I've mentioned in a previous entry that I have put on about 10 lbs since I became pregnant which some of you may be saying to yourselves, "Well, that's ok". Sure, but let me put it into perspective for you. Since, as I have also previously mentioned, I enjoy eating and am a self-proclaimed foodie, my omniscient (and not at all self-serving) insurance company has suggested that I gain a maximum of 15 lbs due to my starting BMI (I think that stands for Big Macs Ingested). Which means that I can gain 5 lbs over the next 23 weeks. Are you kidding me?!?!? I gain that much when I don't have a little person adding a studio apartment to my midsection!!! I'm sure I can gain the last 5 lbs by my next blog entry!!!
On the flip side, however, I have had a few people tell me that they have gained 70, 80, 90, and 100 lbs with their first children. That's for one child?!?! Are you kidding? And, people, you should see the women telling me about this. They are not overweight by any stretch of the imagination. So what the hell does that mean for people with high Big Mac whatevers?!?!WHAT?!?!? OhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGodOhmyGod...LIARS!!!!! That whole eating for two thing is a LIE?!?!?! YOU BASTARDS!!! OH THE HUMANITY!!!!! Here I was all excited about that whole prospect and I don't even get to eat for 1.5! You want to know why? I'll tell you why? Apparently, you only need about 300 extra calories a day to support the little womb developer making a game room in your uterus. Crap. Way to burst my food bubble. AND LET ME TELL YOU THE WORST PART ABOUT ALL OF THIS MYTHOLOGICAL LICENSE TO EAT FREELY...EACH WEEK IN THOSE DAMN PREGNANCY BOOKS, THEY COMPARE THAT GROWING INTERIOR DESIGNER TO A DIFFERENT FOOD ITEM!! Twisted, sadistic, editorial bastards. And, for those of you playing at home, this week we are an avocado. Hmmm....guacamole.
Ok, so basically, all this means is that I need to be careful about my weight and how much cake I eat, right?...Wait! What?!?! NO CAKE?!?!?!? ARE YOU KIDDING?!?!?!?! Ok. Ok. I can do this. How about just a donut hole. That shouldn't really count, right? Just one. I mean, it's the part of the donut they are going to throw away, right? That can't be worth any kind of calories if they are just going to throw it away. Right? Fine. So my logic is a bit flawed, but I have some advice for you. Don't make me hungry. You wouldn't like me when I'm hungry.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Morning sickness?!?!?!
Now, I am going to be 16 weeks tomorrow and haven't been sick in about 10 days, so I think it is finally safe for me to talk about this topic. Morning sickness. Ok, so I want to know what sick and twisted mind came up with the term "morning sickness". First of all, that is a complete freaking misnomer. Why? Because it doesn't limit itself to mornings. Oh, hell no. It can happen in the morning, afternoon, evenings, middle of the night, dawn, dusk, or whenever the hell it wants to. So it should really be called "Whenever the hell the mood strikes sickness". Maybe I'll start a petition to have that changed. Who would I talk to about that? In any case, whatever this little embryo is doing in there it sure did churn up quite a storm. Let me start from the beginning with this one because it is quite an ordeal.
My first boot (aka puke, yak, vomit, spew, prayer to the porcelin goddess, or act of regurgitation - please select your favorite phrase and use it in place of boot in the future) took place at work in the middle of the afternoon in early June while I was facilitating a petting zoo activity for the kids. I was casually eating an apple, making sure the staff and the unsuspecting animals were prepared for the onslaught of overly excited, touchy feely kids, when I began to choke on a small piece of apple. When I say small piece of apple, it was more like a piece of the skin that had stuck to my throat and was just kind of pissing me off. So, I began coughing. No big deal. Cough. Still stuck. Cough a little more. Still stuck. Better cough some more. Oops! I have triggered a bit of an involuntary coughing fit now. Wait?! What's this? What's happening? I don't under...BOOOOOOOOOOOOT! Actually, it was more like projectile booting clear from one side of the petting zoo trailer to the other (No, not lengthwise. I'm not THAT good a booter). I remember looking at the pile of my used up apple and thinking, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?!?!?"
Little did I know that one projectile would be the first in a long line of incidents that would be wholly unpleasant. On the bright side, however, I was convinced my abs were going to be slamming!!!! Yeah...not quite. It was a moment of nutrient deprived insanity. There would be many more of those to follow. So many more, in fact, that I decided to keep a list of all the places that I graced with my increasingly impressive booting skills. I guess this would be a good time to share that list with you. I don't know if this is actually entertaining to anyone else but me, but I don't really care...I lie. I do care, but I'm going to publish the list regardless of what you all may have to say about it! Please note that any place I was sick in had absolutely nothing to do with the food, but had more to do with the little squatter taking over my body, so I hope no one misintreprets this list to mean anything else other than I had a terrible case of "Whenever the hell the mood strikes sickness (formerly known as "morning sickness"). Ok, here goes:
Work - the black top; the back parking lot, the nurse's office, and the parking lot behing Stop & Shop;
Home - of course, but always in the bathroom (thank God);
my parent's house - again, only in the bathroom;
Nicole's parent's house - bathroom (any house is in the bathroom unless otherwise specified);
The Hudson Hotel;
Le Parker Meridian hotel lobby bathroom;
the new Yankee stadium;
Nicole's Aunt Pat's;
some pub in Stamford;
Penny Lane Pub;
Bistro 52;
the Wood 'n' Tap parking lot (I didn't eat there. Hell, I didn't even make it out of the car);
Newington Pizza parking lot (again, didn't even make it out of the car);
Chili's parking lot (still in the car);
Margaritaville;
Mohegan Sun;
The Woodwinds;
West Farms mall parking lot;
John Harvards;
East Robbins Ave;
the Berlin Turnpike.
I think that's the whole list, but it is possible that I missed a few places that were so lucky to be able to re-view my nutritional intake. The kicker behind all of this, however, is that despite all of this regurgitation, I HAVE STILL PUT ON 10 LBS!!!!!!! That's just so wrong on so many levels I can't even begin to put it into words...uh...well, I guess technically, by writing it I have already begun to put it into words, but whatever. You know what I'm saying. GIVE ME A BREAK, OK!!! I've only recently been able to keep down solid foods!!!!
Oh, and by the way, for those of you who have successfully posted comments on here, would you be so kind as to let me know how that was done because I have had several people say they can't figure out how to do it and I'll be damned if I can figure it out. Again, only recenlty been able to eat solid foods...ok?
My first boot (aka puke, yak, vomit, spew, prayer to the porcelin goddess, or act of regurgitation - please select your favorite phrase and use it in place of boot in the future) took place at work in the middle of the afternoon in early June while I was facilitating a petting zoo activity for the kids. I was casually eating an apple, making sure the staff and the unsuspecting animals were prepared for the onslaught of overly excited, touchy feely kids, when I began to choke on a small piece of apple. When I say small piece of apple, it was more like a piece of the skin that had stuck to my throat and was just kind of pissing me off. So, I began coughing. No big deal. Cough. Still stuck. Cough a little more. Still stuck. Better cough some more. Oops! I have triggered a bit of an involuntary coughing fit now. Wait?! What's this? What's happening? I don't under...BOOOOOOOOOOOOT! Actually, it was more like projectile booting clear from one side of the petting zoo trailer to the other (No, not lengthwise. I'm not THAT good a booter). I remember looking at the pile of my used up apple and thinking, "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!?!?!?"
Little did I know that one projectile would be the first in a long line of incidents that would be wholly unpleasant. On the bright side, however, I was convinced my abs were going to be slamming!!!! Yeah...not quite. It was a moment of nutrient deprived insanity. There would be many more of those to follow. So many more, in fact, that I decided to keep a list of all the places that I graced with my increasingly impressive booting skills. I guess this would be a good time to share that list with you. I don't know if this is actually entertaining to anyone else but me, but I don't really care...I lie. I do care, but I'm going to publish the list regardless of what you all may have to say about it! Please note that any place I was sick in had absolutely nothing to do with the food, but had more to do with the little squatter taking over my body, so I hope no one misintreprets this list to mean anything else other than I had a terrible case of "Whenever the hell the mood strikes sickness (formerly known as "morning sickness"). Ok, here goes:
Work - the black top; the back parking lot, the nurse's office, and the parking lot behing Stop & Shop;
Home - of course, but always in the bathroom (thank God);
my parent's house - again, only in the bathroom;
Nicole's parent's house - bathroom (any house is in the bathroom unless otherwise specified);
The Hudson Hotel;
Le Parker Meridian hotel lobby bathroom;
the new Yankee stadium;
Nicole's Aunt Pat's;
some pub in Stamford;
Penny Lane Pub;
Bistro 52;
the Wood 'n' Tap parking lot (I didn't eat there. Hell, I didn't even make it out of the car);
Newington Pizza parking lot (again, didn't even make it out of the car);
Chili's parking lot (still in the car);
Margaritaville;
Mohegan Sun;
The Woodwinds;
West Farms mall parking lot;
John Harvards;
East Robbins Ave;
the Berlin Turnpike.
I think that's the whole list, but it is possible that I missed a few places that were so lucky to be able to re-view my nutritional intake. The kicker behind all of this, however, is that despite all of this regurgitation, I HAVE STILL PUT ON 10 LBS!!!!!!! That's just so wrong on so many levels I can't even begin to put it into words...uh...well, I guess technically, by writing it I have already begun to put it into words, but whatever. You know what I'm saying. GIVE ME A BREAK, OK!!! I've only recently been able to keep down solid foods!!!!
Oh, and by the way, for those of you who have successfully posted comments on here, would you be so kind as to let me know how that was done because I have had several people say they can't figure out how to do it and I'll be damned if I can figure it out. Again, only recenlty been able to eat solid foods...ok?
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Pop!
Ok, so I went to get dressed and realized that my shorts, which had been quite comfortable and slightly big up until recently, were now feeling as if I had just consumed a large sausage pizza and 5 whoppers with cheese in one sitting. Hmmmm....whoppers with cheese.... Oh, sorry, I lost my train of thought there for a minute. Where was I? Right, shorts. Too tight. Yes. So, my shorts are too tight which means it is time to engage in one my most dreaded activities...shopping. NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! I don't wanna!!!!!!!!!! You can't make me!!!!!!!!! With that, I am having thoughts of barricading myself and my dogs in the bedroom so that no one can get to us and I can watch t.v. and have my air conditioner. Hmmm....wait, though. No snacks in my room. That's a problem. Then, in the midst of my great escaple plans, Nicole and our friend, Anna, come up with a great motivator..."All you have to do is find 3 pairs of pants for work and then we can go eat". BAM! "I'm driving!" I shouted as I ran past to the car.
Now, as we know, I am not a shopper and clothes shopping is perhaps my least favorite activity ever invented. Even more detested than electrolysis...on the lipline...without lidocaine...Yes, that's how much I hate clothes shopping. Ok, so where do pregnant women on a budget shop? Why, Old Navy of course! Of course the maternity section at Old Navy consisted of 2 racks and a couple of shelves of jeans. Most of the sizes were 2, 4, 8 and to that I say, um...you all need to add a number to that. Now, I know I am not exactly a sfelt diva, but I have no sympathy for skinny bitches. As I like to tell people, there are two kinds of women in the world: those who know about chub rub and skinny bitches. Me? I am close friends with chub rub, so a size 2 is not even going to fit my calves. Ok, so I found a pair of jeans there that were sooooooooo blue that I would have easily blended in to any restaurant serving an early bird special in Florida in November. Yes. That blue. And two pairs of pants that had a zipper which was probably about a 1/4 inch long which meant that my granny panties (shocking, no thongs on this chick) were sticking out the top of them.
Ok, so Old Navy was not going to be the place. Now, I have never really paid much attention to maternity sections in stores or stores that specialize in such a clientelle, but apparently, there a lot more of them than I ever thought. I say this, because about 300 yards from the Old Navy is another shop called Destination Maternity which is two maternity shops merged into one space. Kind of like my uterus at this point...2 people using the same space. Ha! I crack myself up. Ok, this store is a bit more realistic with clothing. Zippers are full size so my underwear can remain covered all day (that's a big plus for me), the waistline is a little bit higher than the other pants I had tried on, so I don't have to pull them up so high that I develop an embarrassing case of camel toe (if you don't know, ask a friend who knows about chub rub), the pants have pockets that will actually allow you to fit something in them without ripping the pants off your leg, and the colors actually occur in nature. So, I not only met my quota here, but actually surpassed it. Can anyone say BURRITO TIME!!!
Now, as we know, I am not a shopper and clothes shopping is perhaps my least favorite activity ever invented. Even more detested than electrolysis...on the lipline...without lidocaine...Yes, that's how much I hate clothes shopping. Ok, so where do pregnant women on a budget shop? Why, Old Navy of course! Of course the maternity section at Old Navy consisted of 2 racks and a couple of shelves of jeans. Most of the sizes were 2, 4, 8 and to that I say, um...you all need to add a number to that. Now, I know I am not exactly a sfelt diva, but I have no sympathy for skinny bitches. As I like to tell people, there are two kinds of women in the world: those who know about chub rub and skinny bitches. Me? I am close friends with chub rub, so a size 2 is not even going to fit my calves. Ok, so I found a pair of jeans there that were sooooooooo blue that I would have easily blended in to any restaurant serving an early bird special in Florida in November. Yes. That blue. And two pairs of pants that had a zipper which was probably about a 1/4 inch long which meant that my granny panties (shocking, no thongs on this chick) were sticking out the top of them.
Ok, so Old Navy was not going to be the place. Now, I have never really paid much attention to maternity sections in stores or stores that specialize in such a clientelle, but apparently, there a lot more of them than I ever thought. I say this, because about 300 yards from the Old Navy is another shop called Destination Maternity which is two maternity shops merged into one space. Kind of like my uterus at this point...2 people using the same space. Ha! I crack myself up. Ok, this store is a bit more realistic with clothing. Zippers are full size so my underwear can remain covered all day (that's a big plus for me), the waistline is a little bit higher than the other pants I had tried on, so I don't have to pull them up so high that I develop an embarrassing case of camel toe (if you don't know, ask a friend who knows about chub rub), the pants have pockets that will actually allow you to fit something in them without ripping the pants off your leg, and the colors actually occur in nature. So, I not only met my quota here, but actually surpassed it. Can anyone say BURRITO TIME!!!
Monday, August 17, 2009
The Wall
Ok, so we have started the process of registering for stuff that we are told the baby is going to need. Now, that sounds like a fairly straightforward prospect on the surface of it, but I am here to tell you that it is all a lie. First of all, the people telling you what you are going to need for the baby are usually the retailers selling those things and, as my brother loves to say, you don't ask a barber if you need a haircut. For example, Babies R Us (which will hencefore be known as The Store) has put together a whole booklet listing out the various things you "need" for the baby; things like a wipe warmer, a weather shield, and neck wings. Now, while the wipe warmer sounds like a lovely thing that I would love on a cold winter morning, I have absolutely no clue what the hell a neck wing is or what type of weather the shield is supposed to shield the baby from. Oh, and for those infants that are particularly motorically skilled, The Store suggests adding a Wii to the registry.
So, to make the whole process a little less daunting, The Store has organized their merchandise according to various categories (e.g. infant care, baby gear, diapers, nursery items, yadda, yadda, yadda). And, as excited parents to be, we entered the dragon blissfully unaware of the hell that awaited us. Now, I'd like to say that we went in there with a well formulated game plan. I mean, we had done our research on Consumer Reports, talked to our friends about what items they thought were helpful, and had our ideas about what things would be helpful for us to have in our home. Here's a rough idea of what our game plan was: 1) we need baby bottles; 2) we need onesies; 3) we need a car seat; 4) we need a crib; 5) we need diapers. There's probably other stuff, too, but that should be a good start.
Great! Let's start with bottles.......Ok, bottles. Aisle 1. ALL of Aisle 1. Bottles, bottles, everywhere and I can't have a drink. Glass bottles. Plastic bottles. Big ones. Small ones. Straight ones. Curved ones. Even some that are supposed to resemble my tits. Essentially, there was a wall of bottles, pacifiers, and nipples. Ok, don't panic. Let's move on to step 2. Onesies. Now, onesies are in a section called Layette. What the hell does that even mean?!?!? Why wouldn't they just call that section, oh, I don't know, CLOTHES?!?!?! Ok, so let's get back to it. Onesies. There are short sleeves, long sleeves, ones with mittens and ones without. Mittens? Anyway, let's just pick a size. Here, newborns, 5-8lbs. Well, that's all well and good, but what if this baby likes to eat like it's mama and comes out a bit bigger than 8 lbs.? Is my child already into plus size baby clothes? Hence begins my internal dialogue, "Ok...no need to panic...breathe...breathe...go to your happy place...ok, forget that your happy place includes sushi and beer...DAMN MY LOVE OF RAW FISH!...go to another happy place..." Let's move on to number 3...car seats. Ok, ok, I can hear you all smirking as you read this and saying, "dumbass. I hope you know if you want a travel system, rear facing, 3 in 1 convertible seat, or something else!" Ok, so I know that now. It was at this point that I sat on the floor in the middle of the car seat aisle and handed the phone to Nicole to call our dear friend Watson and ask her about what the hell all of these seats are supposed to do.
So, needless to say, my friends, that is where I hit the wall. I'll try to go back again and keep adding to the list, but this time I will go armed with the very detailed excel spreadsheet of needed items that Cristina was so gracious to pass on to me. Holy hell, my friends. Holy hell.
So, to make the whole process a little less daunting, The Store has organized their merchandise according to various categories (e.g. infant care, baby gear, diapers, nursery items, yadda, yadda, yadda). And, as excited parents to be, we entered the dragon blissfully unaware of the hell that awaited us. Now, I'd like to say that we went in there with a well formulated game plan. I mean, we had done our research on Consumer Reports, talked to our friends about what items they thought were helpful, and had our ideas about what things would be helpful for us to have in our home. Here's a rough idea of what our game plan was: 1) we need baby bottles; 2) we need onesies; 3) we need a car seat; 4) we need a crib; 5) we need diapers. There's probably other stuff, too, but that should be a good start.
Great! Let's start with bottles.......Ok, bottles. Aisle 1. ALL of Aisle 1. Bottles, bottles, everywhere and I can't have a drink. Glass bottles. Plastic bottles. Big ones. Small ones. Straight ones. Curved ones. Even some that are supposed to resemble my tits. Essentially, there was a wall of bottles, pacifiers, and nipples. Ok, don't panic. Let's move on to step 2. Onesies. Now, onesies are in a section called Layette. What the hell does that even mean?!?!? Why wouldn't they just call that section, oh, I don't know, CLOTHES?!?!?! Ok, so let's get back to it. Onesies. There are short sleeves, long sleeves, ones with mittens and ones without. Mittens? Anyway, let's just pick a size. Here, newborns, 5-8lbs. Well, that's all well and good, but what if this baby likes to eat like it's mama and comes out a bit bigger than 8 lbs.? Is my child already into plus size baby clothes? Hence begins my internal dialogue, "Ok...no need to panic...breathe...breathe...go to your happy place...ok, forget that your happy place includes sushi and beer...DAMN MY LOVE OF RAW FISH!...go to another happy place..." Let's move on to number 3...car seats. Ok, ok, I can hear you all smirking as you read this and saying, "dumbass. I hope you know if you want a travel system, rear facing, 3 in 1 convertible seat, or something else!" Ok, so I know that now. It was at this point that I sat on the floor in the middle of the car seat aisle and handed the phone to Nicole to call our dear friend Watson and ask her about what the hell all of these seats are supposed to do.
So, needless to say, my friends, that is where I hit the wall. I'll try to go back again and keep adding to the list, but this time I will go armed with the very detailed excel spreadsheet of needed items that Cristina was so gracious to pass on to me. Holy hell, my friends. Holy hell.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Let the games begin...
For those of you who don't know, my partner and I are expecting our first bambino(a) in February. While that statement in and of itself may be surreal to some of you, here comes the real kicker...I am the one carrying first. For those of you who know me, you understand why that's the real kicker. For those of you who don't know me, let me sum it up this way...I'm definitely the guy in the relationship. I like to drive, eat, and mow beautiful lines into my lawn. I absolutely HATE shopping for anything (other than food). I don't do makeup, dresses, skirts, or hair products. Give me comfortable shoes, shorts, and a t-shirt and I'm a happy, happy girl. As I like to tell people, my DICO score is pretty high (the explanation of the DICO score is a whole other blog that you all will just have to wait for with baited breath).
So, with that brief, rambling, and relatively incoherent introduction out of the way, let me tell you what the purpose of this blog is. I have found that the things that happen in my own mind are extremely entertaining to me on a whole. Typically, I have my own party happening in my head at any point in time which is highly entertaining to me. With this whole pregnancy thing, my mind has gone into overdrive. Not just with things that are entertaining to me, but also with things that are wholly disgusting and unnerving to me. For example, as I mentioned above, I am the guy in the relationship which also means that I don't cry at movies, books, or greeting cards...no matter what time of the month it is. However, since the miracle of life has blessed my uterus, I have found myself crying at the most RIDICULOUS times. You don't believe me? Ok, try this on for size. I cried, no, I completely BROKE DOWN IN RACKING SOBS at an episode of...ready...wait for it...wait for it...The Deadliest Catch. Yes, the crab fishing show. WHAT THE HELL IS THAT ALL ABOUT?!?!?!?!? Again, highly unnerving.
And that is the purpose of this blog. To clear my head of all this crazy crap that is now swimming in there with all the other entertaining bits. Well, that and to keep people updated who want to know about what's going on with me b/c I'm not the best talker...shocking, I know based on the length of this supposedly brief introductory post.
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