Bicyclist Rant

Whenever I don't have class, I take Sophie for a walk. Sometimes, I'll take my Water Jug walk and refill my jug at the Rite-Aid down the street. When I don't need water, I'll take the Bonneville Shoreline Trail walk, which is (according to my iPhone iMapMyWalk app) 1.88 miles round trip.

I always take Sophie with me, because she gets wild when she's cooped up inside for too long. She'll run laps from the living room to the bedroom to the office to the kitchen to the living room and so on. But now, since we went for a walk, she's passed out on the floor. She heats up really quickly when it's warm out, so she gets tired faster, so she passes out for longer, which gives me more of a break.

The Bonneville Shoreline Trail is a paved, fairly wide trail that caters to runners, walkers (or waddlers, like myself), and bicyclists. 99% of the people I've encountered on this trail follow the rules: stay to the right, make noise when passing, and yield to those going slower than yourself. In fact, there is a sign at the start of the trail that states bicyclists will yield to runners and walkers, and runners will yield to walkers. Walkers don't have to yield to ANYONE! Fuckin' A right.

Sophie has no walking etiquette. Until she tires out, she'll be trying to zig-zag back and forth across the path, sniff this and that, chase birds and small creatures, and be a menace in general. I tie her leash around my waist, which makes it shorter and also makes it easier for me to pull her back from the other side of the path. I don't let her just run crazy because I know a bicyclist approaching from the rear could run her over or get hurt trying to avoid her, and I'd feel really bad if I caused some kind of incident. The most Sophie does is tread in the middle of the path, which leaves room on the other side for people to get around, although if I see someone coming, I'll pull her closer to me.

So the moral is: my dog acts like a jackass and I compensate by reigning her in.

I listen to the iPod function on my iPhone when I walk because otherwise I would get really bored. Depending on what I'm listening to, I can't always hear when the bikes approach. I don't crank it up, but most of the bikes are pretty quiet. Sophie hears them before I do and will turn to look, which is my cue to pull her out of the bike's trajectory.

Today, I'm waddling up the path, and Sophie is miraculously staying much closer to me than she normally does. She hears a bike and turns to look at it, and I pull her close to me to get out of their way. Two bicyclists go zipping past me, and the second one turns back and yells something at me.

Now, I'm listening to my iPod. I don't hear him. But I'm pretty sure he said something nasty, because I saw the annoyed look on his face.

I considered taking out my ear buds, yelling, "WHAT?!" and seeing if he'd stop and repeat whatever nasty thing he said. He probably wouldn't have. So Nasty Biker Man and his companion disappear up the path, and I'm left wondering what it is he said. I assume it was something about Sophie, even though she wasn't in their way. She takes up less room on the path than if I was walking with another person. When she's hot and panting, it looks like she's smiling, and she wears a cute pink backpack.

What kind of heartless jerk could get mad at an adorable smiling backpack-wearing dog and her 7-months-pregnant waddling owner? Especially when they weren't in his stupid way. Oh yeah, and considering that even if they WERE in his stupid way, he has to yield to them. The way I look at it, I do those fuckface bicyclists a favor by staying out of their way, because technically I could frolic back and forth across the path or walk right in the middle and take up the whole thing, AND THEY COULDN'T DO A FUCKING THING.

I'd say fuck bicyclists but most of them are nice, so I won't. But I will say, fuck Nasty Biker Man. If I see him again and recognize him in time, I'll throw a stick into his spokes.

The Name Game

Riley might be put on the chopping block.

Riley Dean was the name of my dad's younger brother (so technically, my uncle), who died when he was a year old. I was always planning on selecting a middle name as an homage to someone in my or Jake's family, so Riley seemed appropriate. Plus, I like it.

Jake has been throwing our list of names around to his coworkers, and apparently they all think that Riley would make a great name... for a girl. Riley has morphed from a boy's name to a girl's name, it would seem, and Jake isn't too keen on naming our boy a boy's name that is now a girl's name.

I had a boy name growing up (which has now become a girl's name), and it didn't affect me negatively. I think a boy having a girl's name might be different, though. I knew a boy in elementary school named Loren, and he was definitely teased about it.

We're not going to move Riley to the girl list, because we both really like all of our girl names (especially Shanequa). I think Riley will probably end up as the middle name, but possibly not. If we decide on Asher as the first name, Riley will NOT be the middle name, as then the initials would be ARS. Hmm... funny, but no.

32 Weeks

I forgot to do this yesterday! Derp!

8 weeks left! Well, technically, 7 weeks and 6 days. But that's close enough to 8, so whatever.

Alls' well on the Beastly Front. S/he seems to favor my right side. Apparently, something is amiss on the left side of my uterus, so the Beast likes to jam him/herself onto the right side. I keep getting jacked from the inside by... some body part. I don't know which one. I'm guessing a knee or elbow. It doesn't feel small enough to be a foot or hand. And contrary to what everyone thinks, no, I cannot SEE body parts when I am assaulted.

Totally not me

News Flash: The Beast can read my mind. S/he's been perfectly still and dormant for a couple of hours now, but just when I start to type about him/her... BAM! KICK! POW! "How dare you speak ill of me!"

I've been bitching for about 2 months now about how being pregnant sucks and how I'm totally over it. Still true. Maybe even more true than ever before now. I've moved into the Hot Flash Zone, and the number of shirts I can wear that still cover up my belly is dwindling. My back hurts! Nothing new, but I'm starting to get ornery about it. I don't like being in constant pain. I can do short bursts (a "short burst" is defined as any pain that lasts between an hour and 3 days), but this prolonged owie garbage is not cool. Not cool, at all.

I think I might be getting Braxton Hicks. But I'm not sure. For those of you who don't know, Braxton Hicks are fakesies contractions. Basically, the uterus in training for the upcoming Day of Baby. The literature says that they can begin as early as 6 weeks, but most women won't feel them that early (and some women never feel them at all). I first noticed a few days ago... it kind of just felt like gas. I wouldn't say it was painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable.

Now I don't know about you, but when I have bad gas pains, I try to rip a couple so I don't have to be in pain anymore. Of course, I exercise prudence whilst cutting the cheese (so no giant farts in the checkout aisle at the supermarket or anything), unlike some people. Anyway, with these "gas pains," there was no gas to be passed. It went away after a few minutes, so I didn't think anything more of it.

Until today, when it happened again. This time it hit me for a few minutes in the grocery store, and then again when I got home about 20 minutes later. That was uhhh... two hours ago? Nothing since then. I have a doctor's appointment next week, so I can ask him. If I remember.

Technically, I'm due on September 22nd. That's my 40 weeks. I've been assured by many supposedly-well-meaning people that first-time babies are always late. Bah. Jake's sister just had her first baby and he was a week-ish early. So I'm taking heart, and I'm also going to eat that chicken and garlic pizza that she swore is what put her into labor.

I keep getting sidetracked. OK. Due on Sept 22. BUT my "on-time" window extends from September 8th to October 8th. I'm rooting for September 8th. Actually, I might root for more like the 12th or so... some time after the 11th. It's garlic chicken pizza time beginning September 12th!

My mom and my sissy are coming out here on Sept 30th until Oct 6th to visit me and the baby. I really hope I don't go into labor on October 7th! *cackle*

It has been suggested that I hold out until October 10th, because 10/10/10 would be a fun birthday. Sure it would. For someone else. I'm going to be so mad at the Beast if s/he stays inside me until October 10th. If it's October 8th and I'm still with child, though, I'll probably hold out those extra two days, because if I'm going to be late, I might as well go on 10/10/10.

MommyFear #1

To clarify, this is not my #1 fear about being a mom. It just happens to be the one I was thinking of at this juncture, and therefore is the one I'm blogging about today. There are many more that will no doubt be posted in the future, but I have to pace myself, AMIRITE?!

This episode of MommyFears is brought to you by the letter Q and the number I'm afraid of losing my identity as a not-mom.

What I mean by that is I don't want to become one of those women I see (in real life and around the Interweb) that seem to do NOTHING but kid stuff. Kid stuff drives me crazy. Kid stuff makes me want to pull my hair out. Kid stuff is nauseating.

I like my aquascaping and terrestrial gardening.

I like watching lewd cartoons.

I like listening to crazy homeless guys explain why, exactly, the government is trying to exterminate all domesticated cats (thank you, crazy homeless guy in Sarasota, for blessing me with a true-life example of what might be the weirdest conspiracy theory of all time).

I like wearing what I've worn since high school: jeans of the non-skinny variety, and a T-shirt with something silly printed on it, and some dirty old Chucks.

I like surfing the internet and laughing at dumb pictures and videos.

I like more stuff, but I won't torture you with the full list. But you get the gist, right? I like stuff, and I'm afraid that when the Beast arrives, I'm not going to have any time for my stuff anymore. And what's more, I feel like that fear makes me shallow and possibly a bad mommy. Already.

Then I see stuff like this:

And I don't feel quite as bad.

But still a little.

Operation: Unpack My Crap, Day Three

Today was a total bust as far as Operation Unpack My Crap was concerned.

My dad and I did, however, make it down to the LDS genealogy center to look up family history! My dad is the genealogy buff in our family, so I thought he'd get a kick out of the place. As it turns out, the Mormon church knows less about our family history than my dad has already been able to find on the Interwebs, but it was still cool to see all the info that they DID have, especially considering that my family has a large presence in one of the most historically anti-Mormon states in the USA, Missouri (and therefore, may or may not have been total dicks to the Mormons when they were there).

Anywho, after we finished surfing for porn on the genealogy computers, we decided it was time for lunch. There are two restaurants on the top floor of the building that the genealogy center is in, so we went up there and had lunch. My dad freaked the waitress out by asking what beer they had, but lunch was otherwise uneventful. The Beast liked the sammich I had so much that he kicked the bejesus out of my side for a couple of hours.

Operation Unpack My Crap was revisited for about 2 minutes when we got back from the genealogy center. I had to find the monitor for my computer. Very important stuff! I found my Wii and PS2 while I was at it. Now, if only I had a TV...

Operation: Unpack My Crap, Day Two

Here is my Facebook status update from midday yesterday:

"Operation Unpack My Crap is progressing nicely, but has spawned subsidiary operations, which include but are not limited to: Operation Kitchen Cleanup, Operation Lunchtime Noms, Operation Deseret Industries, and Operation Holy God I Have a Lot of Shoes."

And not long thereafter:

"Operation Lunchtime Noms is being augmented with Operation Militant Iranian Rooster."

And then:

"Operation Unpack My Crap moves into day two. Local influences are working against me. The Naptime Subterfuge is slowly chipping away at my resolve, and Operation Secret Construction Project is taking a lot longer than anticipated. We may have gotten in over our heads on this one."

Here is a rundown of the current progress of my various Operations.

Operation Kitchen Cleanup

I think we've pretty much unpacked all of my kitchen stuff. My dad is quite impressed with the amount of kitchenware and gadgetry that I own, and I'm just glad we managed to fit it all into the cupboards. It was a close fit, but we made it. Well, mostly. I still haven't found a home for my KitchenAid Mixer, but I will. Also, some of my fancier kitchen items - like the All-Clad serving dishes that I've never used because I've never considered an occasion to be fancy enough - still don't have homes because I keep them in their original packaging to avoid unnecessary damage to them. And I'm not getting rid of All-Clad. That's just crazy. I'll use them some day!

Operation Lunchtime Noms

The most successful operation thus far. It was such an incredible success yesterday, I decided to revisit it today.

Operation Militant Iranian Rooster

Operation Deseret Industries

Due to the slow progress of Operation Unpack My Crap, Operation Deseret Industries has been temporarily put on hold. However, we have a Deseret Box (that will soon be expanded to include two and possibly three boxes) that is awaiting the restart of this operation.

Operation Holy God I Have a Lot of Shoes

I do have a lot of shoes. I forgot how many I have. It's funny how I could go months without any of these shoes (almost a year, in fact), but then when I was picking through them, I found nearly all of them to be necessary keepers. I'm sure Jake will help me get rid of some, and some female friends will happily relieve me of the non-keepers.

Operation Secret Construction Project

I'm afraid I can't go into detail regarding this operation, due to its clandestine nature. Only those with a need to know will be given any information about this operation. And unfortunately for you, you don't have a need to know. So I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you. And I don't want to have to do that. :(

Operation Unpack My Crap

The overall operation is moving along, just not as rapidly as we had hoped. Unforeseen complications and subsidiary operations have necessitated a deviation from previously planned activities. However, we are confident in the operation's future success and won't stop until this operation is complete!

So, there's my list of operations and their current statuses. I'd take another picture of my living room, but it looks mostly the same. There's some more wiggle room, but not much, and having a big fat belly isn't making squeezing by the boxes any easier. Pfffft thanks Beast!

Operation: Unpack My Crap...

...and Also Some Ridiculous Nonsense

My dad arrived on Thursday night with all of my worldly possessions in tow. Friday, two of Jake's (most awesomest) friends came over and helped us unload about a billion pounds of junk that I've been collecting ever since I left home in 2002.

Behold, my collection of junk!

This morning marks the beginning of Operation: Unpack My Crap. Hopefully we have a Mission Accomplished before I go bankrupt.

As far as the Ridiculous Nonsense goes, you may have noticed that my super cool background has been replaced with a message from Photobucket informing me that the file can no longer be found. >:| I find this to be unacceptable and will fix it as soon as I stop being lazy. Ha.

edit

I fixed my background. Whee!

Also, one of my friends posted this article on Facebook. It's too wonderfully magical to not share with everyone. If you don't know who the Westboro Baptist Church is, this picture defines them in a nutshell:

Yep. Total assholes. I rarely honestly hope that a large group of people all simultaneously die in a fire, but this is definitely one of those rare cases.

El Doctor

Doc visit today! Measuring 31cm, which is exactly on track with how far along I am. I asked him about fat babies, and he said he didn't think I had anything to worry about. Hooray! My glucose test was negative for diabeetus, which is another yay!

Kitteh.

And my dad really busted his ass driving today, and will get here tonight rather than tomorrow! Wheee!

And I talked to Jake! Hooray!

And I... uh... vacuumed... Woot!

OK I'm out of fun things I did today.

31 Weeks

Well, I had my second-to-last big Biology test today. It covered cellular respiration, photosynthesis, mitosis, meiosis, and genetic inheritance.

And it totally spanked me.

I won't even know what I got on it until next Wednesday, since we don't have class on Friday (due to a holiday that only occurs in Utah). So I get to sit here and imagine the worst for a week. Although, I suppose that's almost a blessing in disguise, since I'll have myself convinced that I failed it, so when I get the real grade, it won't seem as abysmal as I built it up to be.

edit: Update! I got my grade back for that Bio test. I passed it with an A. Yep. And, as usual, I got the really tricky hard stuff right, and the easy stuff wrong. Sigh.

My dad is driving oodles of my possessions up here from Florida. I can't wait to use my own pots and pans and kitchenware! He was supposed to get here today, but it seems he probably won't be arriving until Friday afternoon/evening. Some friends invited me to the Melting Pot on Friday, and I'm kind of wondering if my dad will get here late enough for me to go eat scrummy fondue and get home in time to meet him. Hmm...

Doc's appointment tomorrow. I want to see if he can give me an approximate size/weight for the Beast. I watched this news report on fat babies, and it said a big factor on childhood obesity is size at birth, and a big factor in a high birth weight is amount of sugar consumed by the mother during pregnancy. Weeeelllllll letmetellyasumthin, my sweet tooth got turned to 11 the moment egg met sperm. Seriously. I could spoon sugar into my mouth and love every minute of it. I don't do that. But I could.

So I'm concerned that the Beast is gigantic, natch. I started off at 119lbs and I think I'm currently at 140-ish (I'd weigh myself but I just finished stuffing taters into my mouth). I guess that's not bad (it feels like I've doubled in size, for srsly), and I've gotten a lot of comments referring to the fact that I look like a normal person who is trying to steal a basketball under my shirt. I guess I should be flattered, but then I thought, if I looked like a whale trying to smuggle a school bus, would anyone say so? Probably not. They'd probably stick with, "Oh aren't you cute!" At least no one has asked if I'm having twins. That might make me cry.

Oh yeah! I still haven't had any strange people rub my tummy uninvited. A girl in my bio lab asked permission (which was granted), and in-laws will touch it (which is fine with me), but no strangers. I was warned that strange people would touch my tum. At first, I was like, "Yeah I'd break their fingers," but since then, I've come up with something more diabolical.

I decided that, if a stranger ran up and started stroking my belly, they would inevitably ask when I was due. My response would be, with a completely straight or possibly angry face, "I'm not pregnant. I have a tumor!"

Pregnant ladies: feel free to use my response to unwelcome tummy-rubbing.

Happy Birthday, Cash!

Jake's sister Jadey gave birth to her son, Cash, today. Yay!!

I went to see them in the hospital (not the same one I'm delivering at), and I have to say, I'm really glad he's cute! Most newborns look like little wrinkly red inhuman creatures, but Cash is actually cute. His nose was a little mushed, but not too badly, and he doesn't have a conehead. So me saying, "OMG he's so cute!" was genuine! Ha!

When I was holding Cash, the Beast started kicking him. I said, "Beast, don't kick your cousin. He's bigger than you." Cash didn't seem to notice or mind.

Jadey told me about a pizza place in town that's supposed to put pregnant ladies in labor. The chicken and garlic pizza is the trick, apparently. She told me the name, but I already forgot. Sigh. She said she ate there yesterday and her water broke this morning. It's worth a shot, right!?

So anyway, Happy Birthday, Cash! Welcome to Earth!

Wild and Crazy News

No, it's not about Lindsay Lohan!

Today, the Sun newspaper in the UK reported that a Nigerian couple recently welcomed a new baby into the world... a white baby. Nope, not an albino, either.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Momma got seekrits! But apparently, that is not the case. It's not impossible for a black couple to have a white baby if there's a history of mixed race in the family lineage. The genetics that are involved in skin and hair color (and to a lesser extent, eye color) are extremely complicated and not yet fully understood by geneticists. It's totally possible for two dark-skinned parents to have a light-skinned bebbe.

If that story wasn't wild or crazy enough for you, check out this one.

If that one didn't boggle your brain, or at least make you go "holy crap," then try this one out!

Treasures

I was over at Jake's mom's house yesterday, and she fished out a couple of boxes of baby pictures, and we spent a couple of hours going through them. She ended up giving me a bunch of Jake's baby pictures (which I'm sure he's going to be just thrilled about)!

My favorite of Jake's baby pics

I think it's my favorite because he looks like he's striking a pose. "Oh, a camera. One sec. OK, here we go. Hey baby, how you doin'?" Also, he has mad scientist hair, and I think it's adorable!

Not to leave myself out of the baby picture fun, here is one of me! It's the only one I have right now. The mustachioed dude holding me is my dad.

According to my mother, I was 3-4 days old in that picture. According to Jake's mom, he was 2-ish months old in his picture. We were both pretty adorable, and also pretty hairy. I hope the Beast follows suit.

But that's not the end of the treasures I received yesterday! Jake's mom presented me with an outfit that Jake wore when he was a baby. It's still in awesome condition! And it's cute, to boot.

Jake's baby outfit

Closeup of the embroidery

The Beast will totally wear this. But not too often, as I am afraid of ruining it somehow.

Oh, and as a kind of P.S. update type of thing, Amazon.com is maintaining its status as my most favoritest online shopping site ever. My mom e-mailed them re: the missing mattress on Saturday evening, and on Sunday morning, they responded with the "we show it was received on June 19th" e-mail. When my mom replied with, "Well, my daughter still doesn't have it," they promptly responded with, "That sucks! But we're awesome, so we're sending her another one, free of charge, and we're one-day expressing it, also at no charge." I less than three Amazon.com.

I went to my apartment's office this morning, just to double-check for the mattress (as you may recall, I went in there about a month ago asking about it, and they told me it wasn't there), and lo and behold, there it was, sitting in the corner all alone, crying quietly. So I took it home and put it in the crib (and poked it several times), and then I called my mom, who e-mailed Amazon.com and told them the missing mattress had been located. I hope we caught them before they sent it out to be shipped!

Neat Site

I was perusing apps on my iPhone last night, and I came across one that is offered by BabyBix.com. It seems pretty cool! I don't know if I'll actually use it as intended, but it was free, so it can't hurt to try! :D

It's a WTF Kind of Day

In early June some time (I forget the actual day), my mom ordered a crib mattress cover sheet and a crib mattress for me. The crib mattress is a really nice one! I've been stoked to get it and put it in the crib and poke it several times a day.

The crib sheet got here within a week of her ordering.

The crib mattress still has not arrived.

So I was talking to my mom last night, and I mentioned to her that the mattress still hadn't arrived. She assured me that she would check with Amazon.com, whom she had ordered it from, and would see what's going on with it.

She called me this morning and said that, according to Amazon, I had received and signed for the mattress on June 19th. Umm... yeah, no. I certainly did not. I thought maybe it was delivered to my apartment when I wasn't here, so the delivery person took it to our apartment's office. They usually leave a note on your door saying that you received a package, but I never had one there. Maybe, I reasoned, the note fell off or the guy forgot to put one on my door or something, and the mattress is still sitting in the office. Since no one is there on Sundays, I'll have to wait until tomorrow to see if that's the case. Meanwhile, my mom is about to get medieval on Amazon's ass.

So that was my first WTF moment of the day. My mom called just as I was saddling Sophie up for her walk. I make her wear a doggy backpack so that if she poops, she can carry the stinky poo bag until we find a garbage receptacle.

Sophie hates her backpack

I decided not to let this unsavory news ruin my day, so I proceeded to take Sophie on the walk. I decided that today, I would take my empty refillable gallon water jug down to the grocery store (which is like a mile away), refill it in the water machine outside, and then walk back home. Water only weighs 8lbs per gallon, and I brought my backpack to put it in, so it wasn't hard to carry or anything. I kind of felt like some native in a jungle somewhere, balancing my water jug on my head, going down to the river to refill and probably contract dysentery. Only without the dysentery (hopefully).

On the way down to the store, I passed a U-Haul truck. They all have those little "Did You Know?" tidbits on the side, and being the nerd for stupid useless info that I am, I was trying to read the fact and walk at the same time. Something about the only city in North America that's surrounded by a wall. I didn't get to read which city it was because I stepped on an uneven part of the sidewalk and twisted my ankle. This uneven part of the sidewalk happens to be in front of a church, and it being Sunday morning, there were several hordes of people entering the church, and they all saw me trip and almost fall and then limp away. I'd also like to report that no one offered any help. Thanks, fuckers!

So I limped down to the store to refill my water, and there was a sign on the machine that said, "I work now!" And I thought, "This does not bode well." And it didn't. It worked, kind of, but I ended up with a water jug that had probably 5/6th of a gallon INSIDE and 1/6th of a gallon OUTSIDE, and a wet backpack and shirt. Sigh.

I limped home. I took a different route into my building than I took out, and I saw a nice pile of half-cleaned vomit on the floor. The college kids on the third floor had a party, it seems! I heard them stomping around last night, but none of the usual screaming and loud music. I have the apartment complex security people on speed-dial, just so you know. Sophie tried to eat the vomit, and fortunately, I stopped her before she did.

In my apartment, I unsaddled Sophie and myself, fed her, put the water in the fridge, and then tried to figure out what I want for breakfast. I've been having a hard time breathing lately, so eating has become extremely uncomfortable.

I'm pretty sure the breathing difficulty is happening because the Beast is using my lungs as back support while s/he kicks the bejesus out of my abdominal cavity. The kicking is so hard that it hurts now. And not just like, "Oh, that was uncomfortable," but like, "FUCK I THINK I JUST GOT SHANKED!"

Also, the Beast apparently disapproves of me eating anything at all, and will punch me in the stomach so hard that my stomach will try to eject the food out the way it came in. It's not barfing, exactly, more like reflux. It feels wonderful to eat something and then burp 15 minutes later and have half of what you just ate try to escape out of your mouth. I lied. It's not wonderful at all.

So that's my Sunday so far. All that occurred before 10am. And I still have to clean the fish tank, do my laundry, and tidy up for when my dad gets here on Wednesday. Standby for blog post regarding a spilled bucket of shitty fish water, or an exploding washing machine.

Top Ten: Crappy Pregnancy Symptoms I Never Got (Yet)

Before you get pregnant, everyone is quick to tell you how wonderful having a baby is, and how it will complete your life, and what a magical experience pregnancy is.

Then, once you are pregnant, everything changes. You no longer hear about the pregnancy glow or being cute with your belly sticking out, but instead listen to tales of pregnancy constipation and super-hairiness. And the greatest part is: no one tells you about the crappy stuff until you're already pregnant! Beautiful miracle, my ass.

I figure since I just passed the 30-week mark, most of the wonderful symptoms of pregnancy should have happened to me already. And some of them have. However, it seems like I dodged several hormonal bullets. This blog's purpose is to help me remember what did or didn't happen during my pregnancy so I can tell the Beast and any future girl/boyfriends all about it; therefore, I feel that including a post like this is essential.

So here we go: the Top Ten Crappy Pregnancy Symptoms I Never Got

1. Sasquatch-esque Hair Growth

One of the good side-effects of pregnancy is that your hair (on your head) will stop shedding. It will get super thick and shiny and luxurious, and you'll be all fabulous. Sometimes, the opposite occurs and you look like a chemotherapy patient. With me, however, my hair didn't change. It was partly disappointing, because I really wanted to enjoy thick, supermodel hair for a while. I'm kind of glad I didn't have any changes with my hair, though, because the same mechanism in your body that keeps you from shedding on your head also keeps you from shedding everywhere else. Thus, Wolf-Lady hairiness. Hairy legs, pits, No-No Zone, mustache, etc. I like that I didn't have to pluck a mustache.

2. Pregnancy Mask

Pregnancy mask occurs when the skin on a pregnant woman's face reacts unfavorably to sunlight. It will make the skin mottled, usually around the eyes, nose, and mouth (thus looking like a mask). I haven't changed my sun-soaking habits (or lack thereof) since I got pregnant, and I always wear SPF 15 on my face every day anyway. I've experienced no pregnancy mask, and no major skin problems at all, period. I wouldn't say I'm glowing; I'd say, I'm normal.

3. Poop Problems

Constipation and diarrhea are both fairly common during pregnancy, and I've not experienced any of that. Well, any more than usual. I've been craving dairy products more than usual, and being lactose intolerant, the ingestion of dairy always makes my GI tract unhappy. It's not pregnancy's fault, though, it's my addiction to moomoo milk.

4. Edema

The swelling of the extremities. Edema can indicate heart problems, but during pregnancy, it just indicates that pregnancy sucks more than your mom ever told you it did. I can still wear my wedding band all day, every day, no problem.

5. Incontinence

The increased stresses placed on a woman's pelvic area during pregnancy sometimes results in the inability to hold her pee (and less often, her doody). Sometimes, the position of the baby in later weeks puts a whole lot of pressure on the pregnant lady's bladder, and sometimes (like in my case with the Beast), the baby will use the bladder as a soccer ball and practice kicking, punching, and headbutting it. Any of these factors can contribute to incontinence. I am happy to report that I haven't peed my pants yet.

6. Foot Size Increase

During pregnancy, your body will loosen up the ligaments in your hips, so that they will come apart easier during labor, which will allow for the baby's head to fit through the birth canal. Hooray Nature! However, your body isn't shooting a ligament-loosening sniper rifle; it's blasting a ligament-loosening shotgun. By that, I mean not only do the ligaments in your hips loosen; the ligaments in your entire body do. Your feet have a lot of ligaments in them, and when they loosen, your foot size increases. Permanently. I like my small feet, and I'm glad I get to keep them.

7. Crazy Food Cravings

One of the first questions everyone asks me is, "So, what weird food cravings have you had?" And I always have to (get to?) disappoint by responding, "Nothing." It's true. I haven't even really had any huge food aversions (black olives, for the most part), and I guess Jake's lucky that I haven't forced him to go out to the store at 11pm for raisins, Jell-O, and chicken patties.

8. Sticky-Outy Belly Button

It's still amazingly concave, even this late. I thought it would have popped by now, but it hasn't. I guess there's still time, but I think it's going to stay mostly the way it was.

9. Varicose Veins (to Include Hemorrhoids)

Now, here is one of those pregnancy symptoms that no one will talk about with you until you're pregnant. Varicose veins suck enough as it is, but when they're located in your pooper (or even in your bajingo), it ups the suckfactor. Imagine hearing as a little girl: "When a mommy is pregnant with a baby, sometimes her butt will bleed when she poops!" Just FYI, when I was Googling for pics for this part, I came across some truly heinous pictures of hemorrhoids. I have decided to be merciful and not post any of them here.

10. Drooling

I forget why drooling is common during pregnancy, but it is. And I haven't drooled more than normal. It seems like a mild sucky symptom next to incontinence and hemorrhoids, but I think that drooling all over yourself while standing in line at the bank would be pretty embarrassing.

I also haven't gotten stretch marks yet, nor did I ever fly into completely insane fits of hormone-induced pregnancy rage. The stretch marks can still happen, though, and are really more likely to happen later since that's when all the stretching occurs. I don't think my mom got stretch marks, and heredity plays a significant part in the acquisition of the dreaded stretch mark. As for pregnancy uber-bitchiness, it just never showed up. There was pregnancy-related crying and sadness (some of you may recall my tale of the Energizer Bunny commercial from a previous blog posting), but those lasted about 15 minutes each and have only occurred a total of probably 6-ish times. I consider hormonal emotion swings to be a dodged bullet, as well.

I think going into painstaking detail about the really awful parts of pregnancy would deter a lot of girls from getting knocked up.

30 Weeks

Fat tummy pic:

Baby-Que invites got here!

I like them vurry mucho. And they're postcards, which makes them extra fun!

So, I'm 30 weeks today. Not much to report (besides the invitations whee!). I decided that I'm not 100% wild over the boy names we've picked out, so I'm trying to find more. So far, Operation: Name the Beast is going quite slowly. I might be too picky. Jake might be too picky. Both of us together might be picky².

In my Biology class, we're covering genetics. I am such a geek about genetics. They're swell! And I did those Punnett Squares a couple of weeks ago, so I got some practice in! They get much more complicated than that, though, and there's math involved. >:( I hate math.

TV is the Devil... and so are Some Children

On my registry blog, I have a page dedicated to stuff that people should, under no circumstances, buy me. Included are stupid outfits, fluffy blankets, and Baby Einstein videos. The reason I don't want Baby Einstein videos, I explained, is because letting babies watch "educational" TV encourages lazy parenting, and those videos have never actually been shown to do any real educating.

Now, I've received flak about this request (or anti-request, if you will). People will say, "I let my baby watch Baby Einstein and nothing bad happened blah blah blah." And I say, "Well, he's only 3. Give it a couple years. I bet you'll eventually have him on Ritalin for having ADD or some other bullshit attention disorder."

(That's right, I think 99.9% of diagnosed ADD is bullshit.)

Today, however, I stumbled across an article that proved me right, and as we all know, I love being right. Disney (the company that owns Baby Einstein) if offering a refund for Baby Einstein videos that did not turn babies into geniuses - which would be all of them, really. They apologize for marketing the videos as "educational" when there was no research done to determine whether they actually were or not (emphasis on not). This made me happy, because my exclusion of Baby Einstein videos is now justified!

Then, I read this article, and my jubilation was taken away. This one says that, essentially, some kids are just born assholes, and the best parenting in the world won't be able to turn them into nice people. I've been worried about various things during this pregnancy - mostly things that are up to fate and that I have no control over, like cystic fibrosis - but I've been pretty sure that at least our kid is going to grow up a decent human being with manners and shit, because Jake and I are both polite, socially-conscious, intelligent people (who sometimes fart on each other).

But now, I have to worry about being one of those parents who just happened to bear a total twatface of a human being. Great! I guess I should be flexing my worry muscle, though, right? It will be getting used enough for the next 18+ years; I wouldn't want to pull it!

I Overdid It

So yesterday, I cleaned my house. I really cleaned my house. I inherited neat freakness from my mom, and it all came out in one tremendous surge all day yesterday. I usually clean every Sunday, and do a deep clean once a month; however, I've been slacking lately on my weekly cleaning sessions. I still manage to change the water in the fish tank and tend my jalapeños, but vacuuming and scrubbing the toilets and that kind of thing had fallen by the wayside.

It all started with Sophie. It was heartworm pill and flea medicine day, and whenever it's flea day, it's also bath day. I bathe her first, dry her as much as I can with a towel, put flea meds on her, and then give her the heartworm pill. She likes the pill, but she hates the flea liquid. I guess it's probably that feeling of something wet dripping down her back that she dislikes. Whatever the reason, her normal routine after bath/flea time is to run around the house like a maniac and then slide around on the floor on her back, trying to get the flea medicine off.

Like this:

To prevent this, I'll take her for an hour-long walk afterward; this air-dries her and also gives the flea medicine time to soak in and dry.

So, a-walkin' we did go, and she loved it, and it was good for me. Yay.

When we got back, I noticed a wet spot on the couch. I sniffed it, as I do with all mysterious wet spots around the house, and it smelled vaguely chemical. I determined that Sophie must have brushed up against the couch and gotten her flea medicine on it, and I started to freak out. I didn't know how badly that stuff would stain our couch, so I tried to blot it off. Didn't work. The next logical step, of course, was to strip the cover off of the couch cushion and hand-wash that spot. And I did.

When I was disassembling the couch, I noticed that there were surprises under the cushions. So I vacuumed them up. Then I wondered what would be under the couch itself, so I moved it and vacuumed there. Then I vacuumed the living room. Then I dusted. Then I moved into another room, and another, and upstairs, and so on. Five hours later, I felt that I should stop.

Up side: the house is super clean. Whee!

Down side: I think my back is on strike.

I could barely roll out of bed this morning. My back hurts soooo bad. I might not get around to my normal Sunday routine things (which is pretty much only aquarium maintenance today). I tried to take Sophie for a walk, but it hurt too much. It kinda looks like rain anyway, though, so... meh.

Oh! Last night, I was trying to do a kick count but the Beast was sleeping or meditating or something. So I was poking myself in the belly to antagonize the Beast into moving, and s/he started kicking back at where I was poking. HARD! I got it on video!

The kicking starts around 9 seconds in. It made me think of that part in "Alien" where the baby alien came screaming out of that guy's chest.

Gonna Kill the Dog

I posted previously about how adorable and wonderful my dog, Sophie, is. However, some days, I want to kill her, or at the very least throw her out a window.

Today is one of those days.

She won't eat. I put food in her bowl this morning, and it's still there. It's almost dinner time! She walked over, sniffed it, and then walked over to me and started whining. I want to scream, "WHAT?! Do you know how expensive that food is?? It's some of the best food on the market! EAT IT!!!!!!"

I told her to go away, and she did. She's now sitting in the living room, pouting, whining pathetically. I took her out to potty about an hour ago, so I know she doesn't have to do that. She has food in her bowl. She is surrounded by toys. I don't know what her deal is.

I thought briefly about taking her for a walk, but it's too hot. I'd be dead before we crossed the street. Sophie doesn't like the heat, either. There's a little enclosed dog area in our apartment complex, but there's no shade over there and it's full of shit piles because people let their dogs dump in there and don't clean it up. I used to, but it's really hard to bend over now, so I just pick up my own dog's dumps.

I'm worried, too, that her lack of appetite means that her diarrhea is coming back. Refer to my blog titled The Diarrhea Chronicles: Volume 1 if you want to know more about the explosive nature of my dog's rectum. In a nutshell, when she gets an upset tummy, it results in me cleaning dog shit off of everything for hours at a time. I do not enjoy this.

I imagine this is good practice for later, when I have a willful child that refuses to eat what I serve him or her. Is it against the law to just crank open your kid's face and mash food in there until they've consumed a serving? It is? Damn.

What's Mexican for "Doctor"?

Owww my skin!

Fortunately, the tech that draws the blood at my doc's office is very good at it, and she keeps the pain as low as it can be. Which is good. I have giant, freakishly plump veins, and a long time ago I set forth a rule when it comes to having my blood drawn: the tech gets one try, and then they're DONE. It may sound unfair to those of you in the blood-drawing bidnis, but seriously, if you saw my veins, you'd be like, "WTF someone actually couldn't poke that on the first try?" A decent tech could probably draw my blood without even using a tourniquet.

So, I had my glucose test today. For anyone who is facing that test in the near future and has heard the horror stories about how awful it tastes, let me allay your fears (somewhat): it's not that bad. Yeah, it's not exactly delicious, and you probably aren't going to think, "Oh yum! I could drink this shit all day!" But it's not horrifically disgusting. The aftertaste is the worst part, and not even the immediate aftertaste. You'll drink it, be like, "OK that wasn't so bad," and then 15 minutes later, the aftertaste will creep into your mouth and make you taste icky until you can eat something. And since you haven't ingested anything but that glucose drink, you'll probably feel kind of sick. Not that bad, but just enough to make you go blahhhh.

My doctor and I went over my birth plan, and he's on board with mostly everything. The hospital I'm delivering at has a policy that requires at least a saline lock, so I agreed to get one. A saline lock, for those who don't know, is an IV that isn't connected to anything. It's just a port that is closed unless they need to put something in you, and then they can just hook an IV in. It will be there just in case, but I can still skip around the room without being tied to a rolly IV thing.

Rolly IV thing.

So I agreed to that. It's policy, and I can understand why the doctors would want it there just in case my head explodes or something. And they won't be able to sneak something into me that I don't want there. So yay!

I had also said I wanted to be able to eat and drink while in labor (I don't expect I'll want a steak or anything, but I at least wanted the option), and my doc said drinking wouldn't be a problem, but they generally try to dissuade laboring mothers from eating. From what I've read, I probably won't want to eat anything anyway, and he said eating solid foods increases my chances of barfing during labor and then choking on my own barf. Not exactly how I picture my birth experience. So I said I wouldn't eat, but I might sneak a cookie or something small anyway. Don't tell on me. >.>

I said I didn't want constant fetal monitoring, and he said no problem. They will want to monitor every 30 minutes to an hour or so, and I'm fine with that. I just want to be able to move around.

Apparently, it is standard practice to give Pitocin to all mothers after the baby is born. It speeds up the delivery of the placenta, and also helps to reduce blood loss. I initially said that I want to have absolutely nothing to do with Pitocin, but I agreed to take some AFTER the Beast is born. Mostly to make my doctor feel better. He said I won't DIE if I don't get the Pitocin, but I'll lose a lot more blood. I'm of the opinion that my body (probably) isn't going to let me bleed out and die after having a baby, but I do appreciate the advances that modern medicine has made that make life a little easier for my bod. And I thought about how tired I'm going to be anyway, and how taxed my poor body is going to be, and I figured, "Well, less blood to regenerate is just less work for my body, so I'll go for it."

The doc always does a feely thing on my tum, just to see what the Beast is up to, and today he informed me that the Beast is configured as follows:

So when I feel pressure on my bladder, it's not because the Beast is kicking it; it's because the Beast is headbutting it. What a treasure!

The fact that the Beast is head-down makes me happy, even though it's still early and s/he will probably continue to flip around in there. I guess I'm just glad that the head-down position is being tested, and even just that the Beast CAN be head-down. Like, somehow, the Beast wasn't going to be able to flip head-down. I worry about the dumbest things.

29 Weeks

29 down, 11 to go.

It seems kind of surreal that my "weeks to go" count is finally down to such small numbers. Pretty soon, it will be a single digit. HOLY SHIT!

Tomorrow, I have my glucose test. Blurrgggg. I got to choose between the orange- or lemon-flavored glucose drizink, and I picked lemon. I've never been a big fan of orange-flavored bevvies. It's in the fridge, staring at me, mocking me: "You know I'm going to taste like ass, right? You have no idea. Get ready for ickmouth, bitch."

Grrr bad glucose drink.

I'm a little worried, though, because I have my appointment at 11, which means I should drink the drink around liiiiiiike 10:15. But my Biology lab is at buttcrack early AM, so I'm going to be hungry all morning. Normally, I'd sleep in until like 10, toss that glucose drink down, and then only have to be hungry for 45 minutes. But no, I'm going to be in my Bio lab, staring at various reagents for experiments, and pondering how tasty they would be.

Don't Be Skeerd

Over on the right side ----------------------------------->(thattaway) there is a poll on the Beast's sex. It's for everyone and anyone to vote on! And I can't see who voted which way, so if you're worried about that, don't be. :)

Oh yeah, and I added two new pics to the Pictures tab. Weeks 27 and 28. For some reason I look fatter at 27 than at 28. It's a mystery.

Mmmm Forbidden Donut

I was jonesing for donuts like whoa this morning. There aren't any Krispy Kremes or Dunkin' Donuts near enough to me to make a trip worth it. So I went to the grosharee store and got Hostess donuts. The bite-sized ones. And they. Are. Delicious.

I put them away. I had to. I would have eaten them all if they were within reach.

The Beast likes donuts. S/he's been kicking around like crazy since I started eating them. Here's another milestone today: the Beast is now big enough so that sometimes when s/he kicks, it hurts me. And I don't know if this really means anything, but when the Beast is kung fu fighting in there, it's mostly on my right side. Just punching and kicking the SHIT out of my right side. Sometimes, I poke back. "HEY, settle down in there." The Beast does not listen.

Self-Control is Important on the Interweb

I haven't experienced pregnant lady hormone rages. I've been lucky like that. Jake's been lucky, too. The most emotional thing that's happened to me so far is that I started crying hysterically while watching an Energizer battery commercial (the one where the bunny gives some aliens a jump start). I was sitting there on the couch, bawling, thinking, "What a nice bunny! He's so kind! I wish more people were like that bunny!"

That said, I have gotten less tolerant of people being contrary to my opinions. I'll jump on someone right away when I think they're wrong, even if they're not. Normally, I would bide my time, Google up some good points for my side of the argument, and then strike back when they least expected it. POW! BIFF! BAM! BATMAN SOUNDS! That's how Taylor do.

I frequent many forums, and a couple weeks ago, one of them featured a post wherein someone told a joke that bashed the people who voted for Obama. Called them (us) retards, because voting for Sarah Palin is NOT retardery of the umpteenth degree, somehow. Anyway, it's not a political forum, so posting something like that opens one up for scathing retaliation. And some of that certainly did occur. But the forum is based in Utah, and Utah is a pretty red state, so there were a lot more people laughing and agreeing than there were saying, "While we're on the topic of retards... G Dubya anyone?"

I kept my opinions to myself for a while, until someone mentioned that Obama was fucking up the conflicts we're involved in in Iraq and Afghanistan (because, according to this person, wars are supposed to improve a country's economy, not ruin it). I couldn't help myself. I had to respond. He's fucking up an already fucked-up-beyond-all-conceivable-imagination situation?? Um, who even got us into that stupid conflict?? It wasn't Obama; it was some jackass who looks a lot like a chimpanzee, and his geriatric puppetmaster.

I managed not to swear during my response (in which I pointed out that the only reason WWI and WWII were profitable for the US was because we weren't involved until the very end, and all we did was sell weapons to GB... also, that Vietnam was one of the major factors that caused the economic crisis of the 1970s), and at the end, I added that I wasn't going to respond anymore, because I didn't want to create bad blood on a forum that I enjoyed and that really shouldn't be the stage for a political discussion.

I stayed away from that post for two weeks. It's been hard.

Today, I was clicking through, and I saw a response. I had to look. One person, even though they have differing political affiliations than I, complimented me on a well-written post. I appreciate that. Another person shoved this in my face:

"One of my BEST FRIENDS just came back from AFGHANISTAN where he was awarded a PURPLE HEART for defending YOUR FREEDOM! You try looking him IN THE EYE and telling him that this war is a LOST CAUSE!"

There was other blahblahblah as well, but this person never learned about punctuation in school and his/her post was difficult to make sense of. That was the gist.

Oh yes, I did say that the war is a lost cause (not specifically those words; I said it was unwinnable). I likened it to digging a hole in dry sand: while you're in there digging, the hole is open, but once you leave, that hole is going to collapse and all your effort will be for nothing.

I wrote a response that pointed out that I'm a veteran, I've been to the Middle East, and unlike his BEST FRIEND, I probably actually understand the motivations of the denizens of those countries (albeit not as well as many other people; I'm not trying to say that I'm an expert by any means). I said I'd look anyone in the eye and tell them that the war is stupid, because my opinions aren't going to change just because the person I'm talking to got injured in said stupid war (my tact and empathy may increase, however). I said that the war we're fighting over there is going about as well as the British Empire's war against the American colonists. And we all know how that turned out. We're either going to have to just admit defeat and leave them to kill each other (which is what they've been doing for hundreds of years), or we're going to just have to kill them ALL at once. Like an Etch-a-Sketch. Shake-shake-shake. You're all dead. Clean slate!

I almost posted my response. Almost. Thisclose. But then I cancelled it. After all, I had already said that I wouldn't respond anymore, so my lack of response isn't an admission of "hey you're right." I don't need to defend my opinions to some turd who doesn't know anything about me or about the experiences I have that allow me to come to the conclusions that I do.

But I reeeeeeally wanted to reply. It was nasty. It wasn't a nice response. And it would have felt SOO GOOD to hit "post reply," but I didn't. Not there, anyway. That's why I posted it here. I have to get it out or I'm going to be wigging about it all day. And I don't have Jake here to rant to, so I have to do it this way. Yay!

Top 10: Labor and Delivery Fears

I found this article on MSN.com about the top ten fears that pregnant women have about labor. I thought it would be super fun to go through them and see if the fears of the general public match my own.

For those of you who don't feel like reading the article, here's the rundown of the list:

1. Not getting to the hospital on time.

2. Not being able to handle the pain.

3. Having a C-section.

4. Dying.

5. Pooping.

6. Epidural.

7. Tearing.

8. The birth plan being ignored.

9. Being in labor forever.

10. Delivery complications.

I'm not worried about #1. The hospital I've chosen to deliver at is 14 minutes away, according to GoogleMaps. Depending on the time of day we have to make the drive, it might end up being closer to half an hour (the road we would take goes right past the U, and traffic can get hairy). But still... half an hour? If I wait too long to leave and end up having the baby in the car on the way, that's my own fault. I'm going to head in as soon as my water breaks. I figure that should give me more than half an hour.

The pain of childbirth has begun to weigh on my mind. Not heavy yet, but it's there. I'm determined to do this without painkillers (barring any kind of emergency procedures), and those who know me can attest to my stubbornness. No drugs, DAMMIT! I don't even want them to put an IV in, because I have this fear that someone is going to sneak in and put something other than saline in the drip, thus ruining my perfect birthing experience. Anyway, I'm trying to do pregnancy yoga every day, walking with Sophie when I can, and generally trying to keep in shape so I can have an easier labor. I wanted to do hypnobirthing, but the classes are WAY expensive. I've done biofeedback before, which is basically all deep breathing does for you, so I think I'll be able to handle much of the pain on my own. For the other pain, I can always try my best to crush Jake's hands.

I am very afraid of having a C-section. Moreover, I'm afraid of circumstances leading up to me needing a C-section. I'm only going to allow a C-section if the Beast is in distress... like, serious distress. Cord around his/her neck... that kind of distress. If the Beast is breech (depending on the breech, I suppose), I still want to try for a vaginal delivery. Like I said, it depends on the exact position, but breech babies have been delivered vaginally before, and they'll be delivered vaginally again. I really, really don't want my abdominal muscles to get cut apart. It's hard enough now to move around, and they're only stretched. But cut right apart? Not on my watch, skippy.

I hadn't really thought about dying in childbirth. After reading this article, I started thinking about dying, and I got scared. I looked up statistics for maternal childbirth mortality rates in the United States, and I got un-scared. Statistically, 13 out of 100,000 live births result in the death of the mother (this is a general average... some places report 11 in 100,000, and others report up to 17 in 100,000) Apparently, Maine is the safest state in the US to give birth, and Georgia is the most dangerous. Glad I don't live in Georgia anymore!! *cackle* However, the risk factors involved in maternal mortality don't really apply to me (so far): obesity and obesity-related complications (diabetes, eclampsia, etc), poor prenatal care, and... are you ready for this?... C-sections! Yes, hemorrhaging from C-section is one of the factors that is causing the US's maternal mortality rate to rise. Hmm... one more reason to not get a C-section? Sho nuff.

Pooping: they don't talk about it on those birthing shows. But every pregnancy book you buy will have a really fun chapter all about pooping while in labor. It's one of those things that you kind of hear about AFTER you're already pregnant... "Wait, WHAT? I'm going to take a dump while I'm having the baby? What the... they didn't tell us about that in school!!" They don't, because it's not quite the magical miracle of life you've been imagining since girlhood if there's doody involved. I'm worried about crapping on the table, but I know that it probably happens often enough so that the attending medical personnel aren't going to be like, "DUDE, you just took a SHIT!" Doing clinicals for my CNA, I had to wipe plenty of poopers (and other, equally as disgusting body fluids) off of people, and I never really thought poorly of that person. I thought it was gross and I'd never get the smell out of my nose, but I didn't think of that person as being nasty or anything. I expect the same thing when I'm the one pooping. Oh, and I've also heard that when you start going into labor, your body kind of, um... cleanses itself. As in, your bowels loosen up and everything comes out. It's a way of prepping so you do NOT poo all over your baby. Sounds fun. I hope I don't poo on the table, but if I do, I'm not going to freak out about it.

I don't want an epidural. I'm pretty much not going to allow them to give me one unless I NEED it, and by that I mean if I need a C-section (because I think they give you an epidural for C-sections, rather than general anesthesia). I'm trying to go the au naturel (yes, that's spelled correctly) route and not have any kind of drugs, but I'm also incredibly afraid of having a needle jammed into my SPINE. I have tattoos on my back, but absolutely none of them are over or even near my spinal cord. I'm aware that a tattoo needle wouldn't penetrate deeply enough to do damage to my spinal cord, but I still won't get one over it. It just freaks me out. Having a needle actually inserted between vertebrae? I don't think so!! They'd have to knock me out first, which, I think, would defeat the entire purpose.

Tearing worries me. I'm worried mostly about taking care of it afterward. To keep this from happening (TMI incoming, skip the rest of this paragraph if you don't want to read about vaginas), I've been doing Kegels (which are good for other reasons, too, but also to prevent tearing) and perineal massage (if you don't know what that is, Google it... I'm not going to explain it here!). Hopefully, those in combination will keep me from tearing. But, like pooping, tearing is one of those things that happens sometimes. I'm not worried enough about tearing to get an episiotomy. Aww hells naw.

I'm not afraid of my birth plan being ignored. I've already talked about the key points with my doctor, and he's pretty much on board with everything I want. He's a very go-with-the-flow, "hey, whatever you want as long as it's safe" type of doctor, which I appreciate. I've done research on most of the things I do or do not want, so I feel like I'm going into this thing having done my homework and knowing better than the general person walking around. However, I know I'm not a doctor, nor do I have experience with this kind of thing, and I'm prepared to defer to him if an emergency arises. I AM writing a birth plan and bringing copies of it to the hospital with me, however, just in case MY doctor can't be there, and I'm attended by some new person who tries to rush me or some shit. I'm confident that my bitch abilities will be great enough to ward off any attempted deviations from my birth plan. Also, I know that patients have rights, and I know what they are, and I can quote them. BAM! Out of my face! Education rules.

No one has ever been in labor forever. I'm trying to be optimistic and expect my labor to last only a couple of hours, but you never know what might happen. My mom's water broke and I was born an hour and a half later. I'm hoping for labor like that. I know it might not happen like that. I'm open to the possibility that I might have 24-hour-long labor, and while that makes me sad, it's not the end of the world. The Beast will come out eventually, even if I have to get a (dun dun DUNNN) C-section.

Delivery complications are definitely troublesome, because some of them are neither preventable nor predictable. Baby with the umbilical cord wrapped around its neck is one of those complications. However, since I can neither prevent nor predict these complications, I'm not going to let myself worry about them. Why worry about something that probably won't even happen? Exactly.

Just sitting here, thinking about delivery, I can pinpoint exactly what my biggest fears are. I don't want to give birth lying on my back (it's just dumb), so I want to try standing, squatting, or what have you. I'm afraid people are going to think I'm weird. I know it's a stupid fear, but it's still there. I'm also afraid that my water is going to break in an embarrassing place, like at the movies. I'm probably going to avoid going out for the last couple weeks leading up to the 22nd. Another fear I have, but which isn't really related to the birth itself, is that I'm going to make cookies and bring them in for the nurses, and no one is going to eat them. Stupid fear. They're all stupid. I'm not afraid of dying, but I am afraid of people not eating my cookies.

Happy Fourth of July!

Don't worry, Mom, I don't actually hate British people!

My Nerdiness is Bigger than Your Nerdiness

I spent most of the day figuring out Punnet squares to try and figure out what the Beast will look like. It's fun! After s/he is born, I can compare and see how accurate this crap really is. :D

Now, for some of this stuff, I don't know exactly what Jake and I are, in terms of BB vs Bb. I did my best to guess.

The blue letters are Jake's traits, and the pink ones are mine.

Eye Color

B - brown

b - blue

B b

B BB Bb

b Bb bb

Hair Color

B - brown

b - black

B b

B BB Bb

B BB Bb

Hairline

B - Widow's peak

b - straight line

b b

B Bb Bb

b bb bb

L/R Finger Lock

B - left over right

b - right over left

B B

B BB BB

B BB BB

Earlobes

B - attached

b - disconnected

b b

B Bb Bb

B Bb Bb

Chin Cleft

B - cleft

b - no cleft

b b

B Bb Bb

b bb bb

Freckles

B - there

b - not there

b b

B Bb Bb

b bb bb

Polydactyly

B - there

b - not there

b b

b bb bb

b bb bb

Dimples

B - there

b - not there

B b

b Bb bb

b Bb bb

Monkey Toes

B - big toe shorter

b - second toe shorter

b b

B Bb Bb

b bb bb

Blood Type

The Beast will be O... O positive, to be exact! If not, we have a serious problem.

B - O

b - A or B

B B

B BB BB

B BB BB

Stature

B - short

b - tall

B b

B BB Bb

b Bb bb

Eye Shape

B - almond

b - round

b b

b bb bb

b bb bb

I apologize for the stupid layout; I can't figure out how to make it stay spaced how I want it. Bah!

Test...

I'm curious to know whether this will post to my main page or the Pictures tab. Ready, set, TEST!

edit: posted to the main page. Lame. I want to be able to make multiple posts to my tabs. Pffftttttt...

Creepfactor: 11

Check it out.



(Yay thanks Tanya for teaching me how to HTML!)

OK, call me close-minded, but I find this lady to be extremely creeptastic. Breastfeeding at eight years old?? That's just gross. I'm borderline willing to call this child abuse.

She says, "Once you're out in that big, bad world, that's it. There's no safe haven like being at mother's breast." Yeah lady, but your kids need to prepare for that big, bad world. If you just toss them out into it all of a sudden, they're probably going to have a mental break. I think keeping them suckling for so long is more for her than it is for them. Let them go, Creepy British Lady, let them go!!

Now, I'm all for breastfeeding. I plan to exclusively breastfeed for 6 months, and then do combo breastfeeding and mushy baby food feeding after that. I think breastfeeding for up to 2 years is a good target to shoot for. Any longer than that will start cramping my style. Besides, at 2 years old, a kid is more than capable of eating solid food. S/he doesn't NEED breast milk anymore. Think about all non-human animals... they don't breastfeed for 8 YEARS! They wean their babies early on. They all seem to be doing fine (except the panda, but pandas are asswipes. Fuck pandas.), and I think we can observe that Mother Nature likes breastfeeding but not for too long. And if obeying Mother Nature is wrong, I don't wanna be right!