Step 1

All right, I admit it, I have a bit of an addiction, and I hear that admitting to the problem is the first step in recovery, so here goes. Since starting my current job, I’ve become something of a news junkie. Well, among other things. It’s easy to become an internet/google/blog/entertainment junkie when you’re always looking for reasons not to work.

As I mentioned in my last post, my particular addiction over the last year or so has been the Huffington Post. You know, because it’s a liberal and extremely thorough news source - i.e. I’m just as likely to be able to satisfy my craving to see pictures of Tiger’s latest skanks as I am to read about the primary elections. Celebrity gossip, White House pictures of the Obamas walking their dog before their annual picnic (ok, I also admit to this fascination with the Obamas’ daily lives, to the point where even their nightly dinner menu is a source of HUGE interest), and in-depth news coverage, the Huff has it all.

I won’t lie, I tend to go to the fluffy stuff first. And my biggest gripe about the site is that they often link to videos that I can’t view at work because our firewalls block pretty much anything fun. On Friday, for example, I was so bummed that I couldn’t view Lady Gaga’s new video. Katy Perry apparently slammed it for being blasphemous, but why should I have to take Katy Perry’s word for it? A few weeks ago, I was sad to not be able to see another video where a guy reunited 5 years later with a gorilla that he raised from a gorilla-baby. I was so determined to see that one that I even went home later and looked it up on my own time (you know, because I usually like to do as much surfing on the government’s time as possible).

Once the fluffy stuff gets repetitive, though, I move onto the weightier stuff, and I have to say, it’s just as addictive. I didn’t really realize how hooked I’ve gotten until recently. It used to be that my co-worker C and I would chat about various Huff posts as we came across them. Now, of course, she’s on maternity leave, and lately, I’ve found myself sending G link after link, complete with my angry commentary. Because OMG, I’m so ready to line up the BP execs at this point and get a firing squad going (what, they’re doing it in Utah!?!). One more picture of an oil-soaked pelican (cuz it’s like an accident, I can’t look away)and I might be waddling over there myself to try to kick some ass. And those stupid parents that let their 16yo go off on an around the world sailing trip by herself? Really? Between the Australian rescue mission and the French ship that went out to bring her home, I’m wondering how much she cost all the countries involved. But more than that, now that she seems to be safely home, I can say that those parents were CRAAA-ZY letting her do it in the first place. And I don’t know what to make of that Israel flotilla debacle, but I can’t seem to get enough of it.

And the funny thing about addictions is that they really do start to impinge on other aspects of your life. This one certainly has. Because suddenly, I find myself listening to NPR more than my fluffy morning talk shows (unless of course, they’re dishing on celebrities in which case it becomes a total dilemma, and I'm stuck biting my nails wondering what I'm missing on the other station). Or occasionally opening the Economist that G started subscribing to ages ago and I’m pretty sure has NEVER read. Or most often, tuning into the Daily Show and Colbert Report, because come on, isn’t that where everyone goes for their news source? The whole thing has become something of a problem.

Anyway, I’m working through it. But in the meantime, I figure it’s only a matter of time before G stops responding to my ranting emails, in which case I might need another outlet. Just to prep everyone. :)

too cute

When we were kids, my brother C and I would always make lists together during the summer. It sounds pretty dorky, and it was. But we'd be bored, and for some reason I thought that doing a daily to-do list would help fill the time. And like the good sport he used to be in those days, my brother went for it. Our lists would usually look something like this:

8:00 am - wake up

8:00-8:15 - brush teeth

8:15-9- breakfast/watch tv

9-10 - math (because my dad thought it was absolutely necessary that we work on these math workbooks during the summer so that we could be ahead once school started - fun times)

10-10:30 - take shower

10:30-12 - free time

12-1 - lunch

1-3 - free time

3-5 - watch TV

Anyway, you get the idea. We weren't terribly imaginative, and I'd say our day mostly consisted of free time, watching tv, and food. Sometimes, we'd throw in a little drawing time or reading time or something like that, or even scheduled "play games" time. Mostly at night when we had nothing else going on, cuz you know, our days being so full already and all.

Not that surprisingly, I haven't thought about those lists in years. But this morning, I was suddenly taken back to those summers when I saw this on the Huffington Post (my recent addiction, by the way). Made me think that I might need to start re-thinking my current to-do lists. :)

Things NOT to do or say to a pregnant woman:

So since becoming pregnant, I’ve realized that people say all sorts of things to a pregnant girl that they would never think of saying to other women. It’s like everyone forgets their manners around a pregnant lady, or somehow thinks that different rules apply. Here are some that have come my way over the last 8 months, mostly from co-workers, and in no particular order.

(After finding out how far along I was): Wow, you sure are having a HEALTHY baby, aren’t you? Well, actually, I’m hoping for an unhealthy one.

Whoa, you really look like you’re about to pop. What am I, a zit?

You’re not due until JULY??? How much bigger are you going to get???? (from a judge in my office who’s actually pretty funny and can get away with saying stuff like this better than most people can).

Well, at least your weight is all in your belly. Yeah, I thank my lucky stars for that almost daily.

Are you sure you’re not carrying twins? Oh, I don’t know, maybe I am and they’ve just missed it so far. . .

You still haven’t had that baby yet? I’m guessing this also is in reference to my size. . .

From another judge at work whose office is near mine, every time he sees me with any food whatsoever, regardless of whether it’s lunch time or not, and if it’s healthy or not): That time of day again, huh? I guess this isn’t the exact quote but it’s usually some version of this accompanied by a knowing chuckle and some reference to pregnancy cravings. Or even better, it's a reference to how huge my meal looks.

Unwelcome touching from strangers. Fortunately, this hasn’t happened to me very much, but I’ve heard lots of friends complain about it. My co-worker had our male head judge rub her belly without asking, and the thought of that happening to me fills me with dread. For any friends out there worried about it now, don’t. You can all touch my belly whenever you. Y’all fit into a much different category from colleagues and random people on the street. :)

Labor horror stories. These seem to come most often from men describing their wives’ labor. Really, you think I really want to hear how much she tore or how long it took and how disgusting the whole process was?

What are you doing after this baby? Are you having more or getting your tubes tied? Um, maybe you could let me pop out this one first . ..

(At Starbucks): You want me to make that decaf right? No, if I’d wanted decaf, I’d have said so. So stop judging what I eat/drink and just get me my damn coffee.

My husband is always a great source of fun stuff himself. And depending on what kind of mood I am, he either gets a laugh or a meltdown. For example, when I started struggling with shoe laces because I couldn’t bend anymore (and all of a sudden, they were always coming untied), rather than offering to help, he suggested that I “get some slip on shoes or Velcro.” When I kept getting frustrated because I seemed to be always dropping things, his helpful remark was “Hey, here’s a thought, how about you just stop dropping things?” Those were definitely meltdown moments.

And of course, there are the nice comments too, that I wish everyone else would learn from. One co-worker tells me often how “healthy and wonderful I look.” Without the “you’re huge” innuendo, healthy actually sounds pretty nice. Another judge constantly reassures me that I’m not big. HIS wife apparently gained over 100 pounds and had feet like watermelons, could barely walk, etc. I’m tiny in comparison. OK, maybe that’s a bit questionable, and I’m guessing that his wife wouldn’t be thrilled. But for some reason, I do kind of find it reassuring. And finally, a young female judge in our office thanked me for procreating because she certainly hadn't and it was nice of me to take one for the team. Which doesn't really fit with the subject of this post but was just downright entertaining.

photo moment

G worked from home last Thurs, and apparently, Tucker spent the morning after I took off laying on my shoes by the front door. I'm not sure whether to be touched at the thought of him missing me or annoyed by the creases and drool on my shoes. But since Tucker isn't usually our most photogenic dog, I had to at least share the picture.

the last month

I haven't been blogging. I know, I'm terrible, because actually there's been all sorts of stuff going on. But once I've stopped for a while, it seems easy to not get back to it. Part of the problem is that there's just too much to go back to, and I don't even know where to start. In the last month, we went to Ireland and Oregon. I have pictures from both that I need to put up soon. In Oregon, my mom threw me a baby shower, and I'm sure I'll have a few more pictures from my local baby shower this weekend.

What else? We had a garage sale, though that's not really post-worthy, I suppose (other than to say, OMG, I had some one hand me 20 cents for something we marked as a 25 cent item and ask me if that was "ok." Really? You can't be that cheap. I mean, sure, it was junk that I would have probably paid you to take away, but really??). The dogs have been in some intense training and have definitely made progress. I saved a opossum family, though I'm not sure that'll be that post-worthy either. We'll have to see.

I've discovered that my husband can be incredibly annoying when it comes to talking about potential names for the little cantaloupe. Who, by the way, has been growing and kicking a lot (the cantaloupe, not the husband). People seem so happy to tell me how much bigger I've been getting too, which has been a real treat. And these last few weeks have been particularly exhausting. Now that I'm making excuses, but that hasn't really helped with the blogging frequency either. Between the cleaning frenzy (our house looks freakishly clean at the moment) and the yard sale, the traveling and the dog training, I'm pooped. Clearly we should have done these things earlier in the pregnancy, because I can't keep up. My ankles, feet, and fingers are swollen and hurt like hell. I can't wear my wedding ring so I look like a pregnant, unwed mother. I haven't been able to sleep as much as I like because we've been so damn busy, making me more cranky and emotional. All in all, the last few weeks especially have been draining, and I'm looking forward to some quieter weeks ahead.

Anyway, that's what you have to look forward to over the next few weeks. I'm determined to get back to blogging every other day or two, so stay tuned!

Another trip?

So that you don't think I'm just a whiner all the time, I have to admit that one of the things we've been busy with lately is planning our last pre-baby hurrah - a ten-day trip to Ireland! We're going with friends, and the only whine-y thing I can think to say about it is that how perfect that we get to spend some quality time in the land of Guiness when I can't drink. WAH. :)

Well, that, and as with all of our trips, there's of course the usual uncertainty of whether we're going at all. I mean, travel wouldn't be the much fun if we could predict where we were going when. This time, of course, there's the question of a huge volcano disrupting air traffic or of the entire country of Ireland being hit with a fine layer of ash. But planes seem to be taking off again now, and our flight is still about a week and a half away. All we have to do now is hope that the current tremors don't trigger an even bigger explosion of another nearby volcano. At least not before we come back from our trip.

I have to say, that despite the inconvenience, I'm a little awed when I read about the volcano. Between population explosions, climate change, pollution, species extinctions, you name it, we seem to spend a lot of time screwing with our planet. I'm kind of glad this round went to Mother Nature. And the pictures of the eruption look kind of amazing.

G and I are even kind of thinking now that Iceland might be a great next travel destination.

I'm here!!

So I’m not dead . .. just pregnant and tired and a bit overwhelmed. There’s been random stuff to blog about now and again, but I couldn’t seem to get up the energy to do it. My life’s been mostly filled with work and getting stuff done around the house. Throw in a little dog and commuting drama (this week alone, Caltrain has already had 3 incidents that have resulted in major delays), raging hormones, taxes (we got raped this year), lots of baby gear research for the registry, trip planning, and we got ourselves quite the party. But mostly a party that I’m too damn tired and emotional to really write about.

The dogs have especially been a source of huge concern, and I’m not sure what to do about them. A few weeks, we ended up in the emergency room because Tucker bit G in the face. It was a Fri night (of course, the best time to visit an ER room). Gregg was a bit buzzed so some of it could be blamed on that, I suppose. Tucker was laying on my lap on the couch (I know, I know, that’s our problem right there, we let the stupid dog on the couch, but I don’t want to hear it). He was all snuggled up half asleep. G kicked the other dogs out before bedtime, and Tucker refused to budge. So G kind of laughed a little and came up to KISS him in the nose. Bam, two seconds later, before we’d even known what happened, there was blood dripping from G’s lip and chin. Turns out that the stupid dog had bitten him in two spots and one looked deep enough to need stitches. So we spent a lovely night in the H-town ER (where apparently whole familias congregate – after a while I was tempted to just leave G there and go home but felt guilty just cuz everyone else came with a posse). Anyway, he got stitches in both spots and walked out sporting a big bandage on his chin:

The trip brought on 10 days of quarantine for all three dogs (at our HOUSE, so I’m not entirely sure what the point was) and a huge ER bill (totally separate blog post later on). And of course a shit load of worry on our parts about our kid getting mauled by Tucker. He’s always been a bit protective of his personal space, which is the whole reason we’ve both been getting in his face a bit more these last few months. We figured it would help him get used to getting poked and prodded. Clearly he has a long way to go.

A couple of weekends later, we had some friends in town who had 2 boys, a 3yo and an 18 month old. And the dogs did surprisingly well. The older boy was warned about Tucker “being a bad dog” and understood that to mean run the other way when that black one comes up on you trying to sniff you up (that’s the weird thing too, Tucker likes getting in YOUR face, just not the other way around. And he seemed awfully curious about both the boys). Bandit ignored them entirely. And Mia let them chase her around and grab her randomly to pet her. She was most interested in them being eye-level, because it gave her great licking access. And let her steal food right from their fingers. She even nibbled on tortilla chips right from their hands, not because they were trying to give them to her but because she managed to sneak them away before they realized what was going on. But she was gentle and overall, I started to feel like, maybe things wouldn’t be so bad.

BUT then there’s been issues with Mia and Bandit. Well, basically Mia being a turd to Bandit. It actually has been an ongoing issue for a while. Both are female and have always had it in each for each other a bit. But lately, poor Bandit has been getting old and I think Mia has been trying to take advantage. Especially when it’s just me around, she starts growling and bullying her. Around treats, their beds, who gets to hang out closer to me, you name it, she seems to be ready to fight for it. But two minutes later, she’d been egging Bandit on to play, so I never knew which Mia I was dealing with – Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde.

And the problem is that Bandit never seems to either (because stupid Mia is clearly more unpredictable than even me, now that I'm preggers). It was especially an issue when G was out of town a while back. And when I told him after he got home, we got into a little tiff over it (well, I wouldn’t call it tiff. Basically he made a comment about how it doesn’t happen when he’s around, and I, feeling especially hormonal and bitchy, went ballistic. But I swear, he had this TONE, like it was my fault!). So rather than discussing the issue rationally like adults (and telling him about the trainer recommendation I’d gotten), we fought over it and dropped the issue.

Until it all came to a head last week. I went into work late one morning and was walking and feeding the dogs before I took off. Usually that’s G’s job in the mornings, but he had a meeting and I felt like sleeping in anyway. Things were fine until I was about to head into the shower. I was in the middle of moving one of the dogs beds from the bedroom to the living room where the dogs like to lay during the day. And I guess both Mia and Bandit were following me, and that wasn’t ok with Mia because she started growling. And before I knew it, she was on top of Bandit ATTACKING her. And OMG, it was the worst fight they’d ever gotten into. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t drag them off each other. Poor Bandit was on the bottom and actually started whimpering finally. It must have lasted like 30 seconds but felt like forever. I finally dragged Mia outside and went psycho on her. To the point where - and I'm not proud of this - I'm kind of surprised she didn't end up with broken ribs. Came in to find Bandit bleeding all over the floor. And I mean BLEEDING. I was crying.

I called G and started crying some more and yelling about how he should have believed me when I told him we had a problem. Which got him all po’d cuz it’s not like he DIDN’T believe me ever. Bandit was picking up her foot too and wouldn’t let me look to see where she was bleeding from. The whole thing was a mess. And I was a frickin’ mess. Of course I blame the pregnancy for all the emotional crap but it was pretty stressful. I mean, seriously even when I thought or told friends about it days later, I still wanted to start crying. And I even told G we should get rid of Mia (which has to tell you how emotional I was about the whole thing – that dog is like my first-born, despite the fact that she’s a total witch).

I was a mess when I finally got into the see the vet with Bandit, too. I think they spent more time consoling me than looking after Bandit. And said that it was probably me being pregnant that was exacerbating the whole dog tension in the first place (apparently dogs are really sensitive to this sort of thing and she’s probably feeling especially protective of me right now. That, plus their usual issues and Bandit getting older are probably not helping either). Great. That’s just awesome.

Anyway, so clearly we have some big problems on our hands that we need to deal with before the baby comes. And life has been anything but boring these last few weeks. They say that babies can hear stuff outside the womb now and get comfortable with the sounds that they hear most frequently. Wonderful -- this little chinese cabbage is going to come out feeling perfectly comfortable with the sounds of dogs fighting and me yelling/crying.