A Rather Intersting Pregnancy Side Effect

Last night Mike and I went to our first childbirth class. It was surprisingly better than I thought it would be. We mostly talked about all the good things about being pregnant. But I suspect that they are just trying to lure us in with a happy class and the "videos" will be starting next week.


At which time I will run screaming from the classroom.

But last night went well. The moms and dads met in separate groups to come up with the Top 10 Best and Worst things about being pregnant. My group was very um, polite, to me. When I was suggesting things for the list like: you have the legal right to taste other people's lunch or you start growing a beard on your belly, they smiled and chuckled a little. But they didn't write it down. However, I still think those are fine additions to the list. By the way, those were suggestions for each Top 10 list - I'm not particularly happy about my belly beard. Although it might be nice in the winter...

They did, however, end up accepting one of my suggestions and the guys chose one of Mike's as well. The teacher read the guys' lists first. When she got to #8 on the Top 10 Best I immediately looked at Mike. But first, let me tell you what the guys' #1 worst thing about having a pregnant wife is:

"Lack of intimacy."

Are you as proud of their maturity as I am? I mean, I don't think I would have come up with the term "intimacy." But then again, I am over in my group talking about unwanted hair and bodily noises.

Anyway, Mike's contribution was: "Excited to have another family member. Someone else to hang out with." I knew it was his right away. That's definitely what Mike is looking forward to the most.

Then when she read the girls' Top 10 Worst list, Mike knew #10 was mine:

"There's no turning back now."

Mike smiled and gave me a few approving nods. I love that he gets me.

The rest of the class went well. Looking forward to next week when Mike gets to wear the sympathy belly. Oh yes, there will be pictures.

In other news, it's almost Halloween. We have planned a little something, but I'm not too sure we should do it. You know the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park, Colorado? It's the hotel that Steven King stayed in that inspired him to write "The Shining." Because it's haunted. It was also the hotel he used for the TV version of the movie (which is really good, by the way).

Anyway, it's haunted. And on Oct. 30th, they are giving ghost tours and they have a murder mystery dinner that night. So we booked a room (in the haunted hotel) and got tickets to all the ghosty fun. However, I am thinking we should cancel. Mainly because I get scared really easily. Like, really easily. I like being scared but when I am in those situations, I am always begging to leave. For example, when I was little my dad took me to a haunted house and once we got inside I wanted to leave so badly that I bit him on the shoulder.

So, with me being pregnant and all, I'm not so sure it's a good idea to put that extra stress on my body (or Mike's shoulder).

On the other hand, I've found that I have been a lot more calm about things lately. We were in Seattle last week and one morning we went out to the car and there was a HUGE spider on the passenger door. And instead of running back in the house and pulling the fire alarm, I calmly got in the car and watched the damn spider hang on for the duration of the ride. Which is big for me. See here for normal Emily-spider behavior.

So maybe I could be okay with the whole haunted hotel thing. Maybe now I can control my fear. And, it would be a great addition to the top 10 list. "Having your own ghost-and-spider-ignoring power." Here's a picture to illustrate:

Look at me being all mature and ignoring those scary ghosts.

Yeah, being pregnant is awesome.

Halfway Done But So Many More Things to Eat

5 months. Halfway done. But I feel like I just started! After 4 months of feeling bad, going to bed at 7:30 and not seeing anyone other than Mike, my boss and occasionally my parents, I feel really good...physically. Although now I have another fun side-effect to deal with - serious mood swings.


But more on that in a minute.


First, we found out we're having a girl! I think the Doctor could tell from the ultrasound because she had a cell phone up to her ear and kept turning away from the camera because she needs her privacy, gawd!


We are really happy to be having a girl. We would have been happy with a boy too, of course, but now we're in total girl mode. Mike went from looking at eco-friendly, sleek, smart cribs to the most princessy, swirly, unreasonable ones.

I am also preparing for a girl; reading the Joy of Cooking so I can teacher her old family recipes, practicing the french braid, and sewing my name into all my favorite clothes.

A girl will be fun. Hopefully she'll have her dad's eyes, my ears and Jennifer Aniston's nose.


And now for the mood swings, my God, the mood swings. I can be totally normal one second, then crying like mad the next and then laughing hysterically the next. Poor Mike. Talking to me is like playing Russian roulette. You never know what kind of reaction you will get from me.

I also have crazy dreams which affect my mood the next day. For example, last night I dreamt that my family and I were at a smoothie shop. We all ordered a smoothie and everyone got one but me. I kept trying to ask where mine was and no one would respond. Plus, no one would help me get my smoothie. I had to yell and cry to the smoothie people but they just didn't care. And you know what you guys? I am teary eyed just writing about it right now. And it's so stupid!

But come on, all I want is a smoothie for God's sakes. Can't somebody help a girl out?

Luckily, I've been able to keep my emotions from spilling out of my mouth in public places...for the most part, anyway. Today Mike and I went to lunch and there was a long line and I was hungry, but fine, there's nothing I can do so I waited and tried to be patient. Then as we finally approached the font, a woman and her daughter who had already been through the line and received food Totally. Cut. In Front. Of Me.

Seriously. You don't do cutsies in front of a pregnant girl at lunch time. I started to say something but Mike stopped me. They got off lucky this time. They walked away with only mean looks to the backs of their heads and possibly a few whispered curse words.

Those are just examples of the circus that is going on my head. But I better leave it at that because I believe Mike just ate the last string cheese and I think we need to have "words."



Update: It wasn't Mike who ate the string cheese. He just pointed out the empty wrapper on my lap. So obviously someone came in the house, ate the cheese and tried to pin me with the blame. Right?

Someone Take Away the Post-Its Before I Eat Them

Has it really been almost a month since my last post? Time just flies by. Not too much has happened; I made it through the first trimester (I sure hope labor isn't that bad), survived a family RV trip (I sure hope labor isn't that bad) and ate a lot. Seriously, it's like I think someone is going to take away all food if I don't eat it, so get out of my way people, I'm trying to save us all!

So no one should take away my food, but someone should take away my post-it notes.

At work we use an instant messenger system to talk to each other. We are supposed to set our status when we are away from our desk like "At Lunch" or "In a Meeting" so people know where we are. However, today my messenger wasn't working and when I went to lunch, I decided to stick a little note on my computer to say that I was away, if anyone came looking for me.

It started out fine enough, but then I realized my first note could be open to interpretation. So I wrote another to clarify. But then that note didn't seem to really give the full picture, so I wrote another. And it just snowballed like that until this:



I know it seems like a lot, but really, each note contained important information.

Excessive? Nah, just thorough.

Despite What the Movies Say, There Was No Synchronized Dancing in High School

Reunions...

Does that word ever bring joy or feelings other than dread to anyone? Family reunions, high school reunions, Backstreet Boys reunions. All seemingly good ideas from the outside until you realize everybody is the same but older, grumpier and a little off-pitch.

This weekend was my 10-year high school reunion. I thought about going, but then I remembered what high school was like. I probably had an average, or slightly below average experience in high school. I wasn't popular, of course, and that makes for a difficult 4 years. I had some highs and lows. Highs included being part of the dance team and that one time the popular boy accidentally called me when he really meant to call my friend. Lows included getting stuffed in a locker (yes, that happened) and performing the duties of being the "look out" during make-out parties.

You know, I have been trying to recall my funniest high school memory but nothing comes to mind. It would really make for a better blog post, though. Sorry folks. Oh wait, except for that that time I had detention and the varied group of us became friends and then Judd Nelson turns out to be a sensitive guy despite his rough exterior.

But I'm not sure that really happened to me or if I saw it somewhere...

My memories are a wash of not bringing the right book to class, stressing over dances with wait-I-thought-we-were-going-as-a-group-of-girls-but-now-you-all-have-dates anxiety, losing the ability to form words in front of cute boys and not making the cheerleading squad....again.

I guess it's good to not remember specific, horrifying events. Because I'm sure I had lots of them. I'm sure I told my mom my life was absolutely over a bunch of times. It was not easy being the teacher's favorite in all the lame classes - like French, Religion and Peer Leadership. That's just not how you win friends (although I will tell my kids it is) (and Mike don't you tell them different, Mr. My Name Was Written On The Wall Of The Girls Bathroom).

Anyway, I'm sure at these reunions all the pretty, popular, mean girls will have gotten fat or ugly or become completely socially inept. And I don't want to go and make any of them feel bad. Revenge has never been my thing.

And on the off chance that they are even prettier, more successful and happier than ever...well, I can't drink. And no one can make me deal with that sober.

Aw, You Even Picked Up My Mail For Me

Whew! That was a long break. It's good to be back. I see you left my mug where I like it.

Did you move that picture? No? I did? I don't remember doing that, but if you say so...

*Note to self, lock the door next time I leave*

I'd like to say that I intentionally took a break from blogging. Like the real celebrities. Or that I entered rehab and had to wear an ankle monitor. But no. Alas, my absence was not as glamorous as that. Here's what really happened - I got knocked up. And I got sick from it. Probably not as bad as some women get sick, but bad enough that I was sure I was dying. And oh, Mike. Poor, sweet Mike continuously talking me down from ledges. Continuously convincing me that I do not have listeria poisoning or yellow fever or that the baby is not half chupacabra slowly clawing it's way out. And don't worry, that's normal. And don't google that..or that...or for the love of God, back away from the computer!

But I am slowly coming back to reality and society. I'm getting over my buyers remorse and am getting used to the idea that there are going to be three of us now (I mean me, Mike and baby. Not twins - I made the Dr. look twice because I thought there was no way I could be in this much agony for just one tiny human). But sometimes I still don't know if I'm old enough or ready enough to have a kid...good thing I'm going to start with a baby, right?

Being pregnant is a funny thing. Albeit sometimes frustrating because I have all the symptoms of being pregnant but I don't look like it yet. Therefore, it's hard to explain why I'm so tired and go to bed after the 6:00 news. But, as one of my favorite bloggers advised, if someone gives you a hard time about being tired all the time, just say "I made a person's inner ear canal today. Without my hands. What did you do, paperwork?"

Well, I had better get going. It's nearing 8:00 and I just can't keep my eyes open. I've got a nervous system to form. Thanks again for the flowers and the warm welcome back. It means a lot. I won't lie, it's bordering on creepy, but it's nice. Thank you.

Finding Allies

I step on the elevator at the end of the day. I am holding my uneaten apple. The apple that I took to work this morning. The apple that was going to instantly make me incredibly healthy. The apple that would positively change my life. The apple that would keep all doctors away. The apple that would bring world peace.

I am holding that apple as I step on the elevator.

I look at the guy already in the elevator. I look down at his hands. He is holding an uneaten banana.

I look back up at him.

He gestures politely with his banana-hand.

We nod.

We get each other. We are instantly friends.


And then?

And then my ally, my fruit-in-the-elevator friend actually peels his banana, raises it to his mouth and takes a bite.

The hell?

Instantly he switched teams and instantly I am making the walk of shame back to my car alone.

What was that nod all about anyway?

Apparently, 40 Days Is Too Much To Ask Of Me

Remember when I told you about giving up being an idiot for lent? Well, I almost made it. *Almost*

Today I was talking to a very conservative co-worker about her recent trip to Las Vegas. I asked her how it was and she said "It was good. But there's not much for me to do in Vegas though because I don't gamble, I don't drink and I'm not into the sex stuff." So I said "Yeah, I don't gamble either." And I left it at that.

Yes I did.

It didn't occur to me until a few seconds later that I may have implied to her that I am into the sex stuff. And by then enough time had passed so that I couldn't bring it up again and clarify.

So, now I'm the new girl who steals coffee and goes to Vegas for "sex stuff." Pretty good start to this job.

On another (yet related) note; I received an e-mail from a girl I went to grad school with. She has not graduated yet and was asking for advice on how to do her capstone research project. Cool, huh. Grad students are asking *me* for advice! So I wrote her back and said that it's best to do your project on something you are really passionate about. I said "since the research paper has to be 25 pages, you better be able to babble on about it for a while." I told her I did my project on sustainability in museums and I included lots of pictures and checklists. You know, standard college student page filler. Well, she wrote back and said she thinks she's going to write her paper on a project she and her husband are working on. Here it is:

"My husband and I are trying to get the city to donate the land for us (and corporate sponsor) to build a velodrome park. A velodrome park is like a racetrack but built for bikes. The center of the velodrome is usually green space. Many kids in the city do not know how to ride bikes anymore because there is no safe place to learn. So, my dream is to build a place where they can learn how to ride, even race bikes. If the next generation doesn't know how to ride a bike, how are they going to commute on it? My husband has already started sponsoring and training about a dozen kids. So, there is a need. Through mentors from his bike team, the kids get their own bike and gear, get driven to races (some of them have never left the city before) and help on college application, and whatever else they may need within reason."

Shit, can she see me through the internet?

I'm so embarrassed. Here she is doing something really noble and worthy and I'm playing Scrapbook USA with my paper.

Remember that Seinfeld episode where Jerry has to give a presentation to a school assembly so he asks George to help fill up time? George says he's "prepared some science experiments that will illuminate the mind and dazzle the eye." And Jerry says "I wrote a 20 minute bit about how homework stinks." I'm Jerry right now.

Thankfully I graduated before her. They can't rescind degrees, can they? Well, just in case, I have put mine in a lockbox guarded by killer bees. Because I like honey.

And "sex stuff," apparently.