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.