Monday, August 31, 2009

i gotta gO(PP)

Yeah, you know me.

I know, I know. That was bad. Sometimes I can't even stop myself from myself. It's weird, but it's my life. But seriously (srsly). This peeing thing? Wow. Sometimes it truly amazes me. I'm amazed. By far, the farthest of the far, the most annoying part is that it takes me a while to get situated in bed. There's a lot of squirming around, a lot of tossing back and forth, a lot of fluffing of pillows, a lot of squishing of dog tails (not real dogs, FINE), along with a lot of maybe complaining about my toes being cold (approximately 2 seconds before they're too hot and I'm forced to thrust them out from underneath the blanket and out into the fresh air). So that happens. And then just (JUST) as I get all comfy cozy ready to doze (I resisted dozy--you're welcome), the urge sets in. You know, THE one. I know that nothing good will come if I delay, and the longer I wait, the less sleep I will be getting, so I force myself up and out of bed. I mosey on over to take care of the biz. And there I sit. And...nothing. Nada. Nothing is happening. The feej sometimes tries to help me out by turning the faucet to a slow trickle (water waster!) (and yes, sometimes I go pee while he is in the room--DEWAI (Don't Even Worry About It)). Doesn't help much. Anyway, finally a little bit leaks out. (I'm just now realizing how TMI this really is. SORRY.) And I'm back to my bed in a flash getting situated once again. Then I'm juuuuuuuust about to enter the sleepzone when BAM. The urge strikes again. You have GOT to be kidding me I think (slash say outloud). And repeat. AND REPEAT. AND REPEAT! My current nightly average (BEFORE I fall asleep) is 4.6 times. Not counting the 2 am and 4 am visits. I am not kidding. But honestly, possibly the strangest (and most frustrating) part of all, is the wee amount of wee. I mean, it could SO be consolidated into one trip. IT REALLY COULD. But no, no, no. I mean, I'm starting to understand why mom's say "tinkle" because that really is what it is. FOR REAL.

So, yeah. The peeing. Good times.

p.s. I saw the Jackson stop performers again (you care!) and I was even so bold as to (slyly slash stalkerly) take a quick pic (you are so excited!), so here you go (you LOVE)! You're welcome. And, if you couldn't tell from the picture (WEAK), they are dancing to "Papa was a Rolling Stone." Classic.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Strong Beats

On Monday we heard the baby's heartbeat. HEART. BEAT. I still find it hard to comprehend the fact that there are two hearts beating inside of me. Take a moment and consider that for me, why dontcha. So, yeah...Amazing. Mine sounded all slow and trippy while baby's was fast and strong. We met with a new midwife this time (the one who delivered Mr. G, the son of one of my bff's) and she rocked. She's pregnant herself and that just makes me trust her even more. She even said I could continue to workout as much as I want and as hard as I want and instead of restricting what I do, I just need to listen to my body. I can do that.

I'm back and forth debating whether or not I've started showing. But I think it's just what they call being "bloated." Which is nice. It may or may not have something to do with the fact that the feej hasn't been making me smoothies for the past few days (hint hint HUB) and instead I've been eating a bowl and a half of (generic) frosted mini wheats for breakfast. I'm in love. But I'm guessing I should get back on the healthy morning option instead.

The neighbor twins have started saying "baby" all the time--completely without my influence--and I find myself loving the sound of that little word like I never imagined. Baby baby baby. Yup, we're having a baby.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Life gives you limes...make (virgin) margaritas!

So, today is the day I can "officially" tell peeps that I'm pregnant. 12 weeks. Technically, the second tri (I'm really into brevity. And nicknames), doesn't start until week 13, but let's just get after this, shall we? I honestly could not imagine waiting that long to actually tell my closest friends and family (and some strangers. DEWAI). I mean, how do people do that??! Clearly I haven't changed my facebook status to inform all my super tight FB friends (and frenemies) yet, but I haven't had a FB status update since Obama was elected. So you can make assumptions about the probability of that on your own. I'm sure you've got lots of free to make some pie charts and bar graphs. Let me know how that plays out.

So yeah. 12 weeks. The bean is a lime! Virgin margaritas anyone?? Speaking of margaritas (kinda), last night my Daddo was in town to see Rob Bell (the pastor at their church and an author with whom he works) speak (perform?) at the Congress Theatre. The actual talk was great despite the boxes of stinky soap (I am a self-diagnosed highly sensitive person (HSP) slash my mom told me I was. Plus, I'm pregnant (not sure if I mentioned that) and my highly sensitive nose is even more highly sensitive. Which is nice) at the ends of the aisle that were then passed around. And apparently we were supposed to sculpt something. Or something. Anyway, the label said: "Not edible! If ingested, contact emergency poison control services immediately." Um, okay? That sounds safe to PASS AROUND to a large group of people. No, really. It was great. What was NOT so great was the fact that they had just recently torn out all the regular seats for the regular people and instead replaced them with super comfy FOLDING CHAIRS. Where we sat for like 2 hours or so. Plus, they decided to turn off the AC because I'm not sure if you're aware, but it's not hot in Chicago in August. AT ALL. We don't need no stinking AC. We were practically baking in there. I mean, the talk was about suffering and all, but COME ON people. Help some christians OUT. Oh yeah, the margarita connection--they were serving alcohol! I mean, not that I had any. But other non-pregs people did! Beer and cocktails at a CHURCH event! So that was cool.

In other news, limey and I are off to class in a few. Jealous? I hoping they all clap again. We're such rock stars! Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssss.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Gender Wars

Lately I've been struggling a bit with the whole boy/girl issue. Of course, without a doubt, absolutely, what we want the mostest of the most is a healthy baby. DUH. We already adore the child madly and it's less than 1 1/2 inches long (FIG!). However, basically since we found out about the little bean, I've imagined a little baby boy. A little man to join our little family who will someday be able to defend and protect his little sissy and scare away the bullies. We already have a name pretty much settled on and I've taken to talking to the little guy (in my head) (also, aloud...FINE) and calling him by his not-yet-given name. Also, I may or may not have started coming up with cutesy nicknames and writing his name in the air. WHAT OF IT.

I also might add that several friends and family members have shared that they too think it's a boy (only after I've politely demanded to know their guess immediately). But then a good friend had to go and say he thought it was a girl (and he has an alarmingly accurate intuition...if there is such a thing). And then (THEN!), my parents both had to go and admit that they TOO thought it was a little girl. In fact, my dad's honest to goodness real true words were, "my princess is going to have a little princess!" And he was the one who--just as my head (and not my lady bits) started to appear and ONLY my face was showing-- said "my little princess!" So there's THAT. Come on people! Get with the baby boy program! GAH.

Anyway, the guilt. The guilt is overpowering. Will I be DISAPPOINTED with a baby girl? Hells no! But kinda. Just kidding maybe baby girl!! You're the coolest!

I hesitate to hit publish on this one. Just in case, you know, in 10-15 years little bean is cruising on the ultra-compact, probably hologramed internet and she's all, OMFG, MOM, you suck at life. Except, I'm sure they'll have moved on from Paris Hilton-speak by then. Um, I HOPE.

p.s. Beaner, I love you with every bone and membrane and organ and hair follicle I've got. No matter who you turn out to be. (As long as you love to GO BLUE!) (Just kidding!) (As long as you despise the buckeyes, we are ALL GOOD.) (NOT kidding!)

Friday, August 7, 2009

KUMQUAT!

Week 10 has arrived and the bean is the size of a kumquat. Kumquats are the coolest! It could totally kick that quarter's ass. FINE. I'm so enjoying the fruits/veggies/nuts used to describe the size of the fetus. It's fun.

I'm starting to feel less and less nauseous (WIN), although the tiredness and fatigue has not yet started to subside (FAIL). As in, I could probably close my office door and take a nice nappy right this very moment on my desk. Also, the sweet cravings have definitely arrived. Not that I didn't enjoy sweet treats before, but now they seem much more of a necessity and less of a special indulgence. And of course Fiji won't let me have any CHEMICALS or anything. I think he spent 20 minutes reading the ingredients of various soyscreams before settling on the world's most boring sweet treat ever (EVER): vanilla bean. (No offense vanilla bean, but you just aren't cutting it without any special chocolate sauce on top.) I mean, it was made of coconut milk, which is delicious. But I requested anything with chocolate. And, I'm not sure if you are aware, but there is absolutely NO chocolate in vanilla. None. I know it's for my own (and kumquat's) good, but still. Throw me a bone every once in a while, ALRIGHT.

I shared the news with my professor yesterday before class and she then basically forced me to tell the rest of the group. Nice. When she was wrapping up class she said (while looking directly at me), "Does anyone else have any NEWS to share???!!" I was starting to look around at my classmates and shake my head, somehow missing the blatant cue. And then she winked. Which somehow put me over the edge, so I complied. And then the class CLAPPED...which was fun. So that happened.

As I waited for the train to head home, I was entertained by a trio of young boys lip-syncing and dancing to classic Michael Jackson on their old-school boombox. Classic. They appeared to be brothers (the youngest even sporting a faux-hawk and chuck taylors) who must practice a lot and apparently choreograph their own sweet moves. I saw them a couple of weeks ago dressed in white button-downs and slacks groovin' to Mo-town. I was more impressed with their Thriller performance. Um, why am I talking about this? IDK. I guess because it made me smile (I even clapped! Outloud!) it got me excited to share and experience the ever-present creative Chicago energy with this little babe.

p.s. Could I BE anymore BORING today or WHAT?!