Like there's something else to blog about

(March 15)

Mike called me out for not-posting last night, and I'm sure Joe is about to post up here any day doing the same (that's mighty presumptuous of me.). But what else can I even pretend is going on right now to blog about?

I work, and then I come home and impersonate a zombie.

I don't like the idea of blogging about work, even less so here at this job than at my old one. I tried to figure that reasoning last night, and I think it might come down to this being an agency job -- I have several different clients, and the work we do for them is never promoted as OUR work. We're just the ghost behind the client. So even when I do something really cool or really funny, it's like it's not my story to tell. At least at my old job, there was only one company, I was publicly a part of that company, and anything that I did in the communications realm we wanted to get out there.

Now it just seems like a violation of sorts.

So I work, work, work, then I come home and scrape up the energy to fix myself dinner (to clarify so that doesn't sound like a dig on Mike -- he, unfortunately for him, is left to fend for himself for dinner. What actually sounds appetizing on any given night to eat varies, so I generally end up going to the grocery store on my way home. The settled upon food -- I won't go so far as to say meal -- is always very carb-heavy, so he doesn't join in. He actually asked me this morning on my way out the door what I wanted to eat for dinner and I looked at him like he had three heads. That's 10 hours away! How am I supposed to know!?!).

After eating and washing up from dinner, I sit on the couch like a pro. Occasionally I can put a load of laundry in. But it's generally too much energy to do the laundry and fold the laundry on the same day.

Well, then, hot damn, it's 9:15 p.m. and I'm about to start drooling right there on the couch, so I crawl into bed. The great news there is that I fall asleep like a champ. The bad news is, I also wake up 8 times in the middle of the night like one, too.

Sunday was a particularly great example of my zombie-like behavior. I woke, took a walk (yay, Spring!!! And, quiet frankly, I'm sorry David and Lauren, but I ADORE daylight saving time. You two keep tweeting like it's the devil out to get us, and I have to disagree.), and drove down to Old Town to get myself a Cosi bagel because a Cosi bagel was all I wanted. Not the Dunkin' Donuts I passed, or the two grocery stores, or the Whole Foods, or the Breugers... Just the Cosi.

You can imagine how exhausting all that was, so I needed an hour on the couch. I scraped up the resolve to hit the grocery store, and then, well, that deserved the next 7 hours on the couch. During which time the rest of my nutrition for the day consisted of a half a bag of Cheetos and an ice cream sundae. Yup, that was my dinner.

And since watching two of my all time favorite movies (Legally Blonde AND Ocean's 11!!) took so much attention... it was off to bed at 9 p.m.

This, people, is why I'm not blogging. 

Beige

(Really, March 6)

I hope you all aren't getting mad at me now. I'm not posting because, really, people, what could I possibly post about except the fact that I'm pregnant?

Not only because it's HUGE, but because every fiber of my being is focused on it. The things I'm doing -- laying on the couch, puking -- aren't exactly things I can talk to you all about yet. I had a bit of minor major freakout yesterday morning after the doctor's appointment. Not because of what happened at the appointment per say, but because I started to think about all this stuff that I hadn't been thinking about or planning before... was this the right doctor for me? What about the hospital? Should I change my doctor if I don't like the hospital? How do I know about the hospital before I have a doctor? Should the doctor be downtown or close to home? But if the doctor is downtown, the hospital will be downtown and will that be difficult to get to when it's time?!?! WHAT THE HELL HAVE I BEEN DOING FOR THE PAST TWO WEEK'S THAT I'VE KNOWN I WAS PREGNANT?!?!?!?!

The answer to that, of course, was that the first week I knew I was pregnant I mourned my dog. We took this new piece of mind-blowing information, put it in a box, and buried it in the corner.

Then, the second week I knew I was pregnant, I spent the entire week thinking about -- or trying not to think about -- food. What could I eat, what couldn't I eat, what should I eat, why couldn't I keep what I was eating down, and holy hell, all I want are complex carbohydrates and SALT.

(Oh, one more thought this week: I really wish I could have been tweeting. Yes, they would have all been snarky and sarcastic, but for example, right now -- "So far on today's menu? 3/4 of a box of Cheese Its. That's how I roll.")

Yes, you read that correctly. Cheese Its. Almost an entire box. And it's 2:32 p.m. I'm quite positive I will be done the box before the night is over.

I have also eaten this week: french fries every day, three sleeves of a box of Saltines, Tostitos, Honey Nut Cherios, and a grilled cheese sandwich. Notice anything there? BEIGE. My entire week has been brought to you by the color beige and the number 7 weeks.

It's disgusting to think about. I'm already planning my post-baby-pop-out workouts.

Oh! Good news though, is that I found this:

Ginger Beer. I've been on the look out for it since realizing that Ginger Ale, doesn't really have any ginger. But foreign ginger "beer" (non alcoholic, no worries) does. I had ginger beer for the first time at Vi's wedding, where someone brought Australian ginger beer. This one was at Harris Teeter and is from Jamaica. 26 grams of real ginger root per bottle. And it's fizzy and carbonated, and I can't tell you why fizzy and carbonated are soooo much desired. It just, is.

Thank heavens.

I Have a Really, Really Good Excuse This Time

Did you wait for me? I know I didn’t ask you to, but I’m wondering if you did anyway. My “second incarnation as a blogger,” as Mr. J.B. put it, was fairly short lived. But I have a really, really good excuse as to why.

I’m pregnant.

Close your mouth, sit down, take a deep breath. I know. It’s pretty hard for me to fathom myself.

This was not expected to say the least. Not “tried” for, because that stopped years ago when it became apparent we were not to be, well, parents. This wasn’t even a possibility on the radar screen.

I started a new job, I was (am) incredibly stressed, and yet, there ya go.

I myself am still in the “shock and awe” phase, although slowly evolving into the actual believing phase (more on that in a minute), and knowing that I’ll rapidly be in the “holy shit, I have so much to do!” phase very, very soon.

I have, despite the lack of evidence so far on this blog, actually been blogging. I just haven’t been hitting the “publish” button. Over the next several days I’ll publish posts from the past month, although I’m fairly certain those of you with weak stomachs might not want to read them. Because my stomach has been weakest of all, and I can summarize the posts thus: “I got sick. A lot. Yet was obsessed with food. A lot. And then I got sick some more.”




Even if you have a strong stomach, you may want to take a pass. I told a friend earlier this week and his reaction was, "Oh, great. Now every status update on Facebook is going to be about gross bodily things. Please. Don't." 


I'll try to refrain. But, this is my blog after all. So, you gotta deal with it here.

The pregnancy discovery happened, of all places, in Las Vegas. It was when I was there with Mike and my brother, and although we went out on Thursday night and had a blast, Friday my late period was nagging on me. You people all know I’m punctual. Well, all of me is punctual.

“What the heck,” I thought. “I’ll take a test, it’ll come back negative, and I can enjoy the rest of the weekend without another thought. Surely it’s just the stress and long hours and lack of sleep that’s disrupting my schedule.”

I walked to the Walgreens at the Venetian, purchased a two-pack (thinking the entire time, “what a waste. I have to pay for two when all I want is one.”), and went into the Grand Canal shops to find a restroom. I didn’t want the evidence in the hotel room, after all, when I knew it’d be negative.

So I took the test. I played Words with Friends, checked Twitter, wasn’t overly stressed. Until I looked at the stick.

Pregnant

“No. Fucking. Way.”

I grabbed the bottled of water in my bag, gulped it down entirely, and peed again, praising the smart packaging companies for putting two in a box because surely, surely, this one was faulty.

It wasn’t.

I contemplated going back to Walgreens for another two-pack, but, shit, Mike was going to start making me cut back on my spending, like, immediately when he hears this news.

Speaking of Mike, he was in the Venetian also, in a poker tournament, and doing quite well. By the time I composed myself enough to leave the restroom, he had actually left the tournament on a break, to run over to the room at the Mirage to change. He thought he’d play up until he ran out of chips, and that might mean he met my brother and I late for dinner.

When I arrived at the room, Mike was rushing about to make it back to the Venetian tourney, and I stopped him. Told him there was some news that might change the way the evening went, and I presented, The Stick. Both of them.

His actions the rest of the night are a blur, and he’ll have to describe them in more detail, but they involved him going back to the Venetian to lose his chips, instead winning a boatload in 10 minutes, coming back to the room to meet me and my brother, dinner (yes, we told Terry. Kinda obvious when I’m not drinking, ya think?), then all of us went back to the tournament where he just couldn’t pay attention, or, apparently, lose. He actually ended up staying in until they paused the tournament for the night and restarted it again the next day.

I pretty much spent the rest of the evening sick to my stomach, and not because of pregnancy symptoms. Of course there was joy and relief and praising and happiness. But there was also that shock and awe that I mentioned, the fear, the worry, and the utter I’m-completely-out-of-my-league-ness.

I wish I could say the rest of the weekend was spent in joy and baby clothes shopping, but our good news was quickly overshadowed by bad – Goldie was dying. To say I knew it would happen is much, much too strong. But my belief in the universe needing to make room for the new, my utter conviction that the ending of a life and the beginning of a life are connected, meant that I wasn’t surprised when Kristy called on Saturday morning. He gives, and He takes away.

Goldie’s death meant the pregnancy was almost the elephant in the room for the next week. Neither Mike nor I could process both events happening together.

But nature continued it’s course, and soon we were forced to put aside our grief and focus on this new life. Yes, for beautiful, moving, faith-filled and loving reasons. That, and, because the puking started.

So, you see, what could I blog about? I work 10-12 hours a day, plus commuting time. I arrive home and I am a mound of uselessness, just overcome with exhaustion. I don’t like the idea of posting about work, and then, I’m pregnant. What else, really, could I post about?

Keep reading to see – there aren’t many, and they aren’t Pulitzer-deserving. But the posts over the next few days are how the first 14 weeks of my pregnancy progressed.

Welcome to my third incarnation as a blogger. A freakin' mommy blogger.