This delights me

My colleague, who is giving me lots of her girly hand-me-downs (bless her heart), has promised to give me her daughter's pair of these...

Each one is as big as the 5-month-old's head! The baby appears part Muppet (Hi, Muppet!). They are Hi-flipping-LARIOUS.

(But $67? For the love of god! Clearly, someone was smoking crack before her baby shower...)

Two Pregnancy Thoughts, etc.

I'm sorry. I swear I didn't set out to be one of those pregnancy bloggers. Pregnancy, pregnancy, blah blah blah. But, here's the thing. I can't blog about work (much), and frankly -- work included -- pregnancy is by far the most interesting thing happening to me. At least as far as I'm concerned. So. My blog, my prerogative.

(Speaking of "My Prerogative" -- kind of -- do we think Britney Spears is really pregnant? It's been rumored forever. I'd love to see what kind of maternity clothes she picks out. Oh, and I love this "Tab Fab" reference on Eonline this week -- specifically re: "butt bombs": "Poops, They Did It Again..."

Anyway.

1. I had my first real baby dream a few weeks ago. I was at some awards ceremony thingy, like maybe the Oscars, partying like it was 1999, running around, being stupid. Then someone said "Hey, where's the baby?" And I said, "Oh my god, that's right, I have a baby! Where IS the baby?" At which point I ran around the party looking for this baby that I knew in theory I had, but couldn't quite picture and didn't remember arriving with. Now, things get fuzzy here, but I think I eventually found the baby, felt horribly guilty, and got scolded by whoever was watching baby during my period of neglect. What is not fuzzy is the (still lingering) sense of guilt and horror and fundamentally, secret belief that THIS COULD MAYBE REALLY HAPPEN?!

Okay, I guess this is the almost-mommy dream equivalent to that one we all had in high school where we showed up naked, or the one where we didn't study for the big test (or was I the only one?). But it gave me ANGST, people.

2. Today I am convinced that I have discovered the greatest invention ever: single-serving cottage cheese. See, I really really like cottage cheese when it's fresh and newly opened, but when I go in for that second serving a few days later, and it has become soupy with a bluish hue, I can't take it. And it's supposed to be like the best thing you could ever eat during pregnancy. I was eating a few bites of the big containers and letting them go to waste, or forcing myself to gag it down (a feat considering I've been nauseous for 19 weeks). Enter the single serving. Expensive yes, but so well worth it. Hallelujah, Breakstones fat free small curd! Life is great.

Ooh, I'm getting kicked (in a nice way). Meanwhile, apologies for the tangents and the rambling. I feel a little slap-happy today. Must be time to go home.

Bloggers beware

Beware if your blog is related to work

...she posts, from her desk at work. (Idiot.)

The Godforsaken Boob Tube

So far I have mostly resisted American Idol. I watched the first 30 minutes and just felt sad for the people who honestly thought they were good, but clearly were not. I think I am becoming soft (or just bored). I think I'll check back for the top 12. Maybe. Once The Amazing Race concludes...

I never thought I'd say this, but I think I'm getting tired of of tv. I tried to give some of the new "critically acclaimed" dramas a chance, because I truly am sick of reality shows, but I just didn't care. I still love The Daily Show, but it was much more fun before the election (and now it mostly makes me sad, too, at its core).

Now, I realize most people would be HAPPY to be turned off, so to speak, by tv. They'd go do something else, and be productive, functional, contributing members of society instead. But here's the problem. No matter how I dislike it, I STILL MUST WATCH IT. Turned off though I may be... I can't seem to turn it off.

I am tv's bitch.
(Which is ironic -- and telling -- given my line of work, but that's another story entirely.)

I think I need an intervention.

An Epic Battle of Good vs. Evil

It's that time of year again. The time of year when a dark force rears its ugly head and beckons. It's an evil whose name I almost dare not speak... that singular evil named American Idol.

I want to resist. I swear, I really don't want to watch it! And yet... And yet...

Maybe this time will be different (I didn't even LIKE it last season). Maybe my willpower will be stronger. Lord knows I have better things to do with my life twice a freaking week. I don't even think the bad auditions are funny. There must be subliminal messages in there somewhere, because I can't seem to turn away.

Meanwhile, it's a day off from work today with very few plans. Maybe if I'm bored I'll set my Tivo... just in case...

Things that make you say "Hmmm."

My very good male friend of many years, S. -- who long ago might have been considered the other (obviously lesser, but we were young and passionate and dramatic) love of my life -- is having a son, 4 months before I am scheduled to give birth to a daughter.

As I pointed out to him today via e-mail, this will be generation #2 of our co-ed friendship. Which, let's face it, for a long time was a lot more complicated than friendship. Now, we just look back and laugh, and we adore each other's spouses, and we acknowledge we would have made a terrible couple... but sometimes we flirt. And a little bit of me still has that teenage crush, I guess, even though I clearly don't want him and vice versa. I suppose I remember how he made me feel for a time there. (I used to sneak out of the house and hang out in his pool room all night, where we shared our deep, tortured, [usually] repressed young desires.)

His reply:

The 2nd generation fact was definitely not lost on me. Making the question of "how will I trust my kids when I know how I was at that age?" even tougher is the fact that a key component of our planned renovation / addition means there will definitely be a pool room that sits somewhat separated from the rest of the house...

A range of emotions shot through me:

1). Bless his heart for flirting with a bloated pregnant woman (even if it is by e-mail, from 3,000 miles away).
2.) Holy s---! We're moving to Zimbabwe when this kid turns 14...!

It's a....

............GIRL!!!

Edited to add: Ooh, I think those definitely were kicks! Here come some more!

Blogging Identity Crisis

I keep having this feeling that the blogging world is very, very small. More and more I see references to blogs I read on OTHER blogs I read. I guess this makes sense due to the nature of links, and comments, and such -- that is the way we all have found each other, after all... but I have now worked myself into a state of paranoia that my "secret" blog will be found.

Googling my blog name and actually having it come up -- along with what amounts to a history of comments I've left on other people's blogs, in some (non-blogspot) cases where they might be associated with my email address -- has added to my over-analysis.

And it's not like I have any really enormous revelations here (other than being pregnant, which was big when it was secret). I just kind of like it being more or less anonymous. Makes me feel more like I can say whatever -- bagging on my husband or friends or my JOB, etc. etc. etc. Basically -- it's a journal.

The sucky part is, as a result I am reluctant to put links to some of my very good friends' blogs on my own page (which you readers might really enjoy), or blogrolling them, because I know they'd eventually refer back to me (and they don't know I'm blogging). I started a "baby blog" that is not anonymous -- mostly for friends and family, but for some interested blog pals too -- but don't allow comments for the simple fear that somehow comments there would lead the people who actually know me back here. My "real-life" friends (who don't know about this blog) keep saying, "Why don't you allow comments, that's LAME!"

But I'm a paranoid blogging nut, I'm afraid. :)

Hm.

................I think maybe......... maybemaybemaybe........I felt some kicking just a few minutes ago??? But then again, maybe it was (more) gas......... Do it again, tummy!

Wawawawawawa

It's happened -- I've officially become an emotional basketcase! The weird thing is, I don't feel particularly sad or anything... actually mostly really happy... I just find myself always crying (or on the verge thereof!)! The sappy commercials are the worst; looking at last week's sonogram pictures today did it too, and last night I started blubbering while talking to G. about how much our lives are about to change. Couple nights ago I watched "Mona Lisa Smile," which honestly I thought was a really really cheesy movie, and I still boohooed all over myself. Hell, I even felt a little verklempt when I heard Jennifer Anniston and Brad Pitt broke up (come ON, now). Ahh, hormones. Between this and the excess saliva (don't ask), I really think it's time to buy stock in Kleenex...

Something Good From Something Bad

My former supervisor, who normally makes my blood curdle due to a very unpleasant and 100% unjustified berating he gave me maybe three years ago, just did something that may have changed everything.

He came into my office. He sat down. He said, "Do you have a second?" which is usually his code for "I'm giving you a giant and hideous new project."

Then he told me that he had heard about my big screwup (though thankfully he did not phrase it this way), and proceeded to relate a story about his own biggest screwup. And it was a big, bad, very public one -- and, like mine, it was an honest case of human error. This would be a much more colorful story if I could relate it as he told it, but what with the precedent of people being fired for blogging about work (Dooce, Sarcastic Journalist, etc. etc.), I dare not.

Even though it was a million years ago, you could just tell his heart hurt to relive it. My heart broke to hear it. And the moral of the story was, he got through it. And he triumphed over it. And that he knows I will too, and that he knows I'm good, and that I am not alone. And that if this is the worst it ever gets, that is damn good in the long run.

The fact that we don't have a wonderful past in some ways moved me all the more. It was a generous, kind, and wholly unexpected thing for him to do. I think I am ready to give him another chance. It's certainly what I want others to do for me.

Baby X

Overall very, very good news from the 16 week appointment this morning. Baby looks healthy and strong, good heartbeat, four chambers, nice long limbs, good sized brain. Unfortunately it was feeling modest -- all crunched up in a tight fetal position, so we couldn't learn the gender. So, baby will remain "it" for at least another week (they've generously promised to sneak me in for another "unofficial" sono a week from tomorrow to take another look... and told me to drink a cup of coffee in the morning to see if we can make it dance). I'm disappointed about the gender, but let's face it -- healthy is the bottom line, and I am delighted and thankful for that!!!!

Reflections of the First Trimester

a working list, sure to grow as I do...

1. I have come to resent the (many) people who say "Gee, when I was pregnant was the happiest, healthiest, most glorious time of my entire life!!" Who knew the motherhood guilt would kick in so early??

2. Now that my "subtle" highlights have grown out, with no plans to revist them till post-partum, I am forced to acknowledge that I am just not as blonde as I used to be.

3. There is no obvious distinction between morning sickness and heartburn -- one seems to go straight on into the other... And it's not just morning, and it's not just for 13 weeks (for unlucky me....).

4. The purgatory between "real clothes" and maternity clothes is the humiliation of being forced to wear your "fat jeans" and sweats every other day... and remembering why they normally sit at the bottom of your drawers. SO not flattering.

5. I have hair in places I never realized....

6. For the first eight weeks or so I was told my complexion was "glowing." Overnight graduated to "Pizza Face: Return of the Junior High Acne." (Okay -- maybe not THAT bad... but not good either.)

7. Having your husband say you look "frumpy" and/or "dumpy" -- even as a joke -- is SO not amusing. You begin to suspect those feigned looks of horror are actually not feigned...

8. Ordering maternity clothes on the Internet is irresistable, even though you know it's excessive. One good rationale: "I need to order $75 worth to get the free shipping -- I'll return it all except the tank top." Yeah, right!

9. You constantly fight the image to buy all those cute baby clothes, lest you spend ALL your money before the kid's even born...

10. In spite of it all, it's still the most exciting freaking thing ever to happen, nevermind that people do it every day!!

Don't you just love it...

...When you come back from the holidays and there's SO much good reading to catch up on from your blogging friends? Clearly, work takes a back seat! Welcome back everybody!

Back to Reality

The bad news -- I'm no longer on vacation.

The good news -- I'm no longer trapped in a house with my parents and in-laws... who, wonderful as they usually are, can be awfully grating after two weeks straight. (They mostly behaved, though -- only a few really ugly snarky comments from the MIL...)

The bad news -- I'm still sick, at week 16!! WTF???

The good news -- big doctor appointment, sonogram, and maybe even a gender predition on Thursday. :)

The bad news -- I am officially in clothing purgatory, relegated to sweat pants and ONE pair of elastic waistband slacks (eww). (G. "lovingly" called me "frumpy" not once but several times over the holiday -- SO not cute.)

The good news -- excuse to shop! (I don't normally shop there but may I just say that Old Navy has GREAT maternity clothes deals....??)

The bad news -- big public rehashing of my pre-holiday work blunder at the staff meeting this morning.

The good news -- a new year, a fresh start, and less than 6 months till something brand new to immerse myself in -- something that will hopefully not judge me and will unconditionally love me (at least for the first 12 years or so)!

So, onwards we go, happy 2005....