the EWW factor

So everyone talks about the big pregnancy changes – you know, the getting huge and the morning sickness parts. But I’ve been discovering that no one really tells you about the gross details. Because they probably figure that if word got out, no one would bother procreating. Either that or they think that if they were to mention some of this stuff, no one will ever find them attractive or sexy again. Me on the other hand, well, you know I don’t mind taking one for the team now and again. So if by some chance you ever happened to think I was sexy, I’m guessing these new mental images of me in my current state will dissolve those thoughts forever. All I’m saying is that you should just make sure you can handle the shattering of the illusion before moving forward.

The little Mango might look cute and tiny in the ultrasounds but OMG, has disrupted my body in so many frickin’ ways.

1. I’ve been informed by my husband that I’ve recently taken up snoring. And not a little snore now and again. But apparently, I lay down and approximately 30 seconds later, he hears the thundering stampede of elephants in the room. Lovely.

2. Farting -- another new trait brought on by my cute and innocent co-habitant. And not just farting, but pretty much whatever sound can come out of my body indicating gas (burping, loud groans from my abdomen, etc) including some that I didn’t know existed, I’ve been emitting. CONSTANTLY.

3. Since I can barely hold it all in now, you can guess how thrilled I was to learn that a lot of women actually POOP during labor. Yeah, you heard me. Because they’re just pushing and everything comes out, including your breakfast apparently. I plan on avoiding the issue by not eating the week before my due date.

4. Another fun one, sweating. It could be negative 50 degrees in my office, and I’m hot and gushing like a linebacker.

5. I’m constantly peeing. And sometimes, the urge to pee comes on so suddenly that all I have to do is sneeze or laugh to piddle a little. My solution – don’t laugh, sneeze, cough, walk down slightly hilly inclines, or really move much at all during the day. I’m also considering investing in some Depends, or stocking up on the baby diapers early.

6. Speaking of leaking, dude, did you know how much mucous-y discharge can seep from down there in a day? I don’t know either, but I’m definitely going to have to invest in new undies once this is all said and done.

7. Typical activities that I’ve done for years are suddenly harder. Walking makes me breathless and my sides cramp up. Crouching down to wash the dogs the other day was a bit painful. Waxing down there is hell (don’t get me wrong, it always is, but now, it’s like triple hell) – sorry, was that too much info? I just figured if you’d gotten past the farting, anything was fair game.

8. Some symptoms aren’t so much gross as just bizarre. For instance, I found out early that I can’t get laser surgery while pregnant because apparently eyesight changes. And I couldn’t get a perm because they say that hormones could cause your hair to not really take to a perm well. And a friend recently informed me that trips to volcanoes aren’t in my future because the fumes aren’t recommended for pregnant women. Darn, and here I had been hoping to go pick up a hot guy in Hawaii (while in my super-sexy swimsuit, of course).

Crazy, right? And for the life of me, I can’t figure out what the purpose of it all might be. I guess if it’s nature’s way of making sure I don’t have sex with other men while carrying my husband’s child, mission accomplished. Because I’m pretty sure I’m not getting hit on anytime soon. But it’s bit of an overkill, no? I mean, seriously, the big belly isn’t a turn off enough? And my husband can vouch for the fact that I’m just less into doing it these days anyway as it seems to get more and more awkward. But I guess snoring, farting, and sweating like a pig the moment I hit the sack clinch the deal for sure.

Though to restore your faith in the sexiness of pregnancy, I suppose I should tell you that I got some huge knockers now. I see it as a bit of a curse designed to make me go out and buy expensive bras from the few specialty shops that actually carry my size. But at least it gives my husband something to look at while he’s holding his nose and covering his ears.

better than yours

So not having kids before now, I’ve been able to be hugely critical of other people’s parenting skills. Over the years, I’ve developed a pretty good idea of what my kids will NOT be like.

For example, a good friend of mine L has a teenage son. Before I start on this little tirade, I should say that L is one of my dearest friends, almost like a sister. I love her to death, and she’s been part of a small group of girls who’s been incredibly helpful during this whole pregnancy thing. (She doesn’t read this blog but in case she starts to, I figure some flattery would be appropriate before I start telling you what a turd her son is. And just for the record, I’d like to also point out that I’m not about to say anything I haven’t said to her face). Anyway, her son is a teenager, and gets away with the craziest shit. During a group trip to Tahoe last year, I remember how there would be a perfectly good breakfast waiting in the morning. But this kid would come upstairs, declare he was in the mood for something else, and L’s hubby B would make it for him!! Not only that, the little turd complained after that it wasn’t up to his particular specifications. This kid is like 15 years old. I’m sorry, I told G, when we got home later. Our kids are eating what we put in front of them, and if they don’t like it, they can shove it up their asses. L also complained that he stayed up all hours of the night and be tired all day in school. He wouldn’t do his homework. And B (a stepparent) told me that L wouldn’t let him be stricter, and the kid would just go to his mom if B tried to make him do something he didn’t like. Again, I had a lot to say about all this to G about it later on. What kind of shit is this, I said? As long as our kids live with us, they’re going to have a bedtime. I don’t care if they’re f’in 30. And they better be getting A’s well into high school if they want to continue to have a roof over their heads. And what’s with this whole good-cop, bad-cop routine? That’s so definitely NOT happening at our house. I don’t care if that kid just wants to head down the street to drop the mail off. S/he better be asking both of us, and we darn well better both be in agreement.

My co-worker has had issues as well with his 2-year old son (you remember the one, the practically Indian guy). Turns out they have a son and his wife stays home. Not that long ago, he told me about his son had been waking up at 3am several nights in a row demanding to watch his Pinocchio video. And they let him!!! Are you kidding me, I asked G that night (after my co-worker C and I had already had a lengthy IM conversation about the whole thing at work). That kid is 2 years old! He should be sleeping the whole night by now. And that fact that he isn’t says TONS about their parenting skills. The fact that he’s allowed to watch TV at all is something I’m still unsure about. But in any event, if our kids wake up in the middle of the night, they are being firmly led back to bed and had damn well better stay there if they know what’s good for them. This co-worker also mentioned that his mother-in-law is visiting now, and all she does all day is let the kid watch cartoons. Um, where’s the mother, I wanted to know. I thought this was her job, to be the stay at home parent. And I thought that included being in charge of how much tv your kid watches. No way, I said that night, is that happening at our house. No wonder this kid wakes up in the middle of the night wanting to watch more tv. And no wonder he threw a fit when over Christmas, they got a flat screen to mount on the wall, and the little tyke couldn’t reach the controls anymore to turn the television on at will. OMG.

Another co-worker has mentioned that his under 5 year olds are allowed to watch South Park!

My sometimes-carpool buddy tells me frequently about days in which her one year old son will fall asleep at 6 pm, sleep for several hours, and then not be able to fall asleep that night. As it is, his bedtime is around 10pm (notice that is *around* 10pm and did I mention that he’s just one?). Did he not take his nap at the usual time today, I’d ask? Oh, no, he doesn’t really have a nap time, she’d say. Maybe it’s hard to enforce that sort of thing at a day care, G suggested, in the face of my disdain. Um, sure, except that her day care provider is her next door neighbor who has no other small kids to contend with. How hard is it to set a time and have her put the kid down regularly at that time? That’s what we’re doing, of course. Our kid had better be a regular sleeper and pooper by the time s/he’s 4 months old. Cuz I’m not tolerating this nonsense about never knowing when s/he might be eating or sleeping, and on which nights I can expect to get a full night’s sleep and which nights I won’t. This kid is going to have a schedule (just like the dogs have a pooping and eating schedule). I know I’m expected to get up and feed the little sucker at various intervals but they’re going to be the same predictable intervals every night. And 1 is way past the age when all this should have been implemented. We try to listen to his queues, my carpool buddy says. Um, ok, but if your kid is falling asleep in the early evening like that, maybe he’s trying to tell you that he needed a nap earlier in the day and that he needs an earlier bedtime. And anyway, what are we, hippies? It’s not a free for all. Isn’t it our job to set a schedule that’s age-appropriate and stick with it?

G's friend’s 4yo son wandering around constantly during his meal? Hell no, our child will sit in his seat, eat what’s placed in front of him, and not get up a moment before. That’s the way G and I were raised, and that’s the way our own kids will be.

Anyway, as you can see, I’m unashamedly judgmental. And with no kids around to prove me otherwise, I’ve been able to theorize as much as I please about our well-mannered and highly principled little angels. Now that our little spaghetti squash is on the way, I wonder a bit how our child will really be like. Am I going to have to make compromises about all this stuff? Probably. But hopefully not too many, right? And it’s fun to criticize other people when there’s no way to put my money where my mouth is. I have a feeling that it’s going to be a whole another ball game now. And I’m not entirely sure I like the thought.

Photo moments

When G and I first got together, it was a bit of a challenge incorporating all the dogs into one household. I got Mia as a puppy in San Diego. She had her run-in with Tucker early on, so already knew her place (another story for a different day). She and Bandit on the other hand didn't have a lot of contact early on. That first winter, G came down south for work with Tucker, but left Bandit with his brother. Because Tucker was a turd, and they refused to watch him (for good reason).

Anyway, so by the time Mia met Bandit, it was after I moved up here. Mia was a bit older and less impressionable. And somehow decided that she was ready to take on the top female dog spot. It's been an ongoing battle ever since. Bandit is often confused because one minute Mia is chasing her around wanting to play. The next minute, she's suddenly growling and guarding a bed, a ball, or a doorway. But never one to back away from a fight, no matter how old and feeble, Bandit always jumps gamely in. Nowadays, it rarely gets past growling because G and I are pretty good at yelling at them before it gets out of hand. But over the years, we've had periods of some fairly intense conflict. The best days were right after I moved back up north and was studying for the Bar exam. I was home a lot studying, and have had to tear the dogs apart on more than one ocassion. Often, even Tucker - who seems mostly uninterested in the bitchy squabbles - would get excited for the sake of getting excited and just run in trying to bite whatever was closest. Once it was my leg.

My point being that moments like this are rare:

It was the scene that greeted me this morning as I hopped out of the shower. Never mind that they're not looking at each other or at all cuddling. The fact that they're sharing the same bed is pretty darn huge. And rarely happens with any of the dogs.

Bandit and Tucker have always had their issues, too, so to see any of them snuggled close to each other (and I say snuggled in the broadest sense of the word, as in they're in somewhat close proximity) is a miracle. There are either treats involved somehow, one is just too tired to move, or we're camping and it's 17 degrees outside so they have nothing to do but rely on each other for warmth ( May 25, 2007). Clearly, we mark these ocassions closely.

Like this bizarre evening, probably from about 6 months ago:

Getting comfortable

Over the years, we've spent a lot of money on dog beds at our house. Our bedroom floor is covered with them. Pretty much if there's open space on the floor, it's been taken up with a doggie throw or bed. Because you never know where each dog will want to lay on a particular night. And god forbid any of them has to actually lay on the carpeted floor, like an animal. Plus there's usually at least one bed in the living room, as well as in a couple of throws in choice areas around the house where the dogs like to lay - in the spare room behind the futon, under G's desk. We even have a few old beds in the garage that we throw outside when the weather's nice. Because we want Mia to be comfortable while she's sunning herself in the yard, and the grass just doesn't cut it.

A few weeks ago, we took the dogs to Napa with us and only grabbed a bed and a couple of throws. They had to figure out the bedding situation amongst themselves, and I swear, Mia came back from that weekend limping like crazy. I think it's cuz she spent a good portion of one night laying cushion-less on the hotel room floor, and that made her hips all stiff, poor thing.

So with the house decked out to their convenience, I'm always a bit amused by where each dog chooses to hang. For example, a while back, when Bandit's Cushing was at its worst, she developed a habit of sleeping on the floor in the corner right next to G's side. And peeing there during her leaking days, which made life very pleasant for G (the stank urine smell seemed particularly strong when he lay down to go to bed each night). So he went out and bought her a cozy little bed and stuck it between the wall and the bed, so she could curl up in it instead of the floor. With the added benefit of having something easier to clean than trying to get pee odor off the carpet. And sure she uses it sometimes, but more often than not, we find one of the other two all scrunched up in it even though they're too big.



Bandit, meanwhile, as our smallest dog, finds the biggest bed there is and curls up in the corner of it.

And my personal favorite, of course, is that all of them seem to love the biggest bed of all and choose that over the others whenever given the opportunity. That, of course, happens to be our bed. And it'd be entertaining if it weren't uncomfortable to have them taking up a ton of space every night. They actually take turns, it seems, and somehow appear to have an arrangement all worked out. Tucker and Mia take shifts, I think, and neither will really want to get on when the other's on. Mia kind of sprawls, so I think that cramps Tucker's style. He, on the other hand, is particularly fond of snuggling up next to one of us and resting his head on our legs or between my knees. Bandit likes to take the morning shift, so I sometimes wonder if she asks to go outside super early just so she can come back and get on the bed. And we know, for example, that either Mia or Tucker have been all curled up on our pillows for several days now during the day while we're at work. The telltale signs are everywhere when we get home. . . . the comforter mussed up, dog hair all over the place.

Here's Mia one night standing (or should I say laying) her ground even after Gregg started tossing all his clothes on her in an attempt to get her to move over a bit (instead of taking up the entire bottom third of the bed).

Midpoint

So yesterday, I hit the 21 week mark. I’m officially over half way done with the pregnancy. The little Carrot (not to mention, me!) seems to be growing rapidly now, though I think the bigger growth spurts are still coming. Already, I feel all kinds of stretching pain in my abdomen and am not looking forward to more growth. But since I don’t want a less than 1 lb baby either, I suppose I’ll just have to grin and bear it.

Despite the occasional discomfort, I have to say that pregnancy has been much more pleasant these days. In the early days (way back when, like 2 and a half whole months ago), when I first started telling a few people, I remember how excited they’d be. And I was too, but it was hard to sustain the excitement really cuz there was almost nothing going on down there. Other than a lot of tiredness (but honestly, though, you’d be sleepy too if you sat around staring at your computer all day thinking about how boring work was), I didn’t feel much. My first ultrasound wasn’t until 9 weeks in. My friend C and I would sit around messaging about it all day long, but it didn’t feel real. My mom called me every few days asking for updates, and I really had none. I occasionally felt sick, but only for brief moments here and there. And wow, was it nice to not have a period. I do remember throwing up one day though around week 8 or so, and actually being kind of glad to feel SOMETHING.

I suppose I did have some early symptoms but often, in those first weeks and even later, I wouldn’t even recognize them as pregnancy signs. I remember one day randomly telling C about all these super vivid dreams I’d been having and she immediately attributed it to me being pregnant. She told me to google pregnancy and dreams, and what do you know, it’s actually a common indicator of pregnancy. Or after 3 nights in a row of picking fights with G for stupid little things, I made a comment about how I didn’t know what had gotten over me. And G said, very hesitantly, like he was afraid mentioning the thought would set me over the edge more, that it was maybe to be expected with the increased hormones and all. (On a side note, pregnancy has a great excuse for all kinds of things – bad temperedness and laziness being especially key. I don’t remember being able to pull off shit like yelling to G in the office, asking if he’d mind getting me a drink of water from the kitchen BEFORE getting pregnant. Not to say I didn’t always try it, but nowadays he actually gets it for me!!).

But anyway, the early days were actually kind of unexciting. And it didn’t help that I spent a lot of time reading up on pregnancy related stuff online. And on every site and forum, there were always horribly sad stories of women who’d had miscarriages in the early weeks. So honestly, it’s SO hard to be excited cuz at times, it seemed like everything about the early days is just so uncertain. We were worried about everything, what we could and couldn’t do (sorry if it’s TMI but sex, for example, was a huge hurdle at first cuz we were paranoid about hurting the Carrot).
NOW, though, it’s been a lot more fun. Actually, I guess it started being more fun around Christmas and New Year’s when I started telling a few more close friends. After another bigger ultrasound in early January, my mom and I called India and told the whole family. My friend A in Salt Lake City gave me all her old maternity clothes (helping me to avoid the painfulness of maternity dress shopping – have you seen some of those clothes out there? It’s like somehow people decided that as soon as a woman got pregnant, all she’d want to do is wear these ugly flowery things). I came back from a trip to SLC with a huge moving box full of clothes, and just in time too because it was right when I was starting to pop. A few people at work started guessing I was pregnant, and I started telling everyone else. My friend L started planning the baby shower. And C sent me a long list of essential baby gear, so G and I started looking at baby products. We’re also looking at names, classes, etc. Finally, now, I’ve been feeling pregnant. And it’s a good thing, cuz there’s no question when you look at me that I’m in the family way. I even tell random people on the street now (starting a couple of weeks ago) that I’m pregnant. I mean, not just out of the blue or anything. But you know, when it comes up . . . at restaurants when I’m glancing longingly at wine, at hobos on the street who ask me out, that kind of thing . . .
I have a feeling that the excitement will be tempered a little in the weeks to come as I start to get bigger and more awkward. So I’m kind of enjoying these weeks now while I have them.