Week: 28
Fetus: over 15 in, over 2 lbs.
Waist: 42.5 in.
Red Sox Magic Number:3
Cute Cats Sitting in my In Box: 1
Fat Cats Sitting on to of Cute Cats in my In Box:1 (but really more like 1.5-2)
My Dish Network receiver is broken and that makes me cranky. My calves are crampy and that also makes me cranky. I am going to eat a ton of ice cream later on this evening and that will make me decidedly un-cranky. I plan on exercising first just to keep from turning into an elephant.
Other than the cramps in my legs, I am still getting a good deal in the pregnancy symptom department. I only have mild swelling in my hands and feet and am almost never constipated. I get heartburn occasionally but I am also not really trying to avoid it seeing as how I put hot sauce and extra black pepper on almost everything. I would sauce and pepper Bruce if he would sit still long enough. TUMS take care of pretty much whatever acid backup I experience though, so it's not really all that troubling.
I have however, developed the most amazing ability to break electronic gear. Example A. My dishwasher (now with less swearing). Example B. My computer at work went insane and I didn't get any emails for two days, possibly more. Not really sure because how can you know you didn't get something if you didn't know it was coming? Example C. My TV receiver. I should probably stop typing right now before I break the computer and Bruce gets mad at me.
I have a doctor visit scheduled for tomorrow. I ought to check with the doc and see if electromagnetic disturbances are also a symptom of being knocked up. My appointment tomorrow is with a different doctor in the practice. From now on I am going to start rotating around the partners so that when I go into labor, I will be familiar with whichever one is on call, It's a good idea I suppose but I can't pronounce this one's last name so that may be somewhat awkward. I believe I will also start scheduling my visits every two weeks instead of every four which will get a bit annoying. At least I have extra vacation time (due to some dumbassitude on Bruce's part) so I don't have to make up the time I miss at work. I can burn up the vaca time in two hour increments and take my sweet ass time getting to and from the doctor's office. Mmmmm sweetass. Perhaps, I will eat that ice cream, BEFORE I work out...
The Red Sox have clinched at least the AL Wild Card spot. Once again, mood is cautiously optimistic.
I have washed two loads of dishes in the past two days.
My situation has been upgraded to cautiously optimistic.
That is all.
I have purchased a crib and mattress. Thanks to a kind gift from Bruce's parents, I was able to go ahead with this process a lot sooner than expected. I feel like we are finally getting somewhere with this whole having a baby in our house thing. I have also devised an ingenious plan wherein I don't have to orchestrate the moving of heavy furniture but I, personally, get new dressers in my own room.
Babies, as far as I know, don't care what their furniture looks like, nor do most children. I am fairly certain that I did not give a shite about the dressers that were and are still in my childhood bedroom. As such, instead of moving my current, ugly-ass setup from one room to another while we switch bedrooms to accommodate a nursery, I am leaving the old stuff where it is and buying myself new stuff. That way I don't have to bribe my friends and I can have the kind delivery people put it where I tell them. I don't need to ply delivery people with beer. It's a fool proof plan. Also, one of my current dressers is the perfect height for a changing space so I don't need to buy a changing table at all, just slap a pad on the top and call it a day.
Despite the practicality of this new plan, it does spring from two of my worst personality traits, laziness and selfishness. To this is say, "eff it", until I get a functioning dishwasher, I am going to spoil the crap out of myself. At least I am only getting new dressers from IKEA so I have some kind of restraint. I will need that finely honed sense of restraint to prevent myself from stabbing the dishwasher guy with a dirty cat food fork when he finally returns to fix the third dishwasher that has gone balls up. He will be lucky if he leaves here with only minor cuts and bruises.
Did you know I live near a mall? Neither did I until Saturday when Cary took me there to go buy some more clothes that fit. We chose the mall because it had a Kohl's and an Old Navy, both of which had been recommended as good places to shop for maternity clothes. And good they were, I managed to drop quite a bit of cash on some lovely new tops and a pair of khaki cords that are sure to get me out of my days of the week dressing rut.
But that is not what I am here to talk about today. I am here to talk about Dinosaurs. While Cary was finishing up in the mess of a shoe department, attracted by all the bright colors and shiny objects, I had wandered over to the children's section and started rifling through the 50-60% off racks of infant clothing. Cary quickly joined me when she realized what was going on. Dinosaurs were going on. Cary and I are in love with Dinosaurs; I bet no one on the planet, save Spielberg himself, has seen the Jurassic Park movies more times than the two of us. What we had discovered was an entire line of baby clothing devoted to Dinosaurs. We began grabbing everything we could get our hands on. When we had had enough we stumbled under the weight of all our purchases to the register... to be confronted by a giant stack of plush Dinosaurs, all sorts. After each grabbing one, we plopped our load on the counter, the check out girl looked us up and down and said "The first one?" Don't ya know it lady. Only first time moms and pseudo-aunts go that crazy over onezies that say "Rawr!" on the butt.
Of course, I did not limit myself to only frivolous Dinosaur related merchandise. I did manage to buy a perfectly practical snow suit type thinger that was marked down from $55 to $35. I am squeezing this Kid out in December after all.
P.S.
Dear My Dad,
Please come to Chicago and show these assholes how to install a fucking dishwasher already. It is not right for a pregnant woman to be reduced to hysterical sobbing by a kitchen appliance. I think it worried Bruce when I called him and demanded he come home from Canada to make the dishwasher work. I also am starting to think my landlord is waging some sort of psychological campaign against me.
Best Regards,
Your Daughter
I still have no dishwasher. A different new used one was supposed to be installed today but the installer man had "a bellyache". I wish to holy hell that I was kidding about this. If the chances that I would electrocute myself/flood my apartment weren't so great, I'd haul the damn thing up here and install it myself.
Instead of a dishwasher I have a dishwasher-sized hole and ants. For reasons known only to God and other ants, they have decided to attack my kitchen sink. Now, since the dishwasher is a broke-ass mofo, the dishes have had a habit of building up in the sink. Food encrusted plates are an attractive lure for a legion of ants, this I understand. However, since I noticed the little hell raisers, I have done a fairly good job of keeping the sink area dish-free and clear of any food bits. Unless these are monster ants with a taste for Comet, I have no idea what the frick they are after anymore. AM I RAISING CHEMICALLY MUTATED FREAK ANTS???? WHAT WILL THEY COME FOR NEXT!!!!! They may be making my hormonal hysterics even worse. I have to say, when I do actually wash the dishes I derive a certain pleasure from dousing all the ants in the sink with scalding hot water and trapping the fockers on the counter in a fortress of soap bubbles. It is only a small pleasure though, not enough to actually make me want to continue washing dishes by hand until Mr. Dishwasherman gets over his tummy issues.
(for the record, in my mind I am using the real swears but my mom reads this so...)
Week: 26
Fetus: about 14 in., just under 2 lb.
Waist: 41.25 in.
I have noticed that I am in a clothing rut. This is likely due to the fact that I own exactly three maternity shirts that are suitable for work. I supplement these three with regular people shirts that I bought really large. The supplemental shirts aren't really cutting it anymore. Although they still fit, not being cut for the watermelon-smuggling body type, they are not particularly flattering. I have even noticed that I am wearing the same shirt on certain days of the week. I have worn the same blue and grey shirt for the last 3 Fridays. I have still not worn it this week so I better lay it out for tomorrow. As such, Cary and I are going to hit the dirt mall and do some more fatty shopping this weekend so I can get some things that I very much need, such as: a black cardigan, 2-3 collared dress shirts, 2-3 long sleeve knit shirts (work appropriate), maternity cut tanks so I can stop tugging all day, a pair of non-black pants, another harness for my giant sweater puppies, etc. I feel the need to list the important stuff so when I am physically in the store I will not be subject to distraction by shiny objects and novelty socks. For example, the last time I went maternity shopping I bought a dress. No, I have not had a personality transplant. That dress is as exactly useless as you may have imagined. It is really cute though and color looks great on me but unless I suddenly start to like wearing panty hose or shaving my legs, it's a coddamn no-go.
I have none.
We got the new used dishwasher installed on Friday and ran it once later that night. This morning I loaded it up again and went away for 45 minutes to clean the living room. When I came back to the kitchen, there was water all over the floor. Le sigh. I think my kitchen was telling me I should mop in there too. Allegedly the installers are going to come back sometime this week and, I dunno, install it correctly?
Yesterday was a fun day. A few us us trekked down to the deep south (113th Street to be exact) for a BBQ at some friends' house. This is the house of my friend Judy who is also knocked up; she is due just 4 days before me in fact. It was kind of fun to sit around and compare notes on issues that none of our other friends understand. Like morning sickness for example- neither of us had any. And weight gain- she is waaay ahead of me. I feel better now. Clothing options- she says Kohls, I suggested Target. All in all it was a pleasant time with the added bonus of being entertained by a set of nine-year-old twin boys. Thank god I am only having one. That is all I have to say about that.
After the BBQ, the four of us hauled our butts back up to the North Side for another friend's birthday party. I am sooo keeping track of all this designated riving I am doing. I will be coming to collect on these debts sometime in January, I tell you what. This party was of a much different tone and temperament. There was no nine-year-olds but plenty of guys acting like ones. It is kind of charming how sweet my guy friends are about this whole pregnancy thing when they are drunk. It's kind of like having a half dozen slightly demented brothers; lots of belly rubbing and the odd inappropriate question. i.e. "How fat are you going to get?" or "When will you be allowed to drink beer again?" or my favorite, "Did you know your boobs have gotten huge?" Yes Ryan, I did know that. Thanks though.
Week: 25
Fetus: about 13.4 in., 1.5 lb.
Waist: 40.5 in.
I am officially at the point where my size is starting to make me cranky. Very cranky. I have bitched about being fat to Bruce about 50 times today. The heat being back may have something to do with that, however. Right now I am pretty much writing this post in order to put off working out since it is about eleventy million degrees and 200% humidity in here.Even when I get off my butt I only plan on sitting on the bike and pedaling slowly while watching Last Comic Standing. I just cannot bring myself to do anything more strenuous. Then again, going up a flight of stairs is strenuous these days. My body is just not used to hauling around this kind of weight and it is not adjusting well. Everything is swelling and achy, my calves are crampy and my hamstrings feel like they are filled with superballs. Wah. Wah Wah. Woe is me.
Dressing myself has also become quite difficult. Trying not to fall over when pulling up your pants is not a way to look sexy in front of your husband. Trust me. I have also started looking for cute shoes with velcro because I can barely reach down to tie mine. Flip flops are fine for now but they just do not cut it in Chicago in the fall/winter. So keep an eye out for kicky snow boots with velcro. Cartoon characters are optional.
I also need a facial. Real bad. My skin is not really handling the hormones all that well. I have had more breakouts in the past few months than I ever had in high school total. Plus my face is now just bumpy. It's odd. They aren't zits but my skin is not smooth. More like a rash. I have rash face. I can't wait for winter when I will be breaking out plus peeling from the winter airified dry skin. Contributions for a massage and a facial can be sent to my regular salon. May as well throw in a haircut because I need one of those too.
Bitch bitch bitch. Grump grump grump. I told you I was in a bad mood.
Please send cookies.
P.S. This attitude will vaporize if/when I get an operational dishwasher tomorrow. I have been without one since June and if I don't have to wash dishes by hand anymore I will kiss my landlord on the mouth.
In other news, we have finally made some progress on preparing to have a baby living here. Today we painted our exercise room/new bedroom a lovely shade of slate blue. I like it a ton. There is still one excessively large piece of equipment to dismantle and remove to the basement but we are finally getting somewhere. Once we get the bedroom switched, we can finally start procuring the baby gear as we will actually have somewhere to put it.
My Dish Network receiver is broken and that makes me cranky. My calves are crampy and that also makes me cranky. I am going to eat a ton of ice cream later on this evening and that will make me decidedly un-cranky. I plan on exercising first just to keep from turning into an elephant.
