Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Mission: Impossible

* Why won't blogger post when I schedule a blog to be published on a certain date/time?? Anyone?! *

I was really hoping to have a baby on Sunday. I know these things can't really be planned, but I kinda figured with a scheduled induction, a baby was bound to be in my arms by now.

Sadly, that's just not the way my life goes.

Here's a timeline from what will heretofore be known as "practice day"

4:45 a.m. - Wake up with the alarm, shower, do full-on hair and make-up (which Husband thought was weird "it's like putting on makeup to go swimming or something....I told him to shove it, or something equally as sweet)

5:45- Leave for the hospital, comment on how weird it is to leave our house as 2 and come back as 3 (Ha! Hahahahaha! Famous last words amIright?)

6:05- Arrive at the hospital 10 minutes early for our induction appointment (Early. Hear that baby girl? EARLY. It's only polite)

6:45- Get checked into our room and commence stripping down into the oh so glamourous hospital gown. Am asked again if I shaved and am told to take the burny antiseptic wipes to the bathroom and....ahem...wipe down for a solid 3 minutes. Husband is given the honor of keeping time to make sure I. Wipe. The. Full. Three. Minutes. Nurse leaves and says to press the nurse call button and she'll come back to set up the IV and have the doctor check me.

6:50- I've wiped the full three minutes, am standing in the room clutching the back of my gown so my bum isn't out for all to see and am trying to scale the walls so Husband isn't catching glimpses of my lilly white bum. We've pushed the button twice and no nurse. I speculate that maybe the bed is weighted and I have to be in the bed before she'll come back. Husband looks at me like I'm cray-cray. I start to climb in the bed naked bum pointing towards the door and joke that this is the moment the nurse will walk in and say "well aren't you enthusiastic, but that's the wrong end sweetie." Husband chokes on coffee.

7:00-  Finally get the idea to poke my head out the door and shout "Hel-lo! I'm CROWNING in here!" But decide I don't want to be that patient. Nurse walks in as we're laughing... turns out the bed wasn't plugged in and she was starting to think that I had misunderstood and was still wiping. Turns out, I already AM that patient :/ Have IV placed (OUCH!) and am checked down there by Dr #1. Verdict: Long and very closed. Says I'm quite possibly looking at a very long induction process, but Mom says via text that I'm just stubborn enough to prove him wrong.

7:30- Monitors say my contractions are 15 minutes apart. I'm not feeling a single one, so the first dose of Misoprostol is given (1/2 a tablet).

8- Contractions are now consistently 5-7 minutes apart and I can feel them! They feel like the start of my period. Crampy, not super uncomfortable, but I'm aware of them.

8:30- Breakfast is served! A cheese omelette (meh), plain oatmeal (kindergarten paste) and Toast with sugar-free blackberry jam (the best part). I tell Husband his eggs are better, he takes this as a compliment (as he should) but he didn't eat the hospital eggs so it's really not saying much.

9:45- Contractions are now 5 minutes apart and they're getting more uncomfortable. Husband is sent home to eat and grab DVDs to watch on our room TV. I fall asleep.

11- I wake up to the nurse wanting to check my blood sugar, blood pressure and pulse. Husband texts and says he's 10 minutes away. I tell the nurse my IV is really hurting my left hand, to the point where I can't/don't want to move fingers. She takes a look, and says "honey, you're going to have a baby, that IV is uncomfortable but it's the least of the pain you're going to feel." I cry a pathetic little cry after she leaves. How the hell am I going to have a baby if I can't handle an IV?

11:45- Contractions are getting stronger and after 5 hours of being in bed and 2 episodes of Friends I want to stretch my legs and walk. I catch a glimpse of all my hospital gowned, bathrobed, slipper moccassined, big tummied glory and tell Husband it looks like he's taking his crazy grandma out for a walk....he laughs and kisses me on the cheek.

1- Lunch! Turkey sandwich, 3 carrots (WTF?) and crackers with peanut butter. Good thing I'm not hungry....though Husband sneaks me 2 licorice niblets after the nurse leaves. Sue me, seriously.... Also, second dose of Misoprostol is administered, this time I get a whole tablet.

3- Contractions are now 3-5 minutes apart and if you talk to me while I'm having one I will cut you. If I were at home, I'd be popping the Tylenol and Midol like nobody's business. I can still walk and talk through them, I just don't want to.

4- We start a Christmas movie, I let Husband pick (bad idea) and he picks Jingle All the Way. Arnold Schwarzenegger bugs me. Probably that whole mistress thing, but I try to look past it in the name of enjoying the movie.

4:30- Nurse suggests we go out and walk again to keep contractions coming consistently and put more pressure on my cervix. She says she's optimistic that because my body responded with contractions so regular, that we will be staying the night and possibly having the baby. I nearly shoot out of bed to go walk around the Labor and Delivery wing.

6:00- Dinner is served! "Chicken" with rice, a side salad, steamed veggies and a roll. I tell Husband it's like eating at a nursing home, no flavor, no spice, no nada. I eat it, because, hell, I'm paying for it and tell Husband to go out and get something yummy for himself for dinner.

7 - Husband still out finding dinner, Doctor comes in and wants to check me and re-evaluate the game plan. I ask if we can wait until Husband is back so he can be in on the decision making process. Doctor says she'll be back in 30.

7:45- Doctor is back. Husband is not. Doctor explains it's time for a shift change and she'd like to check me now since she's experienced with my care thus far. I assume the position, Doctor says "virtually no change." "Shit" I breathe. Husband arrives as Doctor explains the game plan. We're to go home and try again at a future date. Our next scheduled induction is set for the 26th, the day after her original due date. The date my doctor said that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES am I to go past, which is why she scheduled me for the 18th. Doctor says I'm just barely to the point where they would even consider inducing me and isn't sure why my doctor scheduled me so early. I am confused and bewildered, why was I put through all of this if it wasn't necessary?

8- Discharge papers are being signed. I'm choking back tears of dissapointment, Husband is doing his best to console me. That only makes it worse. Nurse comes to take out my IV, I ask if it will hurt as bad coming out as it did going in. She says no. LIES! I yelp out in pain as the IV is removed. As she presses on the IV site, I cry out again  and just let myself cry it out, no more big girl panties for me. The nurse then says that the IV wasn't placed correctly and no wonder I was uncomfortable and it hurt to be removed. I quietly cry some more. I feel a bit bashed around.

8:30- We are alone in the room, getting packed up to go home. We hug for a minute and Husband says it just wan't time, she'll come on her own and that I did so well that day and shouldn't be disappointed. I tell him it feels wrong to cry, at least we still have a baby, but that I wanted so badly to have her by Christmas.

9:15- We arrive home, still pregnant and exhausted from the day, but optimistic that this was still a nudge in the right direction, forever to be known as "practice day" and confident that what happened was best for me and baby to have a successful birth, whenever that may happen. I remind myself, this may have been heartbreaking, but at least I still have a baby. She's healthy and happy inside the little home I've made for her and she'll come out to meet us when she and God decide it's time.

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Way to make it awkward...

Like I said in the previous post, I had an induction set for the 18th, exactly one week before the Little Misses' due date.

The Saturday before I was to be induced was spent doing laundry, finishing up Christmas shopping and making sure the hospital bag was packed with everything we might need. 

I was headed upstairs to take a shower before heading out to a friends' Christmas party when my phone rang and the Kaiser Hospital number flashed on my screen. Figuring it was a confirmation call about the next day's induction, I answered.

Nurse (youngish, maybe 22/24): Hi Megan we were just calling to confirm your appointment tomorrow for a scheduled induction at 6:15 a.m.

Me: Yep, I'll be there!

Nurse: Ok great also I wanted to remind you not to shave your pubic area

Me: Oh? Is someone going to do that for me? (I was being totally serious....maybe there was a nurse who REALLY wanted to do that? Or maybe they were particular in how they wanted it done? I don't know these things! This is my first time!)

Nurse: Uhm....No. We give you antiseptic wipes to clean the area and it will burn if you shave, so we ask that you don't.

Me: Oh! Well I can't see that anymore anyways so I wouldn't really feel comfortable putting a razor blade in that area without being able to see what I'm doing....that could end poorly.

Nurse: -audibly uncomfortable- Ok....bye

Me: -realizing that my attempt at humor took a dip south of awkward- Bye!

That nurse owes me for the great story she now has to tell. I can hear it now: "So this one time, this girl asked if we were going to shave her crotch...."

Party story GOLD I tell you.

Monday, December 19, 2011

I want

I want to see this:




Read more of this:



Munch on these:



and cuddle this more:




That last one is definitely getting checked off the list :)

Baby OUT!

I was scheduled to be induced yesterday.... it did not go well.

The week leading up to the induction, there were grandiose thoughts and ideas that baby would come on her own and in true "Megan's child" fashion, make a grand dramatic entrance. Maybe my water would break at work? Maybe I'd suddenly go into labor at the company Christmas party? Maybe my water would break at my friend's Holiday party the night before my scheduled induction?

No dice.

So we resigned ourselves to the idea that she would come with a little nudging from the doctor. But that there would be drama somewhere in the labor and delivery process.

Instead we learned that this kid is of the "plant the seed and wait 6 mos for fruition" school of thought.

You know the kind. The conversation typically looks like this:

"Hey, you know, you might want to think about coming out now. We have a pretty cool room for you, and lots of cute clothes and I know it's warm and cozy where you are, but don't you think it's a bit crowded? Wouldn't you like some fresh air? Totally up to you of course....I was just sayin'"

Her: Blank stare, blinks a few times.

You: Just something to think about.....totally up to you. Though you might really enjoy coming out and being out of there......so......

 This all has to be said with as little interest or enthusiasm as possible and then back away slowly, make no sudden movements. If she catches even a hint that this idea is what you want, all bets are off.  You have to plant the seed, and then wait for it to become her idea.

I should have started the eviction process with this kid before we hit the second trimester....how stupid am I?

At the rate I'm going, I'm going to have the gestation period of a friggen' elephant.....

I'm having my sister's daughter....

It has become evident that I'm having Ginger Snap's kid. This seems to be a trend in my family, Big Sister had my daughter (of the no-sleep, wants to be the life of the party/center of attention, dramatic variety) and I'm having Ginger's kid, of the stubborn, can't be told what to do, "I do it my way, when I'm ready dammit!" variety.

Oh Joy. She will be such a delightful teenager. I'm seeing lots of Xanax in my future.

To be fair, she's not entirely Ginger's kid....Husband is peppered with those qualities as well, not nearly as strong, but the flavor is definitely there.

How do I know this?

- She will kick the crap out of my ribs, bladder, internal organs etc... but as soon as someone else puts their hands on my tummy to feel, it's like she plays dead or does that super fun go limp thing that toddlers do when they throw a fit and you try to pick them up (a trick Ginger mastered well, if I remember correctly) little shit.

- She wiggles away from the heart monitor machines during my doctor's appointments. The point is to hook me up so they can get a good reading on her heart rate for 10 minutes or so. The nurse will hook me up, then walk away to...y'know do nurse stuff... then come back and check. Well not with this kid! They have to locate about where her chest is, then figure out just how much she's moving and where she's moving to and then find a spot between those two where they might get a good reading. This never works. Inevitibly, they find where she is and she'll stay there for them until they get the monitor set and are ready to walk away. As soon as they take 5-6 paces away, she wiggles out of range and the heart monitor goes silent. The nurse comes back, repeats the process and again, she wiggles out of range as soon as the nurse turns to leave. On more than one occasion, my daughter has required the nurse to stand there and hold the machine for the entire 10 minutes. I swear, the last time this happened, I could hear her giggling and blowing raspberries through my tummy.

-  She thinks her life source is a plaything. At one particularly uneventful NST, baby girl apparently thought the dramatics needed to be kicked up a notch and decided to kick at her placenta where the umbilical cord connects, and when that didn't get the results she was looking for, she pulled and squeezed at her cord, making her heartrate dip below her baseline. Where did this leave her momma? Sitting in Labor and Delivery for 2 hours while they did additional testing on the little woman to make sure she wasn't doing these things out of distress. Of course she wasn't distressed....the kid was bored! By the time I got to Labor and Delivery and they whipped out their ultra sound machine, she was peacefully sleeping and sucking her thumb. I still had to sit for 2 hours to make sure she was ok.

I have an idea. If the kid exhibits behavior of a relative, that relative gets to take care of the kid until it's under control.

Ginger- Step right up, your party is waiting!

Friday, November 11, 2011

Things that are awesome about pregnancy

See if you can tell which ones I’m being sarcastic about…..

  • A “late night” is 10:00 and if I sit or lay down shortly after dinner, all bets are off. Sleep has never come this easy for me, this coming from the girl who pretty much requires a solid 10, 11 sometimes 12 hours of sleep to function, however it can be frustrating when Husband doesn’t come home from class until 10 and you’d like to see him and spend time enjoying a TV show while trying to keep your eyes open. See also: waking up in a puddle of your own drool. Sexay!
  • The dull ache that spontaneously erupts in your hip joints when you get up from a seated or laying position. Luckily once the girls warm up, we’re off and running, but for those first 45 seconds I’m probably quite a sight to be seen hobbling around.
  • The comments. “You’re so big!” “You’re not showing very much at all!” (What?!)  “You’re not going to go into labor here are you?” "Look at you! You're starting to waddle!" “You think you’re tired now,just wait till you’re up at 2 am with a screaming baby!” “You really shouldn’t be moving furniture” (I was pushing in my chair) Such good opportunities to practice biting my tongue and smiling and nodding. Did someone write me a prescription for patience and tolerance?!
  • My “memory foam” legs. I’m retaining water. It’s gross. And also fun! I like to make shapes and spell out ‘hello’ with the indents that my fingers leave on my legs. Husband is not nearly as impressed with my new skill, he calls it “Tempurpedic mattress legs” he really knows how to make a girl’s heart melt, I tell ya.
  • Watching your clothes move because of the alien in your tummy. Buttons flinch, zipper pulls bounce, ribbed tank tops become ripply. What’s even more awesome? Lifting up your shirt to watch your skin mutate before your eyes (only in the privacy of my own home, mind you)….have you ever seen a baby bum move underneath 7 layers of skin? No? I encourage you to experience this…..it’s quite unsettling.

In all seriousness though, people…..this whole thing is pretty cool. I’d do it again and again and again in a heartbeat (which I’m sure thrills Mommy Dearest). Pretty neat what our bodies can do, and from what I understand, the best is yet to come.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

STOP!

Have you ever wanted to just scream at life and the world just spinning out of control “STOP IT ALREADY! JUST STOP!”

I need a breather… the current state of my house can attest to this. The dark circles under my eyes would second it, and my growing list of to dos would raise its hand as a third.

I blogged once the entire month of October…..once.

But in my defense, because I’m pretty much the only one who will rise to my defense when it comes to not blogging, October was a hellish month.

Don’t get me wrong, it ended spectacularly with the best baby shower evah! And our first Halloween with trick-or-treaters. But dammit if October didn’t kick my butt.

Let me count the ways:

-         The first week of October found husband and I in court, suing our apartment complex for return of our security deposit, a Doctor’s appointment with an almost certain diagnosis of Gestational Diabetes, and a 3-hour glucose test that would, inevitably, unfortunately, confirm said diagnosis.
Monthly rating : Well, this is inconvenient!

-         The second week of October was spent crying over the previous weeks’ diagnosis and what that would mean for the remainder of the pregnancy (at the time 12 weeks), constant scrutiny over what I could and was supposed to eat and, finally, a 3-hour long class showing Husband and I exactly what to eat (lots of protein, whole grains and veggies, absolutely NO SWEETS) when to eat (every 2-3 hours….blech) and when and how to prick my fingers (four times a day, side of the finger, squeeze until you get enough blood). To really put the icing on the cupcake (that I can no longer have), a couple of co-workers decided this would be the week to be total jerks to me and my boss decided to sit back and do nothing. To say I was stressed beyond capacity and an emotional wreck is a vast understatement.  
Monthly rating : Well, this is inconvenient!  Certainly it can’t get any worse…..can it?

-         The third week of October was spent eating force feeding myself, pricking my finger, charting blood sugar numbers and listening to Husband struggle with a terrible head cold. Towards the end of the week,despite eating what I was supposed to, when I was supposed to my numbers kep tcoming back too high, and the Doctor said that since diet wasn’t controlling the GD she advised I begin medication to help regulate my blood sugars. If that didn’t do the trick, she said, I’d move on to injectable insulin. Needless to say, I not only felt like a failure, I was devastated, embarrassed, scared and really friggen frustrated.  She also discussed what this meant for the remainder of the pregnancy (now 11 weeks) i.e twice weekly fetal monitoring sessions to make sure Baby Girl wasn’t in distress or getting too big, and possible induction between weeks 39 and 40.
Monthly rating : Well, this is inconvenient! Certainly it can’t get any worse…..can it? To hell with it all!

-         The fourth week of October is when things finally began to turn somewhat. My baby shower, hosted by Mommy Dearest, Big Sister, Ginger Snap and Monster was a total surprise and really made this girl feel pretty darn lucky and loved, despite all the not-so-great that was happening. My first fetal monitoring sessions proved to be exactly the kind of reassurance that I had been craving for the past 31 weeks (I’m a worrier ok?!). I got to see Baby Girl via ultrasound, and hear her heartbeat speed and slow with everykick to my rib and squirm in my tummy. The nurses were patient and kind, answering all of my questions and reassuring me that this diagnosis would not destroy me. (Make no mistake, by this point Husband and I had cemented our Rose Colored sunglasses in place, were focused on the silver lining and were making the best of the situation, as we always do when facing adversity)
Monthly rating : Well, this is inconvenient!Certainly it can’t get any worse…..can it? To hell with it all! I think I can….

So you see, in my defense, there wasn’t a whole heck of a lot that I was “loving on Wednesdays” or fun photos to take with my iPhone, or even things that I was ready to share with members of my own family, let alone with the entire blogosphere and whomever may stumble here on occasion.  This blog might have taken a turn for the worst and could have been pretty dark there for awhile. But like the saying goes, when it rains it pours and then the sun comes out.
It goes without saying that the sun is definitely back in my life….

Missing the biggest ray of sunshine of them all, my Mommy Dearest

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

My life according to my iPhone

Sometimes the best measure of a person is to take a peek at the pictures they take. Since I usually have my phone on me, it's no surprise that a majority of my photos on a day to day basis are taken with my iPhone.

Plus, it sounds much more interesting than "pictures from my canon point and shoot" or "pictures from my DSLR." Snooze fest!

Here goes:

Cars that look like animals:

Can you see the bear in the boat?
hint: The two eyes are obvious, the area around the rudder is the nose and mouth

Find the kitty!
hint: The eyes are obvious again, the white swishes on either side are whiskers,
the door handle is the nose, and the orange area/license plate is an open mouth because the kitty says "Meow"

Random acts of stupidity:

 
Ok grammar/spelling police, get out your red pens and find the typo! Big Sister and I stood in front of the bib on the left for a good 15 minutes trying to figure it out. Here were our ideas:
- Every turkey is thankful for me (?)
- Every thankful turkey for me (?)
- Every chick with tailfeathers thankful for me (?)

Enough with this cryptic bib with its hidden meanings! I pulled the janky one off the shelf and the one on the right stared back at me. Oooh, got it.

Uhm.... What? I guess I didn't realize Obesity was
self-aware enough to do studies of itself...

Dude...the sign? I don't believe we can make
this any easier on you Captain Oblivion

Aaah! Realizing just how much hair Monster chopped off:

Do I have any left?!

Babies that pass out on my floor:

Almost too cute to wake up....good thing she's
even cuter when she's awake
Kay so what does this say about my life??

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

What I’m Loving Wednesday

Look at me! Two weeks in a row! Can I get a woot, woot?!

Here’s a sampling of what made my heart a flutter this week:

I love this recent picture of
Husband, he's so cute!

Husband: Ok, this is kind of a copout answer because he always makes my heart a flutter. But hear me out. I love how easy going and selfless this guy is. There is no such thing as inconveniencing my husband; I don’t think the word exists in his vocabulary. I’m serious! From getting up an hour to two hours before he has to to make my lunch for work, to hauling a lawn mower across town to help out my recently-moved grandparents, he does it all for the smile it puts on peoples’ faces. The first words out of his mouth in the morning, when I get home from work and just before bed is “what can I do for you, baby?” The kicker? He means it. I don’t know what my mother-in-law did to raise such a good man, but whatever it is, it needs to be taught in schools. The world would be a much better place (not to mention cuter) if everyone were more like Husband.


The view on my way home...nothin' but
blue sky and open road. Aahh





My new route home: There is a very obvious shift in moods when I take the shorter, more trafficky route home as opposed to the longer, but less traveled (by the greater population) route home. I arrive home calmer, in a better mood and ready to start my evening when I take the barren route home because I can jump on the highway, crank up the radio, or not and drive a consistent 75 mph the entire way home rarely seeing another car on the road. Side note: yes the thought has crossed my mind if I were ever to crash into a phone pole, drive into a ditch or run out of gas on this route home, but husband would know where to look for me and, Bonus! At least I’d die smiling and happy and not stressed out.


Beginning work on Baby Girl’s room: There’s something about getting that first coat of paint on and seeing some of her clothes hanging in her closet and her bassinet all set up that makes this whole thing seem more real. Last night when we were painting to a soundtrack of Louie Armstrong and Otis Redding and the song “My Girl” came on and husband starting singing it and I suddenly saw him singing to our daughter who will be here in just a few short months and the idea took my breath away. We made a baby. MIND=BLOWN.


These nifty hair buggers: I remember seeing these when they first came out and thought “how the heck do they work?” I’d been curious to try them, but unwilling to spend the $4 to find out I was disappointed or that they were a gimmick. So I waited and glanced longingly at them whenever I happened to pass down the hair aisle in Target. So it was just my luck when Ginger Snap bought a pair and said they didn’t work for her but that I was welcome to them if I wanted. I don’t think a day has gone by where I haven’t had them in my hair for some portion of time. They are pretty amazing. And anything that can hold up my mess of hair that drives me out of my ever-loving mind sometimes, without the use of hairclips that create kinks or a million bobby pins that pinch and pull is tops in my book.


Sending Mommy Dearest to a much needed, much deserved and long overdue massage: I hope she enjoyed the crap out of it. If anyone needed it, it was her and I was more than happy to do that for her. Love you mom!



Thursday, September 22, 2011

What I'm Loving Wednesday- on Thursday!

~ Late Post ~

We’ll see how long this little series lasts

Here’s a brief sampling of what’s made my life easier this week:



Cuppy- That’s just what Husband and I call it, but what should really be called is the pink, unbreakable, cup of ice cold amazingness. This baby is 20 oz of pure genius, plain and simple. I recently left the cup in the car, half full with ice water on a lengthy venture into Ikea on a triple digit August day. When I returned to the hot car two hours later, tired and parched, I took a hesitant sip from Cuppy, expecting a drink of warm water that would rival hot tub temperature but was pleasantly surprised by icy cold goodness. The double walledness of Cuppy keeps water at drinkable temperatures (read: ice cold) like a champ. He’s also very durable. I have dropped him in the parking garage no less than 5 times since I bought him and there’s not a chip or scratch to be seen. I’m thinking he’s made of Kryptonite. The best part about Cuppy? I got him for $12 at, where else, Target.

Maybelline Age Rewind Under Eye Eraser- I realize I don’t have much age to rewind, but (!) I didn’t buy it because it’s “age defying.” So there. I use this as all over concealer under my foundation. The concealer comes with its own applicator, a fuzzy round ball thing that evenly distributes the product to whatever it is you’re trying to conceal and gives it a feathered effect so it isn’t obvious you’re looking to hide things. For me lately it’s broken capillaries around my nose, and weird purplish red acne scar looking things that show up without the acne (thank god) but stick around making me look like these puppies:

 It also dries powdery, unlike the tacky, sticky or greasy concealers that I’ve been using that seem to wear off and only exacerbate any acne problem I may have been trying to hide. It’s a vicious cycle yo.



Johnson & Johnson’s Bedtime Lotion- Yeah, I know it’s for babies; I’m just really into buying age inappropriate things.
No seriously, I used to use the body wash but since my skin is stretching and oh so itchy, I’ve switched to the lotion. This stuff smells so good, the good folks over at J&J actually sell an “adult” version, but it’s essentially a more chemical filled version of the baby stuff and it costs more money for less product. Clever little cows, aren’t they? I just buy the baby version and slather that stuff all over. The fragrance is just perfumey enough to want to put it all over, but won’t compete with perfume and at night, when I reapply before bed (SERIOUSLY ITCHY SKIN, guys) it’s calming and relaxing enough to put me right to sleep.

Side note: I used to use Palmer’s Cocoa Butter for stretch marks but that stuff reeks. Halfway through the day I felt like I smelled like a mix of corn chips and pot roast. Not so sexy when you’re pregnant, just sayin’
.


Bridesmaids- Mom, Dad, don’t buy this movie, you won’t like it. You won’t find it as funny as the girls and I did, so you’re welcome to borrow it, but don’t ruin it for the rest of us mmkay?Can I just say that I want to be besties with Maya Rudolph and Kirsten Wiig? This movie has made me realize that they are my kind of people. Too much good stuff to list about this movie. Husband bought it on sale when it was released on Tuesday we watched it that night, and I will probably watch it again with the commentary on before the week is up. Seriously good stuff. But not for you mom and dad, trust me, you probably won’t like it as much as we did. It’ll be for you what Foul Play was for me. ....Crickets….

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

This is your brain. This is your brain on HCG

It’s amazing what hormones can do to a person. I always kinda thought “pregnancy brain” was a cop-out for basically being a smug pregnant person who can’t think beyond anything gestational-related.


For a reference please go YouTube “Pregnant Women are Smug” it’s hysterical, and a shining example of what I didn’t want to turn into when I became pregnant.

Now that I am six months into the crazy whirlwind that is being pregnant, I fully take back all judgment I previously had against pregnancy brain and for underestimating the effects of HCG on the human brain.

Several weeks ago (when, I can’t remember) I was deep in the throes of a work project (what, I can’t remember) when my cell phone rang and Big Sister’s face and name popped up on the screen. As I was currently too busy to chat, I let the call go to voicemail and decided I’d call back in a few minutes.

A short five minutes later, work crisis averted, I picked up my phone and dialed my voicemail to listen to Big Sister’s message.

Lost in the message, I began to ask all the pertinent questions you would ask and responses you would provide during a phone conversation.

I asked how her day was, and she responded with a story of Baby E giving her a bloody nose by poking her finger too hard up big sister’s nose.

I responded that we probably needed to put a stop to Baby E exploring our noses and teeth (things which she hadn’t yet discovered on her own face) due to the risk of injury.

I found it slightly weird when Big Sister repeated basically verbatim what I had just said, but figured she was just repeating me as an affirmation that she had heard me.

I asked if she was ok and how long the bleeding lasted, and Big Sister talked over me with a different story of what Baby E had done that day. I thought that was slightly rude, but Big Sister was on a roll talking so I sat back and listened.

At the next pause, I asked another benign question that escapes me now, but was pertinent at the time. Again, Big Sister steamrolled right over me and prattled on about something completely off topic to what it was I had asked about.

By now I was pretty miffed that she basically called just to talk over me and irritated of my assumed role of having to sit back and listen and not actively participate in the conversation.

Just as I was about to jump in and be snotty about not letting me talk, Big Sister said “Ok well, anyways I just called to see how you were, call me back when you can.”

I was dumfounded. What the hell just happened??

And then there it was. “Beeeeeep. You have no new messages.”

I had been talking to a voice mail.

Seriously, HCG is a bitch, man.

(Sidenote- must clean up mouth before baby comes…. ‘Bitch’ is going to have to stop being a post script to all of my statements at home :/)

Thursday, July 28, 2011

My Missed 15 Minutes of Fame

This is the story of how I missed my 15 minutes of fame by listening to my crazy paranoid self, which actually, for once worked in my favor. You see, I was thisclose to being on the TV show "I didn't know I was Pregnant."
Yeah, I could have been one of those people.

TMI Warning, for those of you who don't care to know that much about me, TURN AWAY NOW!! We won't judge:

*************************************************************************************

I was supposed to get my period in March, when it didn't show up by day 50 in my cycle my first thought was "finally! Proof that my Thyroid really is a problem," and with that, I made an appointment with my doctor.

A simple blood test later (3/29) proved that my Thyroid was indeed failing. My doctor explained that chances are, it had impacted my "lady business" enough for me to not ovulate and therefore, not have a period. He ordered a prescription Thyroid replacement and told me that it would take a few weeks to kick in, that I probably wouldn't ovulate again in April, but that it would be enough of a hormone replacement to jump start a period sometime in April.

My birthday was on April 3 and Husband spoiled me rotten, he arranged for a massage, bought me a Nook, organized a brunch and generally took his naturally doting nature to the next level.*

By the time his birthday rolled around, we were deep in the throes of house hunting and making offers, and being outbid and the stress of that combined with work had really taken a toll on the both of us. We couldn't have been more relieved to get out of dodge for our Mystery Vacation in Monterey.

It wasn't until the first of May rolled around that I realized, I hadn't gotten a period again. This didn't worry me too much as I chalked it up to the medication taking longer to kick in, and went on with my life.

We made an offer on our first home, entered escrow and had joked with our realtor that the next big thing we could think about was a baby, but that wasn't for awhile.

Mother's Day rolled around and as we were leaving my parent's house after Sunday dinner I wished my mom a Happy Mother's Day and she said "You too?" I gave her a look and said "No, and even if I was, this isn't how I'd tell you. But no, I'm not."**

By the second week of May, with no period in sight and me still not too worried, except for the fact that maybe my meds were off, Husband brought home a box of pregnancy tests.

"Just take one, either way you'll know what's up and if you need to see the Dr. again."

So I obliged.

Now first, let me explain that these were not any pregnancy test you see advertised on television. They were your average pee on a stick and wait test, but First Response or EPT they were not. These were clearance, bottom shelf, generics called, I shit you not, Answers First (you see what they did there? Answers First =/= First Response).

I read the clear as mud directions and payed extra special attention to the results key which clearly indicated that:

(      I ) = not pregnant            and          ( I    I ) = pregnant

From this I deduced that the right-most line was the "test" line, the line that indicated whether or not the test had been administered correctly, and that the left-most line was the indicator of a hitch hiker or not.

Easy enough, right?***

My test result came back as this:

Not my actual test. Does that make it more or less creepy and gross??
The first line is very clear but the test line was very faint, which to me, meant that I hadn't peed on it correctly (how you pee on something wrong, I guess I'll never know). I emerged from the bathroom, test in hand, showed it to Husband and said "Nope!"

After a few minutes of hemming and hawing over the results and the test instructions all he could offer was "I don't know babe, I kinda think you are." I tampered any growing excitement he had with my expertise on reading pregnancy tests**** and explained that if the test line doesn't show up, it's a false positive.***** That was on a Tuesday.

He insisted I take another a few days later and so, to get the most accurate results, I took it first thing in the morning on the following Saturday. I got the same result.

The following week after several stressful conversations about the affordability of our new house and whether or not we were sure it was "the one," Husband decides to drop a bomb on me one night while I'm home alone and he's working late.

"I was talking to (co-worker) L today and she said her sister had the same test results as you and she really was pregnant."

At that point the stress and overwhelming nature of it all crashed down on me and I, in a panic, called my sister in sobs. No sooner had she answered I was blurting out, through tears, "I think I'm pregnant."

I retold her the events of the previous several weeks and test results and she simply suggested we go buy a digital test that would tell us, without the codes of pink lines, flat out whether or not there was reason for panic. She also reminded me that even if I was, I shouldn't be crying and that it was exciting and fun and that I'd have the same reactions and support from most everybody.

That night, well after any reasonable hour, Husband and I purchased a Clear Blue digital test. I went to the bathroom and within three seconds of my "taking" the test I had my answer:

Again, not my actual test...
 That was May 11th. On May 18th we told my parents, and, to keep this story short, we had a doctor's appointment on May 19th at which point I figured I'd be a few weeks along, maybe 2-4.

I was 8 weeks and 5 days, baby had a beating heart and was starting to look more like a baby than a blob. The doctor cheerfully told me I was nearly through my first trimester and was 90% out of the woods for miscarriage as a heartbeat could be found and heard and baby was developing normally.

I just stared with my mouth open. The pregnancy itself was a surprise, but being two months in already was downright shocking. She calculated the conception date as right around April 3-4.******

Suddenly, things I had previously written off as stress or upset tummy all made sense. I had been tired alot and falling asleep earlier on weeknights (stress of buying a house and work), on Mother's Day, Monster made bacon-wrapped shrimp and I couldn't stand to look at or smell the things, (just a funky tummy, not hungry for bacon-wrapped shrimp).

And then I remembered all the stupid things I'd done that could have hurt the little nugget (it's amazing how attached to it you get when you realize you're expecting a baby) I'd had sips of wine, I'd sat in ocean water drenched underwear kayaking with 100 ton sea lions, I'd spent two evenings in a hot tub, I'd skipped dinner, and marinated myself in Diet Coke.

The doctor assured me that none of those things had negatively impacted our child-to-be, and told me to relax, enjoy the remaining 6.5 months of the pregnancy and to have a nursery ready by Christmas Day, our due date. I left surprised at this new development and overjoyed at this gift that had been unknowingly bestowed upon me.

Husband and I are thrilled at becoming parents, and mom's super happy she's not getting a toilet grandbaby, and honestly, I am too.




*  No, that is not a euphamism.

** Keep in mind she knew I'd started Thyroid meds, but had NO IDEA I'd missed another period.

*** Wrong!

**** That's sarcasm, I can count on one hand the number of pregnancy tests I've taken and they have all been out of paranoia, not out of actual hope

***** I now know there is no such thing as a false positive

****** Apparently those Thyroid meds work pretty quick

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Guest post!

Today's post comes to you from The Dude, my dear ol Daddy, and probably the person from whom I get my storytelling and writing abilities. New to the blogging scene, he spends his days chained to his home office, working his hands to the bones on "simulations" (please don't ask me what this means as my eyes tend to glaze over when he goes into too much detail. Suffice it to say, it's computer stuff- motherboards, ram, bits, bites, cpu and the like- I also have little understanding of what those words mean :) ) , tooling around with his guitars and reading his favorite blog, mine. Without further ado, I give you The Dude:

Also, you should know that my nickname growing up was switch, flip flop and toggle. This was because of my keen ability to go from deliriously happy to downright pissed and every emotion in between with the flip of a switch. My question to you is, this is a bad thing?! Alright, as you were....


It’s not always what you say, it’s how you say it.

Early in the hunt for a house by Switch and McMan (you know him here as Husband), the Mrs and I tagged along to see a few of their candidate homes. We drove our Mini Cooper, dubbed the clown car by some, and the four of us followed the Realtor to the selections.

The first, was one Switch and McManhad already seen and were wanting our opinion as to whether to make an offer.The house was well within their budget and would have been a fine starter home. But it was very plain and in a neighborhood that seemed it could go either way in the near future and the Mrs. And I probably appeared skeptical. This may have started to tickle the Switch’s frustration in that she may have been hoping for a nod that would cement her confidence in this selection.

Switch is my second daughter and although she is head strong and very capable of handling anything, she would prefer everything go smoothly and without conflict. So when first presented with an obstacle she sometimes must first throw the crazy fit, before settling down and then cruising through the concern until arriving at the end in perfect poise and harmony.

To her, conflict is like a rollercoaster ride. She waits in line whimpering, puking and wanting the Dumbo ride instead. Sometimes as a child she would exit the line early and then feel regret for not knowing what the ride might have been.

Then she met McMan, who is more thrilled by the movie trailer than the movie itself. So with his excitement of anticipation Switch has learned to steel her courage long enough until her turn to slide into the rocket car. She holds her breath to the top of the first hill and tries to distract her fear by the fact that McMan has his arms in the air and is whooping up the anticipation of the first drop.

At the end of the ride, which is almost always just a little short of the promise, Switch is finally proud she made it through and can’t believe that she was all worked up for nothing. McMan is never disappointed because he puts the effort into believing it was just what was promised and sees no satisfaction in finding small defects. Then they both run together, hand inhand, to the end of the line to go again.

This roller coaster process is applied by these two to many activities, including buying a house. And when this process takes place and Switch begins to fret the ride, McMan has found many means of distraction and diffusing Switch’s anxiety over the coming impediments, some we have seen before and some we have yet to.

Most of McMan’s tactic’s are what you would expect: calming words, consolation, words of encouragement, a hug; the same things we had done as Switch’s parents when we saw that Switch was in need of decompression.

But on this day, the day the Mrs. and I were tagging along, the process appeared to be in play and we were to learn a new one.

After viewing the first house which only got our tacit approval and not a definitive, 'yes buy this house and all will be wonderful,' we went to a second house that from the outside appeared like a much better candidate.

It was a corner lot with landscaped character and an oasis of a backyard with patio and screened in porch that would have been ideal for entertaining. It had the look of a well kept older home in an established neighborhood.

As we stood outside, in a line, waiting for the Realtor to find the key, you could feel a bit of anticipation start to build.

But, the Realtor could not find the key and although an appointment had been made and confirmed, we could not gain access into the house. Disappointed and out of time we all started cramming back into the clown car.

The Mrs. and Switch bent, folded and squeezed behind the front seat into the back of the two door and McMan and I took our places in the front. The little disappointments of the day and the fact that Mom and Dad were spending their time on what now appeared to be a hunt akin to chasing a greased pig and, as Switch’s earlier blog described, turned out to be even worse, were building up in Switch.

As we pulled away from the last house and headed for home Switch began a small litany of 'I am tired of” statements. I don’t remember the exact list but it was probably something like,'I am tired of looking at houses we can’t afford,' 'I am tired of working with these flakey realtors,' 'I am tired of the sacrifices we have made to save all this money to buy a house and we can’t find even one that meets our needs,' 'I am tired of squeezing in and out of this car,' 'I AM TIRED…'

As the apparent storm brewed the Mrs., McMan and I stared forward in our respective seats and at least the Mrs. and I were preparing for the worst which was only going to be made worse by the close confines of our clown car.

Suddenly, without motion and in a clear stern voice, McMan interrupts her litany with “I AM TIRED OF YOUR MOUTH BEING OPEN."

Immediately following that sentence you could not hear anything in the car. I believe this was partially due to the fact that there was no air in the car as the Mrs. and I both inhaled so deeply that we created a vacuum in which no sound could be made.

Expecting that the air that returned to the car was to be laced with a screaming litany of words I would not print, the Mrs. and I both tensed our muscles and took defensive positions.

Instead, what we heard was peals of laughter and the words,“Oh Husband, you always know just what to say.”

The Mrs. and I have since adopted this phrase for diffusing and we use it often.

Friday, July 8, 2011

Househunting is HELL

I sometimes really question the sanity of those people who actually LIKE shopping for new homes (I'm looking at you Mom). Then again, she may have changed her tune after hearing tales of Husband and my recent 7 month personal hell that was househunting.

Granted we had a fabulous realtor who really worked her tush off to find us exactly what we were looking for and even worked like the Dickens to keep us in our price range, but when push came to shove, helped us realize that maybe going above our ideal budget wasn't such a bad thing.

I guess only time will tell on that last bit :/

Anyways, because it's been 7 months since we started and we easily walked through most homes that are or have ever been on the market in the Sacramento region, I'll spare you the long, drawn-out version and just give you the highlight reel:

- The "Holy S#*! this is the best our budget has to offer?!" house: This was the very first house Husband and I walked through with our first, not-so-great realtor who, as nice as she was, just really didn't know what we were looking for. We had an appointment set late one night in November or December to look at what looked on the MLS to be a really cute 3 bedroom, 2.5 bathroom house in Roseville just in the $200,000 price range. Yes, it was pushing our limits, budget-wise, but we figured we'd take a look anyways. After all, just because they're asking for $200k doesn't mean they get $200K. Where to start? the kitchen floor was a wood laminate that had been damaged mutilated by a leaky pipe from under the sink which meant that the cabinet under the sink was basically a grow room for mold. And I'm not talking about penicillin here, I'm talking the kind of mold that requires new cabinets and inevitably, new flooring. The carpets in the living/family room were so badly stained and poorly installed that the room literally had topography. The backyard was so badly overgrown and wild, it was thisclose to being granted sanctuary as a nature reserve. Upstairs, the walls were so dotted with dents and holes, I'm sure a blind person could have found the complete works of Shakespeare in braille. Needless to say, we didn't make an offer and instead I went home and cried.

- The "Megan shows her true colors" house: This was a "surprise" house our realtor sprung on us one day while househunting with Mommy Dearest and The Dude. She gave us the address and we caravaned over to the Citrus Heights home that boasted 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms and came in at $175, much closer to our intended budget. The only downside was that our GPS sent us though the dregs of Citrus Heights society to get to the house and by the time we pulled up, I wasn't convinced that this was the house for us purely because of where it was located. I was ready to pull away sight unseen, but Mommy Dearest and Husband, ever the optimists, said "what's the harm in looking?" The harm was that it was GORGEOUS inside, completely updated with hardwood bamboo floors, granite countertops, completely spotless and staged to sell, the laundry room was huge and also had lovely granite countertops and gorgeous cabinetry, every square inch was painted in designer colors but dammit, why did the GPS have to send us through the Ghetto?!? Just as I was starting to convince myself that maybe I could fit in there, mom and I were chatting in the front bedroom that overlooked the street to get a "read" on the neighborhood when a light blue towncar drove by with the windows down and a black gentleman in the front seat. As he drove by he began to slow down and began to pull his hand out of the window. Expecting the worst, I screamed "Mom!! Get down!" and I immediately hit the deck. Mom nearly busted a gut laughing at me, as the poor black gentleman was merely pointing out the "For Sale" sign in the front yard to his wife, sitting in the passenger seat. "Ok, I can't live here....I'm too chicken shit," I said. "And racist," Mom said, wiping tears from her eyes.

- The "Mouse" house: This one really needs no explanation, and honestly I couldn't tell you much about this house because I've blocked it out. All I know is that it was FILTHY. The carpet was black, except for where the furniture was, and the walls in major traffic areas were grey and brown. As if the owners were using them as their hand towels when they walked down the halls. The microwave looked like food had exploded from within, and no one had bothered to clean it up ever, it was coated. But by far, the worst was when we looked at the sink, which, due to mold and mildew was falling into the cabinet on which it sat, there was a dead mouse in the food trap. It was as if the poor guy had tried to escape the horrible living conditions and didn't quite make it out. But the kicker is this - people were still living there. How the hell long had that mouse been there? I didn't need to see more than that, I'm pretty sure I left skidmarks with how quickly I evacuated that hole.

- The "Shut it down" house: The memory of this house was too creepy to ever block out. It was in a cute little neighborhood in Roseville and from all outward appearances looked pretty promising...until we got to the front door. As our Realtor was searching for the lock box, I looked up and noticed a big metal tube with a lock hanging above the front door. I didn't vocalize the oddity at first, but in hindsight, I probably should have. The vacant house had all tile floors in the living spaces, which Husband had already said he hated because it was too cold and made the rooms echo. So dock one point for that. As we walked into the bedrooms, we noticed that none of the rooms had carpet, instead they were concrete floors that had been painted. Weird. We also noticed in the garage that the house was wired for closed circuit cameras and there was a TV monitor for the cameras mounted in the laundry room. Ok, double weird. As we checked out the backyard via the sliding door in the master bedroom, I noticed the locked metal tube again over the sliding door. It was then that I recognized what it was, a rolling, bulletproof, safe door that locked into the floors. It was then that I realized that all of the windows had safe doors over them and there were no windows facing the front of the house. What the hell were these people hiding from?! As I looked around the backyard, I got my answer. The neighbor that backed up to the home had a huge yard with 4-6 shed/outbuildings that looked like people were living in them. The main house itself had blackout curtains and quilts covering all doors and windows and each of the out buildings had window coverings as well. At that point I didn't care if there was a toilet made of solid gold in the house, there was no way in hell I was going to live there.

- The "Squatter" house: All you need to know about this house is this; when we opened the door to the "vacant" house, we noticed a mattress in the front room cozeyed up to the fireplace which had recently housed a small fire. There was a cooler, a wicker chair that appeared to have been pulled from a dumpster, a pile of dirty clothes, a weeks worth of newspapers and a roll of toilet paper. Oh, and the back door had been left slightly ajar. That was all I needed to see, I didn't need to start my homeownership by evicting a squatter, thanks.

- The "Door that leads to your impending death" house: This house made the Winchester Mystery house look like a cute cottage starter home. The remodel was so horribly bad, just getting in the front door was maze-like. The best feature, I think, one that was probably bummed off the ol' Winchester house, was the upstairs bathroom. Clearly the owners had run out of money to complete their crazy remodel plans because, when you opened the second floor bathroom door, there was the backyard! The toilet, sink and shower had been removed and all that remained was a 3-walled plywood shell of a bathroom. Only three walls, the back wall was MIA and the floor just stopped and dropped off into the backyard. Husband and I took one look, shut the door and said "Nice try, what else have you got?"


And finally, the one that blows them all out of the water there's "The One": By May, Husband and I were discouraged and frustrated with our search. We'd put offers on 5 potential homes and all but one had fallen through, but the one still in flux I had doubts about. One day, while searching through the portal, a home in Lincoln popped up that looked promising. Our Realtor said the home had just been placed back on the market because the previous buyer's loan had fallen through. Luckily, the homeowners had a few other prospective offers, but were willing to vacate the house for a few hours that evening. It was a Monday night  in early May that Husband and I met at the house and walked through for the first time. The 4 bedroom, 2.5 bath house had a nice open floorplan that flowed nicely, a huge master bedroom and suite, and 3 bedrooms that were all good sized. The house was perfect, and what made it all better was that it was an equity sale. No dealing with a bank, no "short" sale process (a short sale is a ridiculous name because there's nothing friggen short about it), and plenty of wiggle room on the asking price. After a discussion with the selling agent, Husband and I came up with our best offer, which was considerably lower than the asking price, but still a bit out of our budget.

By Tuesday we were in escrow, and a short 24 days later, we were homeowners.

Welcome Home!

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Mystery vacation update

Tonight we were supposed to meet Mommy Dearest and The Dude to discover the super secret locale of our vacation. Here's what we got instead:

- A blue sandpail filled with packets of crackers and cocoa almonds, a list of things to pack, and 6 envelopes labeled Directions, Hotel, Gas, What to do, Food and Photo Scavenger Hunt.

The list of things to pack included basics like a light jacket, comfortable shoes, a bathing suit and pajamas (optional, according to Mommy Dearest). This made packing a chore that kept Husband and I up well past midnight. I must have had 7 outfits layed out for our 3 day vacation and was thisclose to packing all 7, but at the last minute I was able to pare it down to just 5 outfits.

The next morning, we opened the first envelope which led us to......Monterey! Except, the directions Mommy Dearest provided were to the hotel right on cannery row, despite the fact that our reservation was actually for the hotel about 5 miles away. Oh, Mom :)

Here are a few snapshots from our FABULOUS vacation:

The view from the road to Monterey

Husband looking through the "Things to Do" envelope

A Photo for Mom
In front of the Infamous Cannery Building

Wine Tasting

These guys are like "What the heck are you staring at?

Looks like someone needs a brownie

Husband's feet, fresh from the Pacific and covered in sand

Penguins at the Monterey Bay Aquarium

Yes, please keep your top on, this is a family place

Starfish

Jellyfish

Just us and the big blue ocean

Starfish in the sand

Pink Flamingos

By far one of my most favorite creatures at the
Aquarium, a Sea Feather Anemone






















It was at this point that my camera ran out of batteries and guess who left the charger at home??

After the aquarium Husband and I went ocean Kayaking where we played hide and seek with Sea Lions and yours truly accidentally harassed a bear of a Sea Lion while he was hanging out on a Mooring ball.

Be warned, these buggers are WILEY! While we were sailing around, our guide told us about a Catamaran that had been taken over by a crowd of Sea Lions that had turned the boat into a bit of a party house. And it just so happened that the owner of the boat, who had left it in the harbor unsupervised for two weeks, showed up to evict the partiers:

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

I'm the Nancy Drew of Vacations

For Christmas last year, Mommy Dearest and The Dude (this is Dad's new Blog moniker....or Blogiker if you will) gifted Husband and I with a mystery weekend away.
Seeing as we'd have limited funds to do anything more than eat, pay rent, fill cars with gas and stash away every stray penny to our savings account for our future home, they thought we might eventually need a vacation.
Now, it being a little over four months in, they thought right!
We leave tomorrow for.....somewhere (isn't that the point of a Mystery Vacation?)
My coworkers don't seem to grasp this concept. In fact, they can't get past THEIR OWN confusion to see the thrill of it all.

My conversations at work have gone a little something like this:

Me: "I'll need that by Wednesday afternoon at the latest, otherwise it'll have to wait until Monday because i'm on Vacation for the rest of the week."

Them: "Oh you're going on a vacation? That's nice! Where are you going?"

Me: "I don't know"

Them: "You don't know?? How don't you know? Didn't you plan something? Oh! Are you staying home? is it a Stay-cation?" (I hate this term by the way....Stay-cations are bullshit. It negates the point of a vacation, the root word of which is to VACATE- you can thank my gramma for that lesson in root words)

Me: "No, I mean I really don't know. I know I'm going somewhere, I just don't know where. My parents planned it as a Christmas present, we'll find out where we're going just before we leave and then other surprises will unfold while we're there."

Them: "But what will you pack? What will you do? Are you flying or driving? What if you need a jacket? What kind of shoes? Do you need a fancy dress? Where will you eat? What will you eat? Do you need reservations? What if you don't like it? What if you're hiking and you don't have the right shoes?"

This is usually the point where I run for cover before their heads explode.

Seriously people, chill...I'm sure my parent's won't send me into the bear infested wilderness without a fancy dress or proper footwear....right? RIGHT?!

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The more you know...

Things I learned today this week (see my complaint with blogger  below):
- Turning 26 has little impact on the age you act when hungry, tired or cranky. I still act like an ill-adjusted 3-year-old with anger management issues. Give me a granola bar or some crackers and BAM! Back to being 26....well, sorta

- Contrary to my belief, Butter Lover's popcorn has fewer calories and saturated fat than the light buttered popcorn I had been buying because I thought it was "healthier." What a Crock!

- On another popcorn-related note, unpopped microwave popcorn has 130 calories. Popped microwave popcorn has only 70. Which begs the question, what nut job is eating a brick of coagulated microwave popcorn butter and popcorn kernals?? Why not just eat suet you Whack-a-Doodle?!

- I can beat Sudoku on my nook in 10 minutes or less....on the easy mode. With hints.

- In Realtor's terms, an open house from 1-3 really means starts at 1, ends at 3 or when I have two offers that are good enough for me, whichever comes first.  In our case, when we arrived at 2:45, the realtor was just pulling out of the driveway. She made sure to reprimand us first for being "late" then, after we mentioned the time, admitted she'd gotten two offers already so -shrug-.

- That if you schedule a post to go "live" on Monday morning, it'll wait until Tuesday evening to send you an e-mail alert that you have "un published blog drafts, would you like to publish them now?" Wasn't that the point of scheduling it to publish? So that I wouldn't have to log back in to click the damn publish button??

- Also? Apparently my nook believes that a spa is a place for losers....no wonder I had such a hard time on that crossword puzzle. I have to disagree with the nook on that one:

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

What an odd life I do lead....

Gosh, if you re-read some of my posts it's like a smorgasboard of humiliating tales, weird creepy people and just downright absurdity.

So, in keeping with the trend, file this one away in the WTF file, mmkay?

There's a coffee shop around the corner from work that I walk to with a coworker to sate her penchant for extra-hot Chai Lattes (the gal is a woman after my own heart I tell ya).

One day last November I decided on one of these little outings that I would partake in the lovliness that is an extra-hot Chai Latte.

It should be known that the counter guy knows my coworker not only by order, but by name as well, considering she's a daily patron.

Make sure the record shows that the counterhelp did not ask for my name when I placed the order.

It should also be known that said co-worker is about 5'10". Tall? Yes. Freakishly so? Absolutely not.

Let the record show that I, myself, am 5'6". Tall? Not necessarily. Average? Sure.


I paid the counterhelp, took my receipt and didn't think anything more of it until several weeks later when I was cleaning out my wallet and saw on the reciept that the order identifier was for "short lady."
Stop by again soon...yeah, right

Short Lady?? Short. Lady??

What the hell?

I stared at the offending words incredulously, as if I had imagined them.

I took a second look. 

Nope. Not a mistake, there it is right there in black and white: Order for: short lady.

Although it's crazy to feel offended, I couldn't help but feel a latent embarrasment for myself.  How had I not read the reciept until now? More than that, is that the best identifier the counter guy could come up with? How about (coworker's name)'s friend? Or girl with the blue top?

I don't remember the cafe being all that busy, certainly the counter guy could have been a little more creative and, ahem, nicer?

It should be known that I thought I had thrown the reciept away and it was not until this morning when I was digging through another wallet that I rediscovered it and got to relive the humiliation. Yay for me!

I placed the found reciept in my current wallet this morning before heading out the door, determined to confront the cashier guy should my coworker decide she needed an afternoon Chai.

Sure enough, she popped her head out of her office and, shortly after noon, we made the short trek around the corner to the cafe.

Armed with the offending reciept in my pocket, I felt the butterflies and anxiety begin to create a pit in my stomach.

After she ordered and moved aside to wait for her beverage, I slapped the reciept on the counter and said "So this is my identifier? What are my options in switching to another one in the future when I order my drink?"

The counter guy looked at me as if I was crazy to even be contesting him and said, unflinchingly, "We get to type in whatever we want."

"In that case, I suppose of all the other things the person could have called me I should be glad I got short lady then. Am I right?"

All he did was blink back at me.

Moral of this story? Sometimes the silver lining hurts, folks.