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Sunday, November 29, 2009

It's Good to Be Back

I took a rather long break from blogging. Most friends figured out why when they read my last post. It was because the only things that were really on my mind were things like my complete and utter nausea, how everything smells bad to me, and how I'm pretty sure I'm already getting fat. Now that the proverbial beans are spilled, there's a sort of freedom to share my thoughts again. In case anyone cared about my thoughts.

Thanks for all the well wishes. I appreciate them, truly. It's fun news to share, especially when you think your husband might still be in denial. :) Bless his sweet heart. He's actually been a gem-- home since Tuesday and cleaning like a pro.

I feel horrible. The kind of daily, overwhelming nausea that makes you wish you could throw up, because in a twisted sort of way, you think it might make you feel better. And, truth be told, the only reason I'm blogging right now is because I'm waiting for it to be a respectable time so I can go to sleep. There's something...wrong about going to bed before, say, 8:30 p.m. Or maybe I'm just scared of waking for the day at 4:00 a.m. Speaking of that, I've been waking up early. Way. Too. Early. Thank you, my kumquat-sized baby. Like, 5 a.m. Yes, I know many of you do that on a regular basis to punish yourselves with running or working out. That's not my problem.

Grocery stores are gross places for me right now. Do you even KNOW all the bad smells that live in grocery stores? The ice beds of fresh Seattle seafood, the dairy case, the butcher block--I have to twist my face up so my nose is completely cut off. Otherwise, since I don't actually throw up, I would totally be dry heaving right there in the aisle. My shopping trips have become weird little expeditions where I run in with a general idea of what I need. Then I almost-literally run through the aisles, just hucking food into my cart. I get way more than what moderation would politely suggest (17 boxes of jello? Seriously?) in the hopes that it will be a very long time before I come back again. I come out with a lot of weird food (because I needed those Sour Patch Kids) and a very long receipt.

Anyway. My apologies to anyone that may have been a victim of my pregnancy weirdness these last 10 weeks. Just in case I looked like I was going to vomit at something you said or I accidentally rammed you with my shopping cart.

I'm going to bed now.

Monday, November 23, 2009

I "Passed" the Test

October 19, 2009

J questioned my sanity during a, uh, little bit of a rant the other day. Then he asked when my period was, which made me blow up even more. But a couple days later, I started to wonder the same thing. I went to the calendar, and I was due, any minute. But I didn't feel it. In fact, I started to suspect something else. The next day I went to Target after 1st grade pick up. I grabbed a pregnancy test, and then some Halloween candy to cover it up. The cashier lady stared hard at my purchase. I couldn't blame her--Little Buddy was rocking back and forth in his seat, yelling and trying to free himself from the seatbelt, Sammy was hanging off the side of the cart, whimpering because he didn't get to ride in the basket, and Girlie was in the basket due to a spill at school that left her in borrowed, oversized black sweatpants. I bet she was looking at me and my pregnancy test and thinking, "Seriously?"

I'll take it in a couple days. I'll just wait a little while. I have this, just in case, I thought to myself before pulling up to the house and sprinting to the bathroom. A bright blue plus sign smiled up at me, and I warily smiled down at it. Oh boy. Here was the test. And I 'passed.'

How to tell J? I wasn't sure. Maybe I'd wait for a while, then throw out "Hey, this isn't the ice cream's fault. I'm three months pregnant." Or, so many times I'd casually thrown out "I'm pregnant" just to freak him out. I thought it would be really funny to tell him the news just like that. Right before he fell asleep. Then I thought that it might hurt the baby's feelings that I didn't do something creative, so I pulled the half-asleep kids out of bed and had them do a little video clip. When J came home that night after helping with the youth at church, we crawled into bed.

"Oh, you've got to see this funny footage of Little Buddy at dinner," I said. I held the video camera so we could both see. There was Buddy, laughing hysterically at the peas on his fork. Then came this clip.





J got his "freaked out" face on. That's the one where he gets really quiet and flushed, and his eyes kind of bug out. I think he may have even stopped breathing at some point.

"Are you serious? "he stared at me. I smiled and waggled my eyebrows at him.
"Tell me, are you pregnant?" he demanded.
I could tell that my coy games and smiles were not being fully appreciated.

Yes, I told him.
"Say 'I promise,'" he demanded. 'I promise' is the ultimate test of truth in our household.
"I promise," said I.
He took a moment to process, then asked me how I felt about it.
I grinned. "I'm happy! How do you feel?"
He gulped just a little. "I'm not sure."


So, yes. It's true. I, at least, am tickled pink to add another one to our wild bunch, and I'm feeling as well as can be expected, which is not good at all. We were going to wait to tell people (after all, last time we waited for 16 weeks), but the kids figured it out. And despite the whole "this is our family's secret for right now" speech, Sammy walked out the door, saw our neighbor and said, "Our mom is pregnant. Did you know that?" We figured we should be the ones to spill the beans.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Candy Overload 2009


We rocked the neighborhood in superhero style this Halloween. Super Girl, Batman, and baby Superman all raked in a pretty good chocolate haul, due to a large neighborhood and few kids. Basic 'supply and demand', people. "Take more, take more" said everyone and their dog. Music to a dental-bill-paying mother's ears. We carefully avoided the slugs that cover Northwest sidewalks, and kept passing other families that kept saying "Hello, Super Family!" Sammy's pumpkin treat bag laughed a menacing "Mwuh-ha-ha-ha" when he pushed the button...every time someone opened their door. Then, when they complimented the costumes, Sammy would offer up "These are actually my pajamas"; I cringed and smiled every time. It's true. Because, why would I waste money on an expensive Batman costume if we had perfectly good Batman pajamas? Seriously. But I digress. If there was just a candy bowl on the porch, the kids would yell out, "Happy Halloween, whoever you are!!!" J kept taking "Candy Taxes", presumably for his chaperoning efforts that night.

Monday night was spent elbow-deep in pumpkin guts. Girlie dove right in, while Wild Man repeatedly asked, "How about we get some gloves to do this?"

Once he finally dove in, he thought it necessary to come terrorize me.



We meant to have the 'happy' one using himself to roast a marshmallow, but never got around to it.

This was Salon a la Mommy. Girlie was not too pleased about the poofy super hero hair I was creating for her.

She changed her tune when she realized the volume of sugar we were talking about.


Wild Man Sam's first candy choice were some disturbingly real-looking and gross gummy teeth and fangs (or, 'thangs' as he calls them). Of course, and why not?

All in all, an excellent Halloween. Hope yours was spooktacular too!