Tuesday, 26 February 2013

The last birthday of all time

Sadly, my five-day birthday celebration has come to an end.

I'm not normally one to extend the birthday process, particularly since I instituted my "I hate birthdays" policy 3 or 4 years ago - right around the time I became closer to age 30 than to age 20.  

However, I worked really friggin hard this winter - both at the office and in the laborious task of growing a tiny human - so I decided that a five day mini-holiday was in order.

Day 1

My actual birthday, which was mostly spent hanging around the house with my cats.  I might have even emptied the dishwasher, which has recently become a really effective storage system for clean dishes, while the counter has become a really big shelf for dirty ones.

I did have one agenda item for the day: renewing my driver's license and health card.  You know what that means, right?  It means getting my photo taken. DUN DUN DUN. And not just any photo - a photo that is going to last for the next FIVE GODFORSAKEN YEARS.

Five years is a long time, yo.  It's the difference between late twenties and mid thirties. Is PRE-BABY.  And it's even being taken on a day during which I actually have time to make myself look half-decent.

Given these indisputable facts, nobody in the history of the world has ever seen me with such cute hair and makeup on a random Friday afternoon.


The rest of the evening was spent shopping around, without being rushed, and having a nice dinner with Hubby - who got me the best birthday gift ever.  

Days 2 and 3

Mini holiday with Hubby!  We drove to la belle provence, visiting Montréal for a night.

LOVED IT.  We wandered and shopped, went to a jazz club, shopped some more, walked 10,000 miles (which Hubby didn't even complain about!), bought new footwear, laughed hysterically at stupid shit that wouldn't be funny to anyone but us, and, la pièce de la resistance:  FISH PEDICURES.

I know some folks aren't on board with this particular activity, but I adored it.  Neither of us has been so relaxed.  We both nearly fell asleep and I don't remember the last time my mind was so clear and calm.

Day 4

I think we'll pretend this day didn't happen.  I was bummed this day, demotivated and tired.  I have these random Asshole Depression days once in a while that are not always attributed to any particular trigger.   So.  Forgetting it.  Moving on.

Day 5

BABIES! My wonderful friend let me accompany her to a museum with her lovely toddlers who of course were more entertained by walking/sliding/running up and down a ramp than by most other museumy-type things.

I then undertook some art projects for a friend's wedding festivities which if nothing else helped me feel productive.

And thus, the end of a five-day birthday break.  Which is perfect because I intend on having no further birthdays ever, for the rest of eternity, being frozen in my twenties forevermore.

Monday, 11 February 2013

Phase two of growing a tiny human

Remember when I promised to blog my eggo preggo journal?  Well I suppose if I'm going to be a mother I had better learn how to keep my promises.  So this picks up where the last one left off, pasted from my iPhone notepad... 

November 11 
Cliche: tearing up at a credit card commercial. Dude went to visit his uncle in Italy, you guys. I mean, c'mon. 

November 12 
I just spent 2 minutes looking at tampon prices in the toiletries aisle at the grocery store before I figured it out. [This remains one of the major highlights to this whole thing.] 

November 13 
And the weak stomach has started. Just ever so slightly. And now I'm terrified.

November 14 
Ugh. Yep nausea is real. I'm definitely nauseous. Or "nauseated" as Sheldon Cooper would say.   

November 15

November 20
I'm also feeling especially whiny. I expect that will remain for the next 20 years or so. 

November 21 
Pretty sure if Hubby's gonna be a father that he should keep up on his laundry and stop "recycling" his dirty underwear. Maybe. 

November 23 
Pregnancy fatigue. Who would have guessed. Beyond exhausted by the end of the day. But it isn't just physical. It's mental too. So much worrying. So much stress. A some damn legitimate resentment too. Ugh. Tired.

November 24 I
 wanted Hubby to come home so I considered texting him to say I think I'm in labour. Then I realized that was a terrible idea. 

November 28
Wow this pregnancy stuff is some really grown up shit. Big decisions. Luckily, I have Hubby to talk to. And we pretty much always see eye to eye on the big stuff. Best. Hubby. Ever. 

November 29
3am: I WANT TO SLEEP ON MY STOMACH. But I may puke.

November 30

December 1 
Hubby and I can't picture ourselves s parents of real actual children. Babies, yes. Toddlers, sure. But real children? Nope. I mean, children, like, do homework and stuff. That's too hard. Hubby says he'll put our kids up for adoption around age 5. Makes sense.   

December 3 
I find it odd that people had, like, a year and a half's advance notice before our wedding. They could mark their calendars, plan around it, buy us a modest gift... But growing a tiny human? 6 months. That's all they get. And that might be too much.  Any way I can keep this a secret any longer

December 6 
My boobs are bigger and they're getting in the fucking way. MOVE, boobs.    

December 8 
It's like having the threat of the nausea pills prescription in my purse was all I needed. Nausea gone. I WIN.   [In hindsight, this entry grossly under-states the absurdity of constant nausea 24/7 for several weeks on end.] 

December 11 
Holiday lunch at work today. I wanted to cry because everyone was passing around bottles of wine and I couldn't have any. I could even SMELL it. I could have tasted some, I guess, but who wants to torment themselves like that? ! I didn't want a damn sip, I wanted three fucking glasses. I didn't even care red or white. I woulda mixed them together. Pink wine would have been perfect.   

December 12 Just when I thought the nausea had passed I nearly died last night. Well, not exactly, but I basically puked in my mouth at least 20 times. So upsetting.

December 17 
My boss made the mistake of asking me if I wanted anything from the grocery store.  Um, sure, how about a block of cheddar cheese.  And then he had to watch me eat nearly the whole thing, chunk by chunk, just with my hands and a knife.  Classy.   

December 20, 7:30 am 
Hubby and I driving to the hospital for THE ULTRASOUND and blood testing. Did you remember to bring your cup of pee? Yes? Ok good. 

December 20, 8:30 am 
Pardon me?  What's that?  I don't need a pee sample? The whole "full bladder" remark was for the ultrasound? Oh. So what should I do with the cup of pee in my purse then? 

December 20, 9:30 am 
So that wasn't too bad. The baby viewing was pretty cool. But if it meant I could avoid a hospital, I may never do it again... But how did Hubby do?  Oh he was thrilled of course.  Nobody was pushing on *his* naked pelvis.   Me: "Yeah. There's a baby in there. What else is new?" Hubby: "Whoa! There's a BABY in there? 

December 21 
I used to use my period to tell me when to switch to a new set of contacts. I fear my contacts are 3 months old...

Sunday, 3 February 2013

Turns out I'm a creepy hoarder

Turns out I'm a creepy hoarder. 

Well, not exactly.  I actually hate "crap" in my house.  I ditch stuff all the time, I sell stuff on the interwebs constantly, and on any given day I have a pile of junk in my trunk that is headed for Value Village. 

But last week I realized I do have at least one weird creepy hoarding habit.  I noticed this because for the last month I've been asking Hubby to gimme his goat soap. 

That may require some explanation... in his Christmas stocking, Ma in Law gave Hubby some fancy goat soap.  It's made of goats, I think.  Or goat products.  Or something.  And from the moment I saw the goat soap, I had my eye on it.  So for a month I've been telling Hubby to hand it over.

Well, he finally coughed up the goods, and that's when I noticed:  I seem to resist throwing out the last remnants of my previous bar of soap.  There is a thin, pathetic little sliver of my former soap siting on the side of my bathtub, and I seem to be incapable of discarding it.  I apparently think I'll use it?  When in reality, my former soap is so dramatically inferior to the new goat soap that I would be stupid to revert to my old ways.  Once you go goat...

So I got to thinking, it isn't just fancy goat soap.  It's all liquids and gels.  Like shampoo, toothpaste, lotion.  I apparently have a freaky obsession with making sure I save EVERY LAST DROP of every liquid or gel in my life. 

When the body wash or dish soap gets low, I add water and shake it up to save the last drop. 

I injure my fingers trying to maneuver the last of the toothpaste out of the tube.

I have at least a couple hundred small bottles of mostly-empty hand sanitizer on my desk. 

And worst of all, when my lotion pump no longer reaches the bottom of the bottle, I buy a new one.  But I don't throw out the old one.  No way.  Because once I use the new for a while, I figure there will be room in the new the bottle for me to add the remnants of the old bottle.  Sometimes you'll walk into my bathroom and there'll be bottles stacked on top of bottles, dripping contents.  Like ketchup bottles in a breakfast diner. 

This is a sickness.  Somebody save me.