Sunday, 24 March 2013

Hubby should never leave me to my own devices

Hubby is working today (yes, on a SUNDAY) so I'm all alone to entertain myself and/or accomplish things.  I wouldn't be so worried about the accomplish-things part, except that this tiny human is coming in, like, three months and oh my god there is so much to do.

We went to Ikea last night to purchase some I-need-this-or-I-will-be-a-bad-mother items, including: some shelves, some picture frames, and a stupid little white end table to sit next to the rocking chair so that I have a place to set my wine bottle while I'm breastfeeding.  

As I'm sure you can imagine, Ikea usually means Hubby has some work to do.

But Hubby's not here.  He has basically abandoned me to raise this poor child all on my own.

Or he's away for a few hours.  Whichever.

In any case, at 10:00 this morning I decided I could probably put the little table together myself.  This is how it went:

This doesn't look so bad.  Just one little box.


Oh, much easier with scissors.

Only a table top, three legs, a few screws?  I can do this.

Oh my god these legs are all wonky.  Which way is up?  Why does the picture show TWO screw holes.  There is only ONE.  Oh.  There's the other one.

Ok Tuxedo, not a toy.  Also, not even safe.  Like, you're seriously gonna get hurt.  These big metal poles are flailing around like nobody's business.


Oh.  It goes like that.

My hands smell like metal.


This doesn't fit.  This.  Doesn't.  Fit.  THISDOESN'TFIT.


*Starts crying*

Perfect! Those screws don't have to be tight.  Hubby'll fix it.

Nap time!


Wednesday, 20 March 2013

Thank you Pregnant Chicken, I finally know what to say

Anybody heard of the Pregnant Chicken?  If not, you are most certainly MISSING OUT.  This blog is right up my alley (and almost as cynical about pregnancy as I am...)

My friend sent me a link to the Pregnant Chicken's list of Clever Pregnancy Comebacks - for all those stupid comments people make when a woman is growing a tiny human. 

There are 3 installments on the Pregnant Chicken blog, plus a multiples edition.  I've pasted my favourites below, because, well, study up people.

"Are you sure you're not having twins?! You're so big!"

Shhh, it's actually a litter of puppies but don't tell anyone yet.

Did you say "twins" or "violins"? Oh, okay I guess both sounded kind of stupid.

"Is the nursery ready?"

No, the baby isn't going to be staying with us.

Yep, the sock drawer is all ready to go!

Sort of, we're just waiting for the electric fencing to be installed.

"You're just hormonal."

Shall I tell your family that those were your final words?

"I was simply hormonal, your Honor. I didn't mean to stab him in the neck with a pencil."

"How are you going to handle this?!"

We're just gonna sell her on eBay.

Oh, it’ll be fine. I drink a little.

I just won't pick her up when she cries. I figure that will free up a lot of my time

“How ya feeling?” (with a head tilt).

I don't know, I'm still a little drunk.

Strangely violent today.

It's funny that you should ask that... *abruptly walks away*

"You should NOT be drinking caffeine."
(or doing, eating, touching, etc. something else that's none of their damn business).

Oh my gosh, Th...ank YOU! Are you SURE? I had NO idea. My doctor said it was fine, thank god you are here to save me from...what is it exactly the caffeine will do?

The Voices say I can have caffeine. I don't fuck with the Voices.

Decaf make PREGNANT HULK SMASH!!!!!!!!

You shouldn't be wearing those jeans, but I didn't bring that to your attention.

This is the best I can do since kicking the meth habit.

"Feeling fat yet?"

Whoa, I was just going to ask you the same thing. How weird is that?!

You feelin' lucky, Punk?

“You still haven’t had that baby yet?”

I'm trying to hold it in so I can finish a novel I'm working on.

Oh, I had it, I just left it in the car today.

Don’t worry; you will know when your husband starts paying child support.

I had it yesterday but I'm trying to shoplift this basketball so could you bugger off?

"You'd better sleep now because once that baby gets here..."

Why!? Don't they sleep?! Next you'll tell me they poop too.

Sleep is for pussies and ugly people.

"You're so small!"

A really heavy person said that to me yesterday too. I guess it's all relative.

I had my internal organs removed so I wouldn't have to buy bigger pants.

"You're huge!"

I know!! It's like I'm growing a whole baby or something!

Holy shit, you too

I don't know why either, all I consume these days is cocaine and Diet Sprite. Weird, eh?

"How many babies are you going to have?"

It depends on how many we can sell.

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

It wouldn't matter anyway because we're naming it Thermos the Third whether it's a boy OR a girl.

I'm kind of hoping it's neither and it's just gas.

Marianna’s own personal additions:

"Pregnancy Braaaiiinnn!"

Well, at least it's better than yours on a good day.

You mean the heightened sense of awareness?

I have TWO brains in my body right now, how many do you have?

"Feeling sick this morning?”

Nope. Constipated as hell though.

Only when I smell that perfume you’re wearing.

*pukes on them*

"Does she move a lot?”

Well, she’s winning the gold medal for the Cervix Trampoline Olympics right now

Only when I snort coke.

"Oh really? I loved being pregnant.”

Huh. Mother Nature really duped you, eh?

Well, you know what they say, good pregnancy, ugly child.

You would.

Sunday, 17 March 2013

He didn't even lose his shit

Grocery shopping is a shit show.  This is a fact of life.

For Hubby and I, grocery shopping is more than a shit show - it is a devastating ordeal of remarkable proportions.  We either argue about Hubby's 15 minute pickle-selection process, or Hubby's 20 minute cereal-selection process, or Hubby's 25 minute sauce-selection process.  Or the fact that not every set of apples needs its own environmentally unfriendly plastic bag.

Today, however, we did quite well.  We didn't need much, just a few snacks to satisfy this tiny human I'm growing.  We made it through the produce section (with only one minor "discussion" about whole grain bread), and then it happened... I could tell, Hubby was starting to lose it...

For some unknown reason, I was in a perfectly pleasant mood.  Normally, the insanity that is a discount grocery store on a Sunday afternoon would be too much for me to handle (RUN THE FUCKERS OVER), but today I was downright calm and cheerful.  Blame hormones?

Hubby, on the other hand, was on the BRINK.  Although entirely imperceptible to anyone but me, the small aisles, large carts and idiot people were starting to sloooowly push him closer and closer to the edge.  It wasn't obvious, it was subtle - a little twitch in his eye, a sigh now and then, an occasional speed-walk past a fellow shopper.

But I could tell.  I could see it.

And what did I do to prevent his meltdown? Absolutely nothing.  I just kept moseying through the aisles, asking the dumbass store kid to find my soup, and oooh look ice cream sandwiches!

Then we got to the end, and I thought one particular encounter would really send Hubby into the realm of intolerance that would result in total abandonment of our grocery mission:

There was a 4 year old randomly running through the crowds like a stun-gun victim - only made worse when his dad (who probably stun-gunned the stupid kid in the first place) started shouting at him FROM 8 AISLES AWAY, only to receive a insolent exposed tongue before the kid took off in the opposite direction reverting to his original "I'm a demented airplane without a steering wheel" style.

But no.  That was oddly NOT the end of Hubby as I knew him.  Sure, I knew what he was thinking ("I will SO not let my kid do that" and "get me the fuck out of here"), but he didn't verbalize it.  He simply found the path of least resistance to the cashier.

To top it off, he returned the cart to its little hut without even reclaiming his deposit quarter, and now I don't know what to do with the world.  

Thursday, 14 March 2013

Things that should be available to me in my everyday life

I find my life is not as easy as it could be.  This is a problem because I am lazy.  Here are my demands:

1) My tv remote should sound an alarm when it's missing.  Like, I should push a button on my fridge and then the remote will start beeping and then I just follow the beep and then I change channels at will.

2) My front door should be able to lock and unlock with my car lock clicker.


4) My cats should feed themselves.

5) My DVR should have Siri.  "Siri, record every episode of Grey's Anatomy no matter what channel it's on, no matter what time, no matter what. And then play it on my bathroom mirror while I'm in the shower."

6) My bathtub drain should have an automatic "garborate the hair" setting.

7) My cats should scoop their own poop.

8) My couch should convert to a massage table.  And my Hubby should convert to a masseuse.

9) My house should have a laundry chute.  Why don't houses have laundry chutes anymore?

10) My house should have a chef.  And a butler.  And a maid.  And a masseuse (see above).  If you could pick one of these, which would it be? I'd pick chef.  And butler.  And maid.  And of course masseuse.

Monday, 11 March 2013

Phase three of growing a tiny human

Hello dear friends.  Amazingly, I've managed to keep up with my iPhone pregnancy journal.  I know.  Incredible right?  So, picking up where I last left off...

December 26
[Telling the fam…]
Whoa THAT was a lot to take in. Glad everyone is excited but holy, overwhelming is an understatement.  

December 27
What do you mean the baby might not be ok?  Oh.  So that's the panic and fear everyone is talking about that will last for the next 50 years.  I was not AT ALL prepared for that.  The only thing keeping me sane right now? Tuxedo Cat is in a bag.

December 29
Much more emotionally stable today.  For now anyway.

December 31
I'm gonna be the dancin mom. All 90s all the time. I'm gonna learn all the backstreet boys dance moves. Mmmm Bop baby.

January 4
Dr appointment today. I love my doctor. I trust no one else. Everyone's a HACK. [And yes the baby was ok.  This is a reference to the fact that emergency room doctors are apparently not at all qualified to deal with such an array of medical concerns. My own doctor is never allowed to leave me.]

January 6
My doctor got me thinking about a midwife. Never considered it before. Don't know why. I guess I thought a 19 year old hippie named Willow wearing a hemp skirt would come to my house and whisper at me while I pushed a human out of my vagina “naturally” in a plastic kiddie pool. Turns out? Not exactly.

January 7
Hubby just came home from work with the RANKEST odor.  And proceeded to blame MY heightened sense of smell... uh, no. Do something about that.  Immediately.  

January 8
Wow. So, going to sleep at 7:30 every night is a real thing, eh.

January 9
I can't decide if dinner in bed is good for the soul or a very bad sign.  

January 10
Hey pants. You're too small. Fuck off.

January 11
Hubby was reading about baby proofing. "You're supposed to go around on your knees to see stuff from the baby's perspective. Luckily, Honey, I guess you won't have to do that."   Nice. Throw a short joke at the grumpy pregnant lady.

January 15

January 30
Yay Hubby building the crib! I helped.  Mostly by sitting in the rocking chair.  But when asked to hold up one side, I totally did it.  I held that sucker up for at least 10 minutes.  ("held" = put my hand on it until I realized my hand was no longer needed because it was all done anyway)

My handywork

February 4

I was TOTALLY just advised by my doctor that my extra 300 calories per day can be junk food if good food is unappetizing.  Even better, Hubby needs to back off giving me a hard time about it. Bring on the Crispers.

February 8
So sleeping on my stomach is uncomfortable, and sleeping on my back will apparently result in the apocalypse. So, sides only? MY HIPS HURT.

February 9

February 10
I've had the most bizarre change of heart in the last couple of days. No more baby. Ha just kidding. I actually just think a boy would be good. Girls are assholes. I vote boy.

February 11
First day with elastic pants. I've put it off as long as humanly possible. One benefit: peeing is way easier when all you do is slide down your waistband.

February 19
Ultrasound day. Sitting in the waiting room.  No, Hubby, I don't have any games in my purse.  And to the lady filing her nails: STOP IT.

What do you MEAN it's a girl? What does that mean

February 20
Remember when I wanted to be kicked? So masochistic. Now? Stop kicking me you little brat! Ok don't,  But still.

February 28
Worst. Sleeping. Ever. Ouch my back. Ouch my hips. OUCH.

March 1
I'm beginning to think this baby is like Hubby. Can't sit still! My whole insides are flailing.  Either that or she's like me - a total asshole.  

March 3
My new nemesis? Indigestion. Which is particularly terrible for someone who physically does not know HOW to burp. (Swallow my air, I know I know. DOESN'T WORK YOU GUYS.)

March 4
We bought a stroller yesterday! And now I wish I had a baby to put into it. So far, all I have is a Tuxedo Cat.  But he likes riding around, that's for sure.  

March 5
My mood today equates to this: 

March 6
Bought our bassinet! And the cats love that too it.

March 7

March 9
Whatever you do, do NOT google "placenta images"

March 10
Ok. Who gave this little thing a bongo to play inside my uterus?  She could also probably stop jumping trampoline on my cervix.  

Friday, 1 March 2013

The best "you're preggers" response of all time

This week, for pretty much the first time, I actually got a reaction to my pregnancy that felt goodOther than Hubby (who indulged with me with bug-eyed panic faces for the first couple weeks), most people have the same responses:

Congratulations! That’s so exciting!

Followed by the inevitable:

How are you feeling? Do you feel pregnant?

And then the intermittent:


Although I am getting used to the constant questions (and dealing with the extra attention in a classic Marianna way - with bold and honest answers), I have yet to hear something that truly made me happy.  ME.  Not everyone else. 

This week my guy friend and former colleague was late to the party and finally heard I’m preggers. And this is the email I got…

Congrats on creating human life. Seriously. That’s complicated stuff. Just look at your index finger, like, really closely. I mean, hold it up 1 inch from your face and check it out. It’s pretty spectacular. You’re creating 8 of them right now, with a set of matching thumbs, from scratch. Plus, you’re doing it in your sleep. Come on. How crazy is that? You’re creating human life in your sleep. Who can do that!? You can. Props.
This makes me (granted, in my heightened emotional state) want to cry. In a good way. Because as I’m sure you’ve heard from me before, GROWING A HUMAN IS FUCKING HARD, yo. A message like this from a friend simply acknowledging that fact without making me feel like a weird mutant freak show is, well, fucking priceless.

Not only that, but he gave me some great tips too. For example:

I won’t give you any advice because frankly I was terrified the whole time. Enjoy what you can and be amazed by yourself. YOU’RE CREATING HUMAN LIFE!!!

For the remaining months, you should create scenarios that give you the occasion to tell people that you’re creating human life from scratch. “Hey Dude. That looks like a good salad. Did you make it? Wow, all I made was a whole human being. But hey, your salad is pretty good too, right?” “How was your weekend? Do anything fun? I developed a central nervous system for this human being that I’m creating inside me… while blogging.”

Just go with it and find what works for you. My one piece of advice: don’t apologize for anything. Feel how you feel and establish boundaries.

You are creating human life. It’s hard. You have full license to complain.
I love this email exchange and I’ve blogged it here so I can continue referring back to it and reminding myself how awesome I am. And how awesome my friend is. And how awesome this whole experience is, despite the fact that most days it kinda sucks.

Seriously, best of luck to you both. You’re going to be great.

  ***Dear friend: I hope you don’t mind that I pasted this on the interwebs. I know you’ll tell me if it bothers you, in which case I will edit and/or delete at your request - I promise. In any case, thank you for helping me feel less crazy.