Hello universe!

It’s like I forget that I have a blog.  Or when I think to myself that I should write one, I draw a total blank.  This also happens with regular writing.  Ahh, poor Mackenzie.  Someday you will be finished.

I am lying in bed writing on my laptop at the moment.  It is fun to me to look down and see that I have to work around the giant belly thing that has all but sprung up over night.  I be huge.  Even a chick at Walgreens was saying how she saw me not two weeks ago and didn’t even know I was pregnant, and now here I am, well, quite obviously so.

Also since the last blog it has come about that we are having a little fella!  His name, officially speaking, shall be Miles Xavier Heacock.  I love this name, but I am not even gonna lie when I say that I like Miles Elliott more.  Still wondering if I might fight for it.  Picture my screaming ass in the delivery room, clenching my knees together, and going on about how he can’t be born because that isn’t his right naaaaaaaaaaaame!!!  Or something equally dramatic.

I would just like to send some curses towards all the people I know that rave endlessly about True Blood.  Why?  Because I caved and bought the first book on Saturday afternoon.  And then bought the Second book Sunday afternoon.  You can see where this is headed.  Drew and I will also be watching the first episode or two of the series tonight.  And just to taunt me, in my mailbox was my new issue of Entertainment Weekly with, you guessed it, True Blood on the cover.

The irony of this new interest and my oft documented obsession with a little craze known as Twilight, is that I could give two poops less about vampires.   Sincerely.  I am totally ambivalent about them.  I think people think I hold a vampiric  torch or something and that is why they suggest these things to me, but sadly, not the truth.

Even further with the irony is that I end of absolutely captivated by both series.  Hardy har.

I am enjoying the books so far, but I have to say, they are not the release for me that Twilight is.  Some mommy friends of mine and I were discussing this the other day, and I think it is because Twilight is so damn simple.  There is not worry of mortgages, or bills, or student loans, or grocery lists, or any of the millions of other stressors that our daily lives contain.  No, this chick’s biggest trouble is which supernatural hottie gets to save her life.  Poor wench.

I also think this is why so many Twilight devotees secretly despise the living daylights out of Bella.  Whiny bitch.

The True Blood books actually do have adult worries in them.  It is mentioned several times about wages, and mortgages and property taxes.  It makes it oddly more realistic.  As realistic as it can be when someone is a vampire drinking synthetic blood and levitating.

However, there is considerable nookie happening in the stories so that rather makes up for it, if you really get down to it.

But when I am looking to get away from it all, the occasionally less that funtastic day to day grind of adulthood, I like a bit of mild mannered escapism.  And so even though I loathe Stephanie Meyer to her very core, I have to thank her for providing a neat little world to scamper off to when the going gets ever so slightly rough.

I need Mexican food.  I am thinking I may make a pregnant plea for them.  Would it be wrong to get fajitas *and* a taco salad?  I would say yes normally, but this kid can EAT.  I swear, the rest of me is getting smaller right now as my stomach balloons further by the hour.  He likes Mexican as well.  He thumps around madly when I partake.  Lola liked Indian food though, so clearly my tots have taste.

Yeah, I am totally getting both.  And watching True Blood while I snarf it.  Muahahahaha!!!!!!!

I best be off now, as I am going to sneak in a bit more reading before Lollypop bed time.

I hope you all are having a lovely week thus far!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Taco Salads

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Hello my darlings!

I say that to the all three of you who manage to drop by and read, lol.  Can’t be hating on that as I am not exactly the frequent author I once was.  I must rectify this.

We have one week, ONE WEEK, until the ultrasound of Captain Fetus.  I am most on edge and excited to a vomit periodically degree.  With Lola, I knew, just had that Mommy Knowledge, that she would in fact be a SHE.  For the Cappy here, I got nothin’.  I kept thinking it would kick in either way, but nope.  Not even an inkling.  I keep referring to the spawn as “He” or “Him” but I think it is only because everyone and their puppy has been insisting that Cap’s will no doubt be a boy.

Not gonna lie, I sort of have an itch for a girl.  Like the idea of Lola having a little sister seems like the most wonderful thing in the world.  So as far as my Lola ties go, I would say root for a girl.  As for the other parts of me, I would be kind of sad to not have a boy.  I like the idea of a little fella crazy-ing up our home.

So I am officially at a point where I will be equally thrilled, like screaming with joy to the heavens thrilled, and sad either way.  Two girlies??  YAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  But, whimper for lack of fella.  Boy and Lola!?  Look at the symmetrical little awesome family I have!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  But boo for not giving Lola a sister close in age to frolic and be close to.

I just want to knooooooooooow.  Seriously, it seems like it has been forever and I hate not knowing because I need to pick names and paint nurseries and buy pretty baby thingies!!!!  But at the same time, I am like holy crap, how am I almost half way finished here!?!?!

Lola is going to be the bestest big sister this fetus could possibly have.  I tear up even thinking about her teaching the baby things.  Today she spoke in great detail of how she will teach him to jump rope, and how to use the potty.

As for her, I could just sit and listen to her talk for hours.  She is so dramatic with her stories, but freakishly accurate.  She never exaggerates, but speaks with such enthusiasm that Drew and I are shocked at how edge of our seats we sit when she reads us a story or tells us about her thoughts and opinions.

And soon there will be this whole new little person, with a completely different personality, that we all will meet.  Just judging by Lola’s epic level of awesome, I am pretty freaking jazzed to meet the Captain when he becomes less fetus and more breathing, wiggling, thingie.

In the mean time, I am wrapped up in ridiculously domesticated activities like picking Lola’s swim classes for the summer.  The idea of having to hide away while someone I don’t know has my kid in a pool terrifies me.  I want to stay and watch, but Lola is the independent kind of gal who would want me gone.  May have to invest in a big floppy hat disguise.

I also promised her that since school is out, we could pick an activity or two for the summer to be involved in, and she chose three.  Ice skating (which she practices in the living room on roller skates…  Jumps and everything.  Freaks me out…), ballet, and karate.  Since there is no rink anywhere near here, skating is out, so she is insistent on ballet and karate.  I feel so odd choosing between them.  Like, do I pick the girly thing and imprint that on her, or boycott it and go karate.  Personally, I would vibe on the karate more, but she is just as girly as she is ninja so I can’t seem to find a way to split that up.

Lord knows we will probably end up with my big pregnant ass dragging all over town to swimming, karate, AND ballet lessons.  Because I am a sucker.

I need to be off.  I am just now shaking off the plague that has been kicking my ‘tocks left and right for the last week straight, and probably should get some sleep to keep it from coming back.  My awesome husband even took a day and a half off work to take care of me.  I am glad he did, I was way too close to a hospital stay, blah.  Gonna have to buy him something pretty to thank him, methinks.

I hope you all are having a splendid week, and that the weather is treating you right!

Oh, and to all my peeps that have been screaming of sunburn pain for the last day or two….  Sunscreen people!!!  Oh, and vinegar takes the burn right out.  True story.

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Domestication Cha-Cha-Cha!!!

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Hello my loves!

First let me toss out that I have a huge list of people’s blogs that I have been intending to add to my blog roll, but since the whole ACAW party is being redone, and my web-badass/husband is wrapped up in school/work/being married to a wildebeest, he is a bit overbooked currently so I am letting it slide.

I have a headache.  That is a lie actually.  I have a migraine.  A really hardcore, split your brain in four pieces, blur your vision, make you feel like you are going to puke when you breathe kind of migraine.  Is really pleasant.  I have had it for almost three weeks.  You read that right.  Three weeks.

If you are thinking this is no big whoopity doo, well then, you have never had a migraine of this caliber and you can suck my stinky toe.

It actually isn’t the same one that has lasted this long.  I seem to get a new one every day.  Or, it goes away jsut enough at some point that i think I will live, and then comes back again, stronger after it’s rest.  It is an asshole.

See, I have back problems.  Missing part of my spine and all, having an overgrowth of bone in another spot, it has given me a big fat issue.  There isn’t much I can do about it besides pain management I am told.

Now, non-pregnant me takes lots of pretty pills for this.  I have vocodin, muscle relaxers, and anti-inflammatories, in addition to having a husband that rubs the hell out of the ganked out muscles.  Even still, I hurt a lot.

Pregnant me, however, is severely effed.  You see, Captain Fetus here isn’t quite as into the drug scene, and I am not allowed to take anything.  Actually, they cleared vicodins, but I am too paranoid to actually take anything.  So the fact that in the last three months I have had to one vicodin on five separate occasions should tell you haw bad things are.  Remember the fact that I never took so much as a tylenol after my c-section.  Seriously.  So it’s not like I can’t tolerate pain.

In a few months, The Captain will be big enough, and sitting on top of my ribs no less, that it will force my back to straighten up in a way that isn’t it’s usual curve.  Then I will be in heaven.  There will be no pain, I will be in total bliss.  This happened with Lola, and was joy beyond joy, I can’t emphasis this enough.

Until then however, I am completely useless.  Like, I can’t stand up without this horrible pressure feeling like the top of my head is going to burst off and my brain come oozing out in a pitiful liquid.  Not to mention the dizziness.  And the need to hurl.  So I am not getting much done around the house.  Let’s just say we have resorted to paper plates for the time being…

I will probably go to the doc for it all, but honestly, what are they going to do for me?  Insurance in the universe blows ass and doesn’t cover massage therapy which is the one thing that would help a mama out, and I refuse to take a bunch of drugs.  So, blah.  Expect to hear a whiny Summer until CF hits his stride and makes his home on the ribs.

In other news, I realize that my faith in humanity has been shaken a bit.  Like, I don’t really enjoy being in the company of people anymore.  I love my internet peeps because it is simple, and protected online in that you have time to think about what is being said, and what not.  Even still, I am sure most would agree I have been very removed the last six months or so.

Last year really shook me.  The last two years really.  I was thinking today, now that we are surrounded by house stuff again, how I would rather let the house be foreclosed on than to ever let anyone even suggest renting to me.  This is the old house we rented out by the way, not the one we live in.

But I meant it.  I would have rather seen this house go off into nothing than to hear one more person tell me all the reasons why giving them a chance is a good plan.  Besides the fact that the damage and residual stuff has been enough to make the house worth like a third of what it was when we moved out, and of course the fact that we have a court order agains one set of renters to the tune of *FOUR GRAND* that we know we will never ever see.

You know, most people would be bothered to have a judgment against them.

We had to have people in the house today.  I haven’t been there since last year.  I can’t go there anymore.  My childhood home, by the way.  But I can’t set foot within a mile of the place.  It kills me.  One to see what it has become, what happened to it when I thought I was doing the right thing, but the memories of all the crap that went down because of it.

The time the scary ass renter guy hid in the closet while we were showing the place.  Or when he drove his truck all dangerously by us through the yard as we were walking across it, and kicked gravel back at us with his tires.  Or the friendships ruined.  Or the suffering our little family has gone and is going through financially trying to make it all work.  The mean and stupid things people say when their mistakes catch up to them.

I really despise that renter guy.  Like, it makes my stomach hurt like hell to think about him.  Not helping Mr. Migraine.

Gah.

I hate the house now.  Just, so much rage.  I want it to be gone.  I thought it would be by now, but we haven’t been able to get it back into good enough shape to make that happen.  Seems like the only way is to get hosed for literally 60 to 80 grand, but at least then it would be over.

BLAHHHHHHHHH.  This is what I think about all this mess.

The sad thing, the thing that has me rambling about this mess right now, is that I realized today, while staring off into nothing in a memory haze, that I am not as nice as I used to be.  I don’t go out of my way to help people anymore.  I mean, if I see something that needs assistance, I still do it, but I don’t jump up to rally the troops like I used to.  I was always the shirt off my back kind of gal, and after I was left naked and pissed off, I don’t risk it anymore.

It sucks because people used to tell me I would wake up one day and stop putting others first.  They would say I would get screwed over and become jaded like the rest of the world.  And yet, time and time again, I kept trucking, thinking, well if this didn’t kill the spirit, nothing will, so suck it jaded world.  But no, late last year, that part of me left.  And now I am very removed from my ’save the world’ self, and find the remainder of me musing often how really, I just don’t like people anymore.

Well I best be off.  Mr. Migraine and I appear to be set to spend an intimate evening together, and I also have a baby who has been attacked by her own buggy and has spent the evening puking.

I hope you all are having a lovely week, and even the sour side of me really means that, lol.

Until next time,

Peace, Love and *EXHALES*

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Hello my loves!

I am normally a very easy going person.  Like, I am that gal that you say something insulting to and I smile and nod along only realizing later that I was being smacked down.  I like to believe everyone is nice, and I am wrong at times, teehee…

Not so much lately.  The Captain apparently has decided that they need to suck my patience absolutely dry to grow big and strong.  I mean it, I am have the shortest fuse, EVER.  Rage Blackouts, FTW.

Let me just say now, poor Drew.  No, seriously.  Poor bastard.

I have been finding myself getting snippy on FB a lot.  On other peoples statuses, people wills ay something tool-ish and I find myself all but incapable of e-mauling them within an inch of their lives.  The day after the healthcare bill?  Was up till like three in the morning arguing with people.  Today it was a gay marriage debate on someones status.  Although, made a new friend there, so a WIN in the end, lol.  Yesterday, I think, it was a debate about whether joking to kill the president is funny or not.

A few days ago, a friend who is pregnant too had some evil, clown faced, soul-sucking, whore muffin made fun of her kids names.  I felt physically enraged.  Like, I was burning up all day from the need to kill.

I have become the person in that little cartoon that is sitting at the computer while their spouse tries to get them to go to bed but insisting, “I can’t go!  Someone is *WRONG* on the internet!!!!!”

I don’t mean to be so ill-tempered, I sincerely don’t.  So please understand that if I seem to snap at you, chances are quite good that I really don’t mean it nearly as bad as it sounds, if I even mean it at all.  And if you bring it up to me, I will apologize and kiss your feet as needed.

Unless of course you were actually mean, and well then, fight to the death is the most likely scenario.

Either way, sounds like a kickin’ night!!

Not sure if i have mentioned this, but Drew gets paid monthly.  Monthly.  As in, only one time a month does new money land in our paws.  If you are on this hideous pay system, you feel me.  If you think it is no big deal, well, bugger off, it sucks.

(See, that is one of those things I can apologize and feet kiss for later!)

You have to budget sooooooooo carefully.  We are not the cool people that can live for months off savings yet, so we are a paycheck to paycheck kind of family.  And when money only comes once a month, you make one mistake, or if something unexpected comes in at the beginning of the month, well then you are SCREWED.

Even without the surprises, it is way difficult to make it work.  You get that vibe on pay day that you are suddenly rich!  All this money now sits in your previously empty account!!  Time to PARTYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!  Of course you can forget that literally by the next morning two-thirds of that will be gone because when you get paid the one time, you tend to get all your bills set up at that time as well, so checks will be written, and your check register will taunt you by breakfast.

Right now, it is the last week of the month.  This is un-lovingly referred to as Hell Week every single month.  Because every month there *is* something that comes up that dwindles the money a wee bit faster than you intended, and so that last week always runs a little thinner than you would like.

Currently, all I want in this universe is Chinese food.  Like, you have no idea.  But sadly, we are down to those last few budgeted dollars, and none of them are expendable enough for spring rolls.  Hmm.  Gas in the car for Drew to get to work, or garlic shrimp for the preggy?  Close call, but if he can’t get to work, no money for the foods later on.  Hmph.

Because of this, I tend to be a bit more down the last week of the month.  Money so can buy happiness sometimes.  If you have all the other pivotal pieces in place, yeah, money makes the cheeks bend in that familiar smiley way.  This is why on Friday, when payday hits, and especially since Drew’s new raise will be on this one as well, you will see a considerably giddier Summer.  And chances are I will be eating obscene amounts of Chinese food.

I best be off as it is getting close to Lola bed time, and then I am in search of, well, food.  Because I never stop eating.  Ever.

I hope you all are having an awesome weekend!!!!!!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Spring Rolls

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Hello my loves!

Today was a very special day!  We were finally visually and audibly introduced to Captain Fetus!  It was to be the standard twelve week heartbeat appointment, but, the gods were smiling on my unending nosiness regarding the inner workings of my uterus, and we weren’t able to catch the sound on the doppler, so to the ultrasound we went!

Even luckier, our doc has recently updated their equipment and now have a newer, more powerful ultrasound machine, so I didn’t have to have the dreaded “Cone” version.  Women, you know what I am sayin’…

I of course burst into tears when I saw it’s little foot.  I for some reason burst out that it was a boy, but then I heard the heartbeat was 160, so I am just as clueless as I was before as to what is growing in there.  With Lola, I knew straight away, GIRL.  This time around, to be honest, up until the doc reassured me for the fourth time, I was convinced there were two in there.  If you have been hearing how much I have been eating, you would understand…

On June 1st, we go for the biiiiiig ultrasound, the boy or girl one.  The one where it is in 3D and you get to see like an actual little face…  For one of these with Lola, she was sticking her tongue out.  I fell so hard in love with that little gal then, and it would be months until I met her.  The tech was so amused she asked if she could put a copy of the picture on her wall in the room where the ultrasounds happened.  To my knowledge, it is still there.  It would be incredible to see it when we go to check out Captain Fetus!

Because it is my lot in life to share embarrassing stories, I have a few special moments from today to pass along.  I feel the Universe piles the humiliation on my for the sole purpose of the enjoyment of others.  My gifts to you, lol.

I was scheduled to have an exam today.  BOO.  Prep started last night, leg shaving, toenail painting, all the distractions to have in place that even though you sweat over, your doctor couldn’t give less of a crapsicle about as he is up to his wrists in vagina.  Why stress about it?  Because the distraction is to make you think of anything but the fact that well, some dude is wrist deep in your vag.  Yeah.

Men have it easy.  Turn your head and cough, you poor bastards.  Hmph.

Well, when you first get to the doc, you are sent to pee in a cup, which is always a stellar way to start a day.  As soon as I assume the position of cup placement, a mom and here maybe four year old enters the bathroom, and the mom heads into the only other stall to potty.  Again, I am hovering over a toilet, cup holding hand in the crotch-ular area, and trying to focus on the act of peing when all of a sudden, a freaking four year old crawls under the door and into my stall.

She starts talking to me, and while I am normally quite tolerant of others tots, I was not in the most forgiving position, and her mom keeps trying to get her attention.  Giggly, intrusive child is undeterred.

Finally I had to kind of snap at her, “Sweetie, PLEASE???” and she crawled away, still hovering near the bottom of the door.

Get to the business of peeing, which was a bit harder with the tension, and discover a new issue.

See, sprucing up is key, but I also decided to wear a new pair of maternity undies because well, Mommy always said to wear clean undies in case a doc has to see you.

Downside is that these new *black* undies seemed to have created a lint situation.  I looked at my tinkle cup, and well, it was literally covered with super fine black undies fuzz.  I checked and sure enough, so was I.

I am WTF-ing the stupidity of the situation, and make a mad dash to rectify things as much as possible when Nosey McBrattypants sticks her head under my damn door again.  How the hell long does it take her mom to pee?!?!?!

I had to give up.  I was getting a bit worked up about all of it, so I just decided that the doc was going to have to focus on my awesomely shaved legs and dainty toenails instead of the fact that my business was at the moment easily confusable with a dryers lint trap.

When the nurse took my blood pressure it was elevated.  I shot out a slightly hysterical laugh and spared them the possible cause for that fact.

The highlight of my baby doc trip, aside from seeing the Captain for the first time, was that the doc had in fact decided that I did NOT need an exam after all.  I squealed.  Thank you Universe!

Later, when I was showing the ultrasound picture to Lola’s teachers and another student asked what we were looking at, I told her it was a pic of a baby.  She said it didn’t look like one.  I said it was because it was still in my belly.  She gasped loudly and horrified asked, “Why did you ate it!?!?!”  Well, now…

So my day had several red faced moments, but I keep forgetting about them in favor of little fetal feeters, and playing dolls with the Lola all afernoon, and sitting out on the patio with my little family, Lola frolicking in the grass, and Drew and I barbecuing chicken for dinner together.  Blissfully awesome day.  Mortification aside, of course…

For now, I am off to watch Idol Gives Back with the hubs and eat an enormous bag of Skittles whilst doing so.

I hope you all are having a ridiculously awesome week!  (Sammy, you are omitted from that as well, there is no way to add flower smell to the shiz bath you have been taking lately.  Love to ya man.)

Until next time my dears,

Peace, Love, and Lint Traps!!!!

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Good morning all!

I am sitting here prepping for a Mom Date.  This is my first actually. Kind of nervous, really.

Now that Lola is in school, she is making her little friends, which brings a mommy joy.  Of course, it makes me afraid as to wondering if one of those tots is going to grow up to be the “Bad Influence” kid, but that is another blog.

Being that Lola is, for the time being anyway, an only child, she doesn’t have a lot of inter-child fun time unless she is at school.  In fact, the reason she is in school is solely for kiddo interaction.

Ever since we moved out here, I find myself scouting out other moms.  Do you know this feeling?  You are at the park, your kidlet suddenly takes a liking to another kidlet, and suddenly you find yourself eying the parent, wondering if this could be the One.  The new set of friends, where the children become besties, the moms actually like each other, and soon the bliss of birthday parties and play dates begins.

Without this, there is the fear of your child being the lonely one.  This brings guilt.  Not a fan of guilt.

But how do you go about making this connection?

I realized that we are in reality, looking for dates.  That’s right.  We are on the market, looking for a set of compatible mates, though, thankfully not of a romantic nature.  Although, more stressful is not only finding a Mom to fit your special personality needs, but the kids have to line up as well.

Ever find another mom, one you could see yourself being buddies with, sharing a margarita on those rare nights off, laughing together at the public pool in solidarity of swimsuit hell, only to discover that the kids don’t get along?

Also tragic is seeing your child bond with the future BFF and then realize you would rather put hot coals in your bra than spend prolonged periods of time with.

Today however, I am entering what is equal parts an Arranged Date, and Blind Date at the same time.  Lola has befriended a little gal in her class.  One day, the kids made bird feeders and I heard another mother open her childs back pack, see this, and then announce, “Oh dear, we don’t have any trees!”

Being an incredibly chatty person, I blurted out that I bet she lived in a certain housing division.  She looked at me like I was either a stalker or bat shiz crazy.  I explained that I assumed as such since I live in that division, and also have no trees.

Laughs were had, then we realized we lived literally like ten houses away from each other.  Turns out her little girl also has no playmates other than school.

I could see it in the Mom’s eyes.  She wanted it just as badly as I did.  A semi-normal other Mom, kids get along swimmingly, same neighborhood for easy access…  All the makings of Play Date Bliss.

We toyed with it for about three weeks.  Each of us nervously trying to hint to the other about getting together, but not wanting to put ourselves out there for fear of the, “Oh you, know, I am busy that day.  That day too.  Yep, and that one.”  It was hilarious.  It reminded me so sincerely of the dating scene from a blessed decade (!!!) ago, that I would go home and giggle, but in front of her, be just as spastic as though I was meeting Mrs. Right.

Right before Lola’s spring break, and I mean, the last two minutes in the school before we went home for a week, she caught me, and sputtered out asking us on The Date.  Lunch after school returned.  She adorably launched into several excuses for if we were too busy, or how she might be a few moments late since she is actually a teacher there and would need to tidy up her classroom before leaving. We exchanged phone numbers, and made the plans.

I happily accepted Lola’s and my first Date.

I even twitchily texted her yesterday to confirm.  Felt lame as hell, but yeah.

So here in about two hours, Lola and I will set off for our little lunch.  It is worth noting that I have done hair and makeup for this.  Wanting to make a good impression and all.  I am nervous.  What if the kids suddenly don’t get along?  What if my world famous verbal diarrhea makes an appearance?  What if I make a mistake and somehow ruining my little girls one shot at true friendship?

Or, what if they see our abundant supply of awesome, and we all live happily ever after?  I am going for that one, personally.

Either way, it is an interesting phenomenon to behold.  The rarely spoken of Mommy/Kidlet Courtship.

And while it is possible we won’t be finding our Play Date Soul Mates today at our lunch, at the very least, it is getting that first bit of the unknown out of the way.  Who knows, maybe even next time I will be brave enough to do the asking.

Although, I don’t want to be a Mom whore….

Off I go, visit the Mommy and prep for our festive afternoon!

I hope you all are having a kickin’ week!!

Until next time,

Peace, Love and Mom Whores!!!

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Hello dearies!

I am lying in bed, having slept until 12:30, and am munching a Hershey’s with almonds and drinking water like it’s going out of style.  My body has been taken over by a super powered fetus thingie.

Seriously.  I remember a few things that were similar when I was first pregnant with Lola.  I couldn’t stop eating tuna then.  I loved it, wanted it all the time.  Of course then I read about mercury poisoning and freaked which ended that, but I am in the same boat again.

Last weekend, and I have been incredibly judged for this, lemme tell you, my eternal craving for protein got out of hand.  I couldn’t sit still or sleep for a whole day because I couldn’t stop thinking about wanting nachos.  BBQ nachos from this place in town.  Well, lying in bed, not able to move on, I realized I didn’t want exactly those nachos, I wanted them, but with tuna.

So yeah, for lunch that day, I sat down to a heaping plate of blue corn chips with melted shredded cheese, black beans, tomatoes, green onions, sour cream, an entire can of tuna, all covered with sweet BBQ sauce that I actually went to the restaurant to get.  Drew was so impressed/horrified, he made me take a picture of it.

I wish I could say I am sorry, because lord knows how freaking disgusting that mess all sounds, but I am so not.  It was delicious.

Also this week, I ate about two thirds of an entire rotisserie chicken all by my little self.  I felt like a hyena.

Can’t help it.  This spawn wants protein and it wants it now.

Went to the doc on Tuesday, got a nice once over and blood tests and all that.  Was nice to hear it all officially that, “Yep, you be knocked up right nice!” from a doctor.  Although, perhaps he did word it a bit more professionally…  It is strange that even though your body is telling you that it is being taken over, and the home pregnancy tests are flashing double lines left and right, you still have that question in your head of, perhaps I am just loony….

With the official word in place, so begins all the fun “Here Comes Another One!!!!” preperations.  You sit there and think, oh shiz, I have to paint the guest room and make it a nursery (At which point you giggle insanely at the realization of the word.), you have to dig up the box of maternity clothes, you have to prepare your precious Lola for her staring role as big sister, you have to baby proof a house, you have to create a birth plan, you have to pick NAMES!!!!  Dear god, we are wasting time, this fetus has NO NAMEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

Then at some point, a couple days later, it hit me that, dang, things seem to be moving rather slowly, don’t they?

I love how the appearance of a positive pregnancy test can incite that kind of panic that oh crap, there will be a baby here TOMORROW!!!!!  But then you realize that your own pants do in fact still fit, so back away from the stretchy waisted garb, and that you do not yet have a giant, protruding belly, and that quite frankly, no one can see or notice you are pregnant even in the slightest.

And now, even though I have technically only been awake for less than four hours, I am quite tempted to embrace a nap.

I hope you all are having a lovely weekend!!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and BBQ Tuna Nachos….

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Well hello my dears!!

So.  Yep!  I am pregnant!  With child.  Knocked up.  Carrying spawn.

TEEHEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Last year, Drew and I had sort of half-assed our way into procreating again, but real life kept throwing a wrench into the plans, making things as said, half-assed.

The last day of January, we sat around saying it was time to try again soon, and decided that for the first time, we were putting this in top form as now that all the house drama, cancer scares and other such nonsense was out of the way, we could focus all our energy on, well, ya know…

Aaaaaaaaaaaand, now I am four weeks pregnant, lol.

So clearly, it was time, lol.

I had actually been certain I wasn’t though!  I took a test over the weekend and it came up negative, and I thought I was about to get a visit from Flo and all her whorishness, so I have been really grumpy this week.  I have also been moody as hell and chugging milk like a newborn calf, but I chalked this up to me always being weird.  I can’t tell you how many times I would have thought I was pregnant and I big fat wasn’t, lol.

So just for fun, I decided to take a test this morning.  And after having gone through a weird thing with Lola where I couldn’t get a positive pregnancy test even though me, the docs, and everyone knew I was, I am sure you can imagine my surprise when I was watching the piddle make it’s way across the stick and the positive line showed up even before it hit the test line!!!

I was in total shock, like, seriously.

I waited a few hours, and took another, and sure enough, the line lit up even before the test strip activated!!

Now, cut to me bouncing around for a good eight hours with the knowledge that I am pregnant and not being able to tell Drew!!!  I didn’t want to unload it over IM or the phone, and since he thought this month was over thanks to the negative test, I knew he had no clue at all.

Jumping around I know, but when he got home, i broke the news by having Lola present him with the pregnancy tests, at which point she proudly declared, “Look daddy, STICKS!!!!!”  Drew sat there, jaw to the floor, eyes bugged, and would alternate deep breaths, with buggier eyes, with a weird smile, with staring into space.  Was pretty awesome and I have some of it on video, although he did it for like half an hour, LOL!!!

Lola is thrilled about this whole little brother or sister thing, especially since she has been asking me to get on it for like six months.  She seems particularly thrilled that, “We are gonna grow a baby, real big!  A giant one!”  Well, alrighty then!!

Doc appointment next week, and already spoke to the doc today, as, not to tarnish the glow of the good news, the reality is that I am a high risk pregnancy, and on some meds that the doc is leaving up to me whether I want to take or not.  They are all cleared, but I hate taking anything when pregnant.  Also I panicked that I’d had two glasses of wine with my MIL last week, but my doc assures me the kid won’t have two heads, so wee!!

Preliminarily, I am about 4 weeks along, and due approximately November 5th.  I may get my Halloween baby yet!!

I am off to gorge even more Chinese food, and chug more milk, because, damn dude, the milk…  How I didn’t just know I was pregnant i will never understand, lol.  I was snarfing food and chugged an entire bottle of water and Drew goes, “Damn honey, you are SO pregnant.  This whole last week makes soooooo much sense to me now….”

I hope you all are having an awesome week, and w00t to TGIF tomorrow!!!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Phantom Baby Take 2!!!!!

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Hello my sweets!!

Ten years ago today, I was a single college student with a deeply rooted hatred of all things Valentine’s.  Having always been single for the cursed holiday, all it reminded me of was being alone, and having to sit through the damned V-Day parties in grade school where we sat with our little brown paper “mail bags” where other students placed the required cards.

See, the teachers sent home a list, and it was written on that list that if you were going to give a card to someone in the class, then you had to give one to everyone, lest one of the more pathetic kids get their feelers hurt.

Guess who was the pathetic kid?

Yeah, I still get stomach pains remembering sitting at my desk, looking inside the little bag that I had happily decorated with all the other kiddos.  Glitter, stickers, markers galore, and that feeling if optimism that this year, you wouldn’t be forgotten.

Instead, I would watch as everyone else dumped their bags out, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the mounds of cartoon-y and schmaltz covered cardboard, and the bestest kids would flash the various magical candies that their “significant others” or BFF’s had given them.

I on the other hand, would be staring into an empty paper bag.  Every effing year.  I was that sad-ass kid that the teacher would keep a box of empty valentines in their desk in case of emergency to go and tuck one into the bag of the kid who had none so they wouldn’t feel as loser-ish, which of course, only made you feel worse.

I wasn’t the only kid that suffered through this of course, there were four or five of us that were deemed unworthy, but at the same time, i never understood why they all would make sure to give cards to the cool kids, but not the other outcasts.  I mean, five cards is better than none, yeah?  They should have all stuck together methinks.  I guess the idea was that if the coolios were being selective, then they should as well.  Ahh, grade school politics.

I always gave out all the cards.  Sometimes I would debate holding out and not giving them to the people I didn’t like, and obviously, they wouldn’t be giving one to me, so why bother?  But, seeing how I was apparently the only person paying attention to the Golden Rule in kindergarten, I knew how bad it felt to know I was being left out, and I never wanted to make anyone feel that bad.  Not that they would have noticed if I hadn’t doled one out for them I would wager.

So yeah, thanks to the Vietnam style flashbacks that Valentine’s Day brought about, I never gave two shits about the festivities other than wishing they would end quickly.

At the time however, I was actually tinkering around with a few fellas at school.  Keep your mind clean people, I wasn’t banging my way through dear old VU.  But there were two guys I was rather interested in, and one guy that was interested in me, but that I wasn’t vibing on, since well, I was already thinking the happy thoughts for two others, and who wants to be greedy?

But I felt bad for the poor dude who was into me.  He had been making his crush rather clear, although not in a hugely obvious way.  He was a good buddy, and i liked him.

But he loathed V-Day as much as I did, and i dug him for that.

I had gone out with a friend to buy Valentines cards for all my theatre friends, just for funnsies.  And while shopping, I started thinking about the boy who was just as bummed deep down that day as I was, and I got hit with the desire to try and cheer him up.  I was struck by this cloth rose that played a cheesy song and had a neat flower smell to it, and it made me think of a nice way to lighten his spirits.

V-Day afternoon, after my classes, I headed to the boys room, and told him that I had a present for him.  I informed him that even though I was steadfast with my Valentine’s bitterness, that I wanted him to turn it all around, and I presented him with the rose and a card.

The reasoning behind the rose was that since it was cloth, he could hang onto it from then on, and every year thereafter, could look at it, and remember that he’d had one good Valentine’s Day

Cheesy, perhaps.  Go with it.

He then said that later on, he had a gift for me as well.

Panic set in.  I knew what the gift was going to be.  He was going to try and kiss me.  Eek.  See, I was very sure that I was set in the friend zone with this guy, and i didn’t want to hurt his feelings by not kissing him back.  I felt this would negate all the good work that the perma-rose had done.

I was in a play at the time, we were currently in rehearals, and I had a chance to escape the boys room by saying it was time to go to the theatre.  Being smitten with me as he seemed to be, he had been joining me at these rehearsals for a few weeks, dutifully sitting in the theatre doing homework and the like, meeting my cast mates and friends as I tinkered around backstage.

This night, I spent more time flitting around asking advice than I did focusing on my lines.  I was a nervous little monkey, I was.  I didn’t want to hurt the boys feelings, and I couldn’t figure out how to react when he would try to present me with his “gift”.

After several hours of listening to me ramble about my dilemma (some dilemma, yeah?), I was once again freaking out to my best friend and hysterically begged her for advice on what to do.  “But what do I do if he tries to kiss me!?!?!” I had shrieked at her.

And in a move that will cause her to live in my heart with great fondness forever, she very calmly put her hands on my shoulder to stay my incessant bouncing around, looked me dead in the eye, and said, “You kiss him back.”

Hmm.  Interesting concept.

Later, the boy and I were taking a break outside, in a little spot that was quiet and away from the rest of the actors, by the giant whirring air conditioning unit next to the humanities building.  I knew it was coming.  He had that look in his eyes, you know? I was rambling away nervously, still tossing the idea of this whole “kiss him back” notion in my head, trying to filter through every file in my brain to see if there was something there that made me think of him as more than just a friend.

I was in the middle of the world’s longest run on sentence, detailing the highlights of the cast Green Room, and I could feel it building.  My heart was racing, my palms sweating, my eyes darting around like I was having a stroke or something, and right when I was in the middle of singing the praises of the green velvet couch it happened.

All I got out was “Cou–” and then there he was.  The kiss.

It all stopped.  And I mean everything.  The racing heart, the panic, the edge of hysteria, all gone.  As well as everything else in the entire world.  People could have been standing around us, or metors landing at our feet, or the the humanities building could have exploded.  I wouldn’t have known.  Or cared.

It was the most incredible moment I had ever experienced.  I’d never known that a kiss could feel that way, or that anything could knock the planet off it’s axis so completely.  Or that something could manage to actually shut me up.

I remember everything about that day.  I remember the clothes we were all wearing.  I remember the way the sun felt against the cold February air as my friend and I walked to Walgreens to buy that rose.  I remember how the green room smelled.  And yet, after that kiss, I couldn’t tell you a single thing that happened.  Maybe the meteors came down after all.

Ten years later, I find myself married to that boy, with a beautiful daughter, and a house full of critters.  Ten years.  An entire decade launched from a single kiss.  One that at the time, I had convinced myself I wasn’t really amenable to.  A life, a family, a child, an entire new world created by that foot popping kiss.  It is an unreal prospect, one that no one involved would have ever imagined to come from it all.

Today, as I sit around, loving on my little family, I can’t pull my head out of the clouds of that moment.  Watching that boy take our little girl out for a Daddy/Daughter day, and feeling proud as he opens the gifts I gave him, or his giant smile as he fawns over the card and chocolate heart his baby picked out for him.

And it all came from a single kiss.

Happy Valentines Day everyone.

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Musical Roses

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Aloha my loves!

It is, uh, snowy.  Like, wicked snowy.  Although I feel a bit bad saying that because I know several of my cross-country friends that are all but living in igloos at the present time.  But yeah, snow.  Lots of it.  Lola just got healthy enough to go back to school, and now she will miss tomorrow because of the dreaded white stuffs.

A disclaimer that I actually love snow.  Is pretty, and silent, and makes me think of snowmen.  Who doesn’t like a good snowman??  But I prefer it when I don’t have to go out into it, when it doesn’t turn my car into a slip-sliding projectile, and when it doesn’t cancel my tots school so that I am stuck home with a bored child and no hope of even getting out to get “rainy” day supplies.

Like many people, I sat and watched the Super Bowl this weekend with the hubs.  And by watched, I mean I sat and worked on that confounded Max chapter that has had me up in arms for weeks, and looked up for the commercials.  Go Colts.  Maybe that is why they lost…  My inattentive fandom fell flat??  Sorry Peyton and the boys, I was preoccupied.

Anyway, one of the commercials, most of which really blew this year, was for Bud Light I believe, and consisted of a woman having a book club meeting where her significant other/boyfriend/husband or whatever is getting ready to fly out the front door, lest he get stuck in a mess of chick lit talk.  However, just as he sprints for freedom, he notices that there is a bucket of Bud light on ice on the coffee table.

He then starts handing out bottles, shimmying his way onto the couch between the lady readers, and mockingly pretends to be interested in the story while the point is that, yeah, there for the brews, all the while making innuendos to all the gals looking shocked.

I didn’t like this commercial.  There are the reasons such as I find it rude that book clubs be mocked which I don’t see the reason other than it is something other than football and other cool kid hobbies, therefore making it a target.  Or the fact that the guy didn’t give a crap about it being special to his gal pal that he would weasel in there to grab a Bud which I am sure she would have happily given him without needing to mess up her little get together.

All that stuff is being over examined just for discussion here, as I didn’t think about any of it until after i had stewed about the commercial for a while.

No, what irked me straight away about this little spot was that this dude was supposed to be living with this woman, and he comes down, busts up her party, and then openly flirts with all the other women right in front of her.  I mean, flat out, piggishly hits on them, all the while they look appalled.

Perhaps I am over-sensitive or similar, but honestly, it immediately left a bad taste in my mouth.  You don’t see television ads where women bust into football parties, and start hitting on all the guys in front of her husband and ruin their game-time fun.

Don’t get me wrong, I get that the whole point is that beer is to be sold to football watchin’ men-folk with that commercial.  But I have to believe there is a way to do that without insulting and demeaning women in that way.  Somehow, I feel I would have been less upset if it had just been a bunch of bikini-clad hoochers writhing in a kiddie pool filled with chocolate pudding and bottles of beer.

That is just a straight line objectification, which in it’s own right is a bit offensive I suppose, but this seemed to not just objectify this woman, but humiliate and mock the hell out of her the entire time.

Just my two-unrequested-cents on the subject.  Not that those are worth much, the exchange rate appears to be a bit low lately…

I must be off, fighting the last weeks Lola icks myself and need some sleep, and to get the last few paragraphs of that evil chapter set and done.

I hope you all are having an awesome, out of the snow, kind of week!!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Personally I Prefer Landsharks!

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