For example, I am going to redecorate (or...decorate for the first time, finally) our house in paraphernalia from this fine Dutch company: PiP. Brace yourselves for the FLORALS, the ruffles, and the brights. Get a life, beige.
Friday, June 24, 2011
I did not spare a ruffle
That's what my mom says when she looks at my baby pictures. Because folks, a ruffle she did not spare. And since genetics are not just a theory, I too hold ruffles in high esteem. (Sidenote: I also have her chin and her fine German nose.)
For example, I am going to redecorate (or...decorate for the first time, finally) our house in paraphernalia from this fine Dutch company: PiP. Brace yourselves for the FLORALS, the ruffles, and the brights. Get a life, beige.
For example, I am going to redecorate (or...decorate for the first time, finally) our house in paraphernalia from this fine Dutch company: PiP. Brace yourselves for the FLORALS, the ruffles, and the brights. Get a life, beige.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Merciful heavens, this is hard.
Let me tell you all the ways I know I am pregnant.
1. All I can do is barf and/or feel like I'm about to barf. Or sleep, or moan into the wind about how I'm about to barf.
2. I am crying a lot, but it's not necessarily in predictably sappy moments. I cried today when I stopped at a friend's house: "I AM TOO SICK TO STAY FOR BOOK CLUB AND I AM JUST SO MISERABLE." She looked and me and said I looked peaked. Which, according to dictionary.com, is not a flattering term.
3. People keep saying that my hair will be lush and gorgeous from all the hormones, but I only notice that hair growth in areas besides my head. Attractive.
4. My guts stick out in a way that is neither womb-like nor distinct. I am just thickening up. Mmm.
5. Our yard is a regular jungle. Literally, I do not care that my prized flower beds are overgrown and disgustingly prickly. How far we fall. How very far we fall.
6. I have seen three full seasons of The Cosby Show on Netflix and have incorporated the word zrbtt into my regular vocabulary. I also want to name our child Rudy.
7. Our house smells so disgusting. We have cleaned and cleaned but it's the mix of Bounce dryer sheets and bacon from breakfast. The wafting just doesn't stop.
8. I'm still taking time to think about the ways I wasn't really ready for this. I felt so excited and so ready on many levels, but then it came faster than we planned (duh, that's what happens), but I don't get to consider that stuff anymore. It's just irrelevant, even though my doubts didn't magically disappear when the stick turned pink. Sigh...
9. I am collecting baby books, and that's good comfort for the bigger, scarier parts of this process.
10. Again, we have watched SO MUCH COSBY. I zrbtt you. And when this baby comes, I'm going to zrbtt her too.
1. All I can do is barf and/or feel like I'm about to barf. Or sleep, or moan into the wind about how I'm about to barf.
2. I am crying a lot, but it's not necessarily in predictably sappy moments. I cried today when I stopped at a friend's house: "I AM TOO SICK TO STAY FOR BOOK CLUB AND I AM JUST SO MISERABLE." She looked and me and said I looked peaked. Which, according to dictionary.com, is not a flattering term.
3. People keep saying that my hair will be lush and gorgeous from all the hormones, but I only notice that hair growth in areas besides my head. Attractive.
4. My guts stick out in a way that is neither womb-like nor distinct. I am just thickening up. Mmm.
5. Our yard is a regular jungle. Literally, I do not care that my prized flower beds are overgrown and disgustingly prickly. How far we fall. How very far we fall.
6. I have seen three full seasons of The Cosby Show on Netflix and have incorporated the word zrbtt into my regular vocabulary. I also want to name our child Rudy.
7. Our house smells so disgusting. We have cleaned and cleaned but it's the mix of Bounce dryer sheets and bacon from breakfast. The wafting just doesn't stop.
8. I'm still taking time to think about the ways I wasn't really ready for this. I felt so excited and so ready on many levels, but then it came faster than we planned (duh, that's what happens), but I don't get to consider that stuff anymore. It's just irrelevant, even though my doubts didn't magically disappear when the stick turned pink. Sigh...
9. I am collecting baby books, and that's good comfort for the bigger, scarier parts of this process.
10. Again, we have watched SO MUCH COSBY. I zrbtt you. And when this baby comes, I'm going to zrbtt her too.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
WHERE to begin?
Well, folks, like all the big time blogs (HA), this little corner of cyberspace is about to become a dialogue of burping, pooping, crying, lack-of-sleeping, stressing, hoping, and wondering...what does it mean to be a PARENT?
Because that's what's happening in our neck of the world. We are having a baby. Ready or not, that baby is going to arrive and we are going to be in charge. Of its small human life. Of its college fund. Of whether or not it has memorable family vacations. And so on.
The weirdest part so far is that I am feeling really, really disconnected from the whole deal. Even after an ultrasound a few weeks ago, I just can't get my brain around the concept that there is a whole little person in my gut. Because let's be real, my gut is busy doing so many cartwheels, it's not really sending the snoozy, cozy, new life vibe. It's sending the "I hate you and I'm going to make you hug that porcelain throne all day long, BOOYAH" vibe. Of course that leads me to wonder if I'm going to be like those wild mammals that look at their newborns and then go stroll the savannah, leaving their young to whichever whippersnapping predator wanders by. AM I GOING TO BE THE APATHETIC LIONESS? This is what would keep me up at night, except I'm way too tired.
Speaking of tired, I am winning every sleeping contest in the world right now. I can sleep all day! Every day! And be ready for bed again in half an hour! And the best part is that I can drink POP with caffeine in it. Because unlike the first 26 years of my life, caffeine now has 0% effect on my ability to sleep. Dr. Pepper, come to mama.
The baby is coming around New Year's Day. I'm going to pretend that an actual due date doesn't exist so I just give birth whenever I darn well please, and I won't be traumatized when I'm 50,000 hours past the day I wanted to be done being pregnant.
We'll see!
Because that's what's happening in our neck of the world. We are having a baby. Ready or not, that baby is going to arrive and we are going to be in charge. Of its small human life. Of its college fund. Of whether or not it has memorable family vacations. And so on.
The weirdest part so far is that I am feeling really, really disconnected from the whole deal. Even after an ultrasound a few weeks ago, I just can't get my brain around the concept that there is a whole little person in my gut. Because let's be real, my gut is busy doing so many cartwheels, it's not really sending the snoozy, cozy, new life vibe. It's sending the "I hate you and I'm going to make you hug that porcelain throne all day long, BOOYAH" vibe. Of course that leads me to wonder if I'm going to be like those wild mammals that look at their newborns and then go stroll the savannah, leaving their young to whichever whippersnapping predator wanders by. AM I GOING TO BE THE APATHETIC LIONESS? This is what would keep me up at night, except I'm way too tired.
Speaking of tired, I am winning every sleeping contest in the world right now. I can sleep all day! Every day! And be ready for bed again in half an hour! And the best part is that I can drink POP with caffeine in it. Because unlike the first 26 years of my life, caffeine now has 0% effect on my ability to sleep. Dr. Pepper, come to mama.
The baby is coming around New Year's Day. I'm going to pretend that an actual due date doesn't exist so I just give birth whenever I darn well please, and I won't be traumatized when I'm 50,000 hours past the day I wanted to be done being pregnant.
We'll see!
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