Random flutterings and such...

I’m like a kid before Christmas waiting for this Nino to move. I know he’s been moving around like a break-dancing monkey for weeks, but I haven’t felt it yet. Supposedly, you start feeling teeny-tines moving between 16 and 22 weeks. I am at 17 and still nothing. This might be TMI for some of you, but when you’re pregnant your guts tend to reposition to make room for Baby. You start feeling all kinds of weird sensations and random jabbings, so once you’re supposed to feel the baby, you really aren’t sure if that is what you are feeling. Apparently you’ll notice little flutters and things and mistake them for intestinal rumblings, or in other words---farts. But because the same sensation becomes frequent, you realize it’s Baby kicking away. I’m really excited for that realization. I want to get to know Nino and find out if he’s content and busy. Since feeling him move will be my only means of communication with him, it will be a good start.

Oh and in case you read the blog entry about my finding a new doctor and you’re wanting an update:

The morning sickness (or all-day hell sickness) prevails but much more mildly. I have a drug I take periodically to help with my appetite. I am much better now AND I am growing!

We still don’t know the sex, but we’ll find out at the next ultrasound. It will be in just a couple of weeks. I still think it is a boy, although at night I’ve dreamt only of baby girls who incidentally have Franny’s head and walk around on adult legs.

My belly is getting big! People are looking at it instead of my face when we talk and I’m getting lots of fun compliments about my pregger gut. I’m quite proud of it and I look at it in every reflective surface possible. I also glance down quite frequently to ask Martian just what the hell he is up to in there.

Okay, so I just felt this little tiny flutter, like a bubble popping. Could it be Nino, or is it an “intestinal rumbling”??? I’ll know in approximately 30 seconds…fart or Nino?

Damn it! Fart.

Ninja Nino-jabbing around at my inards

I'm just a little poop shy.

85% of women do what????....

Fran and I went on one of the most insane and chaotic journeys of our lives on Saturday. I'm serious you guys, it was complete and utter insanity and we're just praising sweet baby Jesus that we lived to tell about it. We woke up Saturday morning with the wildest hairs up our asses that ever were in existence. Well anyway, it's nuts and basically unbelievable alright? Ready for it? Ready?---IKEA...on a Saturday... (DUN DUN DUN!!!!) AND that's not all---COSCO...2 different ones over the span of three trips!!! I'm not kidding you guys. I've still been bathing in ectoplasmic bad-vibe slime so I almost ate 6 people I got so crazy pissed. Thank goodness Franny was there to restrain me.

Anywho, the only thing we got out of our 4 hour journey through IKEA was 16 pamphlets about bookcases and some swedish meatball aftertaste (blah.) ---- we still don't know if we should go with the Kerninflugan or the Bergenblats bookshelf. We went to Cosco as many times as we did because we were searching for a laptop. We eventually bought one with a printer and I'm mighty happy about it. The reason being? Well now I can do research on things that aren't kosher to research at work. Like for instance, the first thing I googled once we could access the internet was "What happens to boobs after pregnancy?" Next, I googled, "Can you deafen your fetus by singing too loudly in the car?" Lastly, I googled "Pooping during labor-is it necessary?" Okay you guys, that last item???? Yah, I'm a little freaked because-- get this...over 85% of women take dumps all over the place when they give birth!!! Your mom probably never told you she pood when she birthed you, but more than likely she pood, you guys.

Supposedly you're pushing so hard to get the baby out that you lose your guts out of your ass. But mark my words....I'm NOT pooping. I don't care if Nino needs to ninja kick his way out of my belly button...no POO.

When we were six, my cousin Ben and I were playing Tinker Toys when he casually mentioned his mom had pood on him when he was born. Probably bullshit if you ask me, but I've struggled with it ever since. Back when I played with Barbies, there were a few scenarios I liked to reenact over and over. Like all children, I created play situations that mimicked what I knew of life. I think my interpretations were pretty accurate although I'd often have Barbie be mowing the lawn and accidentally mow her foot off. I would then chew on and mangle the foot. I really have no explanation for that. Another of these scenarios however, was about Barbie giving birth to a baby which was usually played by a Lego man. I'd wrap the Lego man in wet toilet paper and color it with brown scented marker, then I'd stuff him up the Barbie's shirt. Then, the Ken obstetrician would walk over and smack the top of the Lego man bulge causing the Lego man to come flying out of the shirt onto the floor all wet, gooey and brown. Ken obstetrician would give the baby to the Barbie and say "Here's your baby. You pooped on it."

Tribute to Ma...

Rest in peace, Sophia.

As many of you already know, Estelle Getty passed away early this morning. You may know her as Sophia Petrillo from my all time favorite sitcom, "The Golden Girls". When she played Sophia back in the 1980's she was only in her early 60's playing an 80 year old. They just made her look extra golden by adding a curly gray granny fro and a funny handbag. She was known for being spunky and wise-cracking, mainly to her manish daughter Dorothy (Bea Arthur), who would retort with a "Ma!" and then make reference to some guy hardly anyone's heard of. In my opinion, The Golden Girls is one of the best comedies of all time, and while we can always enjoy reruns on Lifetime, we'll pretty much have to let go of the hope there will be a reunion episode.

Well anyway, rest in peace Estelle. And thanks for the laughs.

Hey member that ectoplasmic slime in Ghostbusters II that causes everyone in the city to get really pissy at each other? Well I've been swimming in that slime you guys. I've been adding it to my morning smoothies. I'm the meanest little beaver this side of the Mississippi. I'm practically Zuhl. As such, I'm naturally attracted to other Snarky McSnarks and choose to associate with biznatches who have points to make. I received this email today from my friend Leslie and I decided to share. It's an example of constructive pissiness and it suits my mood nicely. I'll admit it's a little extreme, but worth reading anyhow.

The Plan!? Robin Williams, wearing a shirt that says 'I love New York' in Arabic. You gotta love Robin Williams......Even if he's nuts! Leave it to Robin Williams to come up with the perfect plan. What we need now is for our UN Ambassador to stand up and repeat this message. Robin Williams' plan...(Hard to argue with this logic!)

'I see a lot of people yelling for peace but I have not heard of a plan for peace. So, here's one plan.'

1) 'The US will apologize to the world for our 'interference' in their affairs, past & present. You know, Hitler, Mussolini, Stalin, Tojo, Noriega, Milosevic, Hussein, and the rest of those 'good 'ole' boys', we will never 'interfere' again. !

2) We will withdraw our troops from all over the world, starting with Germany , South Korea , the Middle East , and the Philippines . They don't want us there. We would station troops at our borders. No one allowed sneaking through holes in the fence.

3) All illegal aliens have 90 days to get their affairs together and leave We'll give them a free trip home. After 90 days the remainder will be gathered up and deported immediately, regardless of whom or where they are. They're illegal!!! France will welcome them.

4) All future visitors will be thoroughly checked and limited to 90 days unless given a special permit!!!! No one from a terrorist nation will be allowed in. If you don't like it there, change it yourself and don't hide here. Asylum would never be available to anyone. We don't need any more cab drivers or 7-11 cashiers.

5) No foreign 'students' over age 21. The older ones are the bombers. If they don't attend classes, they get a 'D' and it's back home baby.

6) The U S will make a strong effort to become self-sufficient energy wise. This will include developing nonpolluting sources of ! energy but will require a temporary drilling of oil in the Alaskan wilderness. The caribou will have to cope for a while

7) Offer Saudi Arabia and other oil producing countries $10 a barrel for their oil. If they don't like it, we go someplace else. They can go somewhere else to sell their production. (About a week of the wells filling up the storage sites would be enough.)

8) If there is a famine or other natural catastrophe in the world, we will not 'interfere.' They can pray to Allah or whomever, for seeds, rain, cement or whatever they need. Besides most of what we give them is stolen or given to the army. The people who need it most get very little, if anything.

9) Ship the UN Headquarters to an isolated island someplace. We don't need the spies and fair weather friends here. Besides, the building would make a good homeless shelter or lockup for illegal aliens.

10) All Americans must go to charm and beauty school. That way, no one can call us 'Ugly Americans' any longer. The Language we speak is ENGLISH. . learn it...or LEAVE...Now, isn't that a winner of a plan? 'The Statue of Liberty is no longer saying 'Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses.' She's got a baseball bat and she's yelling, 'you want a piece of me?'

Best way to waste your time...


I don't know if anyone has been watching that show "Weeds" on showtime, but I have to say I find it extremely entertaining. Fran and I rented the first three seasons on DVD, and sadly have only taken about 3 days to burn through 90% of the episodes. The first three seasons are available to rent, and the fourth is currently playing on Showtime. We don't have Showtime, so I won't be able to feed my addiction until it comes out on DVD or my buddy Kristien, who Tevo's, does me a solid :)

I'm not recommending this show to everyone as it is fo shiz not good for the kids. (In the last episode we watched I think there were 4 pairs of naked boobs flouncing around.) Also, you have to like absurd comedy. The amount of chaos and dysfunction you witness during each episode could make your skin crawl if you're too sensitive. However, if you think the idea of a widowed house wife selling marijuana to her upper middle class neighbors at soccer practice is as hilarious as I do, this show is for you.

What are you doing here, Self? I thought I told you to stay in the car.

One of the best things about being pregnant is the dreams. I know that most people assume their own dreams are the most bizarre and incredible dreams in existence, when in actuality, dreams are only interesting to the person dreaming them. I realize this is also true for pregnancy dreams no matter how strange they are, but I had a little ditty last night that has been creeping me out all day. I promise that this is the first, last, and only dream I'll ever write about.

So from what I remember, I’m hanging out on a deck with a bunch of people. It’s the middle of winter. The sky is black and filled with stars. I don’t actually recognize anyone’s face, but I know the people well. The faces are very generic and plain. They all look the same but with huge grins. We are laughing super hard, and the steam from our mouths forms one big cloud. I’m super drunk--three sheets to the wind retarded, in fact. I slur my speech and my vision blurs. I finally say “does anyone have Tequila?!!” Everyone laughs and says “No. Try this Jagermeister.” Anyway, I say “Sweet! Jagermeister is Tequila’s identical cousin!”

Someone passes me the bottle and I start to chug. The laughing stops suddenly. I look around frantically and see no one. I have the feeling someone is watching me though. I sense a presence in the dark and it freaks me out. I feel icy chills along my back and I fall backwards off of the deck into a mound of snow. I land on my feet and the snow comes up way past my face. I lift my arms in “V” shape and look up at the starry sky. The stars disappear and it turns to day. I start tunneling around, all the while holding a black cordless phone. The person on the phone says “This is a scene in your life that I’m glad I don’t have to watch.” I have no clue who the voice belongs to, but it sounds like my own. I drop the phone and continue on. I can hear my feet crunching on the snow. Finally, I roll out of the thick white and onto the clear pavement laughing hysterically. (My snow swim had cheered me up.) I realize I still have the creepy feeling that someone is there with me and I stop laughing. The sky turns black again and the stars reappear. I look up at the deck and see a lady with long hair and a white bathrobe starring down at me. I don’t recognize her, but she is familiar.

I walk up the stairs toward her slowly. I try to figure out who she is, knowing that I’m in deep shit. As I walk, her face morphs eerily from one face to another. Each face melts and forms a new face. Some of them might have been people I know. As I get closer, her face clears and decides on a configuration. She finally smiles serenely and I realize she is me! I’m standing there looking at myself. And myself is starring back at me---right into my eyes. I can see our breath again. I say “what are you doing here?” She says “it’s time to come inside now.” We stand staring at each other in the middle of the cold black for a while. She turns around and walks through a doorway and motions for me to follow. I walk through the doorway and then wake up.


It doesn’t take a shrink to see what this dream is all about. Clearly I’m telling myself that playtime is over. The mom in me is putting the kid in me to bed. The bright side however is that the mom in me isn’t stabbing the kid in me to death (at least not in this dream). I’m guessing the kid in me will live on but the mom in me will be in charge. Either that, or I just miss getting drunk and falling off of stuff.

I finally got some real prenatal care yesterday, ya’ll! As you may have read in past blog posts, Dr. James T. Roth at Old Farm Obstetrics, is a great big pile of moron. Fran and I liked him initially, but once we left the first appointment, we realized he hadn’t given us much information at all (see “Dr. Rothtard”). I decided to give him one more chance at the follow-up appointment thinking that perhaps he’d just been extra busy or on his period the first time. I also planned to be more inquisitive. Big mistake! Five minutes into the second appointment I realized that he is completely inept.

Not only does he have the communication skills of a 6 year old, but he is condescending, pervy, and exceedingly negligent. I can’t believe he continues to work as a physician.

James T. Roth on a typical day at the office.

I don’t think any of you guys who read my blog are pregnant, but if you know anyone who is or plans to be, and they utter the name “Roth,” please please please tell them he is a fucktard. I am in the process of writing a letter to inform him that he should take an early retirement and work part time as a sign holder for Little Caesars. If you guys have any input, or perhaps experience in drafting hate mail, please give me suggestions.


Yesterday, I saw a real doctor. I went to the Avenues Women’s Center and saw Dr. Vicky Macy and her N.P. Kathy (or something). They were super informative and fantastic. I didn’t get creepy vibes either, as they are ladies. They gave me something for my nausea so I can start packing on the pounds like a good little pregnant girl.

Every time I told the Rothtard about the sickness and the fact that I wasn’t stomaching much healthy stuff, he’d say “that will go away. Whatever you’re eating is just fine.”--- FUCKTARD!!!! I was eating as healthfully as I possibly could but I’d often yak if I ate anything protein-rich or vegeriferous. I resorted to eating a lot of Ramen. (I’m pretty sure pregnant folks need protein and veggies...not Ramen.) Anyway,Vicky and the NP told me I am a bit underweight and that since the nausea hasn’t resolved, (see “Things that Make you go…”) I need to take an anti-emetic and eat like 7 buffalo and a tree.

I heard the Teeny Tine's heart beating for the third time yesterday as well. It sounds like a little kid making ray gun sounds... Pkew! Pkew! Pkew! Pkew! Pkew! 150 times a minute. It's my favorite sound these days. It's funny because they always say "do you want to hear your baby's heart?" "Uuhhh Dur. No I think I'll pass." Although I haven't felt him moving, I can tell Nino already has brute strength. I'm kind of worried he might karate chop his way out of me through my belly button.

So long story short, I am much happier with my new doc, and I am looking forward to Thursday since I’ll get to see Nino again. I have another ultrasound and I’m psyched. We love ultrasounds. There is a very slim chance he’ll be flashing his newly formed junk at us as well, but I doubt we'll find out the sex.

Things that make you go bllaahhhhrrr...

WHEN YOU'RE PREGNANT, THE WEIRDEST THINGS CAN SET OFF YOUR STOMACH AND MAKE YOU LOSE YOUR GUTS ALL OVER THE PLACE. IN CASE YOU'RE INTERESTED, I'VE COMPILED A LIST OF TROUBLESOME SMELLS, FLAVORS, TEXTURES, SITUATIONS, IDEAS, AND NOTIONS THAT MAKE ME HORK-

I am queasy 90% of everyday so pretty much anything can make me gag. Here are a few items that I find especially revolting:


People with greasy hair

Fruity yogurt- This is a texture issue. The fruit chunks feel like blood clots and soggy scabs.

Any overbearing perfume or detergent smell (This is a given. All pregnant chicks hate that shiz.)

Candy- This is so fucked, you guys. I once loved candy so much that it warmed my soul to think about it. Now, when I even look at a Skittle, I heave.

Meat- Any meat. I hate eating meat, thinking about meat, looking at meat, smelling meat, and incidentally, writing about meat.

The smell of dog, static, hot car, and fart (Franny!!!).

Puke (dur!)

Puke Eye- (When I puke in a toilet, and the velocity of the projectile puke is such that the displaced water from the toilet actually launches up into my eye.) As you can imagine, this is disgusting no matter what crapper I’m using, but it’s 100% worse when I’m puking at work in the overused public toilets. (There are a lot of folks on my floor who have IBS.) I’ve learned to stand as far away from the toilet as possible so that I don’t get as much turd residue near my retinas, and so that I don't just continuously puke forever from the sheer grossness.

Aftertaste (of anything)-it is intolerable.

Tooth-brushing- (I still do it. Sheesh! I’m just in the process of getting more used to it, alright!)



Incidentally these few items are tummy soothers. You might find this list useful if you are also knocked-up and nauseous:

Strawberries

Potatoes (in any form, particularly mashed, and fried)

The smell of peppermint

Golden Girls (There is just something really comforting about four classy old broads from Miami. I don’t care who you are.)

Ramen Noodles

Crackers

Back rubs (unless you are in a really hot room and the person rubbing you smells like meat.)