april

Baby just kicked me so hard it woke me from a sound sleep and made me vomit simultaneously. This officially takes the first place on my list of “Pregnancy Issues That Should Be Vetoed”. Blecht.

Well, after all that turmoil friday night the poor dog ran away and got fucking run over. You feel so awful, and I feel awful that after 12 years, your last memories of your best friend are stained with what you knew was an over the top bad attitude. I feel bad for guilting you about him running off for the night before we got the call from the vet. Shit. He will be missed dearly. He was very much a part of this family. Still have one little pup around but life just wont be the same without Otis… :(

P.S. Needless to say, I decided to skip the sandwich. Now I’m sitting up in bed, hungry, nauseas, and grumpy. Yay for… oh, nevermind. I’ll find something to be cheery about in the morning. Right now I’m just going to fucking wallow. And hope the nausea fades soon enough I can put something in my belly and stop the peanut from shredding my insides as I deprive him of our now-customary 3am snack…

Fuck. Seriously, just fuck.
*warning, if you’re squeemish just skip this…

Dogs both got sick tonight. Otis shit all over the basement earlier, you threw an epic tantrum cleaning it up and threw a bigger fit when I came to help. I finally head to bed rather than deal with you being an asshole to me over the dog being sick and my trying to be genuinely helpful. Tried to make the best of it, nevermind. Then Cida pukes all over our bedroom floor just now and you grudgingly “deal with” that. My eyes start burning, I think it is pretty late for the pine sol I used earlier to start bugging me but whatever. I get up to make a sandwich, and stop in the kidlet’s room just out of habit to check in on her… Cida had puked all over the brand new hardwood floor there before making it to our room apparently. And I mean ALL OVER. You pretend to be asleep while I clean it up. Then I find the pine sol out with the lid off. You aren’t an ignorant person. But you won’t read directions. I realize the pine sol gag reflex is because you’ve used concentrated cleaner to wipe the unfinished, porous floor at the foot of our bed after sopping up the Cida mess. Concentrated cleaner. No water. Explains why it is strong enough to strip the lining of my fucking throat. Not that there is much of that left after this evening of gaging and dry heaving over dog sickness. Come to find out it is all because we ran out of dog food and you didn’t say anything and you didn’t stop for more, so you’ve been feeding the dogs milkbones for two days. Two. Days. You’re leaving your job to be a stay at home dad within the next three weeks. You are not inspiring ANY measure of confidence right now in your ability to run our household, Suzie Homemaker.
Fuck. Just. Fuck.

I miss tall, cute shoes…

The husband comes to me with a sliver in his foot. I nearly have it with the crappy tweezers. I tell him to bring the REAL tweezers. He insists on giving it a go himself with the dull bastards first. Then brings me the other ones. He mangled the wound and buried the sliver. I tell him I’ll need a needle at this point if he still wants help, but that he’ll have to promise he’ll put the damned needle back before I’ll tell him where its at because he hasn’t returned it to its home the last several times he used it, and I have been lucky enough to SEE it before stepping/sitting on it EACH time.
He rolled his eyes and stormed off saying he’ll survive the fucking splinter before he deals with my games.
Okay.
I’m such a wiley woman. Me in all my glorious headfucking splendor. Be afraid, be very afraid…
Really?

Just awoke from a dream that a gal in my office building needed help making a giant tower of jello blocks. Of course I was trying to oblige, but I had the hardest time locating an adequately sized cake pan to make said blocks, and my supervisor from work wouldn’t let me use his fridge. His HOME fridge. Like that was the only place in the world that I could chill the jello? My new coworker was distraught because he is a planner (like down to half hour increments WEEKS in advance) and my “poor planning” for this gal’s festivities was going to derail some other shit with a butterfly effect shattering the innerworkings of every damn office in our building AND was sure to affect my due date(How? Don’t know. Why he was so upset by this? Also don’t know.)
What. The. Hell? The scary part- it is still so vivid in my mind, and this is just the highlight reel. Prego dreams. Crazy shit.
Also… I’m hungry.

I keep having these incredibly difficult dreams in which you are unfaithful. I know that this is my sub-concious manifesting my insecurities about my pregnant body and I have read that this is a normal occurance. I understand how that all works, concern for my ability as a woman to keep your attention while I’m so hormonal and my body isn’t anything close to what you seem to prefer. Getting all this in my head doesn’t make my heart hurt any less when I wake up after seeing your smug and guilt-ridden face. In my dreams, you’re never sorry. In my dreams, you did what had to be done because you have needs and I’m not filling them. In my dreams, you don’t even bring it up, you won’t discuss any options for ways that I could still manage to be of any use to you in the department of intimacy because you simply are not interested. At all. Four more weeks of pregnancy. How long until I resemble the old me? I understand that I don’t need to be afraid for things like this. But I am.

Our son has the hiccups. I hope they are this cute/entertaining after he is born. You seem to have decided on Alexander. I named Molly, so I keep saying that as long as you don’t pick something like Oedipus or Raindrop - I’m cool with letting you take the reigns on this baby name thing. I already loved the middle name, same as your grandpa’s, so the heritage bit is heartwarming and perfect in my opinion.
You’re mad at me tonight. It is silly really. I think so, anyway. And I’m trying to not get bogged down by it because let’s face it: I’m hormonal, exhausted, and volatile PLENTY these days without any extra reasons…
It is hard to tell you how I feel lately when I am trying to be tough and non chalant but I also want to be open and honest enough (like normal april) so you understand where I’m coming from. Oh happy medium, where the fuck have you been hidden away?
My doctor laughed at me when I asked if we could schedule the cesarean section early. LAUGHED. Apparently I’m not the first woman to get tired of being pregnant before the full nine months is up. I think he underestimates my strong will these days. This little dude is coming early if I have anything to say about it. And if his opinion counts, I’m willing to bet we are seeing eye to eye on this, because he is a WILD MAN.
Random. Sleepy. Heartburn sucks.
Goodnight Moon.

Well hello there tumblr journal, it has been too long. Being pregnant has been wonderful/fantastic, uncomfortable/etc and life has been a roller coaster of hormones and joy. I’ve finally gotten myself a new phone- as the old one was blocking every truly enjoyable application I used it for (thus no tumbling for MONTHS- but it is okay- I somehow remembered how to use pen and paper!)
Nesting is in full swing, and the to do lists aren’t getting any shorter. I have just over a month to go, and six years worth of projects to wrap up so wish me luck.

I have had 90% of my tumblr experience from my phone (which I have mentioned before) and my phone was not cooperative for tumbling over the last several weeks. I have very much missed reading blogs. I am at a training for work this week and able to use the laptop, so this is exciting. Training in itself - not exciting.

Now 29 weeks pregnant. For normal people that’s about 7 months… I don’t understand what about pregnancy makes you start counting things in different increments… “I’m twenty nine weeks along”, “the baby is ten weeks old” or “the b aby is fourteen and a half months old”. I think it is odd, but still hard to avoid for some inexplicable reason.

I’m at the stage where I feel much better than I did for a nasty bout there, and I don’t feel as bad as I will soon, so cheers. Getting a pretty dang big belly, but I can’t complain too much about the weight because it is honestly MOSTLY belly, so I refuse to be too hard on myself for indulging in a few extra calories, especially when I CONSTANTLY feel hungry. And yes, I mean constantly. I finished my lunch at 12:38 and by 12:45 I was debating what restaurant I would like to suggest to my fellow training buddies for dinner.

I am getting really excited for the little man to join our family. My daughter is so very animated and happy, she makes a world of difference in our household & extended family’s general anticipation of the baby. She keeps everyone smiling, even when I start thinking about midnight feedings, two am diapers, and all sorts of fun stuff - molly keeps me smiling about it.

My husband has been an absolute rockstar. Things were pretty tough for us for a while there, but he has taken this as an opportunity to pull his head out of his ass so well, I can hardly remember what it felt like when he was acting like a douche. He has definately been a little behind the curve as far as learning to be around a pregnant person without being eaten alive, but I’m still incredibly proud of the patience and the effort he has put into our family and our relationship over the last 6 months.

It is nice to be able to say, “Wow, so we are going to get through anything. I am committed to being with you til death do us part, and that is a long fucking time. We have had times that sucked ass when you’ve been stupid, or I’ve been stupid, but other than making life uncomfortable/miserable for a short time, we were really serving no purpose except to cause a temporarily unpleasant environment for ourselves. We will have some serious shit storms ahead, and we will have some super great times. And we will be together for it all.” It is weird, but it is nice. Especially to be on the same page for this sentiment. :)

So, this baby making business is all fun and games til someone gets kicked. Then it is mostly fun and games with a little, “ooo, that’s uncomfortable” and a lot of indigestion and fear for continence. I think back to just a few short months ago when I was drinking pretty heavily (again) and I wonder, “who in the HELL chooses to keep such weird hours and knowingly imbibes enough to cause gastric discomfort? NEVER AGAIN!” I have been really putting a lot of my energy into fortifying my resolve to stay sober for the rest of my life- yes- even after saying “no thanks” isn’t as easy as now (being pregnant makes a difference to me, maybe not all women, but it sure as shit makes a WORLD of difference. TO. ME.)
I needed to find something that’s got an edge of humor to remind me of why I’ll stay sober later and I think tonight I’ve just had that epiphany. Seriously, I would stay up super late, get 5 hours of sleep or less on an average night, get up tired and hungover, usually remembering some time praising the porcelain deity with choruses of “Raaaaaalph” in varied keys from some point in the debauchery, getting through my day while TIRED, and I was always mad that pepto was my closest friend in public. And I CHOSE that. Yep. Now, I am happily without the sauce, and I go to bed at a boringly reasonable hour and wake up refreshed and feel FANTASTIC.
BUT-
We are entering the third trimester. The “trimester of mean” as our family doctor likes to call it. I’m learning that my son will definitly assert himself as a man who does things on his own time- he is already forcefully rearranging my sleep schedule. Nothing gets you awake and out of bed more effectively than a quick jab to the bladder (which doesn’t even need to feel full for there to be fear of leaks when you’re facing the impact of a spry, thin, young, statistically 2+ pound little man who seems to have mancave issues and is commanding respect from an early age- so as not to be taken lightly later in his formative years.) He will be a stern man, with a develish streak.
So paint the scene opening with one such jolt from the bed, a quick trip to the bathroom, a bedside lamp being turned on, a girl in braided hair holding an ever growing (and currently twitching) belly. Introduce the bedside table view with a close up on the bottle of ambien and the tums smoothies clustered next to the prenatal vitamins, a bottle of water, and a midnight snack of some sort.
This is WAY better than the drunk nights, and there are far more perks. For one- even if I have to sit up and wait out the belching, spleen assaults, and other lovely side effects of growing one’s own spawn- at least I get to feel the peanut move! (And there are no other drunk bitches in my space!) And I have a reward coming soon for all my patience. And the most difficult physical stressors will expire here in another few short months/weeks. And. And. And. Seriously… list goes on!
I’ll catch up on some reading and remember how much better THIS late night is than any I’ve had while inebriated HANDS DOWN.
Also- I am thinking about writing an ambiguous love song that could apply to my feelings about tums smooth dissolve peppermint magic. Something old-timey-swing with a bit of flair on some nice scoopy parts to help bring in some emotional depth.
Thank you, and good night. :)

Listening to the rain falling. It taps gently at the windows and rolls, whispering from the roof. For the appearance of tumultous weather to be contradicted by these calming sounds is an irony not lost on me.
I keep trying to imagine myself saying something more about the weather or something vague and pleasant, but really- I’m thinking of you. I wonder where you are and hope you’re safe. I miss you and hug your pillow to help numb the ache of your absence. I am so thankful it is not a serious leave. Just work. Just overnight. Nothing serious. Nothing indefinite.
We have been through some awful times lately. I won’t lie- we were both contributing in some way to the unrest in our relationship. I feel like we may be pulling past one of those “for worse” periods, and the hope that swells in me at this is indescribable.
Thank you. For deciding I am worth your time, your effort, your compromise. Thank you for meeting me halfway. I will keep trying too, but honestly- this is already worlds easier than its been in a long time.
It is nice to miss you when you’re gone.
Nice to wake with appreciation, content to soak life in.
Clear head, growing belly, and the welcome return of a thirst in me sans restlessness.
Satiate.

I think we’ve reached the point in the pregnancy where my husband wants the lights off for intimacy. I am starting to grasp that trendy three letter ditty that goes “FML”. Not that I can say I blame him, but isn’t there supposed to be some magical, manly urge that makes a woman pregnant with your offspring more appealing to you? Gah. Dream. On. Get used to sex in the dark honey, cause this might be a while… like oh, say a year or so- until you’ve had the baby and thinned back down considerably.