On my way to losing a marathon!

Thursday, February 23, 2012

This one's about how I'm a raging stupid moron.

I forgot to take my stupid medication last night.  By stupid medication I mean stupid doctor prescribed nasal spray and Claritin.  So don't think I'm filling myself with "shouldn't take during pregnancy" cold meds or anything.

After a terrible stupid night of sleep which I think was due more to leg cramps and general itchiness rather than stupid head congestion, I woke up to a raging stupid headache and now I stupid don't want to move or hear noise.

But that's not an option of course, because I've got a job and house to clean and a very hyper daughter.

So this morning I'm spending some time drinking decaf and watching aforementioned daughter run and spin around the living room while humming a song of her own making and occasionally stopping to bark at me (not like a scary military sergeant, like a dog) or tell me when she falls on her butt.  Because that's what she says. "I fell on a butt!" Not necessarily her butt, mind you, just A butt.  Sometimes the best part about being a parent is just sitting back and watching your kids be insane.  May not be the most helpful response to my headache this morning, but certainly helping my stupid mood.

Hope your decisions feel less stupid today!

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Some things and one or two other things.

Corndogs toNIGHT!
Corndooooogs tonight!
They're in the oven now
And I am gonna eat
SOOOME corndogs toooOOOooooNIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!

That's my song about corndogs.  I, um, really like them. You know. Corndogs. Please don't judge me.

So anyway, if this wasn't already apparent, I feel wicked better today.  Unlike yesterday where every cough or slight tilt of my head made me feel like my head was going to explode out the temples, which, it seems, are the weakest most vulnerable points in the skull.

Diddaloo diddaloo diddaloo...

I wrote that stuff last night.  Then I ate 2 corndogs and quickly succumbed to a corndog coma.  Apparently delicious junk food sure packs some mean consequences. Ah well. Totally worth it.

I need to go to work but don't wanna cuz I'm still sleepy.  My daughter keeps telling me she wants to go back to Disneyland and ride in her stroller.  Because, it would seem, that's her favorite thing to do at Disneyland, which really does not seem to make the whole trip worth it.  Of course in her defense, Disneyland is totally the best place to ride in your stroller.

Including today, I have approximately 25 more days in which I need to leave my house and go to work.  Those 25 days are spread over the next 6 weeks.  Cuz I leave the house about 4 days a week.  During my maternity leave I get to clean house, rearrange the kids' room to fit 2, and to be somewhat, you know, cute, cook and freeze as much food as I possibly can, and potty train my daughter.  Oh, and then give birth and care for a new addition to our family.

I just learned that women are apparently being targeted for extra body scans so that perverts can get more pictures of their nakidities.  Is it wrong that I would then be nervous that I would NOT be targeted because I'm not sufficiently attractive?  That instead, maybe I would be rushed through or invited to skip the security stop altogether?  Is it possible that there's something very very messed up inside my brain that this would be my response?

9 weeks, 2 days left.  Count it.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

EEEeeeYYYAAAAHHH!!!! Subtitle: 68 days left.

Is it possible to scream on the internet?  I want to scream on the internet.  I want to scream on the internet because after loads of sleepless nights and feeling like I might pass out where I sit, I can already tell I'm going to have a heck of a time falling asleep tonight.  Stupid restless leg syndrome.  I'll bite your stupid restless legs off.

My behind is wider, my back is achier, my stomach still looks like it was attacked by timber wolves, and my everything is saggier.  And you know what?  It's totally worth it.  Being a parent is not terribly sexy, but it is terribly awesome.

That being said, my Sweet Littles are sure as heck going to grow up KNOWING what they put me through, and paying for it every day of forever.

Get ready for it, apparently not so tiny dude (cuz the doctor says this looks like a  big 'un).  The guilt trips start at birth.

You have 68 days.

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Blink... 2 more weeks are gone!

So, I had intentions about being a little more consistent with this thingy, but seeing as my last post was on the first of the month... oops.

I also had intentions toward keeping my total weight at the end of the pregnancy to 180 pounds... oops again.  Because these days, I'm weighing in at 176, and I have 10 weeks left.  180 was a nice goal, it meant that my immediate post-pregnancy weight would probably only be around 160, but well, seems that won't be the case.  Ah well.  Hopefully I'll be back in my size 6 jeans by the end of the... summer? Year?  I don't know, skinny goals don't even need to be considered for like, 3 more months.  One day it'll be time for running and slim fast for sure.  But today... please pass the left over Valentine's candy please, baby needs a mid morning snack.

These days though, I do work to change my appearance, at least a little bit, every 3 days or so.  I find changing something about my otherwise appearance makes me focus on the size of my hips and double chin (why do these parts need to look so freaking pregnant?) a little less.  The bangs have become more side-swept, because husband finds it hotter.  I'm thinking of growing them super long and covering one eye and becoming tres mysterioso.  We'll see how that goes.

But today it's raining, so today is definitely about the cloche hat and black fingernail polish (a 97 cent splurge out of my $20 monthly blow money.  Freakin worth it.)  Observe:

In related news, I have kept my nails consistently polished for about a month now, and I ::gulp:: actually think I'm getting okay at it!  Or at the very least, my nails look somewhat less like they were decorated by a team of drunken toddlers.  Which they weren't.  Just so we're clear.

Ahhhhh feeling wicked great today, after my first solid night's sleep since Friday!  Now it's time to dance off to work and entertain some chilrens!

Happy day after mushy-love-day, Y'all!

Wednesday, February 1, 2012

T-Minus 87 days!

That's right:  I have, officially, less than 3 months left till we get to meet our little boy, who has been code named, and it seems, ACTUALLY named Kaden.  The middle name hasn't been hundred percented yet, so that's going to have to stay secret for now.

 These two were from last week, 26 1/2 weeks along.

For those that have asked, here's some pictures of me these days, looking, according to me and my doctor, far pregnanter than I am.

Here's me around this time last pregnancy, (about a week less-far along) since I'm very interested in noticing the growth differences:
 This may also serve as an explanation for why I keep saying I'm bigger (notice the tummy) and other people keep saying "but you seem to look smaller" (notice the everywhere else).

So anyway, Kaden Somethingorother Miller, our hyperactive little scamp, will be born some time this spring, in the year of the Water Dragon.  According to Panda Expressing, being born in the year of the Dragon means you are bold, brave, and wicked energetic.  Or something like that, I don't know.  I read it like, a week ago.  Also, Kaden means, we discovered after we chose it, "Fighter".  No, I'm not superstitious, no, I do not put ANY stock in signs of the Zodiac whatsoever, but I can say this:  If Kaden the baby/boy/man is anything like Kaden the fetus, he was very aptly named.  This kid is a mover and a shaker.  So much so that I get embarrassed about being in public sometimes; your giant midsection suddenly jumping and jiggling seems... weird.  And these days, it happens all the time.  Seems baby dragons like attention.  And dancing.

Happy day to all you out there, enjoy this excitable dragon year, Love, A Warthog. Or a Boar.  Either way, it's the worst possible sign and it's mine.  Freakin awesome.
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