently, after receiving a "please let me be on your friend list" request from a complete weirdo/stranger, I chose to try to keep my "myspace" private by changing my age to a younger secure age. That way, only family or friends that know that I'm on it can be invited as a "friend." Well, since changing my age to that of a younger person, my myspace has been viewed over 50 times! Gross. What does that mean? Are there people out there so interested in my site that have to keep checking to see if by some crazy chance I added something more interesting than the day before? Are these the people that get caught on Dateline? Sick pervs. If any of you out there are checking my "myspace", please just send me a message or a request to be a "friend" so that I'm not wondering every time I look at the "Number Of Times Viewed" counter, if someone from the Monroe Reformatory or America's Most Wanted is thinking they're looking at a kid. So ick. That's all for my bantering today. Hopefully, I'll have more next week.

Mexican Jumping Bean

Still here, just busy. Yesterday, we had my doctors appointment and got to see the little one again. The doctor tried to hear the heartbeat on the doppler, but it's still a bit too early to hear anything but my own loud heart. We decided to do the ultra sound to make sure everything was looking okay. The baby had gone from looking like a gummy bear that was hard to make out to a little person (kinda). I was able to make out the head and the little nubs for arms and legs. SO COOL. While we watched, he or she hopped around a bit. We could see the flashing light on its chest which was its strong heart beat. I am now 10 weeks. I'm counting down the days for my skin to stop looking like you can play connect the dots. Freakin' hormones.

This weekend was a lot of fun. We were able to go to our Wenatchee house for the first time since it closed. We spent most of the time buying things to make it livable and deciding what the next projects were going to be to finish up the house and landscaping. We'd been stressing about how we were going to put a lawn in and keep it watered when we weren't going to be there that often, and Mike came up with the brilliant idea of Dream Turf. A composite lawn that never gets mowed or watered and will always look great. Awesome. Not nearly as expensive and labor intensive as installing a sprinkler system and planting grass. We want to hurry and put up our fence so we can start bringing Titan with us. He would love it there. Unfortunately, there's so much dirt in the back, that dog would be filthy. This weekend we're going to go back and start taking measurements for the fence and price out pools. We'll probably look at the cost of everything and decide that living with our dirt pile back yard might be the most cost effective way to go.

No Clever Opening, Just "Ouch"

The ligaments are starting to stretch and grow. It hurts. For those that are unfamiliar of what I am talking about, these ligaments are located between the lower abdominals and the obliques. It's a little early for them to be sore, but because I work out so much my nurse said it wasn't that unusual. Sleeping is a bit uncomfortable. When I stretch my legs, it stretches the ligaments and I feel like I've over done it in the gym. I pretty much have to keep my legs pulled up so it doesn't hurt so much. Then there's the boobs. I can't really lie on one side or the other with out wincing. It's not as bad as they warned me in the books, but it certainly isn't comfortable. There are times I feel like I'm being stabbed with tooth picks. Again, this is all normal but not fun.

I have formed, what I like to call, a baby blankie where my abs used to be. I know this is my belly growing because when I flex, it doesn't go down. The other day Mike and I were at Rita's and sitting in a chair together. As I was getting up, he grabbed my "belly" and started announcing that my stomach was getting bigger and that everyone had to look. It was funny. You had to be there.

My pants are certainly getting a little tighter. The other day I had to try my hardest to suck it in to button them up. Once I got them on, there was this lovely little fold of skin hanging over the top. This encouraged me to stand up straight and tall. That helps flatten it out. I'm looking forward to shopping at Forever 21 for my "maternity"clothes. Thank you for the tip, Evie. I am going to do my best to stay out of the maternity stores when the time calls for it.

Aggghhh. This entry sucked. Sorry. I'll try harder next time.

The Incredible Shrinking Bed

I haven't been sleeping well lately. Mike has had a cold for about a week and a half and it sucks. For the first couple of nights, I chose to sleep on the couch so that I wouldn't catch what he had. Our couch sucks. Neat to look at, but it holds no comfortable qualities. After Mike was no longer contagious, I tried to sleep in the bed. This didn't work because the person next to me sounded like they had a chainsaw going. Mike usually doesn't snore unless he's sick and has a stuffed up nose. Not only has it been quite noisy in our room, but each minute I get pushed further and further until I'm performing a balancing act on the edge of the bed. I've laid some pillows on the floor along my side of the bed so should I get that final shove I have a safe fluffy landing. When Mike is really tired from taking his cold medicine, he spreads his body out like he's making a snow angel. We have a queen size bed and Mike is not small. I usually have to pull myself together real snug and tight as if I'm sleeping in a coffin. Then Mike gets real close and starts to breathe heavy at me. I can't stand that especially if he's breathing in my face. I have to quickly whip myself over and tuck the blankets in around me so he's not making condensation form on my shoulder. These are all issues I deal with when Mike is sick. Now, the bad news is that Mike is preparing for his off season weight gain where he will probably put on an additional 15 pounds. 15 more pounds in that bed! Not only that, I've never heard of women getting smaller when they're pregnant. We could end up having an all out war fighting over who is taking up more room (it's always Mike). ; ) The good news? Mike's mom, Rita, is letting us have her King size bed. Hopefully we'll have it by June. That will be fabulous for while we're both growing. However, after I bounce back to my normal size (that's right, I said bounce back) it will probably feel like we're on two different sides of the room with a bed that big. We used to have a double! We thought a queen would be a big jump for us. Little did we know that we would be ballooning up.

Sorry, no clever ending to this one.

Instant Family: Just Add Water

This week has been amazing. Without giving too much information to the world, someone from our family that we hadn't seen in years and weren't sure when we'd see again, landed on our doorstep. Those that I've told swear our lives could be written into a Lifetime movie. This was something that needed to happen and has been such a great experience. Everyone has had a whirlwind of emotions flowing through them. Feelings that have been hidden and bottled up are finally being released and addressed. I'm so excited and happy for everyone involved. There are some bumps in the road ahead that we'll all have to get over, but we're so optimistic that it feels like nothing will prevent the future of this relationship to flourish.
Yay to our family!

Sometimes People Just Need A Good Punch To The Face

First, let me start with this: Why, God, Why Chris!?!?! Yes, I have been faithfully watching American Idol. It started out so innocently just like everyone else who just wanted to watch the idiots in the beginning to laugh at their expense. But then, there he was. Chris Daughtry (drool). Awesome singer. Awesome performer. Awesome eye candy. It's got to be the hair...it's the same style as Mike's. I was saddened and yet, relieved that he is no longer on the show. This is mainly because I hate the songs that American Idol has the winners sing. They're always so sappy. Others might disagree with me, but I can't stand the Idol music. I could just imagine him singing, "A Moment Like This"... gag. This is a blessing for us all.

On another note. Yesterday, I was handed three hours worth of work one hour before I got to go home. That means, I didn't get to go home until very late. At 4:30, I received a phone call that an agent was at a listing of ours and that I needed to bring them a key. I arrived at 4:40. This is a small house that really only takes 5-10 minutes to show, 15 if they're interested. I made the mistake of telling the agent to take her time and that I'd be waiting for her in my car. Oops. 5:30 rolls around and she finally is done showing this dump. I hate putting on a friendly face when all I want to do is take the keys back, shove her to the ground, kick dirt in her face, and drive of laughing hysterically and crying at the same time. While waiting for her in my car, I had to roll up the windows so she wouldn't hear my screaming and swearing. I went a little crazy, because in the back of my mind I knew what awaited me on my desk that I had barely started.
I got back to the office, finished my paperwork, and hung it up for the night around 6:45. I was in the mood for a California Roll (which is okay for me to eat) and Miso soup, so I swung around to pick some up. This restaurant is 2 minutes from my office. I literally waited for 30 minutes for a "to-go" order of California Rolls! 30 minutes! Every time I considered walking out with my middle finger up in the air, I thought, perhaps they're almost ready. Maybe the guy was perfecting the presentation before putting it in a styrofoam container and tossing in a couple of packets of soy sauce. Benefit of the doubt can sometimes bite you in the ass. I had to take out a piece of paper and a pen and jot down my profanities so that I wouldn't make a scene. I usually just write each comment on top of each other so that when I've settled down, it just looks like a big blob of ink. Every time the waitress passed me, that's all she did. She didn't look at me, didn't assure me it was on its way, nothing. I had to have had steam coming out of my ears and fire coming out of my eyes, because people would look at me and quickly look away for fear I would cast an evil spell on them. When I finally received my dinner, I stormed out vowing that I would never come back. The pathetic thing was, I knew I would be back. In fact, California Rolls sound tempting right now.

I got home last night at 7:30.

Get Out Of Me, Pee

I just got back from my ultrasound appointment with Mike. At my first doctors appointment, my doctor had a difficult time making out the baby, so she set me up with an Ultrasound technician to get more accurate readings. We figured I wasn't quite as far along as we'd originally thought. Today's appointment confirmed that. Baby Moo's new arrival date is December 26th! Unbelievable. I knew there was a reason I hadn't written it down yet. There he or she was with a strong heart beat. 133 beats per minute. Perfectly normal. I thought it looked a little like a cocoon on the screen. The technician said she thought it looked like a gummy bear. Her description sounded nicer. It is in no way that big, though. It is almost one whole centimeter in diameter. Crazy.
As many know, you must fill your bladder full of water for the appointment. Oooooohhhhhhhh sooooooooo hooooorrrrrrrible! The pushing on the bladder - so awful it made my toes curl (not in a good way). On top of everything else, I couldn't relax because I was so excited and every muscle was tense. I was very happy to see our baby up on the screen with it's fluttering heart beat, but I couldn't wait to get the hell out of there to evacuate the bladder. When I was finally given the go-ahead to use the bathroom, nothing. My body was used to "holding it" that it just wouldn't let it go. Finally, relief. Ridiculously slow relief. I was now able to walk normal and not hunched over on my tip toes. I feel much better...

Let's go for a ride on the Mood Swing

I'm going to try not to be a total bitch when I'm writing this, but according to the books I've read, I can't help it. Have you ever been in such a funk that you deem it necessary to have yourself locked up in a dungeon away from all civilization until it passes? That's about where I'm at today. Quite honestly, I don't know if this has anything to do with the pregnancy or just feeling like every time I look in the mirror I want to cry. It's quite pathetic, really, considering I'm not even near the point when I'll be showing. I can't imagine how big a baby I'll be when I do show. It's a fugly day for me. We all have it, but it's pissing me off. I'm going to do my best to shut it off and not concern myself with mirrors today. This whole week, mirrors have been my enemy and it finally came to a head. I'm almost embarrassed to even be whining about such stupid stuff...almost. It truly isn't that often that I feel a little boohoo about myself, so I'm allowing this time to complain. Also, I'm at work right now and every time that phone rings, I throw out an f-bomb. I can't help it. I just don't want to talk to people today AT ALL. Luckily, no one is here to see my scowl and hear my whining. Mind you, I am feeling a bit better having written my aggressions down. In fact, the phone just rang and I was quite pleasant. I think I'm over it. Yay.

And so it begins...

I am at 6 weeks now and the morning sickness has begun. My "morning" sickness is actually at noon. My new best friends are Tums and Preggie Pops. No barfing yet, but my meal likes to sit on the edge ready to blow at a moments notice. I had to walk, excuse me, run past a platter of grilled burgers yesterday. Holy shit, that is awful stuff! I'm also burping like I've been drinking a lot of Rootbeer and Coke. Yuk.

On another note, Mike and I just returned from Spokane for his second Bodybuilding competition. A lot of the guys he was up against had just competed in the Emerald Cup. As Mike's coach said, it was like College Football against the NFL. He looked great and was definitely holding his own. There were 11 competitors in his division! He was disappointed that he didn't place, but I thought he did an awesome job against guys that have been doing this for 6-7 years vs his 1 year experience. We learned quite a bit from watching and are making some changes for his next competition. The bad news was that he was only 4 pounds away from competing in the Middle Weight category and could have very likely placed second, third at the worst (and that had 4 competitors). He's going to shoot for Middle Weight for the next time. I was and am very proud of him and look forward to the next competition.

We saw our house in East Wenatchee and LOVE it! The colors are awesome and everything is coming together beautifully. All the plumbing and fixtures were put up over the weekend. Everything is set to close by May 15th. We can hardly wait.