For Under Appreciated Husbands Everywhere

I would just like to add addendum to my previous note. I'd like to say that through all this pregnancy crap John (my husband) has been wonderful. He has been supportive and loving and taken all my bursts of sobs, extreme hatred toward random strangers, and hopelessness at my growing stomach, with a grain of salt. Like the time he was leaving for work and I just started crying for really no reason at all that I even know of, but the tears just kept flowing and flowing and I couldn't stop. Or the time I just didn't like the way this one family in the doctor's waiting room looked and sat quietly plotting their demise because the husband was a goth and wearing a world of warcraft sweatshirt, and their baby was still in it's pajamas and they were having another one, that no doubt our taxes are paying for. Or the time that I freaked out after we went to Target because my wedding ring doesn't fit anymore and ya...He always knows the right thing to do and say even when it's the usual correct answer to "How do I look." I'm sure he's thinking, "Well your butt is like three times as big as normal and your face looks kind of puffy and you're starting to look more and more like a house." But of course he says..."You look beautiful," and "Your stomach is so cute." The really awesome part is that I actually think he does still think I'm pretty which is pretty cool. Not that I think I'm devastating now, but watching your body change and grow isn't the easiest thing to have happen. So it is my hope that everyone out there can find or has as cute of a husband as I do who buys you new clothes and glasses and perfume when you feel down, and works so hard, and makes you feel like you are still a princess, even when you feel like an ogre. Without them, pregnancy would suck like fifty times more than it does. And I wanted to write this because I don't think that I tell him enough. I'm sure he thinks that he does nothing right, when in actuality he has been perfect. Which makes me think that there are lots of people out there I need to tell that I appreciate them and their magicalness. I think I will. P.S. What IS up with World of Warcraft and all the losers who think it's cool? Or all the guys that wear girls jeans. FYI you look ridiculous, I don't care if it's in style. I freaking hate all that crap.

If Only for the Kid

I'm just so pregnant. I always looked forward to getting pregnant when I was younger, excited about the prospect of being a mom, and I guess I had visions of myself as this cute little pregnant lady who would be in style and wear cute little clothes with a basketball just sticking out my shirt. And though I'm still excited at the prospect of being a mom, the wonderful vision of a cute pregnancy has quickly faded into the reality of what my pregnancy really is, a fat pregnancy. That's right. I went to the doctor a couple days ago for my sixth month appointment. And I gained too much weight this month. Having looked at pictures of myself just before I got pregnant it is definitely true. But isn't it the slow and steady weight gain that just scares the crap out of you? The kind that you don't really notice and don't really mind until you wake up one morning and you're shopping at Lane Bryant? (This has not happened to me yet...and hopefully I will lose at least ten right when the baby comes out, I'm just illustrating a point.) It's not the weight gain that bothers me so much, though, because if it was just that pregnancy would rock. Eat what you want, feel great, pop out a kid nine months later. What really makes it unbearable is the inability to do anything that you normally do. From what you eat to how you sleep, to the in style fashions you just can't wear, or the tanning booth you can't go to, the colors you can't dye your hair, the high heels that hurt way too much now, the hot tubs you can't swim in, or rides you can't ride, sports you can't play, and drugs (prescription people) you can't take, pregnancy seems like a long list of probably shouldn'ts, can'ts and definitely do nots, unless you want your kid to die, be deformed or retarded in some way, or die yourself. The sugar on top has been that I can't wear my wedding ring anymore. Ya, it doesn't fit. My hands are too swollen/fat (along with my ankles, feet and basically face.) So now I look like I got knocked up and have no husband. Don't get me wrong, it's great too, there's lots of wonderful moments. Like the first time you see the baby on the ultrasound, or when you feel him kick, or see the look on your husband's face when he feels the baby move for the first time. It's all really magical and special. Maybe some people have it much easier and love everything about their pregnancy. (Probably the basketball stomach people who don't gain weight any place else besides their baby.) But I have to just tell myself that it will be over one day, and then I will be able to starve myself and go tanning like all normal people. Until then, I will press on in my three pairs of pants and two skirts that still fit me, and continue to endure whatever this pregnancy thing throws at me, if only for the kid. Only four more months...

Men, Women, DirecTV and Stress Relief

So the latest happenings in my life are pretty dull. I am steadily growing larger in the stomach region and the booty region and everywhere in between...and just been trying to study for my dietetics boards. Really the most amusing part of my life has been John lately. Well, if you look at it that way, which I definitely do. So John has been working a lot of late, as usual, but this weekend in particular, since they had a big sale. He's basically really burnt out of work and needs a vacation. I just want to preface this tasty little snack of humor by telling you that I can only remember one other time that John has gotten as mad as I'm about to describe, and when these situations happen it's all I can do to stifle the laughter at the absurdity and hilarity of his antics. He's rarely mad at me, usually work or some other situation so it makes it easy for me to get a good seat and watch without fault or blame. So that one other time, he couldn't find his keys and he was really late for work. So he was essentially moving through the house like a tornado, looking in places that his keys would never be like under my pile of clothes on the chair. But neverless each item of clothing was effortlessly tossed in the air and across the room as a child would throw up leaves from a freshly raked pile. He then madlly searched our bedroom and the rest of the house. It got to the point where he was just throwing things out of place just from sheer frustration. And it's mean of me but it was all I could do not to laugh. When he finally left I moved through the house after him restoring order similar to the way the women of the house in Mary Poppins did after the colonel down the street fired his canon off the roof. But I digress...the point of this particular entry is to talk about the DirecTV "mishap." So John came home after a particularly stressful day and sat down on the bed to relax and watch TV, when the DirecTV remote started malfunctioning. I don't think it was really working at all. And this wasn't the first time we had had problems with our tv, satelite, phone and internet, all through direcTV. So, I'm calmly sitting on the bed when all of a sudden John throws the remote on the floor as hard as he can screaming "Gosh dang it!!!!" Or something to that effect. I am totally shocked and basically frozen with amazement and wonder, when he throws it down again as hard as he can and before I know it bits of plastic are flying everywhere and the whole remote has split apart into atleast 6 pieces...the inside, the rubber buttons, the two outer shells and some other broken plastic shards. So as I am picking up plastic, I calmly inquire why he has just destroyed the remote, because up until this point I had not even realized that it wasn't working. To this question he replies (in an almost surpisingly calm voice after what just happened)..."Well DirecTV doesn't cover the remote control, you have to pay for it, so if it's going to be broken it might as well be BROKEN." "I see, okaaay." RIIIIIGHT. So he calls DirecTV to cancel or whatever or get something done about the crap service. I kind of tuned out for most of the phone call, but tuned back in when I hear..."About the remote...you don't need that back if you give us a new one right, because I sort of dropped it on the floor to see if that might make it work better." To this I burst out laughing and I think I said to the dogs..."Actually he smashed the crap out of it because he's a rage-a-holic isn't he Maya." To which we both start laughing and I get the "Shhhhh!" So I guess the moral is....sometimes you just need to smash the crap out of something to relieve stress. I think it might be more of a male need, because I would much prefer to sleep or read to relax. But the remote smashing is something that reminds me of the Cromagnon men that we learned about in Junior high that we were supposed to have evolved from who tried to make fire and jumped around and got angry like monkeys would. I don't believe in evolution in that way, but when our men act like this I can see how other people can find the similarities. I'm sure us women do some pretty interesting things as well that no man will ever understand, just like we don't always understand them. But I guess until I do, I'm content to sit back and enjoy the show. Because it's always a good time.

I guess I'm a nerd after all

I've just been reading Harry Potter. I read the last two books (the ones they haven't made movies of yet) and I have now joined the ranks of those I used to ridicule. But I haven't read all of them, so I'm not a super huge geek, but I have to say the last two were pretty good and I read them both in 4 days. That's like 1400 pages folks. Why couldn't I read like that in college? I guess text books don't turn the pages as easily as "the boy who lived," if you will. Yes, I said "if you will." So now I have to figure something else out to do. Besides puke up my breakfast and take long naps, I mean. Naturally those things are my first priority. But once I have them taken care of, I'm pretty bored the rest of the day. Anywho...just wanted to pass on some of my new found dorkiness and say that Harry is pretty awesome and if you don't think so I'll put a killing curse on you! ("Avada Kedavra!") Ha ha ha...I think that was too much. I'm going to stop while I have some dignity left. Actually the funny thing about that is, I was reading the book, and John's totally into them, but the movies, cause he doesn't really have much time or patience for reading. So I was explaining some part in the book and I told him "ya and then that guy put that killing curse on him! You know...wait what is it again? (Mostly talking to myself trying to find the passage in the book) But before I had even turned the page John says really matter of factly like I'm the stupidest person in the world..."A-va-da Kedavra." I'm like ya that, then I burst out laughing because that was pretty much the dorkiest moment in his life since the time he told me during the Superman movie, with the same matter of fact tone, that Gotham city and Metropolis were in the same universe. I however, did not realize that, one being batman, the other superman. Well what is marriage for, if not to rub off our inner dorkiness on each other. I think my dad once told me while I was in high school that every one is a dork in their own way, even the really cool people who never show that side of themselves to the masses. Then I asked my friend Jordan, who was definitely popular if that was true, to which he replied, "No, cause I'm not a dork...at all." And I couldn't really argue. Oh well, as an adult I've embraced my inner dork. And it took me a long time to do it, but I'm okay with it now. Sometimes I wonder if that's what growing up is, not necessarily learning more or becoming a different person, but becoming okay with the person you already were. And I think I have, finally.

No, it was not an accident. Surprise? Not to me.

Yes, it's true folks. Not only was I the first girl in my graduating class to actually commit to someone and tie the knot, but now I will be the first girl to have a child (in wedlock that is). Do miracles never cease? Well, I'll share the story of how all this began. So John and I had been married for about 5 months, and the whole time I'd been doing my internship. So of course I'd been stressed, and tired and just thought that my somewhat depressed and somber mood and sudden tearful outbursts were only the work of a lot of change as well as two people with different schedules, new jobs and no time. When one night John and I decided that I was not myself and basically that is was the birth control that I was on. Which was the Nuva Ring. So after a convo about all my weird personality changes, like depression ( I'm always happy), sadness even when I wanted to be happy (seriously we were on vacation), random tearful outbursts over nothing (one night john didn't say I love you and goodnight, so I turned over to have a good cry about it), and other general crazy mood swings, including headaches, fatigue and just wanting to rip people's heads off.

One time, when I was still a lunch lady for my internship, this little first grader was moving through the line with the speed of a special olympic hurdler. And he had a look on his face to match. It was all I could do not to tap on the glass in my fit of Nuva Ring rage and yell "Move it along you little terd!" When I started experiencing the inner fiery rage towards complete strangers on the street, just because of the look on their faces, or their slower than normal left hand turn, I knew something was up. But it was not until that night that I realized when John and I were discussing it, that I truly was crazy. And I felt crazy. So that month I took out the Nuva Ring. The next month all was well, then the month after that I found myself with child. I went to John's work because I could barely contain my excitement and told him. He was ecstatic, but didn't really believe me at first, since we hadn't been trying that long. But he was so happy and called his parents, and I called my mom. It was pretty special. Both families are pretty stoked.

So we had decided that night when I stopped the Nuva Ring that we would leave it up the big guy upstairs to decide when we got pregnant, having each known lots of people who took a long time to conceive, we figured we didn't want to be stuck at 30 with no baby. Little did we know that we are two of the most fertile people on the planet. So I guess next time we'll take more precautions. But we essentially didn't take any after that decision. Then one night John was telling his best friend that we were pregnant. I only heard one side of the convo, but this is what I heard. John: "Ya man, she's pregnant!" "Ya we're pretty excited." "Ya it was a surprise." To last part I couldn't help but burst out laughing. I'm like "It wasn't a surprise!" We knew this was going to happen...we were having unprotected sex. A lot. To which John's like "Well it was a surprise to me!"

But he's elated...as long as it's a boy. LOL. Atleast that's what he keeps telling me. Something along the lines of teaching him to pee in the snow or on the wall or something. You know boy stuff, penises, manliness. All subjects that elude me. But either way I'll be happy. I want whatever we're having and I'm sure I'll love it no matter what. So today we heard the heart beat, which was really fast, but normal apparently. And I'm supposed to maybe be able to feel it now or soon. Which I thought was hilarious, because the doctor's like..have you felt the baby yet? I'm like, "I don't know what does it feel like?" And she replies, well it might either feel like a gas bubble moving, or like a butterfly fluttering real low down there in your abdomen." So I'm like, "Well I might have, I mean I have a lot of gas." But come on! How am I supposed to distinguish between gas and a baby. Even though ever since then I've found myself stopping and muting the TV, yelling at the dogs to stop licking themselves, and concentrating real hard to see if I can feel anything. But then I come to my senses and realize I'm insane. I did think I felt something at one point, but then I just had to fart. So most likely NOT the baby.

But anyways, it's been an interesting ride so far. Morning sickness sucks. It shouldn't be called morning sickness, it should be called stop eating sickness, because it comes whenever I'm about to eat something I've really been looking forward to, ruining the meal for me. All for the best I guess, the more I can slow the growth rate of my butt cheeks the better, and just when I thought my boobs couldn't get any bigger...they have now started growing outward in a cone shape, like the Madonna video. If I lived in the fifties I'd fit right in I think. So needless to say I never leave my room without a bra on. Cause I did one morning to take the dogs out and got some pretty interesting looks from the neighbors. But I'll say this, I doubt the baby will have any trouble latching on when the time comes to breast feed. Well I'm sure that's too much info. But anyways I guess I better end this blog, it's pretty rambly and incoherent. Enjoy your thin bodies, and shirts that don't ride up while you can!

It's been a while...

Hey all, sorry I haven't written in a while, but I just wrote a long one about what I've been up to recently on our other blog John and Margan. There's a link off to the right. John writes on there too. So check it out!

Thought for the Week: Why do we say "A penny for your thoughts," but then someone has to "put in their two cents." ? Where does the other cent go? To taxes? Riiiight.