On "The Last Month"

I'm down to about 2 1/2 weeks until my due date. I've been so busy organizing everything at home and toiling away at the office, that it hasn't really hit me that... I'm going to be someone's actual mother soon.

I've considered myself a "pet mom" ever since Leopold came into our lives nearly 6 years ago. Obviously, being someone's pet mom is totally different than being a human's mom, I mean, I'm going to have to raise this little person to be a respectable member of society. My parrot, cat, and dog can be little assholes for anyone cares.

Speaking of Leopold, I must enter this quick little note. The poor cat has been dealing with a humungo bladder stone since March which has caused him discomfort, made him not feel well, and most importantly added a lot of blood to his urine and made him leak everywhere. Naturally, the vet wanted to dive into removing the stone surgically as that was the quickest and easiest way to relieve him. Now, while I'm all for my little fuzz ball being comfortable and happy all day every day, after everything he went through with his previous urinary surgery, I couldn't justify jumping right to the surgical option. Overall, he was in decent spirits and was doing relatively well, considering. I opted to try a special diet designed to dissolve the stone. My hopes weren't very high that it would work, however, when we went back to the vet a few weeks ago for another x-ray, there was the proof that the stone had gotten considerably smaller! The food was working.

Here we are in June now, and he's doing so much better. He's still on the food, but he's not leaking anymore, and there seems to be no blood in his urine at all. Every day I look at him, I'm glad I went this route and didn't traumatize him with another surgery.

As for this impending kid, I will be thrilled when he is actually here. Simply because, I cannot catch my breath, I'm achy all the time, I get heinous leg cramps, I only have about 5 outfits I can actually wear, sleeping is impossible, I can't do simple things without feeling terribly sore the next day. This being said, I'm still terrified about the actual "birth" part.

Hospitals horrify me. I've never liked them, they've never equated to anything good. Of course, our teacher at the birthing class told us, "you're not coming to the hospital to be a patient, you're coming to bring your child into the world." Sounds like bullshit to me. They're admitting you, slapping a bracelet on you, you're a patient. I'm confident that I'll get through the process itself, I'm not overly worried about the pain, though, don't get me wrong, I'm not looking forward to it. But, as J has reminded me, I've dealt with kidney stones, which is allegedly worse than labor. Well, now I'll be able to tell you all if that's the truth.

I'm down to weekly appointments at the doctor. As of last Thursday, I was still all sealed up. Going again next Monday and then perhaps the following Monday and hopefully this baby comes after that. I certainly don't want him to overstay his welcome. He's been trying to punch his way out for at least a month now.

On "The Final Stretch"

So far, May has been a busy month. I've completed painting the kid's room, with the exception of the trim around the windows, and possibly the closet doors and regular door. We still need to build the furniture, at the very least, his cradle, as that's where he'll be sleeping for a few months.

We attended baby shower #1 (friends and family.) Moderately successful. No one tried to accost me or coo over me too much, which is much appreciated. We received a lot of stuff for the meatloaf and in order not to make myself feel overwhelmed, the night of the baby shower I obsessively wrote out ALL the thank you cards and sent them out by Monday morning. I washed and sorted all the baby clothes we received, even though I have absolutely no where to put anything yet.

J and I attended birthing class on Saturday. We opted for the one day class instead of the three week class, just to get it out of the way. 7 1/2 hours later... we learned nearly nothing. Not to mention, the birthing videos they showed were damn horrifying and nearly threw me into a full blown panic attack. It wasn't a complete waste of a day, but let me tell you, I'm glad the weather wasn't beautiful.

Yesterday I had my 34+2 check up with the doctor. All is still well and it seems like the little poltergeist is head down and ready for the big show, and hopefully he stays that way. Another appointment in 2 weeks, where I'll be officially 9 months knocked up... eek! Then we'll break it down to an appointment a week.

Baby shower #2 takes place this Sunday (work homies.) Should be a decent little afternoon. Not to mention, I'm still trying to work through Leopold's bladder stone, so I have to take him back to the vet on Saturday for a x-ray to see if the stone has gotten any smaller. We're keeping our fingers and paws crossed that it has.

Dad and brother's birthdays coming up in the next few weeks, a dentist appointment, and one more hair cut before D-Day.

I'd like to say that June will be quieter, but I think my "quiet" months have left me far behind.

On Etiquette

Let me preface this by saying, I understand that the majority of outsiders are excited by the sight of a pregnant bitch. They're curious, they want to make small talk about the pregnancy and impending baby, and that's fine, I suppose.

I've never been one of those people. I don't care about your pregnant ass or your impending shit machine. I won't try to talk to you about how your pregnancy is going, how you're feeling, your excitement level, and so forth.

I don't even mind these sorts of questions here and there, but on the daily gets on a fatty's nerves after a while. I'm not sure if it's those hormones everyone likes to talk about, or if it's my general personality of not wanting to talk to people that's making me so irritable, but I'm really trying to maintain my grace and be friendly about the inquiries. It's all a part of my plan to not be such a bitch.

There is one thing I will not stand for however, and I'd say at least 90% of people with a brain in their head should know this. Whether a chick is pregnant or just plain large and in charge, you never, ever say to her: "Wow, it looks like you're going to pop any day now!" Especially when said chick still has two months to go before expelling the occupant of her gut. Yes, being knocked up leads one to have a giant gut, it's obvious to everyone, especially the person with the gut. Whether a pregnant chick actually looks good or not, she still feels like a huge whale and incredibly unattractive. She doesn't want to hear about how big her gut is. Come on people, have the decency to talk about her behind her back like everyone else.

I know that I'm having a good pregnancy, weight-wise. I'm not a huffamoose. I'm eight months knocked up and have gained roughly 15 pounds, all baby related. My face isn't fat, nothing is swollen yet. I still look like me, but with a basketball under my sweater. I look fairly decent I suppose, as far a knocked up girls go, but in my pregnant head, I'm a whale, I feel like a whale and I don't want anyone commenting on my gut. I know this is completely irrational, but being irrational is one of the perks of being knocked up, right?

Finally, it's said that Leos love to be in the spotlight, and love attention. I myself am a Leo (just barely) I really ought to be a Cancer. One of the few Leo traits I possess is that I love my hair, it is my centerpiece, it's long and lustrous and I know it's gorgeous. With that being said, I hate being the center of attention, like most Leos. Being knocked up has unfortunately made me the center of attention. People will look at my gut instead of my face while talking to me, they'll come at me and try to feel my fetus, they're always asking about him, what he's doing, what's going on, what's happening. People have told me that once he's born, all the attention will go directly to him, and no one will bother with me anymore, so I shouldn't be upset when the attention shifts. You know what I say? GOOD! Let the kid have all the attention! I'm looking forward to being left alone. At least I won't have to field any more baby questions.

On Humming

I'm grateful that April is a fairly quiet month as far as events go. Sure, there's a couple birthdays in the loop, no big shakes. It's been raining consistently for days, which I suppose is alright, April Showers... and all.

The weather still hasn't been warm enough to get in the kid's room and paint anything. I'm a stickler for keeping the bought heat inside the house and not getting dopey on paint fumes in a closed room. This is turn doesn't leave much time (I feel) to do anything. We need to clean, sand, and paint the windowsills, the trim, and the actual walls. Probably a day or two project... maybe three if we stretch it out. Of course we then need to build the furniture. We recently received the crib set (crib, changing table, and dresser) which is sitting in the bird's room until we can actually build it. Paco stares at vindictively since we just cleaned his room out, and now there's more shit piling in.

I'll be hitting my 30 week milestone tomorrow. 30 weeks! Shit! That leaves an alleged 10 weeks left to dropping it like it's hot. I don't want to be unprepared for his arrival, so I might just have to suck it up and let some of that much coveted bought heat out. His first shower is in three weeks. Getting a bunch of stuff for him feels like it might be overwhelming in that, we really have no where to put it right now. Lots of laundry will need to be done so his clothes are prepped. Organizing of his room will need to be done.

I've been thinking of asking to cut my work week down to four days starting next month, but I really can't afford that. Though, the extra day would be nice to get stuff done. Being knocked up and working full time leaves one exhausted and not wanting to do additional items when finally at home. But... you gotta do what you gotta do.

On Realization

Now that there's about three months to go to carry this little meatloaf around, I'm really starting to realize that, holy shit, I'm going to be someone's parent! Of course, you reader, might be thinking... umm, no kidding dumbass, you've known you were knocked up for the last seven months.

When you first find out you've got a BOB, it doesn't seem real, because you look the same, even though you might feel like ass. Then your gut gets bigger, you get an ultrasound, you hear a heartbeat, then you're like, hot shit, there's a person in there! But maybe, you're still choosing to ignore the fact that there's an impending baby.

Finally at seven months, I think I'm finally starting to accept that there's a tiny little poltergeist in my gut. It might be because he's an active little bugger and likes to party. It might be that his baby shower is just about a month away. It might be that I've got a cradle sitting in my basement waiting to be put together for him to sleep in and his nursery furniture on the way. I won't lie to you guys, I'm pretty terrified.

Having a kid wasn't in the cards for a lot of years. I generally dislike other people's children because most of them are assholes. Yes, I said it, children can be assholes. However, I've admittedly come across a few kids that I actually didn't mind because they were like tiny little midget adults with proper manners and everything. I know everyone says, it'll be different when it's your kid, and maybe that's true. I know I'll love the kid no matter what because I shat him out, but there still may be times when I think he's an asshole, and I'm sure he'll think I'm an asshole too, it's a given.

To be honest with you guys, right now I'm trying not to dwell on the fact that in three short months I'm going to be responsible for a tiny little person because if I dwell on it, I might as well just drive myself to the loony bin right now. Instead, I'm trying to concentrate on the fact that a tiny little baby will grow into a hopefully pretty bad ass toddler who hangs out in the woods with his father and I.

On Pet Personalities

Pets are interesting creatures. Just when you thought you had them all figured out, they go and do something to totally knock you on your ass.

For instance, I've got a little Chihuahua (Jameson) and a big ol' tomcat (Leopold.) These guys get along great together, and sometimes they duke it out like valiant titans. Leopold will grab Jameson and bathe him, sometimes against his will, but he's never turned away from a free bath.

Yesterday, I had to take Leopold to the vet for a suspected urinary tract infection. Let me preface this by saying, Leopold hates traveling. He doesn't like going in the car, and he certainly isn't interested in getting crammed into a pet carrier to go in the car. However, once J and I corralled him into the carrier, Jameson got visibly upset, like where the hell do you think you're taking my cat?!? He starting whining and pacing and as we walked out the door with the cat in tow, Jameson was standing up in the window watching carefully. I was half expecting to see his little mouth open up in a howl. He was literally concerned for his cat. Or... maybe he was just jealous that the cat was getting to go somewhere and he wasn't.

When Leopold came home a few hours later and slinked out of his carrier, Jameson was on him like flies on shit, sniffing him, and licking him, just giving him a general once over to make sure we brought home his cat. It warmed my sappy little heart to see the dog express such concern over the cat. It made him seem like an actual little person, covered with hair.

One more interesting little anecdote... Jameson came in contact with his first infant on Monday. My new little nephew was over visiting grandma when J and I went over for dinner. J tried to get Jameson to look at the baby, and he seriously wouldn't make eye contact with him, he just kept turning his head. Seems pretty standard, I can't blame him. Later on however, curiosity got the best of him. The kid was sitting in his bouncy seat and Jameson just couldn't help himself, he crept over, tail wagging to try to get a good look at this kid and sniff him out. He didn't try to hurt him or piss on him, he just wanted to know what was going on.

I have to give the little dog props. I thought for sure he'd be a baby hater, but he seemed to do well with his first instance. Hopefully, he'll like the one has to live with in a few months just as much.

On Registering for Baby

Since our baby shower is now impending, and invitations are going out next week, it was probably about time to register for baby boy Dresden's needs.

Let me just tell you... registering for a wedding is much more fun than registering for a baby.

First of all, I have no idea what the hell this child needs. There are so many different options are far as clothes and bottles, teethers, etc. I couldn't tell you the difference in sizes of clothes, I mean, what does 3T mean? Shit, a newbie like me needs a life coach for this sort of thing.

While browsing through onesies and little outfits for the kid, I became infuriated look at what was available to a little man. Everything has zoo animals on it or some stupid ass saying, like "Mommy's co-pilot." Who thinks of this shit? What if I want my boy to wear solid colors?  GOOD LUCK! I did end up caving in an registering for some items with some sort of critter on them. Finding some decent socks for a newborn is damn near impossible. I'm not pushing sports propaganda on my son and I don't want him wearing giraffe prints or zebra prints, or whatever the hell else. I just wanted him to have some simple, white crew socks. NOT AVAILABLE! It's like the baby clothing marketing people are plotting against me and they think babies should just wear nothing but cutesy shit. What if I want my kid to look like a tiny little grown up person? I mean, I'm sure he wants to look respectable out in the world by wearing a solid color onesie and a nice solid pair of pants, not some ridiculous panda outfit.

Another conundrum I ran across was asking for the basic things, like a stroller, car seat, high chair, that sort of thing. I have no idea what's the highest rated and safest, what's garbage and what. Luckily, my sister-in-law did all the heavy lifting on that front since she just had her son last month, so I could straight up copy off her registry. I can't believe how much some of this stuff costs, by the way. I feel guilty even asking for some of this stuff. I don't want my family and friends to think I'm some high falooting bitch asking for this expensive stuff. For example, the stroller I've requested is $300! However, it's like the Optimus Prime of strollers. It's got a car base to strap into your backseat and leave, it's got a detachable car seat which starts out as an infant carrier and morphs into a regular car seat as the kid gets bigger, options galore I tell you. The stroller itself folds up for easy traveling. Well shit! Sign me up.

I'm think I've covered the basics of what I need for this kid. If I should have forgotten something, well, I suppose I can always send my dear husband out to the store to grab it, or maybe leave the kid home with him after a few weeks and get it myself. With about 3 more months to go, I'm totally aware, that I'm going to be some person's parent very, very soon, and it's horrifying. I'm sure it's nothing like being a pet parent. Though when my little Chihuahua was up all night with a fever this past fall, I was up with him, worrying, and trying to comfort him and the second the vet opened I called to get him in there to make sure he'd be okay. I guess you could say my little furry/feather companions have given me some pretty good practice to level up and actually take care of a person.

On Being Pissy

To the outsider, I suppose being knocked up gives you cause to be emotional for whatever reason. Hormones are raging, the body is changing, and so forth. I've been fortunate enough to thus far... not be a weepy little bitch.

However, I have noticed that it really doesn't take much to piss me off lately. It could be something small and insignificant, like a sunny day turning to rain directly after getting a car wash. Or, it could just be the sound of someones voice.

For instance... J and I went to the doctor on Monday for our regular check up. His job is awesome enough to allow him to have paternity leave when the baby comes, but he's got to fill out a few forms for FMLA. Well, we filled them out... mostly, and just needed a signature. My doctor said, "have the nurse sign it." Fair enough, I figured she'd scribble or stamp a signature. No, no, no, nothing is ever that easy, is it? We sat down in her office for at least 20 minutes, burning alive by the way because it felt like 90 degrees in there, listening to her stutter in our faces about how they need to fill out the forms and it's going to cost $10.00 per page, and there's going to be at least a two week wait to fill the forms out. (They were due today by the way.) She wouldn't listen to us about just needing a signature, or the fact that we're not entirely sure about what kind of leave J is going to take. She seemed to think she knew everything about his job, when in fact, she didn't know shit.

I'm sure my blood pressure rose the longer we sat there. Just listening to her stuttering face was driving me crazy. I know, I know, it's insensitive to be judgemental of someone with a stutter. I know it's not her fault, but it was pissing me off.

Today, all it took was for me to hear the sound of a certain person's voice (and no, I'm not speaking of my dear husband.) There's just certain people you don't want to be around under normal circumstances, and it seems like now that I'm getting even more pregnant, something very little can just set me off. It's pretty bad when I visualize myself choking people out.

In conclusion, now more than ever, I don't believe those chicks that say pregnancy is beautiful, and such a glorious experience. Those broads must have been in deep seclusion and didn't have to deal with ass hats on the daily. They must have never felt extreme "morning" sickness, or had cat shit smelling gas, or had terrible, terrible stomach and back pain from not being able to drop a deuce thanks to prenatal vitamins. Pregnancy is disgusting, and I'll let you know that. Birthing the child will probably be even more disgusting. However, on the lighter side, I'll say, the final outcome of having a mini J and I running around will be pretty cool, provided he's not a little ass hat.

On Being a Whiny Bit**

Now that I've got about 15 weeks to go carrying this little meatloaf around, I'm starting to feel like I have to hurry up and get some shit done. I know I've got a little bit of time, but I'm suddenly very aware that we need to finish priming and painting the kid's room and restoring the mouldings in the room. We need to buy a crib/changing table, and a little dresser, and put together said furniture. Oh, and don't forget about blinds or curtains, the kid needs some frickin' window coverings!

Granted, the weather being as it is doesn't exactly allow for us to finish priming and painting, and why would we want to go buy and assemble furniture if we have no where to put it? That just adds additional stress feel trapped in our own house like rats in a maze.

The doctors appointments are starting to get closer together, I start going every four weeks instead of five, and soon it will be every three weeks, and then, every week! I've got to go in for the glucose screening at the end of the month, not looking forward to downing their sugar drink and getting prodded with needles on a Saturday. We booked our ALL DAY birthing class for May 11th. I'm not sure if that's going to be informational or if it's going to horrify me. However, I'm definitely not looking forward to spending 7.5 hours at the hospital looking at videos of other chick's crotches.

This morning, as I was laying in bed, I realized it will be no time at all before I tell J that it's time to go to the hospital because we're having a kid. I thought about actually having to deliver the kid and going through the motions, and I put myself into a full blown panic. Needless to say, I couldn't fall back asleep.

Let's not forget that we also need to get the kid on some insurance through J, and we need to find a pediatrician, which I actually intend on asking my regular doctor for a referral.

I'm getting frustrated because I can't button any of my damn pants, and I refuse to buy the overpriced, ugly ass maternity clothes. I'm lucky in that for the most part, my regular clothes still fit... I haven't gained much weight, what I have gained is all belly/baby. I'm definitely looking forward to the weather warming up enough for me to pull out my elastic waist skirts so I don't have to deal with pants anymore.

It's getting tougher to bend over and put my shoes on because well, there's a kid in the way, and when I do bend over a bit too much, it's incredibly uncomfortable, probably for him too. This is where slide on shoes will come in handy down the line.

I know this little gut is only going to get bigger, and I'll get more uncomfortable as time passes, buttoning my pants will be even more of a chore. I might even have to enlist J to help me put my shoes and socks on, provided he's not at work or something.

In the meantime, I suppose I'll just try to pace myself and take into consideration that I still have a little cushion of time to get everything done.

On Being Cheap

Since I only make so much money to get by, and since I've got the little one on the way in addition to the three fur/feather babies to support, I'm a bit stingy with my money.

We're going back to the great debate of smart phone vs. regular phone here today. Over the weekend, I received a post card in the mail with three recommendations of smart phones for me. The tag line was: "People with your phone often update to one of these three phones and love them." Two out of three of them were offered for free, the other one was $50.00. The only reason I was even entertaining the idea of checking out the "smart phone deals" was for the GPS. I thought, I'll be green by no longer printing maps for work, I'll have turn by turn directions on my phone and I can track my mileage!

I went in to the store and dealt with a variably spacey young lady, though she was polite. They didn't have the $50.00 phone advertised on the postcard, but they did have a phone for $150.00 with a $50.00 rebate. Hot damn! What a deal! I asked how much my monthly bill would go up with a new smart phone plan, about $40.00 extra dollars, bringing my monthly bill up to somewhere around $90.00.

Bullshit! I couldn't justify it. I slinked out the door empty handed overwrought with the thought of paying $90.00 a month for a phone!

The other side of cheapness came through when thinking about purchasing a new sofa for the living room. There are several factors to take into consideration when shopping for furniture. We have to test the fabric to see how "snag worthy" it is. Little cat claws would tear up certain fabrics. Leather is out of the question due to dog and cat claws and a parrot that loves to eat furniture. Our options were sort of limited. Especially since we were looking specifically for a sectional. Something cozy, that wasn't too big to fit in our little living room.

We went to the standards, Art Van, and Gardner White. Neither place had anything we really fell in love with and they seemed drastically over priced. Or maybe we were just cheap assholes. Yesterday, we passed by Big Lots of all places who advertised a "20% Today Only!" sale. We thought... what the hell, why not check it out? We found something we both liked almost immediately and decided the cat wouldn't snag it, it wouldn't get scratched by little feet, and most of all, it's comfortable. Most importantly, it was about $1,400.00 less than anything else we were looking at. Yes, we bought a sectional at Big Lots, it's a name brand, and it looks good, I'm not ashamed. I'm just excited to spread out on that thing later tonight.

On Working with Morning (All-Day) Sickness

Anyone who tells you that "morning" sickness is only relegated to the morning is full of shit. That might be the case for some people, but for a lot of other ladies, myself included, that shit lasts ALL DAY!

I was lucky enough to feel sick pretty much all day every day for the first 3 months or so. I cursed J and I cursed my unborn son, and I cursed my surging hormones. I spent a lot of time on the couch when I could. I went to bed at 8:00pm and slept for 14 hours. I rested my head on my desk a lot. It sucked.

However, that finally seemed to pass. I felt human again and less like a zombie. It really was true, you do start to feel better and get a little more energy in your second trimester. I only felt sick occasionally, which I could deal with. I stopped plotting to suffocate J in his sleep with a pillow.

Yesterday though, was a real humdinger. I seriously thought I was going to die. I was thinking, great, I'm going to die curled up on my bathroom floor with my cat and dog staring at me. All I wanted was some fresh air and I couldn't even drag myself to a window or a door to stick my head out, but oh shit, I had to go to work.

Normally, if I feel this bad, I might shoot my boss a text asking to come in after my crappiness has passed, and he'd oblige because he's a pretty nice guy. But, he's on a much needed vacation, so I absolutely HAD to work no matter what. I dragged my sorry ass in and plopped down at my desk and hoped for the best. It was a busy day, people stopped in which I had to pretend to be happy to see and not look like death warmed over. My favorite part of the day came when a previous client came in looking for a house for her son just as I was preparing the leave to get a little bit of food to stick in my gob. For some reason, I decided to take her our to few local places, thinking, this will only take half an hour, tops! Boy was I wrong.

Needless to say, I had to suck it up and make like I felt great even though all I truly wanted to do was go home and fall down on my couch with my fur babies and wait for the sickness to pass. And that my friends, is why certain knocked up chicks are bad ass.

Happy Friday.

On Michigan Driving

I'm sure it's no different anywhere else, but when I go out to do some driving, be it to or from work, or running an errand, I'm always coming across asshats who have no idea what they're doing behind the wheel.

Mostly it's fools diddling with their cell phones either at a red light or while driving with their children in the car, and flying down the freeway, not paying attention. This makes me long for the days when I first started driving and cell phones were new, and people drove instead of chattering away on their damn phones.

Now, I understand, some people need to be talking on their phone while driving, for work reasons maybe, and I suppose that's excusable. But driving is a pretty big deal, if you're not paying attention because you're too busy playing Angry Birds on your phone, you're going to kill someone.

Another thing that consistently pisses me off is inconsiderate drivers. I love the ones that just have to cut you off even though there is no one behind you for miles! And then, they don't even turn right away, they simply cut you off for the sake of doing so.

Here in the Mitten, we have the "Michigan Left" which typically needs to be executed with northbound and southbound or eastbound and westbound traffic. Everyone knows that when you're in the turn around, in the far (outer) lane, you're either going straight, say into a parking lot or something or you're headed into the far right lane of traffic. Well, some dipshits either don't know, or don't care to follow proper protocol and I recently came across someone who was in the inner lane (meant to go to the far left lane of traffic) and decided it was prudent to drive straight across the highway, cutting me off to pull into a shopping center. I nearly lost my mind.

Dealing with these people who probably got their license from a cereal box makes me not want to drive. But then, what are my options? I could try public transportation, which around here no one really wants to do unless they have to. Or I can start riding my bicycle everywhere. Sure, it'd take me longer to get to my destination, but I'd be in great shape. Of course, I'd have to worry about aforementioned asshats running me over while not paying attention. It's a no-win situation.

On the Great Debate: Smart Phones vs. Regular Phones

I've long since been an advocate of a regular cell phone. You know, one that makes and receives phone calls, and maybe has texting ability. Because you really can't get by in today's world without texting, am I right.

I got my first cell phone when I was 16. Not because I begged my parents for one, or even wanted one for that matter. I had a pager, bitches, it was legit. Cell phones were just starting to come out, they were giant, like Zach Morris' phone. My mom insisted I have one when I started driving, "for emergencies." If I ever got stranded somewhere or thrown into someone's trunk, I'd have my giant Nokia to make a life saving call.

This wasn't your standard cell phone, you couldn't leave it on all day. It had about 5-10 minutes a charge in it before it powered off. You had just enough time to make one quick phone call and it decided you were done. So it sat in my glove box, waiting for the day to be used. It didn't happen often.

Since then, nearly 15 years later, I've had pretty basic phones. I've loved the flip phones I had aside from their obvious texting disadvantages. When texting started becoming more popular, I switched to a phone with a slide down keyboard.

Now, in 2013 while browsing for a new cell phone, I feel like I'm being steered in the direction of a smart phone. There are like three regular phones available, they all suck and they're all $150.00. You'd think they'd drop in price since only seven people might be interested in them. I guess that's just the phone company's way of phasing out old technology.

Smart phones today are expensive, between $200-$400. I mean, really? That much cabbage for a damn phone? I don't even want to spend that much on tires for my car! Not to mention, on top of what you're spending to buy said phone, you'll be dropping at least $100 a month for your "plan." That's right, at least $50 for a minutes and text plan, plus at least another $50 for a data plan.

I haven't been able to justify switching over to a smart phone simply because of the pricing. Not to mention, a few years ago, I bought an iPod touch, which basically does the same thing as a cell phone without making calls, and I don't have to pay for it monthly. I can access the Internet and other apps with wi-fi, check my email, listen to music, and so forth. I spent $200 one time, and I love the thing.

Honestly, there's only one thing pushing me toward a smart phone. The maps! I've got an old GPS which constantly leads me astray. It costs nearly $100 to update the software, come on! With a smart phone, I'd have a constantly current GPS system, not too shabby, since I do a lot of driving for work.

Still, the cheap ass side of me is holding out for as long as possible. Damn, I don't want to spend $100 for a phone every month.

On Snow... and More Snow

Through the weekend, and into the beginning of this week, us folks here in the Mitten have experienced a few "clipper systems" from our neighbors to the north... thanks a lot Canada! In any case, this has produced some bouts of snow.

I'm not one for complaining about snow, or the cold... in February, in Michigan, because well, it's EXPECTED. Ordinarily, I'd be lavishing in this snow. After all, it is rather pretty to look at, and staring at it for hours on end can be a bit serene.

However, since I'm knocked up this winter, I can't do anything fun in the snow. This includes, no snowboarding, which I'm terrible at anyway, but it's still fun to slide down a hill on my face with a board strapped to my feet. No extreme sledding. I know, you picture sledding as just going down a boring hill over and over again, well, extreme sledding includes sledding through the woods, dodging trees, maybe finding a nice snow covered staircase to fly down, building jumps and seeing how far we can fling ourselves. This sort of practice definitely not recommended with a BOB.

Typically, J has been great about shoveling the snow that we've gotten thus far this season since I am in fact carrying his son around in my gut, but this week he happens to be on vacation, headed to the Caribbean of all places. This in turn leaves little ol' me to take care of the falling snow. I have no problem with this mind you. Last night I got out there and pushed around the fluffy remnants so the city wouldn't ticket me. It was truly no big deal, I didn't exert myself or anything, but I could definitely feel the kid moving around in there, probably thinking, ma, what are you doing? Get your ass in the house and feed me some hot cocoa. Even the dog was judging me. Sitting up on the cat tower, watching me through the window, with his judgmental stare.

It's snowing again today, which again, is cool, honestly. But now, I have to get back out there after work and push some more snow around. I'll be honest, the only thing I really don't like about it is that we have a stupid driveway. It's extra long and there's a space between our house and the neighbor's fence where there's literally nowhere for me to put the snow. So I have to get a big scoop of it and either walk it to my backyard or out to the front, and it's just a big pain in the ass. That's my main beef.

And how do you feel about snow?

On Being "Out"

I'm pretty sure that virtually everyone knows about the impending kid now. I kept it a secret at work for quite a while, with the exception of telling my boss, because well, I sort of had to tell him since I have to go to the doctor every five weeks... during business hours nevertheless. I didn't want him to think I was deathly ill or something.

Despite knowing and seeing that there's an actual kid in my gut, it still seems surreal. I mean, I haven't gained any weight (yet) which I find to be a blessing, though I'm literally all uterus and some of my work pants won't button without suffocating me. For instance, right now my pants are unbuttoned simply because I would be gasping for air otherwise.

I resisted spreading the word like a STD because I've never been much for being fussed over by throngs of people. That's not to say that I don't like attention from time to time, but from only one or two close persons at a time. When a lady is knocked up, everyone is interested. They want to know how you're feeling, is the kid moving, what are you going to name it, how are you going to decorate its room? Most importantly, they want to touch you. Peers, strangers, it doesn't matter, they see that baby gut and they come at you like a spider monkey jacked up on Mountain Dew. It's like an all out assault. I'll be honest, I don't like to be touched, I get defensive. I see a hand coming at me and my bony little fingers curl up into a fist.

However, since I've decided to try to be a nicer person lately (we'll see how long that lasts) I thought, maybe I ought to let other people revel in this kid. Maybe I ought to fight the urge to deck someone who comes at me palm first with a kidnapper's grin on their face. Maybe I should field all their questions politely and let them just be jovial because they get to be talking about kids. I suppose for people who truly love kids or whatever, talking about kids is just delightful. I can understand, I always light up when I talk about Leopold, Jameson, and Paco, so maybe it's the same.

Despite everyone knowing, I'm still reluctant to show off my gut proudly. Right now, I just look like I have a food baby, so I think it's still best to keep it under wraps. Maybe if I pop out a little more in a month or so I'll show this thing off.

On Big Decisions

There are several decisions to make once you find out you're in fact "with child" as the saying goes. One of the more important decisions is, what the hell do I name this kid? I've decided it's much easier to choose a girl's name because the supply of unusual girl names seems endless. It's been especially difficult to think of an unusual, yet strong name for our boy. We don't want to name him something that will get his ass beat on the daily, but we don't want to name him something boring and ordinary either. J an I tend to want to agree on what we're going to name this person and so far, we've got nothing.

We went through the same distress with naming our cat and dog. Of course he came home from work one night with a brilliant name for the cat (Dr. Leopold Francis Brandywine III) and it just suited him. The dog's given name is Jameson Jones Laroux. Well, we really can't go naming our kid after whiskey can we?

I've been stuck on Henry for the kid. However, I can't get J on board with that name. We've got a good four months before we really need to decide what to name him, but right now it feels like we're going to stick with "baby."

Another seemingly big decision is how to decorate the kid's room. It seems nowadays parents always have a certain theme or color scheme, but who really wants to sit in their kid's room trying to lull them to sleep while looking at a giant decal of Sponge Bob or whatever. We've decided we're going to keep the boy's room simple. Neutral, earth tone colors, no silly cartoon decals or themes. We've been toying with the idea of hanging a over sized brightly colored painting that J won while on our honeymoon since it's been sitting in its shipping tube for 4 1/2 years. I've also considered hanging photos that I've taken of nature. Something soothing and personal for the kid to look at. Even though as a baby, I'm sure he won't give a shit what is hanging on his walls as long as he gets to eat, sleep, and crap his pants all the live long day.

On Lyrics that Resonate

On my way in to work this morning, I decided some Jeff Buckley was in order. It's a melancholy, foggy morning with rain threatening... RAIN in January. Yes folks, we had ourselves a thunderstorm last night into this morning if you can believe it. Temps near 60 today and tomorrow and... down to 20 by the end of the week. Classic.

In any case, I was listening to "I know it's over" originally by The Smiths and some of the lyrics stuck out:

If you're so funny, then why are you on your own tonight?

And if you're so clever then why are you on your own tonight?
And if you're so very entertaining then why are you on your own tonight?

It's so easy to laugh it's so easy to hate,

it takes strength to be gentle and kind,
over and over and over.
It's so easy to laugh it's so easy to hate,
It takes guts to be gentle and kind

I'll be honest, I can be a catty bitch, but the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, right? So, while I recognize that I can in fact be catty, I'm trying to reform myself into a nicer person. This does not relegate me to being a door mat, but I do see that maybe sometimes I could be a little more tender hearted toward people. I wouldn't go so far as calling this a "New Year's resolution" since it's practically February, and nobody cares about resolutions anyway, so I'll consider it a "Life Resolution."

On a side note, yesterday I had my first ultrasound, the sex determining ultrasound, and I'll admit that in the morning before work, I talked to my gut, trying to sweet talk the kid into showing us its garbage so we could refer to it as a he or she rather than it. I'm not gonna lie, I felt like an idiot talking to my gut, and the cat and dog looked at me as if I were a fool.

I'll you what though, I think the sweet talking worked because J and I found out we're having a perfectly healthy little boy. I already feel bad for him though, because I think the boy is going to be stricken with his mother's turtle-like upper lip. Sorry kid.

On "Finding Out"

Alright, J and I were passively planning on cooking up a kid. I was under the assumption that I was barren since I had several x-rays and scans done on the uterus region in the past for kidney stones. So, I figured, if it happened, it would take a while... boy was I mistaken.

For those of you that know me, you know I don't go over the moon for other people's babies. I prefer peace and quiet, sleeping through the night, and participating in hot doggery when possible. Case in point, there is no such thing as "extreme sledding" this winter with a b-word on board.

I had a sneaking suspicion that I was Prego, not Ragu back at the beginning of October when J and I took our fall vacation to Traverse City. I was feeling a little funky, and the famous shark week had not made its appearance as of yet, though if you must know, it's never generally on time. I didn't think much of it at the time, and enjoyed plenty of samples of wine at the various wineries. We began to joke that I was probably knocked up and he started talking at my gut. I strayed away from jumping into the hot tub with the old folks having a party each night because all I could think about was a lobster boiling in a pot.

Once our vacation was over and shark week still had not arrived, I began to take this kid thing a little more seriously. I dragged J to the drug store to purchase some of those little piss sticks to find out the truth. Since I didn't know how I felt about the whole thing, I was hesitant and quite frankly, didn't want to look in that evil little window because I had a feeling that two lines were going to up instead of one.

Needless to say, I did my business and right away two lines appeared, screaming out at me "bitch, you pregnant." I stared at the stick for a minute in disbelief and then took it out to J with a grim look on my face. "Well?" he asks. I point the stick at him and say, "knocked up." Now, I'll admit that I'm pretty lucky in that my man partner was extremely excited about the whole thing, his face lit up like a little kid getting a lollipop. He didn't fall down on the couch in despair howling "what are we going to do?" like maybe some dudes would do. No, no, no, I did that for him. I immediately burst into tears because I was horrified. All I could think about was the scene in Juno where Rainn Wilson tells Ellen Page as she's shaking her own piss stick, "this is one doodle that can't be undid home skillet."

A few weeks later, as I finally got over the shock, I decided, I should probably go to the lady parts doctor to confirm. Did you know that the doctor won't even see you until you're two months along? Yeah, nothing like leaving you in suspense. In the meantime, I took the other test, just to sure. Sometimes you get a false positive, you know? Oh no, again, right away, two lines. It was like the tests were taunting me.

In any case, if you're one of those chicks who didn't jump up and down upon finding a plus sign or two lines on your pee stick, don't feel bad, you're not alone. But if you're lucky enough to have a baby daddy who is over the moon, count your blessings.

On Not Being One of "Those" Broads

Well, I suppose now that I've admitted my filthy little secret here it's time to talk about it a little more openly. Even though, I still prefer to be a bit more secretive about it. That's sort of an oxymoron isn't it?

In any case, I know when I first found out about being "with child," I was curious about the whole thing, like, what the hell did I get myself in to? I immediately thought about all the negative aspects of it, because, let's be honest, I'm a bit of a naysayer. I thought about the morning sickness, becoming a whale, swelling, and worst of all... labor. I didn't immediately think about the kid I'd be producing. So I read other ladies' blogs. I figured real people would talk about their real experience. Very quickly I lost interest because all they could freakin' talk about was being knocked up or how great they felt being knocked up. I couldn't help but think these bitches are crazy.

So I'm making a disclaimer now. Yes, I will talk about being knocked up, but I'll let you know the dirty, little truth about it. Not every single post will be about being knocked up or the impending kid that childbirth usually brings. I'm still an individual outside of this creepy little alien growing inside me and I'm sure there's plenty of other things to talk about between now and squeezing this thing out.

Tomorrow's discussion will include, "finding out," feeling the immediate effects of being preggo, and so forth. It might make some of you ladies feel like you're not the only one who felt like ass during the whole process. Stay tuned.

On News I Never Thought I'd Have

Long time, no write. That's my laziness kicking in again, don't worry.

Since we've last been together, J and I have completed the half bath remodel. New flooring, paint, new sink and cabinet, ans shiny new hardware. It's like a little pooping oasis in there.

We've also recently gotten new drywall put up in the main floor bedroom (formally known as the mold room.) If I haven't explained myself in the past, our past roof issues caused water to flow down the beams of our house, all the way to the basement. Water sat behind the walls and soaked into the insulation creating mold. We ripped down the wall and tore out all the old, soggy, mold ridden insulation and bleached the beams and remaining wood. We were really in no rush to put drywall back up in the bedroom, since we never really used it anyway.

However, we're expecting our first child in June, so, we sort of need a place to put this kid. I like to think we're going to win "parents of the year" for putting the kid in a room that was formally riddled with mold. But don't worry, it's all clear now. So, in hopes of taking our time in getting this kid's room ready, we had new drywall put up last week. Sometime in the spring we'll probably get around to painting the room. That is, if J and I can ever agree on a proper color.

I'm also hoping my "nesting" instinct kicks in at some point and gives me the gumption to repaint the main floor and upstairs hallway like I've been wanting to do for ages. I'm also hoping I'll feel like putting a bunch of crap away that I've been looking at for months, possibly years.

In any case, perhaps this whole kid adventure will lead me to update more. At the very least, I'll have a place to gripe and complain as I get more and more uncomfortable.