As previous posts suggest, Wednesday was not a fantastic day for me.
I can't help but to wonder if I brought some of the misery upon myself by "overdoing" the weekend (gasp! I actually attended a barbeque, helped clean the house, and hauled crap off to Goodwill!)
Tuesday was rough at work (nausuea. backaches, exhaustion) but I stuck it out like a trooper. My prize at the bottom 'o the cereal box? When I got home, I was THRILLED to see a huge diaper box waiting on the front porch for me!
My brother-in-law (Mr. Hubby's side) and sister-in-law packed it full of the most awesome hand-me-down harvest of pregnancy books, infant clothes, accessories, and toys I could imagine. I’ve had so much fun unpacking and repacking that box – I’m determined to put fresh shelf paper in “the kid’s” dresser before filling it with goodies. I presented one of the tiny onesies to Suki (my 2yo 15lb Japanese Chin/Beagle mix) for a sniff-test and she had never looked more puzzled by anything in her life. I’m hiding all the booties away ‘till there are tiny human feet to occupy them, for fear they turn into pet toys, and because I’m very very tempted to put them on Suki and watch her march around looking bewildered by her own paws. Oooooh, having typed that, I wonder if any of the baby clothes I have now would fit my cats?
Later Tuesday evening I attending a rollergirl’s 40th birthday party; her husband rented the entire rink so every person there was a birthday guest. It was very very strange for me to see how much my teammates have improved - time didn't stop without me? And even stranger was not skating myself - both my regular doctor and my midwife are against me rollerskating for fear I take a hard fall. . . my "but I'm trained to fall properly!" argument is received by deaf ears. I figure if I'm not going to allow myself something as probably harmelss as Diet Coke, I really should stick to the whole "no skating allowed" gig. I actually managed to not be jealous of their mobility (perhaps I was afraid I had forgotton how to skate?) and I cheered people on instead.
I had a good time catching up with many people for the first time in 10 weeks, and may let myself get roped into becoming a “volunteer coordinator” for our local bouts. I'm just afraid of succumbing to "helium hand" (over willingness to volunteer for tasks) then find that I'm too sick and tired to do a decent job. At minimum, I think my derby team needs a visibly pregnany cheerleader to waddle around for drama's sake.
The only minor bump in the evening was that out of the blue, one of my teammates said "whatever you do, if it's a girl, don't name it XXXXXXX". I was perplexed because I had no recollection of telling her that was #1 on my girl-name list. She went on to say, "My sister-in-law named her girl XXXXXXX, and since it is one of the most popular baby girl names I'm just sure she's going to be completely confused once she hits pre-school . . ." I responded by blushing and stuttering something along the lines of XXXXXXX being one of my top-five names. Just a few moments before, another rollergirl did a really bad job of hiding absolute confusion at my #1 boy-name. So I'm thinking it'd be a good idea for me to shut the hell up about what I may or may not name this spawn?
Forgetting that I am indeed quite pregnant and now a giant wuss, I made the horrific mistake of not leaving the party until 9 getting to sleep until 11 “on a school night” which surely contributed to my hideous Wednesday. Shame on me for attempting such badassitude. :)
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
in case you were wondering . . .
If you eat low-sugar apple oatmeal with plenty of milk and follow that up with a big glass of water and follow that up with a "oh Mr. Hubby, I'm so glad you take good care of me" teary fit on the couch which prompts a snotty coughing fit, which in turn, prompts gagging, you too can make a moderately gross discovery:
Apple oatmeal, bile and water kinda taste like alcoholic cider!
And that's the happy part.
I also discovered that said oatmeal concotion jammed into one's sinuses is quite difficult to remove.
Years and years from now, I'll have a sinus infection requiring an exam by a prominent ear, nose & throat specialist who will write a groundbreaking medical paper involving discovering a chunk of rehydrated apple deep in my nasal cavity. Or perhaps said apple chunk will be as useful as penicillin, and I'll startle the medical world by never enduring another head cold in my entire life.
Having left you with that gem o' information, I'm off to bed.
Apple oatmeal, bile and water kinda taste like alcoholic cider!
And that's the happy part.
I also discovered that said oatmeal concotion jammed into one's sinuses is quite difficult to remove.
Years and years from now, I'll have a sinus infection requiring an exam by a prominent ear, nose & throat specialist who will write a groundbreaking medical paper involving discovering a chunk of rehydrated apple deep in my nasal cavity. Or perhaps said apple chunk will be as useful as penicillin, and I'll startle the medical world by never enduring another head cold in my entire life.
Having left you with that gem o' information, I'm off to bed.
some days, it's a challange to take care of myself
Today I have vacillated between feeling totally inept and like my own (baffled) commentator. These elements of emotion are not polar opposities, but do make for an interesting jumble.
For instance:
INEPT - This morning I was apparently mistaken to think I could get away with eating cold cereal with 2% milk (instead of protein-heavy eggs and cheddar cheese) before taking a hot shower. I was (of course) all shampooed up when I realized that (1) I felt like I was going to faint and (2) no one was home to hear me fall in the tub.
COMMENTATOR - The best I could think to do was to order myself around in the hopes I'd annoy myself into not fainting: "Alrighty, feeling faint? Best to make that water cooler and get the soap off, then you grab a towel and lay down in front of a fan, yep, she's just overheated".
INEPT - My pets have gotten really good at swooping in and taking care of me (as much as they are able). I sort of came back to reality laying on my bed with sopping wet hair and my cat Michael loudly pestering me for cuddles/ shouting in my ear. It seems that he's absolutely desperate for my attention/affection whenever I feel like hell, I don't know how many times in the past few months I thought I might accidently throw up on him. If he were a person, he might be an EMT, a crisis counselor, or one of those people who specialize on getting suicidal people off building tops.
COMMENTATOR - "okay, the cat is telling you to wake the hell up, perhaps you should try to get your ass to work".
So I got myself to work, physically clean and mostly presentable, and sat behind my desk looking not-TOO-miserable for three hours before deciding that
(SILENT) COMMENTATOR - going back to bed is not a luxury, it was what the baby wants me to do
INEPT - yes, budget be damned, I was going to allow myself to be bossed around by my fetus, buh-bye office.
I scooted home in my 1990 boatmobile,
INEPT - someone remind me to buy some gas and have the transmission looked at,
COMMENTATOR - giving myself distance-to-bed milage reports all the way.
After feeding my pets their lunch I was faced with a now-common problem;
INEPT- I knew I was hungry but absolutely nothing sounded good and I sure as hell didn't have the energy to cook anything.
COMMENTATOR - "Seek and ye shall find" 'Cause yes, I do become (perhaps inappropiately religious when I'm frazzled).
And behold, frozen Jimmy Dean sausage sandwiches were delivered upto me. I added sharp cheddar and brown mustard, and was quite pleased with
myself.
- Lots of pet-assisted napping -
Time to feed the animals again and
INEPT - "oh Lord, no one is here to feed ME, and I feel like crap again"
COMMENTATOR - "Seek and ye shall find . . . instant oatmeal"
Then a gently fantastic thing happened: as I was sitting in my sunroom eating my oatmeal, waiting on Suki to finish her buisiness in the dogrun, I heard I little girl singing her little lungs out. She was so unashamed and her voice so high-pitched that she couldn't have been older than 8. I couldn't judge how far away she was, and couldn't see her anywhere, but must assume that she was belting out at top volume. Although I didn't recognize most of the many songs she sang, I admired that she just kept plowing through song after song with varying ability to stay in tune. Finally I recogized "The Star Spangled Banner" and had to stop myself from roaring laughing when the lyrics turned to "Blah blah blah blah blah" and abruptly ended at "for the laaaaaand of the" because she had musicially cornered herself; only a mosquito could hope to hit the "free" note.
Perhaps second-trimester nasuea/exhaustion has caused me to go overly introspective, but I was reminded that sometimes when things get stumby, "blah blah blah" will sufflce.
For instance:
INEPT - This morning I was apparently mistaken to think I could get away with eating cold cereal with 2% milk (instead of protein-heavy eggs and cheddar cheese) before taking a hot shower. I was (of course) all shampooed up when I realized that (1) I felt like I was going to faint and (2) no one was home to hear me fall in the tub.
COMMENTATOR - The best I could think to do was to order myself around in the hopes I'd annoy myself into not fainting: "Alrighty, feeling faint? Best to make that water cooler and get the soap off, then you grab a towel and lay down in front of a fan, yep, she's just overheated".
INEPT - My pets have gotten really good at swooping in and taking care of me (as much as they are able). I sort of came back to reality laying on my bed with sopping wet hair and my cat Michael loudly pestering me for cuddles/ shouting in my ear. It seems that he's absolutely desperate for my attention/affection whenever I feel like hell, I don't know how many times in the past few months I thought I might accidently throw up on him. If he were a person, he might be an EMT, a crisis counselor, or one of those people who specialize on getting suicidal people off building tops.
COMMENTATOR - "okay, the cat is telling you to wake the hell up, perhaps you should try to get your ass to work".
So I got myself to work, physically clean and mostly presentable, and sat behind my desk looking not-TOO-miserable for three hours before deciding that
(SILENT) COMMENTATOR - going back to bed is not a luxury, it was what the baby wants me to do
INEPT - yes, budget be damned, I was going to allow myself to be bossed around by my fetus, buh-bye office.
I scooted home in my 1990 boatmobile,
INEPT - someone remind me to buy some gas and have the transmission looked at,
COMMENTATOR - giving myself distance-to-bed milage reports all the way.
After feeding my pets their lunch I was faced with a now-common problem;
INEPT- I knew I was hungry but absolutely nothing sounded good and I sure as hell didn't have the energy to cook anything.
COMMENTATOR - "Seek and ye shall find" 'Cause yes, I do become (perhaps inappropiately religious when I'm frazzled).
And behold, frozen Jimmy Dean sausage sandwiches were delivered upto me. I added sharp cheddar and brown mustard, and was quite pleased with
myself.
- Lots of pet-assisted napping -
Time to feed the animals again and
INEPT - "oh Lord, no one is here to feed ME, and I feel like crap again"
COMMENTATOR - "Seek and ye shall find . . . instant oatmeal"
Then a gently fantastic thing happened: as I was sitting in my sunroom eating my oatmeal, waiting on Suki to finish her buisiness in the dogrun, I heard I little girl singing her little lungs out. She was so unashamed and her voice so high-pitched that she couldn't have been older than 8. I couldn't judge how far away she was, and couldn't see her anywhere, but must assume that she was belting out at top volume. Although I didn't recognize most of the many songs she sang, I admired that she just kept plowing through song after song with varying ability to stay in tune. Finally I recogized "The Star Spangled Banner" and had to stop myself from roaring laughing when the lyrics turned to "Blah blah blah blah blah" and abruptly ended at "for the laaaaaand of the" because she had musicially cornered herself; only a mosquito could hope to hit the "free" note.
Perhaps second-trimester nasuea/exhaustion has caused me to go overly introspective, but I was reminded that sometimes when things get stumby, "blah blah blah" will sufflce.
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