If someone says this one more time to me I will punch him/her in the face

“You’re still here?” Is there some purgatory that 9-month pregnant women go to while waiting for labor? If so, WHERE IS IT? Because I’d like to send you there.

“Still haven’t had that baby yet, huh?” Actually, yes, I did. And then I ate my baby’s weight in pizza and beer and am keeping my child in this desk drawer because I just CANNOT stay away from my job!

“Enjoy these last days of babyless peace and quiet!” Besides the swollen feet that keep me from working out in any capacity, the constant feeling in my, er, cookie, that I’ve just completed the Tour de France, and the debilitating exhaustion that lands me square on my couch every night after work…but yeah, I sure am enjoying these last few days!

“Are you ready?” No….I’d actually like to be pregnant a few more months, please. Nine months just doesn’t cover the sheer joy I’m feeling ALL DAY LONG (see above)!

“I bet you’re looking forward to getting your body back.” It’s been nearly 10 months since I’ve had a stiff drink AND fit into anything with a zipper. I’d say I’m more than a little excited.

“Are you planning on going back to work?” What? Did someone not tell me that babies and all the equipment they require are free in Texas?

Things I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to say or do when I am a parent

1. Consider gummi worms, bears or any red chewy candy dinner. This is something I regularly did as a single girl (hello? fat free.) and still resort to in a pinch if hungry and lazy. which is often.

2. Say "fuck." I am a huge fan of this word. Second in line: "retarded." Parents don't say these things, right? I need to start replacing these words with "gosh!" and "fudge!" and completely losing all sense of my former self.

3. Watch as many obesity reality shows as I currently do. I love "Heavy," "I Used To Be Fat," "600 lbs. Mom," you name it. This kid is going to have a complex from birth.

4. Watch as much MTV as I do. Although, "16 and Pregnant" and "Teen Mom" have been wonderful educational tools for me.

5. Listen to '90s music at top volume in my car. Granted, I am now the proud owner of Ultimate Mom Car - The Honda CR-V, which just screams Hott. But I doubt my kid will appreciate Biggie's "Hypnotize," EMF's "Unbelievable," or the Beastie Boys' "Sabotage" as much as I do.

Am I mature enough to be a mom?

Lazy Kid

I used to watch "I Didn't Know I was Pregnant" in awe and horror. How can someone NOT KNOW she's pregnant? How detached from your body can you be? Or, how OBESE are you?

Well, now I know.

This kid is going on 5 months and I've yet to hear from him/her. Not a kick, jab or grumble. OK, yes, I get to hear the heartbeat at the doctor...but it's taken by military nurses-in-training. One of whom once mistakened my own heartbeat for the baby's and sent me into a state of shock when she said: "Hmm...normally it's faster than that. I'm going to have to get the doctor."

Turns out the baby's heartbeat is heard MUCH lower than, say, my chest, idiot.

and yes, we had the early ultrasound that showed a little peanut...but that was MONTHS ago. I need daily affirmation.

Yes, I am growing a belly...but I am also known to polish off an entire Domino's California Veggie pizza in one sitting. If this is a "craving" it's my only one and it's one I've had for 33 years (or the 10 months I've known this little pizza from heaven existed) I could easily just be fat.

I didn't get morning sickness.

My hands and feet swell in hot weather no matter what.

My new porn star rack could easily be chalked up to above pizza binges.

That "glow" as the husband puts it could be attributed to the vast amounts of sleep I get on the weekends and a recent facial.

Come ON kid. You're making mom worry.

Sick of Myself

I've been sick with the flu/cold? for the past week and a half. When NOT pregnant, I usually OD on NyQuil and Sudafed (the REAL stuff, not this Pseudo bullshit) and hit the sheets for a day and I'm good!

But Pregnant?
'
We're workin' on day 10 of Benadryl, tissues, Vaporub and whining. I wish I was pregnant in the '60s when you could drink, smoke and take cold medicine without worrying your child will end up with a third eye. This kid had BETTER be grateful he/she has all of his brain cells! I actually balled my eyes out at one point because my throat an chest hurt so bad I thought I was having a heart attack.

but I'm on the mend....and on my way to get a freakin' flu shot so we never have to endure this experience again!

Comedy Act

Fitting into clothes is getting to be a bit slapstick. Today, I was coaxing some jeans onto my 14-week pregnant body and fell over. I imagined myself as the opening credits to some cheeky '80s comedy...titled something lame like "Baby on Board!" or "9 Months and Counting!"

seriously, I would like to meet these waifs who giggle when they say they never wore maternity clothes and ate nothing but big macs for 9 months...and smack them. I am only 14 weeks! I will be shopping at Super Morbidly Obese Mom when all is said and done!

It's not like I am sitting on my ass all day...well, when I am not at work. I kickbox! I walk! I lift weights! I thought I'd be excited to see that bulge emerging, but it's less cute and more, "stop eating carbs!"

Sigh...this baby better be taking up most of the room in there. You hear me little man/woman! Momma can't end up on a Discovery Health documentary. My landlord will be pissed when they cut a hole in the house to get me out.

Latest Developments

One more week and I am officially in my second trimester! It's still so abstract to think I am going to have a kid. A kid that will bear some sort of resemblance of me. Who will have some of my personality traits. God, I hope he/she gets my sense of humor. And maybe The Husband's analytical skills and nose.

I officially grew out of a pair of pants that were too big three months ago. I invested in a belly band AND maternity undergarments. Belly, I. Am. Ready.

The Husband and I celebrated our fifth anniversary completely sober this weekend in Austin. I wasn't even sober on my wedding night.

OK, I DID have a glass of wine at dinner because I am JUST at the cusp where I can still order a drink without judging facing in return. It was so delicious...but probably because I haven't pickled myself in wine in over three months. Man am I a cheap date! If you are ever in Austin, do your taste buds a favor and go to Perry's Steakhouse (http://www.perryssteakhouse.com). They also have several desserts that come ON FIRE - who doesn't want that?

It's Alive!

I heard baby's heartbeat today! It's one thing to see the flicker on the screen, quite another to hear it for yourself.

The nurse: "and...there it is! strong too!"

Me: "so it's definitely living, then? Crap. It's gonna need a crib and diapers and stuff I guess"

Nurse: "I love moms with a sense of humor."

It's goo that she got my jokes because when I got there and saw that dreaded hospital gown and the stirrups in place on the examine table I laughed and said, "Oh goody! I have been looking forward to THIS ALL DAY." and skipped into the bathroom to change. The ladies know what comes next...the guys..well, let's say it's a SPECIAL exam just for girls.

I think the hormones are making me a tad nuts.

Team Preggers

Last night The husband tool full advantage of my ever growing waistline and took me to Rudy's (www.rudys.com) for Barbeque.It was my first trip there sine we moved there and it was clear the number of pregnant ladies outnumbered rotund husbands by about 5 to 1. It's clear the ability to eat vast amounts of smoked meat without guilt is one advantage of being pregnant.

stay strong sistas.

Sympathy

• Constant gas – we’re talking room-clearing, eternal flatulence
• Heartburn
• Going to bed at 8:30 p.m.
• Feeling “fat” all of the time
• Back pain

Nope, these aren't MY symptoms, they're The Husband’s. Pretty sure he’s the one actually pregnant, not me.

If these are sympathy pangs, he better be open to ALSO gaining that 30 lbs the doctor told me to, as well.

Money shot

So The Husband and I had our first glimpse of lil' Jelly Bean on Tuesday with an 8-week ultrasound. Yeah, it's not what you think. It's an INTERNAL exam...meaning I got to stick a wand up in me with a small audience in the room (tech, nurse, Husband...). Not my finest moment. Then, the tech uses the wand to navigate my cookie looking for signs of life.

The whole process is a bit like when you're on a plan and you decide to forego the headphones for the movie. Then, all of a sudden people are laughing and pointing while you and sit with your in-flight magazine studying the drink menu and map of Dulles Airport in the back wondering what the hell is so damn amusing. The husband looks like he's watching a really good porn and the tech is nervously peeking around in my uterus saying "ooh, I found the bladder! Oh! There's your left ovary! You have two ovaries after all."

FINALLY Mr. McNervous McNotFunnyPants shows me the screen and points out a little flicker. "That's the heartbeat."

And then it's all worth it...except if he maybe could have let go of the wand while saying it. Hello! It's not a stick shift!

It's too early to learn the baby's sex and we don't know if he or she is normal or has some life-threatening disease...or if he/she's hiding a second brother or sister behind him/her...but we DO know that:

1. He or she is human, and

2. He or she is alive

That's enough for me for now:)

Things I experience every day in San Antonio, that are non-existent in Ohio

• Cowboy boots with a suit
• Five-day forecasts of nothing but triple digit temperatures and a smiley sun icon
• Being the only white girl (gringo) in my yoga class
• Lizards on my porch after rain
• An hour-long news segment on the Dallas Cowboys PRE-SEASON football games.
• Camouflage everywhere.
• Cheaper beer prices than water and soda
• Cowboy hats with running shoes
• Mariachi music when I am on hold for the doctor

Bad Idea

Never EVER search "Child birth, labor" on You Tube.

This baby is never coming out of me, ever.

Things I Crave: An 8 Week Confession

The second thing people ask me when I tell them I am pregnant (after "You? Pregnant?" OK third question...) is if I have any strange cravings. I think they're hoping for a pickles and ice cream tale, but if you know me, you know that's in my diet already. I regularly call gummi worms lunch and cereal dinner. What Baby is craving is four food groups and a healthy balance of fiber and protein, apparently. Over the past two weeks I've had insatiable cravings for:

Salad: specifically with beautifully crunchy romaine lettuce and all the toppings from the Whole Foods salad bar. The Husband can't appreciate my $9-three-days-a-week must-have fix just yet, but when my child has all four limbs, a nose and two eyes...buddy, HE IS GONNA THANK ME. (Note: there are .05 grams of protein in a bag of gummi worms...)

Water with lemon: This may or may not have to do with the fact that the water that comes from the water fountain in my centuries-old office building tastes centuries-old.

Watermelon: I actually ate an entire seedless watermelon in one sitting. And my stomach looked like it when finished - and full of water.

Chocolate milk: Look, it's kinda healthy.

Weather under 90 degrees: Because swooning is SO 1854. It's unbecoming in the middle of the mall, too.

A glass of REAL pinot noir. Because Alcohol Free Wine? No. Just...no. Same goes for you, O'Doul's Amber Ale.

She's back!

Ah, but I am no longer an unemployed housewife! In fact, my life has made a complete 180 since my last post. I got a job, I got a promotion, I made friends, I learned to love life and Texas and...

I'm pregnant!

I thought I'd continue my blog as a way for family and friends who are just ITCHING to know the ins and outs of my pregnancy. I'll be honest, being away from immediate family while pregnant will be hard. And it's not just because I know I won't get a baby shower! wait...is it?

So far, the pregnancy has been smooth sailing. I vaguely remember my sister living at home while she was pregnant and throwing up all day. I used to throw up in the kitchen sink just from hearing those wretched puking sounds. THAT is how much I hate puke in all forms. Yet, I am voluntarily sailing into puking waters with my own possible puking stage and baby puke. Ever notice baby puke smells like hot sour milk?

But so far...no morning sickness! Just the occasional faintness and back pain like I've never experienced in my LIFE.

In fact, I made The Husband buy a FIFTH pregnancy test because...honestly? Shouldn't I feel something? A little twinge? A little tug? Do I have to be a mom to have a maternal instinct? I feel NOTHING. So in addition to four at-home tests, a urine test at the doctor and another test today....I'm finally convinced I am most likely, possibly pregnant.

I hope?

Wait...this is why everyone calls pregnant ladies crazy, right?

Officially required to own a cowboy hat

That’s right, bitches: I’m a Texas resident.

I’d like to thank the Internet, my San Antonio map, the slew of government offices I had to visit over the past few months and Gloria, the nicest government employee I’ve ever met at the Bexar County Tax Office. I couldn’t have done it without you, boo!

Here, you have to EARN the right to become a Texan. They don’t make it easy. And it’s EXPENSIVE. I have a feeling this is their way of weeding out the bad apples. Sort of a survival of the fittest for new residents. Don’t have a permenant residence? Have a clunker for a car? Can’t come up with the money? WE DON’T WANT YOU IN OUR STATE.

My first insight into this was when I took Jerry (My Jetta) in for a recall.

Maintenance guy: “Your car hasn’t had an inspection yet.”

Me: “Huh? Like an emissions test? Does it need one? It’s, like a year old.”

Apparently in Texas “All Texas registered vehicles are required to receive an annual inspection. All inspections include a comprehensive safety inspection; however, some vehicles are required to have an emissions test in addition to the safety inspection.”

Cost: $15

Then, you have to register your car in Texas…and you have to do this BEFORE you get your license. I don’t know why. Someone higher up just deemed it so. And to do this, you have to go to the county tax office in your county. I live in the biggest damn county in San Antonio and there’s only one office – downtown. The Husband and I ventured here on Tuesday during torrential downpour rain. Guess what? No line! Yay! Ball in our court!

But I have a lease, which makes registering my car harder than the LSAT. A tube of whiteout later, we came up with the correct info on the correct forms

Cost to register car and buy plates: $195!

And they expire every year! “But next time it will just be $70,” Gloria assured me. JUST!? Oh, and you have to pay by check or cash. Who uses checks anymore?

Now, onto my license. This time, I was PREPARED. I had every piece of information sensitive document I had in tow. Birth Certificate, marriage license, social security card, all in a manila envelope. I was an identity thief’s wet dream.

The people at the Texas Dept. of Public Safety do NOT take identity theft jokes lightly, by the way.

After an hour in line I took the vision test (with my glasses for the First. Time. Ever. Sad.) and I was booked – I’m not kidding. I was finger printed and everything. To make it easier when I am arrested for smuggling illegal immigrants I guess? (I say this because I loved the play-on-words posted “Texas Hold ‘em” meaning they’ll take (hold?) your license if you smuggle drugs or people over the border. Something tells me that’s not all they’d do, but whatever.)

I smiled pretty for the camera (though she took the picture as soon as I STOPPED smiling, of course) I was handed a slip of paper. Oh yea, I won’t get my actual license for two weeks. Not a big deal for me because I have a fancy military ID but the woman next to me pitched a FIT. “How will I buy my smokes with this piece of crap?!”

Cost for license: $24

Total cost of becoming a Texan: $234 + mental anguish.

I’m off to shop a new hat!

Afternoon Delight

Sunday, The Husband and I had grand plans to float the Guadalupe since A. it was 90 degrees in September and we’re Ohioans. B. it only requires a tube and a beer and we are low maintenance.

Guess what? Texans ALSO believe Labor Day weekend is the end of summer. When we floated back in July, it was a hot, packed mess of people and tubes and way too many cowboy hats for my taste. Sunday there was … well, I think I saw one person meandering downstream.

People … in OHIO summer activities end because it is, indeed, too cold for summer activities. It was partly cloudy and 90 degrees on Sunday – a perfect summerlike day.

Or perhaps they were all home watching football?

So we took our cooler and flip flops to Jacob’s Creek park at Canyon Lake where we sponged music off of the picnickers on the next table over and drank beer and watched the water. It’s really a beautiful area and, if we were prepared, we would have totally set up shop there for the day. Unfortunately, The Husband gets cranky when hungry and goldfish crackers were not satiating, so we left after an hour.

My question is … what the hell do South Texans DO in the fall? There are no leaves to rake, it’s too hot for corn mazes and hot cider and high school football is on Fridays (It’s SO Friday Night Lights down here). Please advise.

Taking care of business

We rent our house in San Antonio. So, when something breaks, we call a landlord to fix it.

Seems simple, right?

Except our technical “landlords” live in Oklahoma, the property manager reminds me of Wilford Brimley with a sugar low and, because the house is new, the homebuilder has to determine if the “Thing That Breaks” is covered under warranty. And if it is…THEY hire a contractor to fix it.

Got that?

The breaker to our office is on the fritz. It keeps tripping, making it nearly impossible for me to create witty and eloquent blog entries for my loyal fan base. It needs to be fixed, pronto. Here is how the events have unfolded, thus far:

1. The husband calls the property manager.
2. The property manager calls the homeowner.
3. The Homeowner calls the builder.
4. The property manager calls me, because I am home.
5. He tells me he is calling the builder.
6. The builder calls me.
7. The builder comes over, determines it’s under warranty, calls a contractor.
8. The contractor calls me to set up an appointment, even though I am in the same room with the builder who is on the phone with the contractor.
9. The contractor comes over Monday. Seemingly fixes the issue.
10. Breaker still trips.
11. Builder calls me to check on the progress. I tell him it’s still broken.
12. He tells me to call the contractor directly.
13. I call The husband to bring him back to speed.
14. I call the contractor, make another appointment
15. The builder calls to ensure the problem is in the process of being fixed.
16. I am now waiting for the contractor to come during his über-convenient time-frame of 1:00 pm to whenever-the-hell-he-feels-like-showing-up.

Your move, contractor. Your move.

Back to School

I had my first class on Saturday! I am taking a certification course at UTSA to become a paralegal because, let’s face it, magazine publishing isn’t exactly a growing job market these days. So in one year, instead of being an editor’s bitch, I get to be a lawyer’s bitch – and get paid more to do so.

I don’t want to get too specific on the people I met at my class in case I facebook friend them at some point ... but there are a few characters that I just have to mention:

The “OMG you are so funny!” girl. This chick laughed – obnoxiously – at everything our professor (a practicing attorney) had to say. Everything. While the prof is a cool chick…um, I think she was even a little rattled at her new No. 1 Fan.

The “back when” woman. There’s probably one in every class like this … the woman who hasn’t stepped foot on a college campus since “they had card catalogs! Imagine that!” Yes, yes, and you had to visit the professors personally instead of e-mail and you walked five miles to class – each way – in drifts of snow. And she kept commenting that she was the mother hen and the oldest person in the class....which she's not...but she may have thought that because the 55-year-old-mother-of-two next to me was on her Blackberry the whole time. Every “new” technology we were introduced to in orientation (which simply included our professor’s e-mail address and the Web CT site) garnered an “ooh” and “ahhh” from this woman. I wanted to ...ahh.. punch her in the face.

The Re Re. There was just no other word for her. The rules (which we were e-mailed – ohhh! ahh!– to us a week ago) are pretty strict for class with promptness and attendance being the major factor in your grades. Even if ALL you had to do was breathe and sit in class, you’d come away with at least a low C. So what does this girl do? Comes in 40 minutes late. Then 10 minutes late after the lunch break.

Then, there were the comments. We had to introduce ourselves and explain why we were pursuing this career. Her answer? “I’ve been in a lot of legal trouble in the past so I thought it’d be good to know what they were sayin’ to me.” This is what we call “too much sharing” in kindergarten. Lady, no one is asking you to say “I used to dream of being a paralegal as a child.” Just say it’s a…um, lifestyle change…and be done with it.

My other favorite question was “Hey are you guys (meaning my prof, a lawyer) ever gonna write laws so lie people understand them?” Yes, she said lie people…because it’s the past tense of “laypeople” in her head, perhaps? I don’t know. This girl is going to keep me entertained all year – I can feel it!

When it rains...it pours

It rained today! And yesterday!

People, like everything in Texas, the rain is also bigger.

All summer whenever I’d pass a retention pond or dry river beds or attempted to kayak in the puddle that was the Guadalupe I remember thinking it would take a few hurricanes to generate enough H20 to fill those babies back up.

Well, apparently it just takes one low pressure system over the Mexican mountains.

Monsoon like rain has been pounding San Antonio for like two days straight. Yesterday I thought it was the end of the freakin’ world it was raining so hard. And driving anywhere required me to remember what my driver’s ed teacher said about hydroplaning more than once. (Did anyone pay attention during that segment? I didn’t think so. The only thing I remember is to turn my headlights on low during fog. Guess what? Cars made today have daytime running lights that you can’t really do anything about so that little lesson is all for naught.)

Anyway…

I know, it’s great considering the area hasn’t seen significant rain in six months. But this type of weather is exactly what I DON’T miss about Ohio. Sun? Come back soon, 'kay?

Speaking of Ohio, my trip back home was great – I crammed everything I wanted to do in three days, including making an ass out of myself at my friend’s wedding and successfully drinking most of the wine at the bar. And slurring. And possibly Elaine-dancing to Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” – Wha? Who does that? This girl.

Ever fly hung over? Yeah, I don’t think my seatmates were too pleased to see me grabbing for that barf bag.

Dr. No

I went to the doctor today for what I thought was a short “check up” to “Get me in the system” meaning TriCare – the health plan for all members of the military. I had some routine things – weight, temperature, BP, etc. which was high and the nurse didn’t get my joke that my BP has performance anxiety and is always high when someone checks it.

Three times … still high. She puts a red flag on it for the doctor. The fuh?

Then I go through the third degree where she racks up more things to do to me, smiling wickedly the whole time. I have a feeling she was not very popular in nursing school.

Did you know you need a tetanus shot every 10 years? I was scolded for not having one up to date. Shame on me. It’s not like I am habitually coming into contact with rusty nails (But doesn’t that sould like a cool name for a band? "Tonight! Tentanus Shot and the Rusty Nails!" It’s mine. I am copyright protecting it tomorrow).

Anyway…

So I get a shot. Then, Nurse Ratchet checks my record and proclaims, “It’s been over a year since your last pap! We need to correct that right away!” I swear she squealed with delight and clapped her hands.

Let me tell you, getting a Pap Smear is never the idea of a good time for any girl. Getting a surprise Pap Smear? That's just playing dirty. Why not just tell me that I am also going into labor?

An hour and several tests and exams later I am on my way - shaking and dazed - with an appointment time for MORE blood work. This time, I know in advance that a needle’s comin’ at me.

And no one will be anywhere near my cookie.