*coughs into a microphone* Is this thing still on?
Most Highly Respected Anonymous Readers, are you still there? I’d figure that you’d have given up on me by now. It would seem that when I fall off the blog-post-at-least-twice-a-week-(unless-I’m-feeling-frisky-and-post-three-times), I fall hard. Like, a month and a half kinda hard. But, like all small children and addicts, I have an excuse!
My dog ate my blog.
No…wait, that won’t fly…if Sam had, I’d probably have posted about e-diarrhea by now…ok, Plan B. No, not telling the truth. That other Plan B: lie better. 🙂
In the past month and a half, we’ve had big things going on. I discovered my hair was in need of a trim, and we changed the dogs’ food to a new flavor of Blue Buffalo: Wilderness, and the turn signals on the Malibaby decided to only work sometimes after you’ve run the emergency flashers….busy, busy times. Oh, and we found out I was pregnant, and I quit my job to go to another one.
So, the easy part first, since I’ve got less to say about that in case Big Brother decides to read my blog and decides I’ve said Too Much. Psh, when don’t I! *ba da DUM!* Sorry—had to get that out of my system. I decided I’d had enough of the work environment at my last job and finally got the balls to do something about it. Within four days, I’d gotten 4 interview offers from my resume on Monster.com, and after 1 week of being lazy about calling people back, I interviewed with and accepted a job doing Tech Writer work for a defense contractor in Chantilly, VA. It’s about a mile away from Clayton’s office, which is cool, and only about 10 min. away from my last job (so the commute is actually the same). So far, I’ve been a bit overwhelmed here—turns out I actually have to DO WORK, and can’t blog during the slow parts of the day, like I could at….well….let’s just say two months ago. So far the new place gets two thumbs way up.
And the baby. I’ll reassure you right now that I don’t intend to turn this into a Mommyblog, like so many of my favorite bloggers have. I understand that babies take up, well, your life. And that if you’re not talking about what’s going on in their lives or your lives as A Family, then you’re wrestling with how you can get part of your life back to yourself in the two hours that kiddo’s napping. And I think that’s entirely how it’s supposed to be, honestly—you should devote your time to your kids. But I’m gonna try to not let that fodder-filled topic take up all of this blog, esp. since a lot of you aren’t parents, have no desire to be parents, and will vicariously throw up onto your keyboard when I post my first frantic, terror-filled account of the kid’s first poopy diaper.
But there will be some of it in there, especially since I know from watching other parents that kids can be just as crazy as pets. And, more selfishly, because very few of my pregnant friends let on about the intricacies of their pregnancy. Yeah, you hear about the famous stuff, like the projectile vomiting from morning sickness and the food cravings for a pickle-and-brownie sandwich. But they keep their mouths shut about this stuff until you ask them, probably out of that natural sense people have of wanting someone else to learn The Hard Way after they learned it that way. And I can’t blame ‘em, really, because I do the same thing–only motivated out of misanthropy. *shrug*
Either way, I am kind of feeling like I’m getting something that’s overdue to me as I’m figuring this pregnancy thing out. My friends who’re parents won’t offer much info on what to expect, though they will readily answer any question I ask. I just have to know the right question to ask. Ay, there’s the rub! And I know they kind of enjoy my discomfort over not knowing ANYTHING about how the body suddenly looks at me and goes, “WTF’s going on here? I DID NOT AUTHORIZE ANY OF THIS!”
Like when I first wondered if I was pregnant because I was getting heavily winded from simply walking up the stairs to our bedroom. And when I mentioned how ridiculously tired I was getting to my parent-friends, they’d just look at me smugly and go, “Wait until the morning sickness hits” and give an evil little laugh. And when the morning sickness did indeed hit and I was almost constantly nauseous and picked up 8 lbs. overnight b/c the only thing that seemed even remotely appetizing was some type of fast food, they all just smiled and said, “Wait until you experience The Smells.” And when I would ask, “What the heck are The Smells?”, they’d just give their evil little laughs. Needless to say, they were always right, but the majority of the first trimester (I’m 12 weeks, incidentally) has been like walking through an unfamiliar room in the dark. And when you hit your knee on a table and go “Dammit!” someone who just hit their knee on that same table a year ago just snickers evilly from the corner. Yep, that’s the first trimester.
Overall, though, I’m discovered I’ve had a rather easy pregnancy compared to other horror stories I’ve heard, so I’m glad. Now, will that stop me from bitching about every single inconveniencing aspect of it? I grew up as an only child–what do you think? Like gaining 8 pounds I most certainly did not need and being so horrified by how quickly it amassed that I was thrilled to find out at the last OB appt. yesterday that I was down a pound. Down a pound! Only a 7 lb. weight gain? Let’s go to McDonald’s and celebrate! Just kidding—to forestall the lectures I can hear sneaking up on me, I’m not using this as an excuse to eat what I what, I swear. And furthermore, [insert whatever else I need to swear I’m not doing to forestall a lecture.] And I’ve had to go largely vegetarian, since this kid makes my stomach turn into Vietnam when I eat most meat dishes. I take this as a sign that it’s obviously going to be ornery like it’s daddy. (And, before we get any farther, I will warn you that until we have a gender, this kid will be referred to as an “it.” It’s a genderless pronoun, not a metaphorical life-statement, so if that usage offends you, get over it.)
But not all the changes have been bad. My body’s preoccupation with food has reached new levels of excitement, and the food cravings have been actively fun. My weirdest to date? A tuna sandwich with salt and vinegar chips washed down with a glass of orange juice with mango. Some of you might think, “Eh, that ain’t so bad.” Or, you might be thinking like a former coworker of mine, who looked at me blankly for a long moment and then informed me, “I wouldn’t eat that if I was HIGH.” And, because each thing I consume has been transformed into the most amazing thing since the last thing I ate, that meal rocked my socks off. It literally made my day. It’s weird how much better food tastes—I’ll find myself licking my fingers after everything, because God forbid this baby miss ONE. SINGLE. MORSEL. of that amazingness. I’ll look at Clayton suddenly when we’re eating and be all like, “DUDE. You have GOT to try this. I think it may be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.” And he just looks at me, bewildered, and goes, “It’s a stale piece of toast.” And I’m like, “No! No! It’s so much better than that! YOU’VE GOT TO TRY IT.” It’s pathetic, really.
And, to prove that this won’t be entirely about my pregnancy, here’s a writing update: I haven’t done squat. Nothing. Nada. I haven’t even written my name on a piece of paper. So there. I keep telling myself it’s because I’m so busy and stressed all the time. Hopefully, after things settle down, that’ll turn out to be true.