Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Boobs, Glorious Boobs

A couple people have asked how I'm feeling.
I'm actually feeling pretty much fine. I experienced early nausea, which prompted us buying the test, which gave us the news, which caused me to feel every first trimester symptom in a matter of three days. And then I came to my senses and realized that I feel mostly fine.

By all accounts I am in my 6th week.
I have low to mid-grade nausea, exacerbated if I don't eat frequently.
And if I skip breakfast for any ill-advised reason, the nausea swells up and lasts throughout the day.

Vernor's soda is my friend.
I need to eat frequently. Tiny portions, because I feel full almost instantly.
My boobs, which have been the bane of my existence, are now these gorgeous globes.
They are also about 92 degrees each, they weigh 7 pounds each and they are so exquisitely sensitive that if anyone but me touches them, I'm liable to smack the person. Taking off my bra at the end of the day causes me to wince. Rolling over onto my boobs causes me to wince. Hugging someone causes me to wince. Forget about the cats climbing all over me, the agony would be impenetrable.

I am easily distracted, if I get mad I get rushingly, staggeringly mad, with crescendos of blood pounding in my ears and the precipice of tears rushes on me suddenly. I haven't gotten sad, but if I'm touched or heartwarmed over something, I could just about sob about it. I watched a Baby Story on TLC this afternoon and welled up with tears over how cute a couple's four year old son looked, sleeping. It is goofy and silly.

Today I put on an empire waist blouse and turned to leave the bedroom. I caught myself in the mirror and had to change, it would have given me away completely. Funny how when your uterus expands to the size of a plum, all that excess fat I've been snuggling it with makes me look like I'm 4 months pregnant.

I am most definitely pregnant with the Pope's child, because I crave chocolate, I salivate over chocolate, and as many of you know me well will remember, I'm not actually all that crazy about chocolate, but it is the Pope's favorite sweet.

So far the only thing making me feel sick is the damn candle in the bedroom. I need to throw that thing out.

I wake up like clockwork at 3am to pee. I am a frequent pee-er, but I have almost always slept through the night about it.
I am actually noticing a fair decrease in my trips to the restroom to pee.

So that is how I'm feeling.
And then I'm feeling the other things, harder to describe. Like I want to hold this baby tomorrow! I want to meet this baby in 5 minutes. I want to tell it how much I love it already. How much we hoped for it, how happy its dad and I are that it decided to come to us. How much fun we're going to have, what laughter, love and joy we want to show it, how excited we are to meet this little person created out of the best things of both of us.

At least we hope it gets the best of both of us. I flunked the genetic roulette with my parents, getting none of my mother's slender limbs, lightning metabolism and placid demeanor, getting most of my father's ass, bad skin and frighteningly nasty temper.

Dear pup, please concentrate on the chromosomes carrying your father's calm demeanor. Please get his long, skinny legs, and his thick curly hair. But I hope you reserve some of your mom's for a chance at blue eyes and the ability to raise some serious hell when and if life warrants it.

Tuesday, April 22, 2008

Cat Saga (Part Boring of 1 Trillion Parts)

Leo has definitely sensed that there's a little kitty in the oven. He is very attentive. Must be on my lap. Must snuggle lovingly whenever I sit down. Stray, (she who was named Cleo but is now called Sheba) stomps flatfooted around the house. She stands, and I swear she is duck-footed. The CUTEST. It is just the cutest. She chirps and squeaks at us throatily. She's a DARLING.

Lucy missed all indicators, then must have suddenly felt left out. Now she's dragging her baby (a ripped up stuffed rainbow mouse-thing whose sticker eyes are hanging on by a thread, she has had it since I adopted her, 8 years ago) around the house and mournfully calls us to it. This mouse she alternately bites, places gently by her bed, leaves next to the food bowl, and once, memorably and instantly washed, in the litterbox.

Wasn't as funny as the time Finny dragged a magazine into the litter box, then looked up startled, while I gasped with laughter in the doorway, but still, touching that Lucy wanted to teach her baby good manners.

All she really wants you to do (I think) is come up to her and ask her how her baby is. She will look up at you with these sad eyes and if you pet the baby then she seems to be ok. She will happily come with you and curl into your legs to sleep.

I find myself most mornings with at least one of the cats snuggled up to me.
This is different in no way than usual, I'm a cat magnet while sleeping, but I'm more touched when I wake up.

The Pope says I'm way more mellow, too. I hope to keep that with me. He says I'm definitely driving differently, although I reached over him and honked in frustration while he was driving today, and that is way not mellow. ;)

It is early to tell anyone yet, but I would sit down to blog with this huge, happy elephant hanging over me, and everything else just paled in comparison to what I want to talk about.

Saturday, April 19, 2008

A Baby Shark is Called a Pup

As some of you may know, the Pope and I long for a child.
We have been trying, on and off, since January 2007.

We have both long held fears and suspicions that some vital part of our bodies wasn't working.
We've spent our lives being afraid of contraception failing, fear of unplanned parenthood.

Then you try to get pregnant and you realize that there are only about 3 days a month that it is likely.
And even then, you could try for months and months and months and months without ignite.

So much to our wondrous relief, much to our teary heart's desires, it is with great joy and pleasure that we announce the existence of our little Pup, due December 15th of this year.

Thank you God and all our loved ones in the heavens, for allowing this miracle to happen for us.

MamaSal and DaddyPope

Sunday, April 13, 2008

He Was So Proud

This weekend the Pope bought himself a straight razor.
He tried it out Saturday morning:

He walked out of the back of the house to where I was on the phone with ScaredMamaBear and asked how he looked.

He looked like he'd been on the receiving end of a weedwhacker kiss.
For the rest of the day he said people looked at him funny.
He would say, "you should see the CAT!"

This man cracks me up. I love him to bits.

ScaredMamaBear doesn't write very often (she's got two wee boys) but when she does, it is worth reading. Check her out when you have the time.

By the way.......I am to call Santa Fe at 8:30 tomorrow morning, and I've got two more calls tomorrow regarding what San Jose can offer me. Or what I can offer them.

Believe me when I say that all our prayers got stuck in a queue somewhere.
They're being answered, one by one by one by one.

Tuesday, April 08, 2008


I have suffered from chronic hives for over a year.  A powerful prescription antihistamine taken every night keeps them in check, but I have been very frustrated, wondering what was making my body crazy.

AND DUST MITES.  (like really seriously allergic, my arm wealed up in linear welts at the dust mite test).
AND......slightly......to peanuts and shellfish.

I have been lying about being allergic to shellfish ever since I was a kid, because I hate the taste of it.  But now it has been confirmed.

I was in an impotent itching furiousness, waiting for little dots of oil pricked into my skin to show some action.  Then four did, and the itching started.  Then six more picked up.  Then the dust mites exploded in welts and weals all over my arm.  

They had told me to stop taking my RX at least three days before my appointment, so I was primed for a fit anyway.  The tests got my arms itching, which made my right shin itch, which made my right armpit, side of the next, inner ear and left palm itch, and from there, my whole body inflamed.  

That is what a fit of chronic hives feels like.  And if you scratch any of these above itches, they all of a sudden feel like bees stinging you, they itch so furiously.


I have a new prescription and some tips to keep the allergens at bay in my house.
Lucy not supposed to sleep with me at night, but she makes me so happy when she does that, I don't have the heart to stop her.

We'll have to get used to taking these pills.

Saturday, April 05, 2008

You Have To Understand The Way I Am

We went and saw Cabaret tonight.  MY SECOND FAVORITE MUSICAL EVER.

First is Evita.  Thank my parents for playing showtunes when I was a kid.
We are a theatre loving family.

Except maybe my brother, but he has good taste in music, so we let him stay.

I once saw my very reserved brother sing along to Grease with a wooden spatula as a mic.
He was very good.  It was Greased Lightning, in case you were wondering.

We heard today from our broker that the people that toured our house today are interested and with a few questions answered, will most likely make an offer.

And that's great, but with so much in arms, where will we go?

We also:  bought a $400 vacuum.   We are thrilled beyond measure, and thus our decline into boring adults has been consummated.   AARP membership, NEXT!  Woo.  Deals at Denny and our own special menu.  This one is a DYSON.  It is the ANIMAL model.  Made for us.

We found a breakfast place today that reminded me of Sacramento.  
But without my family, it was no match.  :(  
Plus my potatoes were cold and not thoroughly cooked and the hollandaise sauce wasn't lemony enough.  Or buttery enough.  If you screw up both, it is basically just yellow gravy, isn't it?

Tomorrow I'm going to see that psychic that last year told me I am God's best friend.  She told me that my friends considered me to be like Gandhi or Mother Teresa.  And, have you ever met me?  

Obviously she's insane, but there's something about her that tells me she knows something.
And there's something about the current level of unsettledness in my life that tells me I'll go to anyone, I'll pay them anything.....

Just tell me what I should do.

Wednesday, April 02, 2008

Postmodern Life

There was this band I followed during college. They were called Headcase O'Matic.
They were absolutely fantastic. One of their band members played various metal pieces against chainsaws and different instruments, throwing showers of sparks out over the crowds. But it was music, too. The screech and wail of the instrument fit with the songs. Truly they were awesome. You can't find their music online, but if you can, definitely let me know.

One of their members formed a band called The Dont's. They're a SF band, and they have two albums out, both of which are on iTunes. They are also awesome, and I'm a fan.

This is a short post. I'm meeting quota, and telling you what I'm listening to.

Tuesday, April 01, 2008

April One

Well, I've decided to try and post the entire month of April.
I got word from that awesome, awesome lady CLP that she gets sad when I don 't post, and so.....actually, hang on a second.  I'm going to go call CLP back!

Okay, CLP, you were not answering.  It is, after all, almost 10pm and you're a BANKER.  So probably you are asleep like good bankers are.

I have a letter, one in mind.  I've been working it these last few days, wondering to myself who I would most like to write a letter to.

But.  I am on Weight Watchers and I have had a cosmo.  So I am drunk.  Because apparently, a pack of brussel sprouts and an orange aren't enough food to stave off 4 one-thousand counts of vodka, regardless of how much mix you put in them.  Hee.

I'm in a good mood.  I think this might just work out.  If an opportunity comes along, sobeit.
If one does not, perhaps the intended recipient of my soon-to-be-written letter might come along.  If not, devastation, but perhaps an MFA in creative writing would be in order.  I've always wanted one, you know.

No, you probably don't.  You probably don't know that I've been seriously considering going back to school for a Masters of Fine Arts in Creative Writing.  But I have.

Just for me.  

But perhaps all my unhappy troubles would go away if I were engaged in something that mattered to me.  Perhaps.

'Til Tomorrow,