Results Are In

The test results came back, and the good news is that I don’t have a liver, kidney, or bladder problem.  The bad news is that I still have protien in my urine, which means they think I am developing preeclampsia.  Fun. Fun. Fun.

What that essentially means for me is that I am chained to my chair on “restricted activity”….as restricted as ANYONE’S activity could possibly be with a 3.5 year old Monkeypants running around the house.  I feel almost bad knowing that I am supposed to be resting, but spend a lot of my time chasing my child around the house trying to pin him down for lunch time/nap time/bedtime/discipline.  I have got to be an interesting sight…waddling around the house trying to catch my spry little toddler.  And waddling is when I’m at full steam! 🙂

I go for another doctor’s appointment tomarrow-they want me to come in every two weeks instead of once a month-and an ultrasound scheduled for tomarrow as well (an exciting point in my otherwise sick and tired state).  I have been a terribly bad patient, and have completely neglected to do the gestational diabetes test he ordered for me, but I’ve been sick!  Really I have.  I haven’t been able to eat more than a few bites at a time of varying foods-and as soon as I choke down a couple of pieces of something, the next bite makes me ill….one more on the EVER GROWING list of my food aversions.

I don’t have the luxury of having cravings with this pregnancy.  Burp has decided that she hates EVERYTHING-from apples to peanut butter, to hamburger to toast, sauces of any kind, toast….AND MORE-which leaves me both sick from trying to keep something in long enough to get it into my stomach for processing and STARVING. (So….hungry…can’t….function…must…puke….)

I’ve decided that the shine definately comes off the apple the second time around.  The apple being pregnancy, not the baby-of course!  We’re still extremely excited for our little Burp to make her world debut…I’m just a LOT less excited about that time between conception and birth-the hell that is known as pregnancy!

From the Land of Mommy M

Okay, as you may have noticed, I haven’t been around as I promised I would be….but I swear I have [another] good excuse!

Everyone is okay, but I have been having a whole bunch of issues and running back and forth between the emergancy room and my doctor’s office. They are worried that I have pre-eclampsia [which I had with Monkeypants at the end of my pregnancy] so I have enjoyed all sorts of poking and prodding including, but not limited to, a 24 hour pee test. Just in case you don’t know what that is [I DIDN’T!] it is a lovely experiment in which you have to keep all of your pee from a 24 for hour period in a jug-which you are required to keep in your crisper-then return it to the hospital at which time you are rewarded with a massive amount of bloodtests.

They’re also doing an early gestational diabetes test on me because of some questionable blood work, sending me to a cardiologist because of a heart arrythmia, testing my thyroid, pumping me with iron for newly discovered anemia, and giving me multiple ultrasounds to check up on everyone because of cramping and pain.

In short, I have become a medical guinea pig.

There have been some bright moments in the fog of medical confusion, though. They have moved up our due date to February 29th, 2008…LEAP YEAR!…..So that was good for a couple of Pirates of Penzance jokes. That means that we are 20 Weeks [HALFWAY DONE!!] next Friday the 12th! I am SO RELIEVED!

Also, due to the industrial amount of ultrasounds they’ve given me we were able to find out early that WE ARE HAVING A GIRL! While the thought of teenage girls frightens me to my very soul, I am still glad that we are having another baby. She looks happy and healthy, and ADORABLE by the way.

Another exciting happening on the horizon-next time we get an ultrasound [on Oct. 15th] I think we’re going to get a 4D one which I think is SO EXCITING! Those weren’t around [at least that I had heard of] when Monkeypants was in utero, so it’ll be a whole new fun adventure. We are also getting a bonus video of her squirming around in there, which I honestly think is AMAZING.

We’re still waiting on the results from my battery of tests, so that we can find out which OTHER tests I will be needing, and I’m trying to keep my feet up and relax between doctor’s proddings, which I do SO WELL [*eye roll*]. I’ll keep you posted and I’ll be on here as much as I can, but take pity on a poor and tired pregnant woman when there are long silences between posts.

The Perfect Man…For Me

Here it is, as promised, the story of me and The Man.

We met 5 years ago at an underage karaeoke place [hey, ya’ll know I’m only 21-if you don’t, read my “About Me” page!]. We were introduced because The Man was my best friend’s boss’s boyfriend’s best friend…so basically by luck. We were completely inseperable from that second on, and it was only two months later that he proposed to me for the first time.

Notice I said FOR THE FIRST TIME. A little while after that we broke up for a moment [I don’t even remember why! Probably just because I was 17 and he was 19 and that’s how life works sometimes]. When we got back together we didn’t get re-engaged though.

Which is probably a good thing because we broke up again 6 months later because I was “acting way too emotional and bitchy”….this is a direct quote from The Man on why we broke up-TWO DAYS before we found out that I was 14 weeks pregnant with Monkeypants [I’ll tell that story later]. Emotional? Bitchy? Hmmmm…..I wonder why! 🙂

We ended up being best friends (which I think is one of the greatest parts of our relationship), but not dating, the rest of the time that I was pregnant with Monkeypants. Then about two weeks after Monkeypants was born we got back together and The Man moved in to stay. We got engaged for the SECOND time a little less than a year later, and we were going to get married the following July, but then The Man and I both lost our jobs at the same time so we had to postpone. That was July of 2005.

Our wedding anniversary is March 31, 2007. A lot of stuff happened in that almost two years, but while it made a wedding difficult it made our relationship stronger every day. Looking back on it we would have been IDIOTS to get married at any other point before that moment-we needed that time to grow up and grow together and make a solid foundation for our marriage.

We didn’t have a big wedding, we just eloped (with our immediate family) and I can say that I wouldn’t trade it for the world. My sister had one of those huge-glamazon-wedding-“affairs” and just looking at the PICTURES of that “event” made me bitchy and tired! I much prefer getting married in the gazebo in the park with just my parents, his parents, and us….and then going to TGIFridays afterward [Yuuuummmmmmm Fridays!]!

I guess that’s why we did what we did when we got married-it suits us that our history is just as odd as we are, and while it’s not perfect it’s perfect for us!

I’m SO PROUD!

I just had to write one tiny little note in my blog-our baby is officially big enough and fiesty enough for us to feel them kick!  Last night the baby kicked so hard that I was awakened from a dead sleep!  Today they have been kicking off and on and this afternoon they even ROLLED!  Awwww…

I let Monkeypants feel the baby [who he has named Burp] rolling around and he was laughing and talking to the baby and blowing them kisses-he even put his head on my belly.  It was, by far, the cutest thing I have ever seen!

I love my babies!

I’m Even Crazy In My Dreams

I know I was going to write about how my husband and I got married next, but I have to talk about dreams instead.  Sorry, pregnant whim…go with it.  Since I have gotten *knocked up* [which is now my favorite euphamism for being pregnant because it directly implies the horribly violent attitude I have right now toward gestating] I have been having the weirdest dreams ever. 

One of my most interesting pregnant dreams featured aliens whose queen comes to earth and I [as president of the US] have to stop a giant alien migration by traveling to an office building and commanding all satellites to crash to earth thus preventing their communications and eventual tyranny over the human race.  This dream also features Kenny Rogers, that one black guy from Stargate SG-1, Will Smith reprising his MIB role, and the real life version of a Simpsons cartoon.

In my pregnant dreams I have killed my husband [gee, I wonder why!], lost my 3 year old, fought aliens, raised sheep, jumped off a building and lived, gave my unborn child to my crazy mother,  and moved to Paris.  But the weirdest dream so far I had today when I finally caught a nap.

I dreamed that I lived in this trailer park that was kind of like half trailer park half gypsy commune where people lived in wagons and stuff.  Only people I knew were allowed to live here, and everyone I knew did.  One day I was sitting in my trailer watching Sally Jesse Raphael [I remember because I was astonished she was on TV but excited because I love her glasses] when I decided to go outside for a smoke with my cat. 

Here’s the thing-MY CAT SMOKED TOO.  In my dream this little kitten just romped over to my pack and nudged one out and then put it in their mouth and went outside on my “porch” [not really a porch, more like crappy wooden stairs with a square platform at the top like some of the trailers have].  I went out there to smoke and then I lit my cat’s cigarette for them because-I thought this in my dream-*duh* they don’t have opposable thumbs. 

I was hanging out with Smokey the Cat [not named so in my dream, but I think it’s appropriate to call them that] when my step sister comes by and tells me that my parents want to see me.  So me and Smokey follow her to my parent’s trailer which was a really small robins’ egg blue color.  The whole way I tried to talk to my step sister but all she would say was “nice cat” and then just ignored me. 

When I got to my parent’s house Smokey stayed outside to finish their cig and I went inside to talk to my parents and they had like this gigantic pond in the middle of their trailer.  It was like as wide as two of me would be tall!  It had rocks in kind of a half-ass pathway through it.  My step mom was sitting on the only sofa on the only spot of dry land in their trailer so I went there instead and sat down and she asked me about “the painting”.  I had never HEARD of the painting-what painting?-but she wouldn’t elaborate except to say that if I had sold the painting my dad was going to be pissed.  I told her I didn’t think I sold it because I didn’t remember even having it, but then she just told me to go talk to my dad about it and wouldn’t talk to me anymore. 

She made me go out the back door which was on the other side of the pond.  I tried to stay on the rocks, but I fell into the water and I started freaking out.  I was crying hysterically because I felt gross and I asked my step mom where the water came from and she told me that it was used toilet water which they bought because they got it cheap…only a dollar per pound!  So I freak out even more and try to crawl on the rocks but they are way too slippery and no one will help me.  Finally, Smokey the Cat hears me crying and dives in to save me with a lit cigarette in it’s mouth.  The end.

I don’t know what the hell THAT means, but it is quite possibly the funniest dream I’ve had in my entire life [after the fact].  At least I get some type of amusement out of my pregnancy hormones!

I’m Sorry….So Sorry

I swear I didn’t mean to be gone that long.  Unfortunately, I was struck down [really, I’m not being over dramatic here] by the horrible plague of hyperemesis.  While I was down I was blind-sided [literally] by headaches, I was then side swiped with cramping of pretty much every muscle in my body from the belly button down.  I am not lying-I had butt cramps.  Monkeypants took immediate advantage of mommy being down and became a wild hooligan, of course-and The Man [poor, poor guy!] became a scavenger.  And what choice did they have?  With no mommy to stop you from ripping all of your pull ups into tiny shreads, how are you supposed to know it is wrong?  And with no wifey to cook and clean for you how else are you expected to eat except throw everything into a large pile on the table for quick and easy rummaging??  My poor boys.  So naturally, I spent many of my “not-as-crappy” hours following my boys around and making sure that the EPA had no reason to visit our home.

It was all letting up, and then I realized that I had become a house. You may not know this but houses are fatigued creatures who move veeerrrry slowly-even from the couch to the computer could take years…luckily for me it took mere weeks, and now I’m back.  Sorry to have been gone so long!

I am going to be writing soon [tonight?] the story about how my husband and I got married-and I’m looking forward to writing an expose of sorts on the elations and pitfalls of buying baby paraphenilia.  Also coming very soon-Maternity Clothes And Me. [Don’t worry I’ll link you up as soon as this is all written.]

See?  I may have been MIA from my dearest blog and reader [I’m pretty sure there’s only one of you], but I was thinking about you the whole time.

And now, for your amusement, a picture of me taken today at exactly 4 months [16 weeks] pregnant.

 

It’s a house! It’s an elephant! It’s….me-4 Months Pregnant with Baby Number 2.

“Natural” Childbirth

All of you granola-eating, birkenstock-wearing, attachment-parenting, LeLeche-league joining, “crunchy” parents are going to be horribly offended by this post.  I am warning you now, so that you do not send me nasty comments or hate mail-those will take time to delete, and I really hate wasting time doing things I hate to do.  If you stopped reading right now you would save us all the trouble-you wouldn’t have to get offended and ruin your chi (or whatever) and I don’t have to screen my inbox for hatemail.  Deal?

Now to all us normal parents-especially the first time moms.  There is something very important you need to know-THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN UNNATURAL CHILDBIRTH EXPERIENCE. 

Many grass-eating parents will tell you that in order to ensure the best experience you for you and your baby you need to have a “natural” childbirth.  By this they mean no drugs, and also will often suggest things like underwater birth, home births, “quiet births”, doulas instead of doctors, and chakra alignment (no kidding, someone told me to do that).

Don’t listen to them.  For God’s sake people, this is 2007, not 1707.  There is absolutely no reason to hike into the woods and have your baby under a willow tree supervised only by someone with a turban and a “magic” waving stick.  In the 21st Century we have lovely things like clean and sterilized hospitals, pain management drugs, and even PEOPLE WHO WENT TO SCHOOL FOR THE EXPRESS PURPOSE OF DELIVERING BABIES.  That is what happens when society and technology advances.  Things get easier-and that’s a good thing.  No one wants to have to hunt for 6 hours just to eat their breakfast…..and there’s no reason to anymore.  Just like there is no reason to have your baby in a mud hut, unless you want to.

Don’t get me wrong, if you’d like to have your baby in a lake of shimmering water while having your chi maximized go at it.  It’s your baby, you can suffer if you want to.  My main objection is that these birken-wearers will often attack other people [especially vulnerable first time moms] for using the God-inspired man-made comforts of modern childbearing.  They will even tell first time moms that having their babies any other way except the “crunchy” way is “unnatural”.

Here’s the thing-there is no unnatural way to have a baby.  You make the baby, and one way or another the baby comes out.  It is the most natural thing in the world-whether or not you use an epidural, or IV pain relief, or have a Cesarean, or use some other kind of modern convinience.  Saying that doing it that way is unnatural is trying to guilt you into doing it the way they want you to.  And you don’t have to.  You will not be any less of a mommy if you do it your way.  There will be no points taken off of your childbirth scorecard, and no one will think that your labor doesn’t count if you didn’t do it the granola-eating-way.  [Or rather, anyone who does think that is a jackass and should be ignored by all humanity.]  Never feel any guilt about how you choose to have your baby-and ignore anyone who would try to convince you otherwise.

This is also good advice for the future because the attachment parenting crowd won’t stop at childbirth.  They also like to butt their little heads into your parenting.  Ignore them, and remember-YOU are this child’s parent.  As long as you are using common sense [ie-not feeding your newborn chocolate for breakfast or hanging them by their toes over a tank of piranas] you can do whatever you’d like with your baby.   That is your RIGHT. 

Even if you bottlefeed your child formula instead of breastfeeding-Even if you give them a binkie instead of encouraging them to use their thumb-Even if you put them to sleep in a crib in the nursery instead of in your bed-Even if you let your baby watch TV instead of reading them a book-You are NOT a bad parent and your child will be JUST fine.  Never let anyone scare you into doing things their way-you know what’s best for your baby, your family, and your lifestyle.  Never feel guilty for that.  And anyone who would try to make you feel guilty is just a granola eating overbearing jerk who needs to mind their own business.

*P.S. Before all you crunchies start throwing a fit because I’m pointing you out think about this-when is the last time that a formula/bottle feeding mother walked up to a complete stranger who was breastfeeding and told them that what they were doing was wrong??  Or the last time that a person who puts disposable diapers on their kid told a cloth using parent that they should change their ways before they hurt their child??  The criticism and attitudes are pretty one-sided.  Even I, who thinks that you guys are NUT JOBS, would never tell you to stop doing what you think is best for your children.  I’m just telling you to stop pushing your crap onto other people.*

No Cookies For You!

My husband is a very social person. He greets total strangers and occassionally will even engage them in active conversations. He makes friends with people he doesn’t know and has been known to INVITE PEOPLE TO OUR HOUSE, even if they are not related to us! This makes him, by my scale, somewhere between Mr. Rogers [who wants everyone to be his neighbor] and those people from We Are The World.

I am not so inclined. I tend not to believe that “it takes a village” but usually find the village very intrusive and would much rather avoid them whenever possible. I am Crazy Joe-that person who lives in the hut 25 miles away from the village and only goes to the village if there is an emergancy, and whom no one has seen in 15 years. I am part legend, part myth as far as my neighbors are concerned….I only exist because my husband tells them I do.

And he does. As soon as we get new neighbors my husband starts suggesting we “drop in and say hi”, which normally is recieved by much eye-rolling from me and results in him going alone to meet the new neighbors. This week it is WORSE because we have not only one but two new neighbors, which has caused the social part of my husbands brain to explode in excitement. There must have been an explosion in his brain, causing him brain damage, because that is the only way I can understand his suggestion that I make cookies so that we can go over there and meet both neighbors at the same time. [Which, I suppose, due to the layout of our apartment complex would be physically possible.]

To my husband, this is a social event. To me, it borders on lunacy. I would much rather observe them from a distance that prohibits conversation just long enough to gage whether or not they are serial killers or pervs. After that, I only go into the village for emergancies. I would have no problem going to my neighbors and telling them that their child [which I have keenly observed is theirs from a distance] is playing in a dangerous location, or if there were smoke billowing from their windows knocking to see if all was well and even calling 911 for them. However I do not want to know their name, their children’s names, their various pet’s names and species, what they fight with their husbands/wives/ex-husband/ex-wives/baby’s daddy about, how horrible their in-laws are, how much they hate their job, or that they are out of butter and would like some of mine. This is an excess of personal information sharing.

Cookies lead to the excess sharing of personal information.

That, and my oven has not been used in two months [because of paralysing morning sickness] and when I made mac-n-cheese today I almost burned my house down. That was just the stove top, I don’t want to know what will happen if I try to bake something….no, cookies are far too dangerous.

In fact, I am thinking of making code names for my family. I’ve been thinking about it anyway because I know that I will at some point have to reference them in some way on my blog and all I know about internet safety I learned from “To Catch A Predator”….which leads to paranoia about your personal information. From now on, my lovely husband will be The Man [he’ll like that!] and our beautiful boy will get to keep Monkeypants. I, as always, will be Mommy M.

Oh and don’t worry all two of you who read my blog, my distain for sharing personal information and meeting new people extends only to people I have to meet in real life. I’m sure it means I have some sort of mental/emotional/social disease, but I have no problems sharing my stories with perfect strangers on the internet and being friendly back and forth. I am a proud and happy villager of the internet community….maybe it’s because I don’t have to bake you cookies.

Define “Crazy”

I was looking at my blog, going over my posts and I realized something.  They aren’t funny.  Or informational.  Mostly they just sound like the diary of a tenth grade girl.  Having been one I can say this for certain. 

Obviously, my blog has not been around long enough for you to know that this is not normal for me.  I am not normally so….what’s the word?…..whiney.   Really, I swear.  But I’ve been noticing that even in my daily life I am being pretty petulant lately.  I complain more than a tenth grade girl-especially to my husband, who has also changed since I’ve been pregnant. 

While I have become whiney and moody and fat he has developed the patience of a saint and the sanity of someone not native to our family-he also looks and feels fabulous which makes me insanely jealous.  So he can eat whatever he want and stay skinny and not get heartburn that would kill a horse-good for him.  Jerk.  [I mean that in the nice way.]

My son has also been subject to the whims of pregnant mommyzilla.  I keep our airconditioning running non-stop until our home is more igloo than apartment, and whenever he asks me something there is a 60/40 chance that I will cry.  Also, much to his dismay, “microwave meals” have become their own food group.  In my defense, I try to get the healthy ones with low sodium and vegitables-but whose to say that those are actual vegitables and not, infact, some kind of super-soft synthetic plastic goop.  I try not to read the box too carefully.

Such are the hormones of pregnancy.

But what am I supposed to do to deal with pregnant hormones, when most of my relaxation techniques are off limits?  It’s not fair! *sob*  I can’t take a hot bath and I can’t chainsmoke. *sniffle*  What’s a pregnant gal to do?

Peruse the internet.  I have found some wonderful sites and blogs that I really enjoy.  Worth specifically mentioning are Notes From The Trenches who I think is hilariful [hilarious/insightful], and Baby Center which has everything including but not limited to expert advice on reader’s questions,  helpful articles, a searchable baby name database, and a chat room where they have hourly topics of discussion [like “New Parents” or “Due Date Club March 2008”].  Also if you give them your email address [something I’m not usually inclined to do, but did in this instance anyway] they will mail you weekly updates about your progressing pregnancy [if this applies to you, of course].  I highly recommend both of these sites-I visit them every day!

Something else I find fun in my pregnant state-nap time.  I know it sounds boring, but I actually mean my son’s naptime not mine [although I am madly in love with my own naptime every morning from 10-12…ish before my husband goes to work].  I use my son’s nap time like my own private exotic vacation.  My favorite thing to do is eat a scoopful of vanilla ice cream [chocolate + me = plague-like illness nowdays] while re-reading my favorite books.  One of my favorites on my list of best-books-of-all-time [which I should blog about in it’s entirety someday….I probably will-I LOVE to read!] is Wurthering Heights-which I have been reading again most recently, and it has been a delicious relaxation.

The last thing that comes to mind that I have enjoyed during my pregnancy, of course, is blogging!  I think it’s really fun to have an outlet for all of my feelings, but also to be apart of a community-something a diary could never do.  Also, it’s a great way to have things written down on a [almost] daily basis during my pregnancy.  It’s like a log of my experiences that someday, when they’re old enough, my kids will be able to read and know what I was like and what I felt when they were little/in utero [depending on the child we’re talking about].  I think that is very cool.  I wish I had something like this from my dad, because when I ask him what it was like he almost always says “I dunno….that was a loooooooong time ago.  You know, because we’re all getting old and stuff.” [Where do you think I got my sense of humor?]

Those are the things that I found to keep my mind off the chainsmoking and hot baths that I can’t do/have…and that help keep me somewhat balanced despite crazy hormones.  It doesn’t stop me from crying for no reason or trying to fight with my husband because he left the slider door cracked open [though he never takes the bait-crappy patience and saintly attitudes!] but it makes me maybe just a little bit more bareable for myself and others.

The moral of the story is that my blogs will get much more funny and informational I promise-and when they’re not, blame the hormones.

Mr. Monkeypants

There is an old saying that says “there is only one cutest baby in the world, and every mother has it”.  It is so true-my son is so adorable it almost hurts!

We have called my son monkeypants for almost his whole life.  It started with my parents who perferred to call him “Monkey Boy” rather than by his given name because A.) they hated his given name, and B.) when he was little he would cling to me like a little monkey and look at you curiously with his almost-cartoonishly huge eyes.  My parents still call him Monkey Boy and, as I was informed by my dad not two whole days ago, they intend to call him Monkey until they die.

So what was Monkey Boy from my parents turned into Monkey and then eventually Monkeypants from my husband and I.  We call him Monkeypants all the time [except when he’s in trouble of course, then it’s FIRSTNAME MIDDLENAME!!!] it was only a matter of time that he adopted the name for himself.

My son has a habit of calling himself out of his nap.  When he’s done with nap time he will lean his head out the door and call his own name.  He’ll say “Get up Firstname…..Fiiiiiiiirrrrrrssssstttnaaaaaammmeee!  Time to get up!”  Yesterday my son stuck out his head and called to himself “Firstname Middlename Monkeypants!  Oh Mister Moooonkeypants!  Get up from nap!”

I almost died laughing.  So I let him get up from nap and then I asked him, “Hey little boy, what’s your name?” and he looked me square in the eye and said “Firstname Middlename Monkeypants.  Nice to meet you.”

Nice to meet you too Mr. Monkeypants.