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 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.

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.

My Baby

I am very excited about the new baby.  I am excited to hear their little heartbeat for the first time on next Friday’s appointment.  I can’t wait to find out if we’re having a boy or a girl, and I definately can’t wait for them to be born and to finally see our sweet new baby’s face.

But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I am a little sad too.  My son may be three and a half, but even now to me he’s still my little baby boy.  I have enjoyed having all this time just us-my husband and our baby and I.  Having our newest little one is the beginning of a wonderful new part of our lives, but it’s also the end of a very special time being mama to just my sweet little boy.  I am sad because I know that he will get less attention than he does now-no matter how hard I try to give him as much time as possible.  I am sad because I am afraid that our bond will not be as close as it is now. 

I know our bond will be just as strong, but there is no denying that everything-including my relationship with my baby-will change once we bring in this new little person into our family.  My baby will become my oldest, and there’s a big difference in that. 

I am always telling people about all the things no one ever tells you about pregnancy and parenting-and this is definately a big thing that no one ever talks about.  I can’t be the only mother to ever be a little sad to see their family change for the new baby while simultaneously being thrilled to bring another baby into their lives…but no one ever talks about it.  No one ever tells you-so it never even occurs to you that you might feel that way until you find yourself having your second baby.

All I can say is that I’m glad I have 9 months to get used to the idea.