NESTING!!!

So I'm due to have a baby sometime between now and 3 weeks from now.  I'm partly like "This CANNOT happen soon enough" and partly like "Just let me get these couple of things done first".

Every day there's some project that needs completing.  My baby shower was on Saturday (Thanks everyone!!), so of course on Sunday I had to go to the baby store and buy all the baby crap that I didn't get yet.

Side Note:  Everyone buys cute crap for baby showers.  Little outfit, socks, baby bath robes......I got very limited practical crap.  My two pregnant friends (both due in May also, both having boys also....and we're all blondes.  We're obviously making a small version of Village of the Damned) got me a big bag of all the little crap you NEED.  Diaper rash cream, thermometer, first aid kit, nursing pads....etc.  Otherwise, I have tons of little just oh-so-adorable outfits.

I'm not complaining.  I love outfits.  But I had a lot to buy. 

I got almost all of it, without spending a ton of money (depending on who you ask.  My husband is amazed at how much crap a little baby needs, and I didn't get anything that I deem stupid.  Like a wipe warmer.). 

So then I had to take off all the tags and wrappings and such, put away everything that wasn't fabric, and wash ALL of the clothes and blankets and towels and crap.

I put together the changing table and this little bench thing and the bouncer (with much needed and appreciated help from my daughter).

That was after super cleaning my bedroom on Saturday because the baby is going to sleep in there for the first few months and "look at this dust", and "should I wash the curtains?", and "when is the last time we cleaned the ceiling fan?"

My mom says to me "oh, someone is nesting".

I wanted to punch her in the throat. 

No, I'm not fucking nesting.  I'm not overcome with a huge urge to do all these things.  They have to get done.  How do I change the baby if the changing table is in a box? I have to wash all the clothes and blankets because they smell like chemicals.  I have to clean the ceiling fan because it is caked with inches of dust and if I need to turn it on dust is going to fly everywhere all over my baby.

Ok.  I'm nesting.  Also, it sucks!  I don't want to do this.  I want to lay down.  But everywhere I look is something that really needs to get done before I pop out a kid.

Pony Drama

OK, so for anyone that didn't know, I have horses.  I have my old mare whom I just take out on trail rides and my daughter has a pony.  My mother keeps her horses at my house.  She has 2 horses and a little, useless pony.  Also at my house is another horse that belongs to a friend of mine.
There used to be two little, useless ponies.  They were old ponies, that we adopted back when my daughter was little, and they had to go together.
Well one of them passed away this fall.  It was very sad....
Anyway.....every summer we moved both ponies from my house around the corner to my mother's house to eat the grass in their field all summer long.  This saved money and effort because they could live off just the grass and needed nothing else until October-ish.
So this year we have found ourselves with an obstacle in the way of our usual plan.  The pony that's left can't go to my mother's house by herself.  She will be lonely, and make a ruckus and such.
So I have a brilliant idea. 
Me:  "Let's get a mini horse."
Mom:  "For what?"
Me:  "To keep the pony company.  They don't eat much."
Mom:  "I don't want anything else that I have to feed or pay the bills for.  No mini horse."

OK fine.....

Fast forward to last night...
Mom:  "I got that mini horse."

I'm sorry, what?  It was a terrible idea 2 weeks ago, when it was my idea (This is how my mother rolls.  Her ideas are excellent.  Mine are always terrible.)  Now you just have a mini horse. 

For those who aren't horse savvy, a mini horse is just that.  A horse....in miniature.  A pony is a different thing all together.  There's a difference.  (Though based on this one's measurements, it's probably a mini-pony....but I'm getting off topic.)

Apparently a friend of ours had one she was looking to be rid of because she's moving.  So I called my friend and asked her about the horse. 
J:  "She's really sweet.  My daughter rides her.  She picks up her feet nicely.  She is really quiet."

So apparently we are the proud new owners of a mini mare, or a female.

So I put her in the field with the pony last night to let them get acquainted.  There is the typical squealing, and kicking, and establishing of the pecking order.  This happens most of the time when you introduce two horses.  They'll get over it.

Now on to this morning.  I'm driving down the driveway toward the bus stop, my daughter in the back seat.  The mini and the pony are in the field, scratching each others necks.  This is a sign of affection (and super cute) and means they're friends now.

Me:  "Oh good, I guess they're friends now."
Kid:  "Um....why is the new pony jumping up on her like that?"
Me:  (At the mini) "Hey stupid, you know you're a girl right?"

Well the mini jumps up on the pony....from behind. (Anyone know where this is going?)  Then I see it....the mini's very pronounced penis.  She had a dick.  Not only were they friends....they were excellent friends.

So I get my kid on the bus just in time and drive back to the barn, dialing the friend that gave us the mini."

Me:  "So, I was under the impression that this mini was a mare."
J:  "She is...."
Me:  "All except for the dick maybe."
J:  ".........What?"
Me:  "Yeah, she has a penis.  She is a he.  Now I have to go see if he has balls before I go to work."

Again, for those less horse savvy.....you don't spay a female horse.  It's probably ridiculously expensive, if it can be done.  Instead you geld, aka neuter, the males.  If they are intact, it's a stallion.  If they have been clipped, you call it a gelding. 

So, if this boy has his beans, then he technically could have knocked up our aged pony over night.  That's what I need....a baby freaking pony.  Cute and all, but not a good thing.

So the short version of the end of this story finds me calling my dad to ask him to come hold a mini horse while I check him for cojones.  (Ha! Spell check doesn't like the word cojones.)

He comes over and holds the mini while I lift up the tail.....nothing to be seen, but I have never actually checked for nuts before.  So I look underneath....(have I mentioned that I'm very fat with baby, and this guy's belly is only maybe 24" from the ground.....this wasn't comfortable) nothing to be seen behind the penis where you'd expect them to be.  Sigh......So I reach under there and grope him.  Empty. 

So the good news is that I do not have a potentially pregnant pony.

The bad news is that my day began with sodomizing a horse.  This isn't how I expected my Monday to start.

Meh!!!

Ok.  That's it.  I just want to whine now. 

I don't want to do this anymore.  Can I get a court order for eviction of my unborn child?  You! Get out!

Enough all ready. 

I just want all of the following:

-to tie my shoes without a sharp pain in my crotch when I bend over.

-to not have constriction marks on my ankles from my socks because my feet are too swollen.

-to not snore like a lumberjack (sorry, if you happen to be a lumberjack)

-to be able to roll over in bed without a hoist and pulley system

-to shave my own unmentionable area (thank you honey, but you're terrible at this)

-to sleep for more than 1 hour straight

-to sit for more than 20 minutes without feeling like I've been sitting on a battle axe

-a fucking glass of wine

-no more hot flashes

-to stay up past 9pm like a big girl

-for gas to just pass through my bowels without getting stuck and causing pain in the region of 8 out of 10

-to put my rings back on

-to not lose feeling in my hands if I forget to hold them in just the right position for a couple of minutes

For everything to just suck less I guess. 
I'm sure all pregnant women go through this stage, where they just want it to be over. 
Yes, I know that whining about it won't make it go any quicker.
Makes me feel a little better though....

Rise of the Machines

So, on the subject of my fabulous pregnancy.....

I have an app for that. Shocking right? It's called Baby Bump. (P.S. no one paid me to write this....or even asked me nicely for that matter.)

It's a cute little app. It has new info every day, including symptoms to look out for, possible tests I might have done, how the fetus in there is doing developmentally. That sort of thing.

It is also damn near precognitive.

Last night, while sitting in the waiting area at my daughter's martial arts class, I feel a pain begin develop in my right ass cheek. I figure I've been sitting too long, and try to fidget my way into being more comfortable. No matter what, it still hurt like hell.

I get home, and it's still there. So I take Tylenol. No improvement. I lay down in bed later in the evening, and it subsides. Ok cool.

Except it's not cool. I only know what it is because I wrenched my back maybe 6 months ago and the misalignment of my vertebrae pinched my sciatic nerve, causing a fantastic condition called "sciatica".

Fuck sciatica.

It's a deep, dull, constant pain that can reach as far down as your calf if it's severe. I've only felt it as far down as my knee. This time it's sticking to my butt and upper thigh. (How many opportunities will I have to type the phrase "sticking to my butt" without working in the soft core porn industry?)

Thanks to my cute little app, I know that it's caused this time around by the baby being positioned so as to put pressure on the nerve. I know that there is nothing I can do about it. I also know that there is a chance he might change positions and (GET THE FUCK OFF IT!!!) then it will go away, but that worst case scenario I'm stuck with this for the next 2 months-ish.

My app decides to show me this information this morning.
This is the 3rd time that it has delivered a particularly helpful nugget of information at just the right time. It's downright uncanny.

I have a few theories on how this could be.

A - My pregnancy is so damn typical that it's following all of the guidelines to the letter, and so   
      there's nothing odd about any of it.
B - I am subconsciously giving myself these oddball symptoms.  I read about how my nose may be 
      stuffed up because my mucus membrane is expanding (or whatever it said about why my nose is  
      dripping all over the place) ,and my nose gets runny and I think it was like this the whole time.
      (I really don't think this is the case.  I saw that it was a symptom and was like "OH MY GOD!!  .
      That explains it!!)
C - My phone is out to get me.  IT is causing these symptoms and then reporting them to me to prove
      it's usefulness.  Technology is coming to get us folks. 

I have had all the weird pregnancy symptoms you never hear about.  Like being stuffed up, varicose veins in places I haven't even told my husband about, increased severity of my carpal tunnel syndrome, and so on.  Things I didn't know about at all....until my app told me about them.  See my theory unfolding? 

Have any scary apps?   

Quoting the Princess Bride

It became clear to me tonight that I may have made a very serious error in my choice of mate. 
This is the conversation that took place between my husband and I tonight:

Me:  "My name is Inigo Montoya.  You killed my father.  Prepare to die."
Him:  "lol" (ok it was via text....while in different rooms....of the same house)
Him:  "What's that from?"
Me:........................ (picks jaw up off the floor)
Me:  "I do not envy you the headache when you awake.  But for now, rest well and dream of large women."
Him:  "No idea."
Me:  (out loud)  WHAT!!
Me:  "Vizzini:  Finish him! Finish him your way"
          Fezzik:  Oh good, my way.  Thank you Vizzini.  What's my way?
          Vizzini:  Pick up one of those rocks, get behind a boulder.  In a few minutes the man
                        in black will come running around the bend.  The minute his head is in view
                        HIT IT WITH THE ROCK!!!
          Fezzik:  My way's not very sportsman like."
Him:  "What the hell?"

Oh my god.  Can I really have married a man who can't quote Princess Bride?  Or at least know it when he hears it?  I mean, Come On..... the "you killed my father, prepare to die" bit can usually be picked up even by people who haven't seen it 500 or so times. 

How could I have been this stupid?  Think of all the lost humor.  All the references to iocaine powder that will never be giggled at.  If i say "Sleep well, I'll likely kill you in the morning" he won't get it. 

But worst of all, is this:
Me:  "Well, you could bring me up some ice cream and we could watch it, since you don't seem to remember it that well."
Him:  "Ok, in a little bit."
Me:  "Oh honey.  I set you up so nicely.  You could've answered with "as you wish".  It would've been epic."
Him:  "Why?"

Kill me.....

Oh Just STFU

The most ridiculous, righteous, most twat-ish thing that I have heard come out of some one's mouth lately is this little gem:  "I love being pregnant."
You what? 
Now most sane women would think that this was said with a sarcastic air. 
No such luck friends.  This psycho was completely serious.
She followed it up with "don't you?"
No, sunshine.  I don't.  I'm not sure what you think there is to love.  Were you bulimic in the past?  So now you have a totally excusable reason to barf up your whipped cream and pulled pork binge lunch, and thus you're stoked?
Do you have small boobs and so you are excited that your A cup is going to swell to a near bursting C cup?  Fuck the pain, blow up these ta tas!!
Let me guess, it's all about the super fast growing hair and nails, and that "pregnancy glow". 
I am as un-stoked about pregnancy as it is possible to be.  I spent the first 3 months not-puking.  I was just nauseated from week 4 to week 16, without end.  It's a very strange feeling to be sick to your stomach and ravenously hungry at the same time.  It was to the point where I wondered if I made myself vomit would I maybe feel better.  I actually first had a hunch that I was pregnant because I spent 80% of my honeymoon feeling queasy.  That's a good time my friends.

I spent most of the first trimester so fatigued that I would come straight home from work, make dinner, and go lay down.  I was out cold by like 7:30 most nights.  As a result, I spent a lot of time being sedentary, as opposed to the fairly active lifestyle I was used to prior to getting knocked up.  The sum of these two aspects of pregnancy is that any muscle I had built dissolved into fat in no time.  At this point I think my 10 year old is stronger than I am.

By far, the best (sarcasm....this is what it looks like) weird pregnancy symptom that I have been blessed with thus far is that due to the swelling in my hands and feet, my carpal tunnel syndrome has elevated from like a level 2 (slightly annoying but not bothering me enough to actually do anything about it) to a level 36 (holy shit, cut off my arms!! I don't need them anymore, cut them off!!!)
Every night I wake up because my hands have surpassed numbness and moved on to a burning pain that reaches up past my elbows.  There is no going back to sleep.  There is nothing to be done about it.  I wear wrist braces to bed, and that means I'll only have to get up once or twice because of my hands.  I'll get up 2 or 3 more times either because I have to pee, or because husband face sucks to sleep next to.
I told my husband that if this isn't temporary....if it doesn't go back to normal after I pop the kid out....then I am going to have to get the surgery done.  I absolutely cannot live like this if  I can do anything about it.  The only reason I get through it now is because I'm already miserable in so many ways, what's the difference?  That, and I know that I can't fix it now.  Not with my little parasite in there.
Then there's my husband......ugh.
I love him, I really do.  Having this kid might get him killed.  
It doesn't help that I have crazy prego hormones, and I'm already chemically imbalanced, as I had to stop taking my anti-anxiety meds.  He must have a death wish.
In short, no sweetcheeks, I do not love being pregnant.  I think you're crazy if you do.  Stay away from me and my children you fucking weirdo.

um....so I'm making a testosterone machine

Well, if anyone cares to know, I'm having a boy.  Yippie??
Yeah great.  I wanted a girl.  I know, I know....I have a girl already.  I don't have a clue what to do with a boy.  Everyone says to me "boys are great.  They're so loving and sweet and fun...".
Blah, blah, blah. 
Boys are boys.  Boys are stupid.  I think of all of the things that my husband does that make me grip my forehead and wince while shaking my head in consternation, and think to myself "oh great, now I will get double of this".
There is nothing exciting for me about having a boy.  Girls are pretty, their clothes are precious, thier activities are endearing, and I am one so I can relate.
A boy?  My color choices are blue, and blue.  My decor choices are footballs and sailboats. 
No fun.
I think of all the things my brother did while we were growing up and I shudder.  Breaking things to see how they worked.  Throwing himself off of things because it looked like fun.  All kinds of cuts, scrapes, burns and stitches.  There were road flares involved.  :::Shudder:::
I never did anything like he did.  I had too much respect for pain, death and authority (til my teen years, but that's another story).  
My daughter is smarter than all that.  She doesn't do things that she shouldn't because she knows she shouldn't.  Boys don't work that way.  At least, not in my experience of boys.  They say "hey that looks fun" and jump out of a moving vehicle.  They don't think about the moving vehicle part, or the road rash part, or the possibility of death or dismemberment.  No. 
Because......boys are stupid.
Even naming this boy sucks.  There aren't any sweet, adorable boy names.  I'm not having fun with boy names.
People have asked me, "Are you upset that it's a boy?"
Of course I'm not upset.  It's not like I placed an order for a girl and got a boy instead.  You don't get a choice in the matter.
So instead of a room decorated in purples, I get blues.
Instead of adorable dresses I get cable knit sweaters.
Instead of dress up I get action figures smashing together in battle.
Instead of gymnastics and ballet I get football and wrestling.
Sigh.
And most unfortunately, instead of an easy choice in schools I get to fight with my husband about public school vs. private school.
So it begins....