H2-Oh my GOD!

Today I drank massive amounts of water. So much water, so many trips to the bathroom. I've felt like I haven't been getting very much, if not enough lately. It may have been a little excessive. I drank one 12oz glass of water after another starting at around 2pm and ending at 5pm. At no time did I have to barf it up, though. For some reason, I tend to feel dehydrated at 9pm and so I drink a massive amount of water and then I get up at least 5 times in the middle of the night leaving me unrested. I'm hoping that my little daytime water drinking experiment will allow me to have a normal night's sleep.

On another not-so-wonderful note, I experienced my first cramp. Not a shit cramp, but a left hip cramp. Oh my god it was sooooooo horr-i-ble!!! I was busy emptying the dishwasher and I got this uncomfortable pain in my left lower abdominal/hip area. It was hard to stand and the pain started to shoot from my hip straight into my back. I whined about it to Mike and as soon as he told me to go sit down and get off my feet, the pain started to ease up. I went back to doing the dishes and it came on again. Ooooooh, not good. I quietly whined to Mike again. He was in another room and told me again to sit down. I sat down and it started to go away. I figured it must be some kind of ligament pain because I've been having symptoms of growing again. Nope! It started again, and this time it was like I had a 45 pound weight digging into my left hip. Now I was crying out for Mike because I was scared. He came rushing in and asking where it hurt. I was almost in tears. Of course, he started making jokes that the pain must be stemming from the stupid pony tail I was wearing. All I could do was let out little weak laughs. At least I was laughing. Mike helped me put the recliner up and started massaging my hip. It felt sooooooo much better. My hero. Down to the hot tub I went. I realized it was just a cramp. Just a cramp. Hmm. I haven't had a cramp that made me cry since I was 16 years old. Which brought both Mike and I to an uncomfortable realization. If I thought that was bad, what the hell do I think a contraction or child birth is going to be like? When I told him, "Oh my god, can you even imagine what kind of a pussy I'm going to be?!!!" he shared that the same exact thought was going through his head and we both started laughing. The bad news, apparently that won't be the last time I have one of those unpleasant cramps. The good news, at least with contractions and child birth comes lots and lots of endorphins and drugs (as well as a happy ending).

Stupid water. I thought it was supposed to help with cramps. Off to bed I go and will try my best to stay in bed and avoid the bathroom.

Release the Hounds!

I'm going to discuss another topic of embarrassment and good humor. Remember, there is a disclosure warning of offensive topics from time to time. Well, here goes. Part of the joy of pregnancy comes prenatal vitamins, the movement of one's guts, and never enough water. With that combination comes the inability to poo. Yes, I said poo. C'mon. Don't act like you haven't struggled with something like this before. I am one, however, that refuses to "push" the possibility of getting hemorrhoids. I don't want them and don't want to ever see one. Ever. I would prefer keeping things the way they are. I really am not interested in having to invest in ointments, creams, or cooling pads. I don't believe those things belong down there. One thing I could do, of course, is take Metamucil once a day to keep things running smooth (he he he). The problem with Metamucil is it produces excess gas. Now, who wants that? Sometimes it would be fun, but with my guts all pushed around it tends to be painful and not so funny. So, that is out of the question. I don't have enough room in there for air. What is my laxative of choice? Coffee. Good old fashion coffee. A coffee enema. Sometimes something as simple as smelling coffee will get the cramping started. It's never enough, though. I have to have a latte to get things brewing (get it?). It does suck. I've been trying to wean myself off of the caffeine so that my daughter doesn't come out with the jitters. Pretty much the only time anyone will see me with a coffee in my hand is when I am backed up. Now that I've put that down, now you will all know what is going on with my bowels if I have a coffee. All it usually takes is half a cup and I'm struggling to stand and walk to the bathroom without wincing in pain and discomfort. However, it is something I can always count on. I'd prefer to go about it a different way, but I can always time my day around it and know that I won't be required to get up at an off time to "take care of business". It's almost instant gratification. You can't beat that. Kathy + Coffee = Poop. Awesome.

Bonding

Okay, this one is probably going to be a bit sappy, but what can I say? Farrah's senses are much more in tune now. She can hear and see light. This is what the books and websites say. Another thing that I have discovered is her ability to notice me poking at her. On several different occasions she has started kicking and I will massage in that area and seconds later she'll massage back. When she does this, it makes me feel very close to her. It has taken some time to adjust to the fact that there's a baby in me, not to mention that she is mine (and Mike's). It has taken me a while to feel close to her because it's been so hard to believe that this is actually happening. I feel like I'm just playing dress up and pretending to bring another human being in the world. However, for some reason feeling how big she is and sensing that she is responding to me, brings me closer to her. A part of me gets sad when I think of the fact that it's all going to be over soon. Soon everyone will get to experience being with her and it will no longer be just me and Farrah. For some reason, the first thing that comes to mind is a kitten when she squirms around. I don't know why. I guess it's because kittens are so snuggly and squirmy. Weird, I know. Anyway, I wanted to be sure to jot that down so that one day I will be able to share it with her.

Charmin Softness

My back has been hurting lately. The chair I sit in at work is a piece of shit joke of a chair. I think it was taken from the side of the road with a sign that said "Free!" on it. When sitting in a chair, you are usually at a 90-100 degree angle. No, in this chair I'm going to guess I sit at a 150-160 degree angle. I'm practically lying down, but have to type and answer phones at the same time. When I get home, my back hurts so much, I can't get comfortable and I feel like I probably come across as a bitch. Honestly, I can't help it. I go and sit on the couch to have a conversation with Mike and I get super squirmy. This is because not only does my back hurt, but by the end of the day, so does my ass. My tail bone and butt cheeks throb by the time I get home. This makes me nervous because I still have 3+ months to go in this race. My boss told me to go ahead and order a new chair because he knew how bad it was, but I don't know what would actually be comfortable. How can I predict what will work for me 2 months from now when I will be completely huge? In the meantime, I brought a pillow from home to put me at a 130 degree angle instead. It's a little better. Now, I need to find a foam pad or something of the sort to put under my ass. As I type this, I feel like I'm sitting on bricks. It also makes my knees hurt. Oh my god I am a complaining fool right now. Embarrassing. Anyway, I need to find some creative ways to get comfortable aside from becoming a live version of one of those old 80s Charmin commercials by arriving at work with 100 rolls of toilet paper stuffed down my pants to cushion my caboose and back. However, had my boss not suggested getting a new chair, I probably would've shown up in the toilet paper suit just to prove a point.

Button

I was looking at my belly button last night and noticed that it's starting to look like a cat's butthole. A cat's butthole without all the cat shit in it, though. Maybe for Halloween, if it continues to hold its shape, I will wear a half shirt, put some crusty brown stuff in it, put a ton of faux fur around it with two dangly legs and tail sticking up (can't forget the little pieces of kitty litter around the anus and at the paws). I will go as a cat's ass. Why not? It's not like I'd go to a party where someone else has the same costume. I think it's original.

Bib

I have been mimicking my grandmother lately. Every time my grandma eats something, it finds its way on her shirt. Well, what normally would land on my lap, my belly has been kind enough to catch. Spaghetti sauce, a piece of chocolate, toner from the copy machine. I, of course don't see it. It is usually pointed out to me by other people who have a much better view than I do. Yesterday at the gym I kept getting water spots on my belly because I'd rest my water bottle against it and the condensation would leave behind its mark. It looked like my belly button was leaking.

I can now cross my arms and rest them on the top of my stomach. I'm not quite to the point where I can rest a cup of coffee on it yet. I'm looking forward to that little convenient trick. No need for TV trays! I'll just pile it all up on my own that mother nature made me. Should be fun.

I've noticed veins. Lots of veins. On the sides of my belly there are bluish tinged road maps. They're very confusing to read and hard to make out where they lead. Clothes are getting tighter and tighter. I know I need to get out there and start shopping, but quite honestly it is so hard for me to justify it. I HATE to spend money on things that I won't be able to wear for the next 3-4 years. Most importantly, I have no intension to be able to wear those larger clothes for more than 6-7 months after Farrah arrives. In fact, I know it sounds crazy to some, but I want to do a figure competition. Prior to getting pregnant, I was working my ass off to do a fitness competition. I was pretty much in the best shape of my life because I put a goal out there in front of me. I feel if I put another goal out there it will help in getting back to the old me. Besides, I LOVE going to the gym and having something to work towards. Mike said he will be training me for 3 months after Farrah is born and once I'm able to get back into the gym full force. I've already been asked by a couple who put on bodybuilding shows to participate in August to do figure and fitness. I think I'm going to try. What can it hurt?

When I go to the gym now, I keep it in the back of my mind so I have something to look forward to (other than my daughter, obviously). It helps motivate me to get in the gym even when I don't really feel like it. We'll see if I actually go through with it, but I don't think it's a bad thing to work towards.

What's Happening?!!!

New things are happening to my body. Are they pregnancy related? I'd say so. Heartburn. Oooh, heartburn. It's pretty unpleasant, but is to be expected when you have someone about a pound in weight using your stomach and intestines as a rocking chair and ottoman. Several blogs ago I wrote about how I have to burp a lot. I have to sit up and help the little bubble find it's way out of my mouth. Now when I do that, I get a little surprise at the end. Up-chuck. Yes, I throw up in my mouth a little and send it back down where it came from. It leaves that nice burning sensation in the back of my throat. Luckily, it doesn't have that taste that bile usually leaves behind. It's quite gross, but definitely a treat I can hardly wait to share with my daughter.

My next body changing experience is one that I'm putting out there to completely humiliate myself with. I had said in my profile, "Let's hope for something gross and funny" but I left out embarrassing. Let's be honest, if you can't laugh at yourself, can you truly laugh at others? I know I can, but I'll still share it. For the past few days I've been fighting off a cold. I try to look at it more like a combination of cold and allergies so that I'm not totally convinced that I'm sick. With the cold portion of my ailment has come a cough. It's rather annoying and I feel like I have to clear my throat every 2 minutes. Well, when one coughs, there is usually some strong bodily force. Now, when pregnant you build up extra gases in your body. (Can you see where this is going?) Yesterday and today I have experienced the joy of being forced to fart when it is not appropriate due to my cold. Not outside, not in the bathroom, and not in the privacy of my home. It's not at a time when it would be particularly funny like when sitting with your husband and talking about important topics and pushing one out there just to lighten up the atmosphere. No. These uncontrollable bursts would make their presence known while I would sit at my desk. One big cough followed by a pop out of my butt. Each time it happened (mind you it only happened 3-4 times) I would look around the room to see if anyone had a weird look on their face as if to say, "KATHY! Use the bathroom!" or see if any of them had a smirk and were ready to explode in laughter. No one knew! Joy! Oh, I am so lucky that my loud cough muffles my other bodily noises. Now when you read this, you can't sit there and think to yourself, "I can't believe she did that." because you know as well as I do, you've all done it. You've probably even been caught! Everyone has experienced at some time or another a moment when you have to relieve yourself from a very unpleasant stomach ache by letting some excess air out of your ass at a time you'd rather not. We've all done it, because we all have digestive systems and buttholes. It's just not that often that it is a topic of discussion. But isn't it a funny topic of discussion? Farts are funny, admit it. (Poop is too).

Anonymous

I have received a few comments from some readers in the past but they won't actually leave their name. Why? I would love to know who the mysterious people are out there that have read it and like to comment so that I know who to thank. Otherwise, I just get scared that someone is stalking me via the world wide web. If any of you wonderful faithful readers out there would like to make comments to my blogs whether it be negative (because sometimes I deserve I swift put down) or friendly, please at least let me know who you are. It makes it more fun.

Thanks! : )

Love Thy Neighbor (when they're sober)

Soooo, I have a neighbor who lives across the street from me. She is a great lady when I need her help with Titan when Mike and I leave town. She's helpful in letting us steal an egg or borrow a cup of sugar. She's always friendly and eager to say hello when I pull into my driveway after a long day at work. She's all these things...when she's sober. On the other hand, when she has had a few of her Coronas with lime, it's a completely different story. She has, what my mother likes to call, diarrhea mouth. Why diarrhea? Because everything that comes out of her mouth is shit. Constant flowing foul shit. She has an ugly opinion of everyone and everything in the neighborhood. She is also a shit starter. She loves to take things that people have said, twist them a bit, tell it to other neighbors, and make you look like an asshole. The first week of moving into Gleneagle, she came up to me with a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other to quickly give me the low down on the other neighbors. She wanted to make sure I really hated everyone before I got all settled in. "That house over there, he beats the shit out of his wife and they're in the middle of a nasty divorce. He trashed the house. You should see it!" "Those people next to you have teenage kids who party all the time and you'll hate them for sure. They're punks." "That neighbor, her name is Delores but I prefer to call her clitoris. Get it?" That was my introduction to the drunk across the street. I really hope she never sees this but she won't even know it's her because one of the main signs of alcoholism is denial.

When I decide to engage her in conversation, particularly about anything that is remotely dramatic (which it almost never is...I know better) she likes to try to make what I'm talking about bigger than it really is. She tries to take what I'm saying as if I'm talking shit about people, which I'm not. I have to remind her that when I'm talking to her about certain things, it's not necessarily to bash anyone or anything and I have no idea how she's twisted it into being that. Yesterday, was almost a day that I told her to go f**k herself. I was sharing with another neighbor about my pregnancy and how my and Mike's summer has been. Drunk neighbor was there, too. In the conversation, I happened to mention Farrah's name and the look on the drunk's face was awful. She had nothing nice to say about it and the look she received back from my face was enough to get her to shut the hell up. She had asked me if I named her after Farrah Faucet. No, I didn't. Why in the hell would I name her after someone I don't even know? Did I name her after Farrah Jeans? What the F**k are those?! She had something ugly to say about almost everything I was talking about. Her tone just sucked. However, the moment she started dogging my girl's name or anything about any of my stepkids, she knew by the tone in my voice and the look in my eyes it was time for her to grab her beer and cigarette and leave.

At what point will I learn to not even speak to her when I see the beer in her hand? She has a tendency to practically ruin everything when she has alcohol in her system. It simply pisses me off. I really care about her and enjoy her...sober. However, every time she's drunk I think I could kill her. Not to mention her perverted husband. Here are a couple of examples of their obnoxious behavior:

1). Rehearsal Dinner Night for my and Mike's wedding. We had family and some friends, but mainly those who were in the wedding. We had finished dinner and all sat down together having desert and drinking wine and beer. Who should walk in, but my lovely neighbors across the street. Already hammered, of course, but looking for more booze. The husband walked in and told me (not asked) to poor him a glass of wine. I didn't want to make a scene and tell him to leave because we were still fairly new to the neighborhood, but everyone was looking at each other asking themselves "who the hell is this guy?" He gulped down his wine, made an ass of himself, and finally got the hint to leave. Nice.

2). Another party. More likely than not, a birthday party for a family member. Oh yes, I believe it was for Donna's 40th. I had a large bottle of Jack Daniels on my table and beer in the cooler. Of course, she takes the beer but he walked over to my Jack Daniels and poured a full 8oz into his glass, said thank you, mingled for about 5 minutes and left. Oh my god. I though I was going to kill him. That was my JD!

3). Yet another gathering at our house, but it was an excuse to hook up a friend with one of the neighbor girls. It was about 2 in the morning. Both drunks saw cars in our driveway and decided to walk into our house. While talking to us about vulgar shit, she decided to scratch herself "in" her pants and then touched our friend on the shoulder. I thought for sure everyone in the room was going to barf. The drunk husband at one point started touching the neighbor girl's leg in a not-so-comfortable way. The drunk wife was also telling our friend how big of a slut the neighbor girl was (not that it would've bothered him), but that's her talking shit again. Oh, yeah, they were drinking my booze...again! I had to pretend to kick everyone out so I could go to bed as a means to make those two leave.

I think on their own they have started to learn not to come over uninvited anymore. We have had a couple of ragers this summer and neither one has walked in, yet. Thank god. I've almost got to the point to be the ugly neighbor (or I suppose it would be the hero neighbor) and tell them what they can do with themselves. It is very hard to hate someone who is a completely different person when they drink than from when they're sober. It sucks. I know sober, they mean well. However, drunk...they really want to make the people around them miserable. I'm learning to keep my distance little by little everyday with them. Mike and I can't wait until the day we get out of there. We hope to buy perhaps 5 acres of land and build right in the middle of it so we have no nearby neighbors. I love having neighbors sometimes, but not drunkies. 5 acres gives enough space so that if a drunk neighbor wants to come by, they will have passed out in the back yard before reaching our front door. Fine by me.

Because I Refuse to Cut It Off

I had my hair done yesterday. I chose to go back to my fun blonde look. Yes, I loved the dark hair, however, it was starting to look flat and weak. It was depressing me a bit. It is now at that in between dark brown and blonde stage right now. It's not quite "I've been at the beach all summer long" blonde, yet. Why the color change? I don't want to chop my hair off for the sake of keeping things easier for me during the pregnancy and later when Farrah arrives. That's what ponytails and braids are for. When I used to have my short hair, it would take me almost 45 minutes just to do my hair. Holy crap, I can't believe I put myself through that. Now it takes 45 minutes to shower, put on make up, get dressed, and do the hair. Amazing. I have girlfriends that swear it is so much easier with the shorter hair, but their hair is much more agreeable than mine. I used to have horrible arguments with my hair when I was growing up. Back in junior high (mind you, this story will make you think that I should be locked away in a padded room) I would battle my hair before trying to catch the school bus. I HATED my hair in junior high. You know that time when we are going through puberty and we get the over production of oil? Well a lot of it would land on my scalp making my hair flat and limp. Boring hair. This is also a time when we actually gave a shit of what people thought of us and we wanted to look good. I would put my hair up in a barrett and quickly tear it out (literally) because it didn't look even. This was usually followed by a severe brushing that would pull out excessive amounts of hair. I would then pull it back in a ponytail and then notice that I had a zit that needed to be covered up by a couple of dangly locks. Well, that screwed up the whole look I was going for. Wearing it down was not always a good option because the weight of the grease on my head. I would literally start my day off in tears. Luckily, no one was ever home to see my freak outs. Talk about temper tantrums. Yikes. There would be so many strands on the floor, on the counter, in the sink, and of course wads in my brush. When it came to my hair in the morning, it was an ugly, ugly battle. So, I decided to chop it off. Oops! That was such a mistake. Now it was too short to pull back even if I wanted to. This, too, is why I now will forever have long hair. The most I will probably ever do is just color it. If it works, I won't mess with it. Also, if it stays in style, I refuse to change it. It's a side of me that needs to be locked away forever and for everyone's sake. I'm sure Mike would quietly leave me if he ever saw my ranting and raving over a hair being out of place.

Ahh, the memories that I have of being a teen frighten me so much when I think of what awful traits I might have passed on to Farrah. We will be raising her with patience right off the bat. I can't guarantee her scalp will hold up like mine did. I didn't have the Moody gene in me that included strength behind the tugs that were to my hair. I can only imagine what people might be thinking when they read this. When I told Mike about it, he had one eye looking at me with such pity and understanding, while the other eye was looking for an escape route in case too much dry air came in contact with my hair and caused a couple of strands to stand straight up. What if I'd run out of hair paste?!! What if I couldn't find my hairspray?! Mike was in the shower and had no way out if I lost it. Luckily, I've matured enough that I won't allow another episode to overcome me like that again. It hasn't in over 15 years. Puberty was unkind to me. I can only hope it will be a bit nicer to Farrah when the time comes.

I'm ebarrassed to have shared this.

Daddy's Little Girl

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

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

A Pregnant Kind of a Day

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

Okay, I'm done now.

Heavy

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

Ten Thirty

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

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

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

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

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

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


To my wonderful husband,

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

Fun With Pillows

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

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

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

Movin' On Up

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

The Gymnast

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

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

Bitching Again, But Happy

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Competition

In the race between my boobs vs. my belly:

Belly is now in the lead by 2 inches!

Grunt

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

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

Hello, Stranger

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

Burrrrrrp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sharing is Caring

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

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

Her name is Farrah Raquelle Moody.

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

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

Yay for our little Farrah!

Like a Race Horse

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

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

Melons

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

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

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

Half Baked

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

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

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

WTF?

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

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

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

Dog Lover

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

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

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

Looky Loos

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

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

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