things i wouldn't know if i never got pregnant

I am going to impart some valuable wisdom to those who have not (or cannot) experience(d) pregnancy. Go forth, young grasshopper, and sow the seeds of wisdom all along your journey.

1. Yellow tums are the tastiest/least offensive.

2. No matter how true it may be, no pregnant woman likes being called huge, gigantic, massive, big as a house or gargantuan or any variation of the word large, for that matter.

3. Food Basics sells the most variety of lemon-y deserts to satisfy your craving, if you're like me...

4. Eating pineapple will not cause your cervix to soften to the point that your baby will fall out of you like a meatball rolling off your spaghetti, unless maybe you eat 25 of them. Soft cheese is not going to hurt you either: cheese is pasteurized these days. So eat the greek salad. Coffee isn't going to hurt the baby and a little bit of fish is good for you, so tell anyone who looks at you wonky-eyed or like you're a piece of shit for consuming these things to fuck off and look around: there are worse things happening than a pregnant woman enjoying FOOD, for the love of Christ!!!

5. Sneezing really loud at the same time as farting is your best bet of covering up the sound.

5 1/2. Your farts can wake you up in the midst of a very deep sleep, if they're powerful enough.

6. It is possible to regret saying something before you even say it. Particularly to the person who knocked you up.

7. Work hard enough at it, and you might just orgasm after all that doggie style you've been forced to engage in...

messed up

Well I don't know if it's normal or not, but I have been ridiculously sleepy for the last few days. I could easily sleep for like 2 days solid, I'm sure of it.
Is this another one of those "happens when you're pregnant" things? Am I sick? Did I develop some sort of syndrome? What the hell is going on?!
And while on the topic of sleep, I have been having the wackiest dreams.
The other night I was being held hostage on a shower by a guy who looked like Matthew Lillard. There were other guys and they had their own girls to hold hostage. I didn't recognize any of them. He was stabbing me and I was bleeding like crazy but I wasn't dying or anything. Then I took the knife and started stabbing myself. I said it was "because I'd rather do it to myself than have it done to me". And there were butterflies EVERYWHERE. And then we all played Balderdash. And I sort of fell in love with the Matthew Lillard guy. But eventually I did get out of the situation and ran back to my old apartment, which didn't look anything like it used to. It was dilapidated and there were cats and broken potted plants all over the place. My super and some black lady were yelling at me insanely. That's all I remember.
But yeah. That's a pretty messed up dream.
I could just curl up on the couch right now and sleep... who would it hurt? I don't have any reason to stay awake really. I mean, if I'm tired, why not just sleep? It could be so easy...

I need to paint Carter a picture... Carter is the baby, by the way. I don't like the name particularly but I gave Mike the power to name if we were having a boy. Because I was certain I was having a girl. Lesson learned.
Maybe I should stay awake and paint him something. Maybe I'll sleep. The choice is mine.

why would anyone read this blog it's just insanely pathetic

When did I begin to feel like a prisoner in my own life?

I have what feel to me like flashbacks of another life, before this one. A life where I had friends, a job, money, and I looked great in my underwear. I drank martinis at One Duke and picked up a bouquet of flowers on the way home, just because. I smoked on patios and did some drugs when they were offered. I had a zillion boyfriends and I made art. I listened to music loudly while I devoured poetry on my bed, all night long. I drank wine in the tub and I painted walls lime green.

Now I wake up still tired, and try to fall back asleep. Then I have to get up because the sound of people walking around upstairs is too distracting. I drink 2 cups of coffee and have a shower. Then I sit on the couch. There is never anything on. I get on the computer and I have no one to talk to; there are no new messages on my facebook. I try to read a book, but most of them aren't interesting so I read one I've read before, years ago. I eat too much junk food and my one size fits all bath robe is starting not to fit around my ever-expanding waist. I wonder how much weight I will have to lose after this baby is born.

I know it sounds absolutely awful to even think this way, but I just hope I don't resent this baby. I hope I don't feel like he ruined my life. I hope he doesn't ruin my life. I hope I don't end up a single mom. I hope I don't start wearing mom jeans. I hope I still have the will to put on make up when I get out of the shower, and I hope I don't start getting into floral patterns and "the mom show". I hope Mike loves him and we get married and we are a family. I do not want to lose everything that ever mattered to me in exchange for a baby that I didn't exactly ask for. We're coming so close to the end and I am just terrified of what kind of mother I am going to be. What kind of mother has these thoughts? Aren't I supposed to be excited and happy? Sometimes I am. It's just when I sit in this basement and think about it long enough that I start to wonder if I'm capable of doing a good job at this...

In a parallel universe I am writing the antithesis to this blog entry in a cafe, drinking a cup of coffee spiked with several different liquors and waiting for a friend to arrive and spend the afternoon with me. Maybe I'm writing about the trip I am planning to Barcelona. Maybe I am writing about how happy I am that I am going to have a Masters degree soon. Maybe I am writing about how sorry I feel for this person I know, who has depression and can't get the right medication...

Or maybe this is it. This is me and this is who I've been working up to becoming every second of my life so far. Maybe there is nothing left to dream for and no reason to put on make up in the morning because I'm just going to sit on a couch in a basement all day, every day anyway.

everything that is frustrating me and how i am choosing to deal with it, part I.

I am angry that I don't know how to get limewire on my macbook. I need it to download music. So I can put said music on my ipod. My 200 dollar ipod that I cannot use, because I don't know how to use the 1400 dollar computer. When I think about this it almost makes me throw this laptop out the fucking window and grab a neighbourhood child and tear his throat out with my teeth. Instead I shake uncontrollably while trying not to cry.

I am irritated that my mother thinks limewire is the devil and will not let me use it on her computer (the one i know how to use) and is thus very much contributing to my hatred of the apple corporation right now. Hatred of all technology. I hate technology.

I am pissed off at Mike because he has been facebook creeping some really pretty girl named Tina Gray and he thinks I don't see this in my history files. Normally this would not bother me, except that I am very hormonal and feeling very fat and ugly as of late. I want to cut off his head right now.

Also pissed off that he is gone for the day in Brantford, getting away from me, while I lose my ever loving mind here in this basement all alone. He should be here suffering too. Fucker.

I need a new prescription, some new combination of antidepressants and I have needed this for moooonths. I am incredibly unhappy and I need some sort of chemical to alter this. My fucking doctor needs to get back to me before I jump in front of a goddamn train.

I found a stretch mark. 'Nuff said.

So I am sitting here in absolute silence, on the ugliest and most uncomfortable love seat in the world, hardly blinking and just letting it out and onto blogger. After this I am going to go to bed and cry until I fall asleep and try not to wake up for as long as possible.

slipping further into obscurity, and deeper into the couch.

It's so sad, but as much as I have already isolated myself, I just want to keep doing it.

Facebook has been the only thing keeping me in touch with a lot of people lately. It seems so safe, you know, you don't have to say too much, people can keep tabs on you, it's controllable, it's enough so that you don't actually have to go and hang out with people you don't care about that much while still pretending that you care! It can be a truly brilliant social networking tool.
The drama that my aunt Debbie keeps stirring up on that stupid website has driven me to the point of not only deleting my facebook account again, but I am also seriously considering staying the fuck away from my family members, as well as most people in general.
I am very well-intentioned when it comes to my relationships with other people. I try to be understanding and open minded and I don't like confrontation and I just think that everyone should get along. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. That kind of thing. So when my aunt almost breaks her arm and I jokingly suggest an outfit made entirely from bubble wrap (that was probably stupid of me after all that fucking farmville nonsense..) and she acts deeply wounded and makes me feel like a piece of shit... you know what? Okay. Your over-sensitivity and general mean-spiritedness is going to cost you a relationship with someone who could be valuable to you - me. Because you don't deserve the time of day in my eyes, if that's how you are. I am not going to walk on eggshells around you just because you're related to me. That means nothing to me. Your family is only what you build around you, and doesn't necessarily include people who insist on being a victim whenever they are given the chance. In my opinion, she doesn't deserve to get away with that bullshit and I'm not going to let her.

I think the older I get the more difficult it is to be close to people. It's hard to find a friend that you can trust, it's hard to keep in touch when lives are all going in different directions. But you try, because you want to believe that people are good, and that everyone else is going to display the same amount of respect to you as you do them. And continually you are let down by 75% of the people you associate yourself with. I feel like this is probably just me. It probably is...
This could all be some sort of hormonal land mine going off, too...
Who knows.
I'm just sick of people right now. So bye bye facebook, tah for now.. cheerio..

increased absent-mindedness.

I got out of the shower a couple hours ago. My routine is to put lotion on, do my makeup, deal with my hair, and go get dressed. Deodorant after the shirt goes on so as to avoid making any mess on the shirt. Perfume, socks, away we go.
But today I did everything but the deodorant part. And I don't know about everyone else, but if I don't get that shit on promptly, I start to smell in no time. I don't know what it is.
So I was sitting here thinking about what I could write about today when I stretched my arms and caught a whiff of myself. And I was like what the hell is this?! And then I realized I forgot the crucial deodorant step.
I'm wearing a new top today and now it is soiled with the smell of my pungent body odour. That isn't even fair. And now I am wearing the deodorant but is it too late? Now that the smell has surfaced is it going to overpower the deodorant and remain stuck to me all day? Am I going to smell like a mixture of Harajuku perfume and foreign man from Eastern Europe? Ugh.

I don't know how anyone manages to glow.

UGH.

Here are some of the not-so-glowing-and-beautiful-and-full-of-life realities of being pregnant.

- Last night I tried to hold in a fart (or toot) while watching Rambo 3 with Mike. I couldn't do it, but I was pretty sure I could let it out without any noise. Which I did. But it smelled really really bad and had to pick up the ferret really fast and blame it on him. Mike played along but we both know the truth.

- I refuse to wear anything without stretch. I never thought I'd see the day.

- I can eat an ENTIRE big bag of dill pickle chips without stopping to breathe.

- When I lift my shirt up and spread tummy butter all over my expanding gut, I look over at Mike and I can tell he's a little grossed out by the whole thing. The whole tummy butter thing.

- I can't poop.

- I counted the tiny pimples on my forehead today and the grand total was 21.

- Neck pimples.

- I got up to pee 7 times last night. New record.

- Mike watched Iron Man this morning and I lost my effing mind because it was too goddamn early for frigging IRON MAN! Now he's a little upset with me. Whatever. It is too early. The movie is garbage anyway,a nd he's seen it already. Translation: I am very irritable.

calm blue ocean, calm blue ocean...

Having a super hard time dealing with my own emotions lately.
I don't know what it is. But a few examples:

1) Today I was in a meeting with a supplier that my company works with, and he started rattling off part numbers and codes that I had no idea what to do with, and then when we were finished he asked if I had any questions and I had to hold back my tears. WHY? That's friggin ridiculous! That didn't look professional at all. But I couldn't help it! I just couldn't!
2) Yesterday Mike blew marijuana smoke into my ferret's face (accidentally - but still) and I went completely apeshit, accusing him of doing similar things to my unborn child. I practically made him beg for forgiveness for something that seems pretty stupid to me now.
3) Stupid fucking ex-boyfriends who insist on keeping tabs on everything in your life and feel that they have the right to comment on it have gotten under my skin. To the point where if I remembered his phone number I would probably be screaming at him from my office phone. so.. luckily...
4) My mom made some innocent comment about Mike being scared to tell his family about the pregnancy, to which I completely over-reacted to, getting angry and crying and just being a lump about it for like 45 minutes.

But apparently, this is all normal. And this is just the beginning. So hold on tight because this ride is going to be a long one.

Update: My due date is April 27th and a psychic has given us the inside scoop and claims to know that I'm having a GIRL! yeeee!

i'm going to complain some more now

So Fran and I hung out for a bit today. We grabbed some lunch at Aout'n About. She had chili nachos. I had 2 meat pies, a salad and a Chicken Tetrazzini to go because I couldn't decide. How pregnant of me. It's awesome hanging out with Fran because she is one of the only people I have no problem being 100% honest with, and who will never judge me because... uhh she's just a really good friend like that, I guess.
So lunch was great and everything but now I just feel like shit. I feel like I might puke, and I can't stay awake! I slept for like 10 hours last night, and then today I've napped for a cumulative 4 hours. I am a sloth.

I am a sloth.



What a weird looking, scary animal.

Anyway, we're going to see The Time Traveler's Wife tonight. Mike doesn't want to go at all, but he indulges my every want which is why someday he will make an excellent husband. The movie will be good. It has to be. The book was phenomenal. I just hope I stay awake throughout the movie, seeing as my undiagnosed narcolepsy appears to be evil and merciless.

super awesome job change

Soooooooooo

I don't wanna jinx it or anything... but...

Ummm...

Totally got a great job today. Benefits, pension, cushiony little office, totally badass.
I think I'll do great and everything...

But I'm pregnant. How are they going to react when I drop that bombshell a few months from now?

www.fleetbrake.com

TMI Thursday: when you gotta go...

Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!

Is it really Thursday already?
Well, hell. Why don't I tell a story about the magical experience that is pregnancy, and one of the beautiful moments that's taken place.

So I was at work one day last week (before I decided to never show up again) and I was just getting off. Now, because I'm peeing a lot more than I feel I should be, I went for a pee before heading home. Or, not home, but my parents' house. Nothing was coming. I got a couple of drips.
The trip home takes about an hour. There is no reason why I should have to go pee before I get home.
Oh, but that's exactly what happened.

Halfway home, I am overtaken by the need to urinate. I am shaking, I'm trying so hard not to pee myself. All I can think about is how much I have to pee. I have my legs crossed and I am sweating like a goddamn pig, it's really taking a lot of effort to not piss all over the bus. I even start humming to myself. I'm bouncing up and down like a 4-year old. I have to fucking PEE.
I start to worry about how hard it's going to be to even stand up, I have to go so badly.
Why was this even happening to me? I don't deserve this!

Finally, finally I get to my stop. I stand up nervously. So far so good. I have about a 2 minute walk ahead of me until I get to the house. Can't run. Have to tread kind of carefully. I'm doing it, it's happening, I'm actually going to make it. I'm going to make it! Hallelujah! I put my key in the door, and I'm in the house. EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY!
I get to the washroom, and I see the toilet, and while I am unbuttoning my pants I start to pee a little bit (I think it was the anticipation and the sight of the toilet) and I tried to squeeze it back in but I couldn't! I peed all over myself. I finally got my pants off about halfway through the stream but I couldn't stop. It was all over the floor. I got maybe a capful of pee in the toilet. The rest was everywhere but.

When I said pregnancy was magical, I meant it.

'emotional eating'

I am a very typical prgnant chick. Already. At least, this is what google has been telling me. I'm a stereotype.

FOOD. I am just so in love with all things edible lately. In fact, if I haven't eaten in 5 hours or so, my stomach is in agonizing pain, and I have to eat. So I can't avoid being a fatass even if I give it my all. I just have to accept my fate. It's okay, it's okay, as long as I can have my body back when this is over. Please.

Some of the foods I have been coveting incude lemon sorbet, lemon loaf cake, lemon merangue pie, lemon anything actually, grilled cheese sandwiches, dunkaroos (remember dunkaroos?), pickles (toild you I was a stereotype), and meat ball subs. Oh, and junior chickens from mcdonalds. That's probably the craving I am most ashamed of. I've had a lot of those.

And then there's the whole sleeping for 12 hours every night thing. And the crying all the time. I cry when I see that Dawn commercial with all the ducks covered in oil, and they clean them with toothbrushes and dishsoap? That makes me cry everytime.

So, some news, on the advice of a friend I have decided to maybe start doing some freelance spot writing for radio stations. Until I find something permanent. Maybe even after I find something permanent. I mean, why not? Why can't we do things like that? Someone has to.