You know, no matter how much people tell you about being a mom, no one really ever prepares you for the reality of it. The late nights, the incessant crying for no reason... the hair pulling, unbelievable rage you feel when your child simply will NOT stop crying and nothing you do will soothe him.

This is where I've been at for 3 days now. I'm exhausted. I'm frustrated. I want to cry. I want to hit something (NEVER EVER him, don't worry!). I hate letting him cry in his playpen, but what else can I do? He screams when I hold him, he screams if I don't. He screams before I feed him, he screams right after eating, he screams while I change him, and he seems to have his days and nights mixed up. He sleeps during the day and stays awake all hours of the night. Most of the time, while screaming.

My back aches. My head hurts. I walk around wearing puke half the time, and go through my limited wardrobe faster than you can imagine from him peeing on me, or the puking.

Everyone says it gets better. Well that sure doesn't help while you're going through it, lemme tell ya! I appreciate people's input and suggestions, but nothing works. Nothing helps. I'm just so tired. I love him to death when he's quiet, when he's sleeping, and I love him even when he screams his head off for hours. I'm just so frustrated and I wish this would hurry up and pass.

Every time we put him down to sleep, I pray to God that he'll stay asleep. I beg God to make him less cranky, to let us get sleep. But it really doesn't seem like he's listening or even cares. And people wonder why I have a hard time believing in religion. Sometimes I wonder if God's even there at all.

Marshall has reached the Purple period of crying. You know the one... where he goes all purple in the face because he's crying so hard, for NO REASON WHATSOEVER!? Yeah, that one. *headdesk*

He decided to show it to me last night in spades. We managed to get him to bed around 11:30pm (ish), and holy shit, he actually stayed asleep!

... till 1am, when he promptly woke me up out of a dead (and much needed!) sleep. So I got up and went to the bathroom (as my bladder was close to exploding) while he screamed in the bedroom. I then changed him, and fed him. By 1:30am, he'd fallen asleep on my chest while trying to burp him. So of course, I tip toe back into our bedroom and GENTLY lay him down in his bassinet, and turn on the vibration feature (I'm not even sure if it helps or not. Sometimes it seems to, other times, not even close!). I go to lay back down and all I hear is him start to make his whiny noises. It builds and builds and then he's starting to scream. I tried to give him a soother, but he wouldn't take it and it just made him more angry.

So I picked him up and cuddled him a while, till I thought he was asleep again. HE WASN'T. He wailed when I laid him down. So I picked him up again and came out to the living room. I laid him in the play pen and tried giving him a bit of gripe water to mellow him out. It didn't work. So I just let him cry, because I couldn't figure out anything else to do. I'd tried everything and I was ready to scream. It was about 2am now.

Around 2:15am I picked him up and gave him the last oz of formula in his bottle from his earlier feeding. And of course, he still wouldn't go to sleep. We had another repeat of the earlier bassinet incident when I tried to put him back to bed. Only this time, he also got the hiccups!

I brought him back out to the living room. Gave him more gripe water. IT DID NOTHING. He still hiccuped and cried and I JUST WANTED TO DIE. Tried the bassinet again. Same reaction (crying, whining, making noises, not taking soother, etc).

So back out to the living room again. It is now about 2:45am. So again, I just let him cry in the play pen while I laid on the couch and wondered when he'd stop. He was screaming himself hoarse for about half an hour. So I made another bottle and started to feed him around 3:30am. He spent nearly half an hour eating it, and only actually took 20-30ml of formula. He then, finally, fell asleep again in my arms around 4am. I put him to bed and he stayed asleep (much to my delight and surprise!).

It was around then that I wondered what the fuck I've gotten myself into. :P I hope to GOD this phase doesn't last long, or I'll seriously go mental.

And then of course, Jay brings him in this morning to put in bed with me while he takes the dog out, effectively killing any chance I may have had at catching up on my missing sleep. And, of course, Marshall just lays there staring at me with his big blue eyes making goo goo faces at me, occasionally smiling, and I melt all over again. Little bugger, has me wrapped around his finger. I just wish he had more than 2 modes tho, sleeping and FREAKING THE FUCK OUT! lol

Being a new mommy...

It's a little scary. There's this tiny little dude who depends on you for everything, and no matter what, you do whatever it takes to make them happy. Even at 2am when you're dead tired and he won't stop screaming.

Don't get me wrong, Marshall is usually really well behaved. He sleeps most of the day and even the night, usually going to bed around midnight and getting up between 4 and 5 am to eat and be changed. He'll then sleep till about 8-9am, depending on how tired he is.

But he seems to have a super cranky hour, which is anytime between 9pm and 1am. Last night was one of those nights. He just wouldn't stop fussing no matter what we did. We fed him, repeatedly. We changed him. We rocked him. We played with him. HE HATED US. It was awful, I just didn't know what to do and both Jay and I were so tired.

But I guess that's part of being a parent. Sometimes you just don't know what to do. I'm new to all of this! The first few days as a new mom were the most terrifying and surreal days of my life. The first time he cried in my arms, I almost wept and stared up at Tara, saying "I don't know what to do! What do I do?"

Today is one of those days where I just feel a little overwhelmed and a little weepy. I think it's the lack of sleep. Maybe hormones, too. And maybe it's also because we went shopping today and I'm still having a hard time finding clothes that both fit and are flattering. I know I've lost 30lbs already, but I'm still not totally back to my usual self. So my old clothes don't really fit, and my pregnancy clothes don't fit... so I'm kinda stuck. I got a new pair of jeans today, but trying on clothes while you're still not quite your old self yet is a little depressing.

Anyways, I'm gonna go sit in the living room and listen to Glee while Marshall rocks in his swing. He is the cutest thing, even when the devil horns come out. I love him to pieces and even when he drives me nuts, I wouldn't change it for the world. (Must keep repeating that when he's going crazy...)

My labour and delivery story...

Well, now that I can finally stand sitting on this computer chair for more than a minute or two, and Marshall is sleeping in his swing, I thought it was time I wrote out my experience before it gets too foggy on me. As it is, there's about a 6 hr gap in my memory where I don't really remember much except having to turn over so they could top up my epidural! Lol

Let's start from where I left off in my last post:

After I lost my mucus plug at Walmart, we went home and just hung out. We watched Edward Scissorhands and around 5:30pm, my contractions started coming at regular 8 minute intervals. So I kept writing down the time every time I had a contraction, and around 7:30pm I decided to go lay down and try to have a nap.

Yeah, that didn't work so well. I don't know what I was thinking, but I certainly wasn't about to get any sleep! With every contraction, I started moaning just a bit louder. By 8:30pm, Jay came in to check on me and rub my lower back. He said I sounded like I was in a lot more pain than before, and maybe we should go back to the hospital. You see, I tested positive for Strep B, and was told that if my water broke or I was in labour, I had to go to the hospital right away and get on antibiotics. Only problem is, when we went in that morning, they didn't act like it was a big deal and didn't give me any more info about it.

So I called the hospital and asked them what I should do; that my contractions had been every 8 minutes for 3 hrs, and that the pain was getting really intense. She said to come on in and get assessed, and the doc would decide when to put me on the antibiotics.

So Jay took the dog over to his parents' house, and while he was gone, I had a few more contractions that were 5 minutes apart. When he came back, I had another, and a couple more on the way to the hospital. They were still 5 minutes apart.

So we get to the hospital and I sat in a wheelchair and waited for Jay to park the car. He came in eventually and wheeled me upstairs to labour and delivery. When he phoned into the ward to be let in, I had tears streaming down my face. I never realized how painful it could be! And that wasn't even the worst of it yet!

Well, they put me in Triage and hooked me up to the monitors. As the contractions hit, I tried my best to be strong but they hurt so bad that I ended up moaning and crying through them. The nurse checked me at about 9:30pm and I was only dilated 2 cm. She had a really hard time getting to my cervix because I have a tilted uterus (the nurse that morning couldn't reach it at all). Turns out, my OB may never have actually felt my cervix because her fingers are even shorter than the nurse who managed to get to it! That makes me feel confident in my OB. :P

So after a couple of hours of increasingly painful contractions, the nurse brought me a shot of morphine to help with the pain. Lemme tell ya, it did NOTHING for me. Well, except make me really dopey and high! :P When she checked me again at midnight, I was between 2-3 cm. It was around then that she ordered my epidural (because despite my saying all this time that I didn't want one, at that point I was ready to die and would've taken anything to make the pain stop!). That was also around when I started saying things like, "I don't wanna do this anymore!", "I didn't know it was gonna be this bad, I wasn't prepared for this at all!!", and my personal favourite, "I wanna die. Please, just kill me now, oh God, I wanna die!!"

They took me to my own birthing room around 12:30am and I got my epidural at 1am. Then my water finally broke... all over the place! Man it was gross, but I was in so much pain I really didn't care. My personal nurse checked my cervix again and I was at 3cm. Oh yeah and at some point in there, they also hooked me up to an IV and started me on the antibiotics (which they had to give me every 4 hrs of my labour). They also set me up with a catheter... lemme tell ya, it was weird not to have to pee for so long! LOL

The next few hours are a bit of a blur; Jay managed to get some sleep, but I couldn't sleep for the life of me. The nurse kept telling me I should get some rest, but I just couldn't. Every time I closed my eyes, I could still hear everything going on around me; the beeping of the monitors, the heart rate of my son, the nurse doing... whatever she was doing, I don't know, my eyes were closed.

At 6:30am, the nurse checked my cervix again, and guess what? I'd only gone to 4cm (in 5 hrs!!!!!!). I was pretty upset about that! So they started me on the oxytocin to regulate my contractions. By 7:30am, I was between 7-8cm. So I messaged my sister and told her, and she said she was on her way to the hospital. Jay's mom was also on her way... with his dad and grandma. It was a bit of a zoo when everyone finally got there! I have a photo of Jay talking to me while I plug my ears, haha. My hearing seemed a bit wonky and everyone was so loud!

And again, the next several hours are pretty blurry. They had to flip me from side to side every couple hours to top up my epidural and get me numb again. I don't remember what times they checked me, but I know that the next time they checked me after a couple hrs, I hadn't dilated at all. So they upped my oxytocin again. The next time they checked, I still hadn't dilated. So the doc came and stretched me up to 9cm. And this is how it went for the next few hrs again. Eventually he stretched me fully to 10cm.

(The whole time I was on the epidural, I was really itchy and thirsty. But every time I scratched, I couldn't feel it so it just stayed itchy which was torture! And occasionally I could feel the contractions because the epidural had started to wear off on the top side of me, so then they'd flip me and top me up again. And I was drinking a tonne of fluids... I think I was clearing 1-2L of fluid an hour! Seriously, I've never drank so much in my life! I also threw up 3 times by this point... once right before I had the morphine {from the pain} and twice since having the epidural).

By now, it was about 1:30pm. Doc Shannon and Nurse Tammy were shocked that I still hadn't felt the urge to push. I was so numb down below, I honestly didn't feel anything. And every time he'd come in to check on me, he'd ask if I felt the urge to push yet and I'd say "Nope!". He was baffled!

Tammy told me that if I still didn't have the urge to push by 2:30pm, they'd get me to start pushing anyways. At 2pm, I threw up about 3L of fluids, so she decided it was time. My God, pushing sucked!! Seriously, having to do that every minute to 2 minutes? It felt like my ribs were breaking, because everything was pushing up into them. Marshall was still moving even while I was pushing!! And I couldn't even tell if I was pushing right because I couldn't feel it.

After about half an hr of pushing, Tammy told me that Doc Shannon could help me out with the forceps if I wanted him to; that it would cut down on how long I had to push. I asked if it would mash my baby's head (because I'd heard of that happening back in the old days). He said, "No no, all 3 of my kids were delivered with forceps, and my 14 year old can even count to 10!" I laughed and said that was reassuring.

So he got set up and after another couple contractions, he started helping with the forceps. I couldn't see anything, I just felt like he was pulling something out of my butt. It was strange. I didn't even realize that he didn't pull that much of his head out, only a little bit... and then my next push got his whole head out! (14.5 inches around!). He told me to relax a bit and that he was going to deliver the baby. He helped the shoulders out and told me to give one more push, and out he came! I watched him pull Marshall from me and it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! Even though he was purple and swollen, lol.

I remember not being able to see much the whole time I was on the epidural. I wasn't wearing my glasses, and my eyes kept crossing and not focusing; but while he pulled Marshall from me and I watched, I was like a hawk. I saw it clear as day, in slow motion even. I wanted to make sure he was breathing (he was) and that he was ok (he was).

I remember whining because they took him away and seemed to be taking forever with bringing him back. Doc Shannon stitched me up and they cleaned me up, and eventually they brought Marshall over. I looked at him and said to Jay, "Are you sure this is the right baby? He doesn't look like either of us!" :P (he does now)

After that, most of the rest of the day is a blur. I remember breast feeding him for the first time (yuck and ouch!). I remember Jay feeding him his first bottle (because his sugar test came back a little low). I remember Tara and Rebecca coming to visit. I remember eating dinner (not much of it tho because every bite made me want to vomit). And then I dozed in and out for hours.

I tried breast feeding him again around 5am, but it just felt so awful I wanted to cry. Our new nurse Mary (a Mennonite woman) told me I didn't have to breastfeed if I didn't want to. She brought me a bottle and I fed him, and it was beautiful. She said I looked so much happier, and I was. I love that Jay and I can both feed him. :)

Anyways, that's my story. Maybe there should've been more detail (maybe some of you are wishing there was less! lol). But it's such a long story that I just had to write it as I remembered it, rather than making it all fancy and stuff.

Hopefully it's starting now!!

So about 4am today, I got up to pee and felt a WHOOSH before I even let go of my muscles to pee. When I wiped, I didn't see anything, so I went back to bed.

At 5am, I woke up to intense period-pains, and after it passed, I got up again to go pee. While standing in the bathroom, I felt another WHOOOSH and had liquid running down my legs. When I went pee again and wiped, it was pink this time. So I woke up Jay and off to the hospital we went, thinking my water broke.

I was having some pretty painful contractions, that seemed fairly regular, while I was hooked up to the non stress test machine. After that, I peed again and had another WHOOSH in the toilet. This time it was slightly brown with flecks in it.

They finally used a speculum to check and see if it was my water, which they said it wasn't. It was watery, but it was mucus. So I was sent home.

I've still been having some pretty painful contractions, but they aren't regular. But they are constant... I've been having them all day.

We went to Walmart to walk around for a while, and after about an hour, I went to the bathroom again. When I was sitting there, during another contraction, I felt something come out of me. It's hard to describe! But I looked in the toilet, and there was this big glob of clear/whiteness with streaks of brown and red in it. And every time I wiped, there was brown jelly (ick). Turns out, that was my mucus plug! So things are definitely progressing (OUCH CONTRACTION!). I'm really hoping to go into full blown labour tonight, but some people say it can take a few days. :( Well, fingers crossed! Hopefully by this time tomorrow, we'll be holding little Marshall!!

Rest In Peace, Hemi... :(

So we had to say a sudden and tearful good bye to our dear cat Hemi last night. It was almost too much to bear.

Jay had just left the bathroom and I'd sat down to pee (as I do quite frequently) and I heard Jay call out to me in a panicky voice, "HUN, Hemi's hurt!"

"What happened?"

"I dunno, but he's really hurt! He can't move his back legs!"

"Well come in then!"

So Jay brought Hemi in the bathroom and he was just wailing. I knew something must be really wrong for Jay to look and sound so freaked out. He set Hemi down on the floor and I watched him try to drag himself around by his front legs. I told Jay to get on the phone and call the emergency vet clinic, we need to take him in.

So he ran out of the bathroom and did that, while I sat with Hemi on the floor and tried to console him. He was making the most awful, inhuman sounds. I picked him up and gently carried him to our bed so he would be more comfortable. He was panting so fast in between howls. After we were on the bed a few seconds, he calmed down a bit, but every so often would try to drag himself around again. I just sat there petting him and trying to console him while Jay talked to his mother and then the nurse at the vet clinic.


The nurse asked him to check Hemi's feet and see if they're cold, which they were. She told him it's probably a clot and we needed to bring him in right away. So that's what we did.

When we got to the clinic in Cambridge, they took him to an exam room in the back and put us in another room to wait for the doctor. The whole time I'm trying to console Jay and tell him everything will be fine, I'm sure it's ok, they'll fix him up and it's gonna be alright.

I was wrong.

The doctor came in and said that sadly, it's not looking good. She said Hemi had "thrown a clot", which basically means a clot formed and got stuck in his aortic artery that branched to his back legs, causing the paralysis. She told us that cats are quite prone to getting clots, and that there's probably an underlying heart condition or disease that caused the clot to form. We could try using some medication to dissolve the clot, but it would take a few days and may not even work, and Hemi would be in a lot of pain throughout that time. And even if we did manage to get rid of the clot, he may not ever regain use of his back legs, and then we'd still have to run a bunch of tests on his heart and then treat that problem too.

I didn't realize how hard it would hit me. The tears started to flow and I just couldn't stop them.

Jay said he didn't want Hemi to suffer, so we opted to have him put to sleep. Jay went out to the front desk to pay while I stayed with Hemi. He wasn't wailing as much anymore but he was drooling a lot and still trying to drag himself around. He'd been given a painkiller but was obviously still in distress. The doctor cuddled him with me and said this was her greatest fear for her cats, coming home to find they'd thrown a clot. She was very sympathetic and caring, which helped.

Jay was pretty upset, understandably. Hemi was only 9 years old. I can't describe in words how sad this whole process was. I've never lost a pet before, and I've never been there when one was put to sleep. It was over so quickly. I'm glad Hemi didn't have to suffer for very long. Poor thing must've been terrified.

It was the saddest thing I've ever seen, to see him laying there with his eyes open... not breathing, not moving, it was surreal. I couldn't stop crying... and part of it was seeing Jay suffer. It just broke my heart. I just couldn't believe it... one minute Hemi was here, eating little bits of bacon with us yesterday morning, and then all of a sudden he was just... gone. :(

I know he wasn't my cat, but it still hurts. And it hurts to see Jay so sad. Hemi was his special little buddy. When things weren't static in his life, Hemi was always there for him. I can understand that completely.

I hope Hemi is in a happier place. He will always be loved and never forgotten.

So I haven't really got anything witty to say, I just feel bad that I haven't updated this thing in a while.

As of tomorrow, I have 3 more miserable weeks till my due date. I'm seriously wishing that he'd just come out now! I'm so tired of being pregnant. :P Not to mention of course that I just can't wait to meet our son, that's the exciting part!

Anyways, that's about it these days. Still not sleeping well, still peeing all the time, getting sick occasionally, sore, grumpy, etc. Hopefully he'll be here soon and things will be awesome.

Starstruck

You know how when you're a kid, you always dream of what it would be like to be able to chat with someone famous? Someone you admire, whether it be a film star, or a musician or whomever?

I remember when I was little, I used to get crushes on celebrities, as I'm sure many other people did/do. When I was 7 years old, I had the biggest crush on Christian Slater. I used to fantasize that he'd show up at my house, hiding in a big box as a birthday present... then he'd jump out and surprise me, and take me for a ride in his limo!

As I grew into a teenager, I'd day dream about making out with whomever I had a crush on at the time. And as I got older still, I used to dream about just hanging out backstage with a famous musician that I really liked and just talking, getting to know them. Sure, sometimes I'd think about what it would be like to make out with them, but I didn't want to be just another groupie. I didn't want to have meaningless flings with famous people. I wanted to get to know them as real people. Sometimes I'd even fantasize that we'd have a real relationship... though those ones tended to go up in smoke almost as soon as I'd thought about them because hey, what are the chances of me ever actually dating Chad Kroeger or Adam Gontier? :P

But to me, I've always thought it would be amazing to be able to get to know these people for who they are. Find out what makes them tick, why they write the way they do, where they get their inspiration from. I grew up realizing that it's who you are that defines what you do and how you do it. And that's important to me.

Today, I actually got the chance to speak with someone I greatly admire. He's a guitar player/singer/songwriter. He's also pretty famous. To my shame, I only heard of him about a month ago when we went to see him play at The Schwaben Club. Since then, I've added him to facebook and watched all his YouTube videos; I am both fascinated with his skill and in awe of what he's accomplished. I figured he'd be like most of the other celebrities who have facebook profiles, in that he'd update his page but wouldn't really talk to anyone. I was wrong.

I commented on his wall a few weeks ago, and to my astonishment, he actually commented back the same day! That made me feel pretty special. When I saw him online today, I decided to message him just to tell him that I thought he was awesome. Because he is. And I wasn't expecting a response.

Instead, I was quite pleasantly surprised that he not only responded, but ended up having an entire conversation with me. Never have I stopped believing that famous people are human like the rest of us, and it was refreshing to be able to talk with someone who actually acts like he is still one. I've heard horror stories of celebrities who think they're too good to talk to fans, who act high and aloof or ignore people altogether. Phil was not only kind, he was funny, fun to talk to, and amazingly down to earth. This is the way stars should all be. People get famous because the public likes what they do. Some celebrities fail to remember that they are where they are because of the little people.

Today has reaffirmed my faith in humanity. It doesn't take much to offer a compliment; as Phil told me, you never know how badly someone may need to hear it. Even if they're famous. Because famous people are still people too.

Thanks again for the chat today Phil. It meant a lot to me, and I look forward to more in the future (and hopefully working together!).

*Check out Phil's stuff, if you get a chance: http://www.philx.tv/index.html

It's the little things...

Most pregnant women know, it's hard to feel sexy about yourself when you're gaining weight and feeling icky all the time.. right? Ok, maybe it's just me, I dunno.

Anyways, last week I decided to do a complete overhaul of my look again. I have a maternity shoot coming up this week, and I wanted to look as awesome as possible for it. So I got my hair cut downtown at Voila (the local hair school) and then coloured it at home. I'm now sporting a rockin' mohawk and raspberry-coloured hair! It looks superb.

I also spotted myself a super sweet pair of plugs from BMA Modified (http://shop.bmamodified.com/) on their ebay shop (http://stores.ebay.ca/BMA-Modified). I wasn't sure if they'd be able to get here in time for the shoot, but I asked Miranda the owner if there was a way to get them here ASAP. She offered me a free shipping upgrade to Priority because I've been a loyal customer with them for the last year now. And do you know what? That totally made my day!

I know, most people don't understand my fascination with plugs/tunnels/whatever you wanna call them. But BMA has such nice things and they're so well priced, I've ordered so many from them over the last year as I've been slowly stretching. And to be honest, nothing lifts my mood quite like getting new jewelry. It's not quite as big of a change as getting a super short hair cut and a really drastic colour... but sometimes it really is the little things that help make you feel special. And when someone is as nice as Miranda and offers me a free shipping upgrade to try to get my plugs here in time for my maternity shoot? Well, that almost gets the hormone-tears flowing. :)

Anyone looking for super cool organic plugs should definitely check out BMA. Their customer service is awesome, their merch is top quality, and their prices are so low... you can get like 5 pairs for the same price you'd pay for one pair at a local body mod shop! So get your shop on and adorn those ears. :)

My hubby is a compulsive pack-rat. Seriously, he needs to go on that show "Hoarders" or whatever it's called. He has boxes upon boxes (upon drawers and cupboards) full of junk that has no particular use or meaning whatsoever. Well, to me, anyways.

Therein lies the problem. Since it's all his junk, I can't really do much with it, because I don't want to get in trouble for throwing out something that he might want to keep. Which, in all honesty, is probably everything.

But we have no space for all of Marshall's things! Granted, we'll have more room once our roommate moves out, but in the meantime, where are we going to store all the things that we'll be getting at our baby shower in 2 weeks?!

I've managed to pack away all my pre-pregnancy clothes (and some clothes for Marshall that won't fit him until he's about a year old) and clean out space in my dresser so that I have 2 drawers for newborn clothing. That's about as much as I can do, since all the rest of the closets are full of DH's accumulated junk. He managed to clean out one huge tote that was full of VHS tapes, which is what I used to pack away my clothing. But now it's sitting on top of the dog's cage, because he never managed to put it away again.

Moving as much as I've done over the last several years (I was like a gypsy!), I learned how to live light. Everything I owned fit into 2 suitcases and 2 boxes. Sure, there are some things I wish I'd kept, but in the grand scheme of things, I've always had what I needed when I needed it. DH moved from a townhouse into a 2 bedroom apartment, and rather than go through and get rid of things he didn't need, just shoved everything into closets.

Now that I seem to be in my "nesting phase", I'm itching to go through and clean everything top to bottom! I've always been a neat and tidy person, but the first half of my pregnancy left me so drained and sick all the time, I didn't bother much with tidying. Now that I want to tidy, I've cleaned everything I can, and still want to do more!

*Edit: 4 days now till the shower and we still haven't gone through the closets. Oh well, perhaps we will after the shower, when we'll be forced to in order to store things. :P

I am one of the whiniest pregnant women on the planet. At least, according to DH I am. Which leads me to wonder, how many pregnant women has he known other than me? Scratch that, how many women has he knocked up and lived with, other than me?

I know other mommies-to-be will moan and complain to each other about the trails and tribulations of pregnancy. That's because we understand each other. Our hubbies just roll their eyes, either say nothing or say completely the wrong thing, and go about their lives.

The other night, DH was trying to make up a grocery list and asked me if having chicken for dinner twice this week would be ok. I said sure, chicken's fine.

Apparently, that was not said with the amount of enthusiasm he was expecting. He got all huffy and started complaining that I don't give him enough input, and asking why do I have to be so difficult.

This confused me, as all I'd said was that chicken was fine with me. I'm sorry, but I simply cannot muster up any enthusiasm over the idea of eating the same food we've been eating for months. In fact, for the most part, I can't muster up much enthusiasm over the idea of eating at all! This is what confuses him. I tried to explain that eating 70 times a day leaves me feeling fat, bloated, and exhausted. I hate having to eat all the time, I hate not having enough variety, and I'm just sick of it full-stop. Which leads him to the conclusion, yet again, that I am the whiniest pregnant person in the history of EVER.

I'd love it so much if men could get pregnant, and see how they feel about it. Let's see how they like having to eat 70 times a day (they'd probably love it). Let's see how much they like not being able to get to sleep for hours on end, and then when they do, only get to sleep for about half an hour and then have to get up and pee again. Or how about how much they'll just love having a constantly aching back that never feels better, a growing stomach that hurts and a baby kicking their guts to pieces. Perhaps they'll love the swollen fingers and feet, the lack of clothing options, the lack of energy or ambition to do anything.

... or maybe I really am just the whiniest pregnant person on the planet.

Shrinkage

So as I sit here, eating my extra-fatty yogurt (seriously, this stuff is 47% of my daily saturated and trans fat intake!), I ponder my growing belly that is peeking out from below my shirt. And I ponder the fact that my belly is peeking out from below my shirt.

Funny thing is, I bought this tank top not too long ago, and it was extra long and stretchy. I bought it in a large. I bought 4 of them in the same style, in the same size, because none of my other shirts fit anymore. And they were gloriously comfy and fit perfectly!

...that is, until I let a certain someone go do laundry without me.

You see, he remembered not to put my undies in the dryer. But he forgot that my tank tops couldn't go in the dryer either. So now, they're tiny. And by tiny, I mean minuscule. If I stand up, my shirt now soars to the middle of my growing belly and I look like someone you'd see on People Of Walmart! In other words... not very classy.

*SIGH*

So now my tank tops, that I got to wear all of once each, are now only to be worn around the house. Which leaves me very limited clothing options for going out. Pffft! Going out? When do I do that? Ah well, I guess now that the colder weather is here, I can always sport them under one of DH's hoodies and no one has to be witness to my bulging belly.

Lesson here? Either make sure I go with DH to do laundry, or remind him before he leaves not to put ANYTHING of mine in the dryer.

Little things...

This weekend was our yearly trip up to DH's relatives' house up north. We go there every July for his Aunt and Mother's birthday, as they're twins, to celebrate. We were planning to come back on Sunday, however DH decided he'd rather stay an extra day and come back on Monday. I must admit I was a bit apprehensive about this plan, as I'd only brought enough of my vitamins and morning sickness pills to last until Sunday morning.

"Oh well," I said cheerfully (as we were out shopping, which puts me in a grand mood... unless it's for clothing, as I can't wear anything nice anymore and nothing seems to fit these days), "I can always take a Gravol in the morning if I feel sick."

Sure enough, I woke up Monday morning feeling like death was lurking around the corner. I gulped down a gravol greedily and tried not to move too much, for fear of being sick. The drive home was hell. Being nauseous in a bumpy car is never fun.

However, I managed not to get sick for the whole 2.5 hr drive. I made it through the entire day as well, slipping in a nap in the afternoon.

Everything seemed to be ok. That is, until it came time to take my nightly vitamins and pills. As soon as I took them, I threw them back up. Ick.

The next day (yesterday), turned out to be even worse. I spent the better part of the day getting sick and laying in bed, trying to avoid doing ANYTHING.

DH came home from work and had to go to Walmart for his diabetes medication, and asked if I wanted to be brave and come along. I thought, "Why not?"

So off we go to Walmart. While we're there, I'm trying very hard not to be sick and put on a brave face, all the while feeling like death and carrying around this belly that feels like it's going to burst (I had a grape float before we left, as I was hungry. Shut up, don't look at me like that. If I'm gonna puke anyways, I wanna eat something tasty).

While DH was looking for "Kick Ass" on DVD (their shipment didn't come in, so we had to go to Future Shop for it. He even brought the Walmart flyer to be "that guy" and get $2 off their price), I stumbled upon the reduced section for cell phone paraphernalia. I spotted the cutest little case that actually fit my BlackBerry, and lo! It was on sale for ONLY $10!!! I had to grab it. I know I just bought one on the weekend, but that one was gaudy and only $5, so if I don't use it, it's not such a waste.

This one was white leather, with a flip lid. It also has a carry strap, a cute dangle thing, and 2 pockets (one inside and one outside) for credit cards or ID. I could probably even fit a little bit of cash in the outside one! It would be perfect for those nights out at the bar when all you really need is your ID, some money, and your phone. Not like I'm going out to the bar anytime soon, I'm sure. But still. AWESOME DEAL.

So we get to the counter to pay for our items (while DH shakes his head that I'm spending money on something I don't really need), and the new case is scanning in at $20. Of course, I tell the girl on the register that it's supposed to be $10. She has to call the department and wait for someone to confirm this.

As she's doing that, I notice a laminated sign in front of me saying that if an item scans in at the wrong price, the customer gets it for free (if it's $10 or under), or gets $10 off the price. So of course, I say to her, "Does that mean I get it for free?"

"If it's actually only $10, then yes," she says.

Of course, I'm right, it's $10, and therefore I get it for free!!!

In the car on the way home, I glow with pleasure at not only having a fancy new case, but the fact that it was free. I say to DH, "Sometimes, the smallest things make me so happy."

That's when he decides to torpedo my mood and say, "And sometimes, the smallest things make you so angry."

I let that one slide.

Cats and kids

As Noah tears around the house in a wild frenzy of his own making, I am still amused by the fact that I talk to him like a child.

He darts into the kitchen where I'm sitting, reading someone else's blog, and meows loudly at me.

"What?" I ask.

"MEOW!" he responds.

"What are you doing, you nut job?" I ask affectionately.

"Meeeoooowwww!"

He flips onto his back and starts licking his foot.

"Do you want some catnip?"

"Meeeooowwww!!" he cries as he follows me to the cupboard I keep it in. I've learned that when he starts sucking his foot like that, it's his way of saying he wants catnip.

I reach up and grab the little baggie with the loose catnip in it, and shake it at him. He jumps up and tries to claw my fingers to death while attempting to steal the whole bag.

I fish out a little finger-pinch of it and bend down to give it to him. He grabs onto my fingers with a death-lock and tries to eat them. I sprinkle it on the floor and put the catnip back in the cupboard.

Now he'll lay there for at least a good half hour, rolling in it, chewing himself, and eating it.

Cats are like babies. Sometimes, they go on and on and you have no idea what they want, or why they just won't stop crying. Other times, it's blissfully obvious and makes my life a whole lot easier (and quieter). I'm so glad I've had my cat for practise... I've gotten quite good at reading his subtle signs.

Let's hope it'll be that easy with Marshall!

WHAT is that smell?!?

I was sitting on my couch last night, (which isn't so much a couch as a futon that folds down into a bed, but is functional enough to serve as a couch) when every time I leaned forward, I smelled something awful. I know it wasn't me that the smell was emanating from, so I kept asking DH if he had farted.

"No hun, it wasn't me. I don't smell anything. I think you're crazy."

This is a typical phrase during my pregnancy. Smells that I think are there, are usually not. Tastes that I think I taste, are usually in my head. Very occasionally, I'm proven right though. Tonight was one of those times.

After 2 hours or so of continually smelling this terrible scent, I finally got down on the floor on my hands and knees and sniffed the couch in different areas. Finally, I came to a spot that made me nearly wretch.

"There! Smell RIGHT THERE!" I gestured wildly to the noxious spot with a mixture of triumph and disgust. DH leaned forward and put his nose right into the spot I pointed to and almost gagged himself.

"Ok, yeah, I smell it too."

Now the question became, "What the hell IS that smell??" We turned on the lamp and checked the spot for cat poop, on the off-chance one of them had tracked some onto the couch (which never happens). Nothing.

"I guess we should wash the cover," says DH as I lift up the sheet we have covering the futon mattress. Another sniff of the same spot reveals that no, it wasn't just the cover. He smells it again too. So we lift up the second sheet underneath, and I proceed to sniff the mattress itself. I recoil in disgust and say, "Apparently it's the mattress!!"

So what does DH do? He takes the sheets off and lays down a thick blanket to try to mask the smell.

I have no idea how we'll get that smell out, or where it came from, but my question is this:

WHY does my couch smell like poop, when there's no poop to be found?! Argh. I suppose I shall have to get used to strange smells once Marshall arrives. What better time to start then now? *sigh*