Weeeee for Wii!

Back in January I started workin' out.  I was gettin' fat and there wasn't much gettin'  left about it.  Then I joined Seattle Sutton Healthy Eating and I managed to drop about fifteen very unwanted pounds.  Then I got pregnant and stopped working out.  As you know I've been quite "ick" this time around and food just hasn't meant the same to me.  It's not enjoyable, but necessary. 

So I eat and do my best to keep it down.  I usually succeed, especially since the doc gave me a prescription for nausea-one that cancer patients take.  It works most of the time. 

Oh, and I never poop.  It's rare.  Once or twice a week.  Now I drink Miralax in hopes that will help.

Anyway, I decided to do some step aerobics on my long lost, forgotten Wii Fit Plus in hopes that my bowels might get jostled a tad and some shit might make it's way to the door.  So I set it up, get it goin' and the freakin' thing gives me grief about not working out in 74 days.  REALLY?  That long eh?  Time is flying.  I do my balance test and then set down the remote (so as not to add extra weight) and listen for the scale to "boopboopboop" up the numbers.  And to my surprise my avitar starts jumping up and down and then flowers appear on the screen and a message pops up "You have reached your goal weight!"  Are you kidding me?  All I had to do was get pregnant to lose that last ten?  Crazy.  I am officially down 25 pounds from where I started.

I reckon I'll make up for it.  I'm well prepared.  So I set a new goal.  August of '11 is my 20 year class reunion.  I will birth this boy in late February early March (provided all goes smoothly) and so I set my goal that one year from now, I will weigh even eight pounds less than I weigh today since the Wii told me that would be a good weight for me.  Unfortunately I can't explain my situation to the Wii.  Maybe they can add that feature?  A Pregnancy Wii Fit PLUS PLUS.  HA!

I LOVE WEED(s)

Oh how I wish I had Showtime!  I don't even have cable.  Season 6 of Weeds has begun and it's killin' me that I have to wait another 6 months (hopefully less) to get it on Netflix.  If you don't watch it you should.  It's is my drug.  I never really took a liking to marijuana, so this is my weed.

And I simply can not wait for my next hit!

Weight Lifting

I am now eleven weeks pregnant.  I want to be soooo happy, but I've been soooo sick!  I'm not a good puker and a pukin' I be doin'.  I'm nauseated constantly.  My entire colon cries at the job it has to do the minute it punches the clock.  My stomach is producing more bile than an elephants gallbladder, causing even my feces to be yellow.  Every time I take a sip of water or a bite of food I belch constantly for a half hour.  I'm not even exaggerating!  One day in six will be what I consider "a good day" in which I actually eat well and don't have to brace myself for a possible VURP.  Is this all really first trimester shit?

The other evening I actually ventured outside which is HUGE since the heat and humidity have rendered me an A/C addict, and my man alarmingly commented on my body with a "you look really thin."  HUH?  I dunno what that's about.  I feel fatter than ever.  I'm bloated, I seldom crap and the food I manage to choke down is bottled up in my small intestine making the bloat solid and not just gassy.  FuN FoR Me!

So I dared to do what I haven't yet done since finding out I was preggers.  I step on a scale.  I do a double take.  Humph.  He's right.  I've lost another eight pounds.  Mind you, I had been working out and lost fifteen or sixteen already since January, but this past eight was unintentional.  Water weight?  Maybe.  Lack of alcohol?  Likely.  Not being able to pig on out like I normally do?  Fo sho! 

So I made my first OB appointment for Thursday.  I hear there is medicine for what I have going on.  I would give anything to not feel this way.  My poor BF is trying to be understanding.  He hates to see me horizontal in front of the television 24/7 but honestly I'm not capable of much more and I am NOT, for the record, enjoying it.  I would rather be outside in the garden, grillin' and chillin' and what have you.  I've turned my toddler into a demanding princess since giving in to her ridiculous requests is easier when I feel this way.  She watches movies all day long, makes messes I don't make her clean up and eats food all over the house and has stained (over and over) every piece of furniture on the first floor.  I am creating a monster.  And I think I'm spawning one as well.

Cross your fingers this goes away soon....

The Gas We Pass

Why is it that the minute I fart someone appears?  Not just a normal, kind fart either.  I'm talking the hot, silent, stinky ones.  The SBD's of Assland.  I'm alone all evening at work except when I have to scan a patient.  I sit in my "control room" and mind my own everything waiting for my pager to go "beep beep beep" in the night.  On a really sloooooooow night I check the web, read a book, check the web some more and no one even comes near me or my four walls. 

Then the gas kicks in.  Heats up.  And stinks rotten hell!  POOF goes the fart and POOF appears a person.  It's not just work either.  At home I'll let one fly and within seconds there's a knock at the door.  And weirdest of all, I swear sometimes after laying a vapor pooper in my car a passenger will all of the sudden be sitting next to me.  How is that?

Food Review

I'm not often a sucker for food commercials.  Here and there I see one for Olive Garden or Don Pablos that has me scramming to find a partner in crime to indulge with me.  Or maybe a new flavor of the month at Culver's, even though I've only ever had ONE frozen custard from there.  The last few days I've been drooling over the new Sub at Subway.  The Cuban pulled pork.  I love myself some pulled pork so I thought I'd give it a shot.  It's on my way to work and I needn't find a friend to accompany me on a "take out" bender.  So I stopped, they built and I bought.  Subway always baffles me to begin with.  The commercial and the poster show the sandwich with pork, sliced ham, swiss cheese, pickles and mustard and maybe something else I'm forgetting, but the sandwich artist always asks what you want on it.  That always causes me to run amuk with the suggested fixin's!  So I end up with pepper jack cheese, lettuce, pickles, black olives and southwest chipotle mayo.  Toasted please, with a bag of plain chips.  Hold the soda.

So me with my current state of raging hormones and constant nausea inhales half the sub (I always get a foot long so I can have seconds at some point) and shortly after wants to puke.  Granted, everything has made me feel that way lately, but there was something "porky piggy" about the flavor of this meal.  I tasted a tad too much oink for my liking.  So I decided I didn't like the new Cuban pulled pork sammy from Subby.

Nonetheless I just ate the other half nearly 24 hours later and it didn't get any better, even with the added mustard packet.  Bummer.

Attack of the Tic Tac

About a year back my daughter stopped wanting to leave daycare when I came to pick her up.  I wasn't really offended since I was never one to leave a party before passing out or being dragged out.  I understood there was fun to be had.  It was the fight that got old so I came up with the perfect solution all on my own.  I'll give her Skittles when she gets buckled in her carseat as her reward for leaving peacefully and at her own will.  And it worked!

Well, certain members of my parenting party didn't like that she was eating six Skittles a week and asking for them after "punching out" so to speak so I switched to the ONE CALORIE TIC TAC and made sure she understood she was only to get them in the car, after daycare.  And maybe occasionally on longer road trips.  For example, on our way to my nieces graduation party.

"Can I have a Tic Tac peeeees?"

The talented driver I am I pour the usual two out into my palm and twist my arm just so in the direction of the back seat and she diligently picks them out of my palm.  She's gotten good too, because in the past she'd often drop one and it would disappear into carseat space and all hell would break loose until I replaced the one that'd vanished at the expense of her little fingers.

All of the sudden I hear crying.  What now?  Did she drop one?  She doesn't usually cry about it.  Then my nephew who luckily was sitting next to her in the back seat informed me that one did indeed get lost.  But this time it faded up into nasal space.  And there around her teeny tiny nostril was a hint of apple green candy color that got left behind to prove the crime.

Now I've heard of this before.  I think my bestie's daughter put a felt tip from a marker up her nose and had to see a physician to get it out..or something like that.  I panicked.  I was driving, what could I possibly do?  I was on a super fast, crazy busy interstate.  Do I pull over?  Then before I could make a decision my nephew announces he successfully retrieved the evil little culprit.  Whew.  And guess who sat very quietly in the passenger seat without saying a word or reacting the least bit.  Yup...the Skittle Nazi himself that also tried to police the Tic Tac consumption and I refused to reform.

Needless to say (then why say it?) no more Tic Tac's.  Although it coulda been worse.  It coulda been a Skittle.

The Smell of Water

So I may as well come out and say it.  I'm knocked up again.  This time, however, there were two willing participants as opposed to zero.  HA!  Well, my man "gave it up" one night and I'm guessing by all the pacing and blank looks lately that he didn't think it'd actually take.  Cuz..you know, it only took one time last time.  He's doing alright with it though.  He's coming around.  It's definitely different this time.  He's talking about it.  Asking questions about it.  Has positive remarks about it.  I'm sure I have my critics who'd say we have too much relationship rescuing to do to bring another child into our family but we will always have that.  It's our thing.  We will always be learning about one another.

I'm trying to enjoy it this time.  With my previous pregnancy I was soooo stressed and in a constant state of uncertainty that I honestly only remember feeling a little nauseated.  Not this time.  Noooo.  I'm feeling it all and smelling it all.

OH the SMELLS!

When I open up the washmachine, I wanna puke.  Wha?  It's clean laundry?  When I put on deodorant, I wanna puke.  When I put an effin' glass of water up to my face, I wanna puke.  It's everything.  My coworker is currently eating a buffalo chicken wrap and I wanna puke.  I don't think I would make it as a dog.  And I love love love to eat but now it's become a fret.  For at least an hour after eating I have to concentrate on not puking.  Why not just puke?  Have you ever puked immediately upon eating?  No fun.  Chunks hit the toilet and water splashes back up in your face.  Ick.  Especially here at the hospital.  I don't wanna puke in a hospital toilet.  That thing has seen a lot of ass and a lot of that ass has been sick with something.

So ya.  Prego.  Bun in oven.  Saw the heartbeat yesterday.  Due February 22nd.  I wonder if this time around he'll fetch me Blizzards from the DQ.  Nah...doubt it.  Oh well.

Mental Tattoos

Oh how I love to get a good massage.  Not a feel good massage either.  No no.  The kind I get are not for the weak.  They hurt.  They make you wanna cry but you know you need the work so you distract yourself by holding conversation with the massage therapist.  Initially this bothered me.  She'd start asking me questions and I'd give short answers hoping she'd just let me relax and enjoy.  But then I realized that I not only needed the conversation, but wanted it as well.  How were her kids-her Albino son with the vision issues?  How's the bathroom remodel coming along?  Did her Brittish hubby find work yet?  And occasionally I'm reminded of a funny that is worth bloggin' 'bout.


As she pressed, pulled and beat on me we began discussing tattoos.  "Yup" I assured her "I only have the one".  But I've always secretly wanted another on my back somewhere, ideally my lower back, of a smooshed fairy from Lady Cottington's Pressed Fairy Book. (Not sure that's the exact title but it's A MUST READ).  When you get to the end of the book this so called pressed fairy cutout falls out onto your lap.  It did mine, at least.  Since then I thought it would look hilarious on my back, as though I personally sat back against a chair and smooshed her with her stretched out leg and foot trailing down between my ass crack.  However, with lower back tattoos gettin' a trampy rap I decided against anymore ink until I can figure out a better place for my fairy to float.


Insert joke here:
Why do women get their belly buttons pierced? (Answer can be found at the end of this post)


SOOoo, I explained to my massage gal that I thought about getting the tattoo on my ankle touched up.  It's quite sun kissed and dull and I wouldn't mind that pain again.  It's a sexy pain.  In fact one of my highschool classmates is a Tattoo Artist and I know she would do it!  But would she?  This is my dilemma.  You see, she used to have a crush on me.  I wasn't really aware of it..I don't think..until a rumor circulated at my sister's wedding that I actually SLEPT with this person. HUH?  Ya, okay.  True.  I did share a bed with her in highschool when we'd have sleepovers but I never SLEPT slept with her.  I even recall a time she put her arm around me "spoonishly" and I thought nothing of it cause she was affectionate.  She had a boyfriend, besides.  Rumors went around that she was a lesbian but I defended her then and now she was spreading rumors about me, er...us!


There's more to the story.  It was before the rumor, after she'd "come out".  Since our Mom's lived across the avenue from one another, I'd visit her when I was home from college.  We sat chatting on the couch and I spilled some frustration about the divorce of my parents and how dating was the furthest thing from my mind.  Well, apparently what she heard was "I'm a lesbian too.  Please help me find a date." 


Now I can see where one might read into that and get that.  KIDDING of course.  HUH?  So I'm at my best friends cabin and she gets off the phone and announces that "E" is coming to the cabin as well and bringing a bunch of gay people!  I didn't mind.  I was hip and open and accepting of E's lifestyle and welcomed her presence.


Hours go by and no "E" and no gay posse.  I got sleepy and decided to crawl into bed and call it a night.  I'm pretty sure I was asleep when this took place.


ME:  Wakes up startled by E jumping on the bed
E:  "Jezi waaaaake uuuup!"
ME:  Now kinda sleeping and kinda pretending because I hear a lot of loud, festive man voices downstairs and wasn't sure if I could ever get the energy to join that party.
E:  "Jezi, I brought a girl for you".
ME: (very calm and groggy) "E, I like penises"
E: "No you don't"
ME: "Yes, I do"


With that she left the room and joined her friends downstairs.  I was rather confused, yet grateful had I actually thought I was a lesbian, or reaching out to become one, that she was there to hook me up.  However, it made for an awkward evening.  I eventually crawled out from my safety hole because quite honestly, the group of 5 or 6 sounded more like a group of infants on a rollercoaster and sleep was not gonna happen.  This girl o'mine (teehee) was not shy about staring at me.  I was shy about even remotely glancing in her direction in fear of misleading her.  And yet, because it's a fault of mine, I actually felt sorry for my blind date because it was too blind to even be a date. 

The rest of the evening from what I recall was quite entertaining for a girl from a small town that didn't have much experience around gay men.  The most vivid in my memory is that of the boys running into the water in their white bikini/thong undies squealing from the chilly water and splashing and galloping about. 

So, as a wrap up, although things have since been smoothed over (and she denied starting the rumor), I'm not sure I want to give her access to my leg with permanent ink.  Maybe I'm just being paranoid.  Indeed, we are Facebook friends and she's been "married" for years and has the most beautiful daughter from Guatemala and probably has no interest in toying with me. 

Afterall, she's already tattooed my brain. 

A:  So they have somewhere to hang the air freshener!

The Unthinkable

I got an invite via Facebook the other day that was for a cancer benefit.  I didn't recognize the name so I did some research and it turns out an ex-boyfriend, whom I dated briefly years back, is dating a woman who was recently diagnosed with..of all things..Pancreatic Cancer.  She's 34 freakin' years old.  You can check out her story here:

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/daynabrown

As someone who works in the medical field (but by NO MEANS is an expert) I know two things.  First, it's a fluke or a mistake cause young women do not get pancreatic cancer.  And secondly, I can tell just by reading her journal that world is going to be worse off without her.  Life is so unfair.  It's likely she won't see her 35th birthday.  She won't get to see her mini potbelly pig Oscar Piggy grow up...or out rather.  There are so many "she won'ts".  I can say this however.  She has a great man beside her on her cancer journey.  She's lucky for that. 

~Smile today~

Don't Shake the Baby

We had a great weekend up at the Lake as a family + one (my nephew/nanny for the weekend).  The weather could have been better but I'm almost thankful it wasn't since the air conditioning unit in the cabin was obnoxiously loud and irritating.  The first night was a tad muggy so I turned it on to get some air going through the place and had to turn it off!  Anyone that knows me knows that I looooooove myself some cold air inside even when it's chilly on the outside.  But this..thing..this rickety, old box has a screech and a clank and clunk way beyond tolerable.  So much so that I would rather lie awake miserable with sticky, stagnant room air!  Air tantrum aside, we did manage to fish a little.  My daughter didn't want to go on the boat at first.  She HATES loud engines and I felt somewhat apprehensive about forcing her on it but we did.  She didn't enjoy herself one bit.  Until we were done, that is.  She was on my lap the entire time with this cross look of torment upon her pretty little face.  Only once did she speak and that was after I got her pumped up to see the minnows!  "Fish!" she exclaimed.  That was about it.  On the way back to shore she tipped her head back with her eyes closed and let the sun shine on her face. 

She is soooo me sometimes.

Back on land she was all fired up and didn't stop talking about the boat and fishing. 

"I wanna feeeesh". (The eeeeesh is indicative of whining).  Knowing this was not at all true I shrugged it off.  "No no honey.  All done feeeeshing for today".

She didn't let up much but I was able to keep my sense of humor because toddlers DO NOT give up.  Especially if you've ever, even once, given in.  She is relentless and driven.

She is sooooo not me sometimes.

As the weekend progressed she got progressively more whiny.  To be expected, really, since her naps were shorter and she was waking up earlier and getting restless sleep due to a cough that only comes out at night.  (She only comes out at night...watch out boy she'll chew you up!)  Ahem..sorry.  I have these days where everything reminds me of a song.

Back home yesterday I woke up around 6:19 to "Mama! (pause..pause)  Mama!  Where you? (pause pause) Mama!"  I love when she wakes up talking instead of crying because it's usually a sign of a good day ahead.

I did say usually.

I got her up and all hell came up right through the floor and landed right smack in the middle of my house.  It was persistent demands and tenacious whining all fa-reaking morning, up until I managed to take her for a lengthy stroller ride.  There were several time-outs that although normally proven to be successful, failed to phase this little beeeotch..and I use that word sparingly!!  Yikes.  So it made me think, I need to learn better coping skills because I know this is just the beginning.  What will puberty bring other than the terrible teens?  I thought of that video I was supposed to watch before leaving the hospital but didn't because the nurse couldn't get it to work.  It was about not shaking the baby.  Well yesterday it came to me.  Be it an ad campaign or a bumper sticker but let it read this;  DON'T SHAKE THE BABY. You'll have plenty of time for that later. HAHA.  I'm sure only I would laugh to see that since it is quite offensive but that's how my brain was working yesterday.  That was my coping skill.  Sick humor.

Today was a new day.  She rocked.  She was sweat and playful and well..

...she is sooooo me sometimes.