And Nino arrives...

Well, most of you know already that Nino arrived Wednesday January 15 at 9:23 AM. I had plans to write a blog posting about it in a timely fashion, but parenthood has spun my head a bit these last few days. I mean seriously spun my head. I am in love. I'm so smitten crazy in love you guys. I'm lost in this kid's eyes about every second they're open, and when they aren't I'm basking in the sound of his tiny breaths and blaring screaming rage. Francis and I could not be prouder of our son, Stacey Francis Byrd. He is miraculous. Needless to say, I've been a bit preoccupied. I'm sorry for the blog delay.



As you know, I began referring to the arrival of the Baby Byrd as "Splatterdome" as I thought that would be fitting considering the fact that child birth has been known to get messy. Well while the labor was probably pretty splatteriffic, the real splatterdome 2009 didn't happen until we got home with the little one. We brought him inside and took him out of his car seat. Fran went back out to the car to get the rest of the gifts and things we'd gathered during our stay at the hospital. I was left alone in our apartment with our baby. I looked down at his sleeping face and suddenly my mind was flooded with memories of my pregnancy. I thought of the pee test and the pasta salad. I remembered telling my Franny that he'd be a dad and him telling me that he was a cocksman and thrilled at the idea. I thought of the first time I heard Nino's little heart beating so fast inside me. I remembered the first time I felt him move as I sat at work one evening so many months before. I remembered the nights I lied awake terrified of the world I was bringing a child into. I saw the Krispie Kreme doughnuts and puke and puke eye. The ultrasounds replayed in my mind like a movie montage and it finally occurred to me...I'm a mommy. I looked down at my little boy and I sobbed like only a mommy could. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I hadn't had time to cry in the hospital. I was too busy learning to feed and care for my baby. I was too busy with visitors and nurses to feel anything but relief at his safe arrival. Once home, with my son, I truly felt like his mom. This was one of the most wonderful moments in my life.
And here he is....my son!

Stacey Francis Byrd

8 lb. 3 oz.

20 inches long

Mom's bragging rights:

I came out of pregnancy virtually unscathed. I didn't get one stretch mark ya'll---not a single one. I was in labor for 9 hours and I gave birth without the use of a single pain medication. Not an epidural. Not a narcotic. Nothing. The only way I accomplished this was by having my Franny there with me and the down right amazing nurses at Salt Lake Regional Medical Center. Also the pain was so bad I couldn't talk. That probably contributed since I couldn't even frame the words "epidural please." I'm going to boast that I predicted the gender of my child as well. Of the approximate 287 days of my pregnancy I only spent about 4 of them thinking Nino was a girl. The rest of the time He was a He. It's safe to say I called that one as well. Oh and in case you were wondering---I DIDN"T POO! I would have shit the moon to get that baby out, but didn't have to.
Well there you have it. Kudos to me.

Me and some of my lovliest friends went to Cafe Trio last night so that I could nom that pizza that has been known to put people into labor. I don't know if you've heard about it, but apparently it has been known to work for a bunch of pregnants. We thought it would be worth a try. The sucker had chicken on it. I hate chicken. I mean I can eat it sometimes, like if it is in mcnugget form or shredded and made to taste like something else---anything else. But this pizza had a ton of dry, grainy chicken on it and it tasted like someone had marinated it in extra essence of poultry which is the scent that most lady chickens prefer to douche with. The other ingredients were tolerable---onions, garlic, fontina (I think) and crust. It was not tasty but I ate almost the entire thing simply in the name of science.

I've been waiting to go into labor ever since but it has been close to the 24 hours in which the pizza is supposed to get things going. Oh well. It was wonderful having dinner with everyone. My friend Dean also got the pizza. We decided that if he went into labor after eating it, we could determine with every ounce of certainty, that the pizza does in fact induce labor. I'm guessing it's safe to bet that he birthed a giant chicken-filled garlicy turd. Dean-1/Lindsey-0

I can't explain why the baby byrd is taking so long, but I'm still tying up loose ends in the hopes that perhaps I'm vag retentive and somehow my subconscious mind is telling my uterus that the baby should stay put until for instance, I finally get all of my "thank you" cards from the baby shower 3 months ago sent out. Or maybe I need to rewash all of Nino's clothes in Dreft. Perhaps I just need to get a pedicure. I don't know. Sheesh. Well if I don't have this kid by Wednesday I'm getting induced. I'm thinking I'd like to avoid that at all costs but the placenta is wearing out.

Here is the supposed science behind that:
Something like 90% of the amniotic fluid is Nino pee. If the amniotic fluid level starts to decrease it means that Nino is not peeing enough, which means that his kidneys aren't making pee which leaves one to hypothesize that baby isn't getting enough nutrients to create enough waste to create pee. The heart and brain continue to get enough from the placenta because that is nature's way of not killing stuff. I don't know what to believe. Do I just get induced and force the little one to be born, or do I wait it out and risk Nino not swimming enough pee for too long???

We have a stubborn little stink on our hands I think. Great.

Okay, Nino---Now would be good.

As you know, Fran and I have been anxiously awaiting Birth Extravaganza 2009---WELCOME TO SPLATTER DOME!!! Franny might even be a little more excited than I am actually. I woke up Saturday morning to find him nesting. Is it called "nesting" when the baby daddy is the one bustling around preparing for the baby??? He normally sleeps later than I do because of his crazy work schedule so when I woke up to him packing up random schneidel to take to the storage unit, I became motivated myself. I also thought him especially adorable. GO TEAM BYRD!

The official due date is tomorrow! No sign of labor yet other than the whole centimeter and a half that I am dilated. Yar! The baby Byrd is taking her sweet time (Yep-her. I'm positive we having a girl---- today.)

We've been doing a lot of talking to the belly to try to coax the offspring out. Fran sometimes even takes on this semi-gruff voice and says "This is your dad. Come out of there this instant!" It hasn't worked so far, which might mean that our parenting skills are already lacking.
I've been enjoying the fun text messages and phone calls from everyone who is excited to meet our little one. We really do have such wonderful friends and family and I can't wait for this kid to meet ya'll.
Here is a picture my friend Joshi made...

Thanks Joshi! This is hilarious. It has become my visual mantra.

Uuhhhh...okay.

Here's that creepy baby ticker again...

Nino is coming!

A+ Mama

The baby is due in two weeks. Two weeks! I can’t believe how close I am to officially becoming a mother. This is unbelievable! Because Nino is so close to being born, I’ve begun my weekly visits to the doctor. I went yesterday and found out that I am 80% effaced and a whole centimeter dilated. This pretty much means that Nino could be born before his due date, on his due date, or after his due date. Lovely. I was kind of thinking it would be anytime now. I've been kind of hoping that it would be any time now. I recently bent over really far to pick up a pencil at work. I've been worried ever since that, despite the reassurance from my doctor that I'm a complete nutcase, I squashed Nino's head. I need to meet this baby and see whether I've squashed his head or destroyed him in some other way. I need to meet him and find out who this little joker who's been playing around with my guts for so many months actually is.

I feel ready for many reasons. I mean we have all of the baby stuff. We have a plan. We are dying to meet the kid. But there are still so many things I wanted to have done by now. I mean I have all of these character flaws I meant to fix before El Nino Extremo Birth Extravaganza ‘08/’09 began. I even have a list, you guys. For instance, I am going to be a mother in approximately two weeks but I have yet to mature to the point of being able to take a dump in a public restroom. Can you picture it? I’m potty-training Nino. We’re at Target buying some pre-cut melon when he tells me he needs to go ploppies. I take him to the bathroom and he says he feels weird about going because there are people around and it is dirty, and going ploppies is something he prefers doing in the comfort and privacy of his own home. In order to prevent him from shitting his pants, I’ll have to tell him that when you gotta go you gotta go or else you’ll get diverticulitis and polyps and die.


I am already learning that one of the biggest parts of being a parent is being a total hypocrite. I am realizing that I can’t change my personality in order to be a good mom, instead I’m just going to have to lie a lot. I’ll start by hiding any of my report cards with an average lower than 3.9 (not that I keep my report cards or that there are many that fit that description). I’ll destroy all photographic evidence of me engaging in any of the following: public nudity, intoxication, chain smoking, bar fights, etc. I’ll force my friends to forget all unsavory tales of me and threaten Fran out of recalling the many objectionable phases I went through during our courtship including but not limited to the box wine years and the several months I spent beginning every sentence with “who do I gotta blow around here to... (insert "get some Captain Crunch","get a ride to the swimming pool", etc …). I’ll even learn to go number two in public restrooms, or at the very least, stop giggling when I know that that is what other people in the restroom are doing. That way, when I force my children to excel beyond mediocrity, when I forbid underage drinking and deem it punishable by groundation and limb removal, when I preach humility and grace over belligerence, and when I force my 2 year old to poo at Target, I’ll have something with which to back it---a flawless past—a history unmarked by sin. I can only thank everyone in advance for the continued support.

Maxy in his younger days on a boat trip at Bear Lake. He liked to feel the wind in his ears.

My brother Kees called me last night while Fran and I were in our birthing class. I missed the call but I returned it when the class was done and he had some pretty crappy news for me. It turns out my dog died yesterday. I call him my dog, but he was actually a family dog and he lived with my parents. I’m kind of a sap when it comes to dogs in general, even the stinky biting ones. I tend to believe that they are all little angels put on Earth to remind people to not be such assholes. They love unconditionally and they are the sweetest companions a person could ever ask for. Maxwell Bentley Warner was one of the all-time best and I’m broken-hearted to say the least. I feel bad for Kees having to listen to me ball my head off at hearing the news but by the end of the phone call, we were both crying pretty hard. It isn’t unusual for Beagles to live 10-15 years. Maxy was 12 so he had a pretty good run. Apparently he started having uncontrollable seizures Monday and on Tuesday it was bad enough that my dad thought it was time to put him down. He didn’t contact Kees or me beforehand to let us know Maxy’s health was deteriorating or that he intended to have him euthanized. I will assume he had a good reason not to although I wish he had. I would have liked to have been there. I feel content in knowing that Max knew how much I adored him. I spoiled him with lots of love and affection whenever I saw him which was pretty often these last few months. Rest in peace my little doggy. I’ll miss you.

Freud is saying "Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, but I'm always just a dildo."

Was it Sigmund Freud who coined the term “penis envy”? I’m just wondering because whoever did is a total dildo. Hello!!! I’m growing a baby in my uterus and what do you have?.... a couple of nards and a weener? BFD, dude! BFD. You go ahead and have fun NOT growing new life inside of your body. I’ll in the meantime marvel at the sheer awesomeness of my vajayjay. Suck on that, Freud.

Some of you guys might be thinking "I haven't seen Linds in a while. I wonder what she's been up to these days. I bet she's real busy bustling about town preparing for the birth of her baby. I bet she's reflecting on the days of her youth and writing memoirs. She is probably doing a lot of baking and knitting." It's actually quite the contrary ya'll. I've provided this little clip to give you some sense of what I spend my time doing these days. Me and this hamster know how to kick it.

I was thinking that maybe I should clean up my language a bit on account of Nino coming to town. I'm reminded of one of my favorite South Park songs....




"Step 2 instead of shit say poo like poohead, bullpoo, or this poo is cold!!"

If you don't have anything nice to say...

...you can shove whatever you do have to say up your butt and cork it!

Don’t share your horror stories with a first time pregnant you guys. Honestly. I don’t understand why it the first instinct of just about everyone I meet to tell me about their 48 hour torture labors, the horrible beyond belief back pain they suffered, their ass hat doctor who ended up actually being a janitor, or about how their friend's cousin’s roommate accidentally birthed her own lung. I don’t see how anyone could think this would be appropriate information to share with a pregnant woman.

I realize that childbirth is not a walk in the park for mom OR baby, you know? I mean a baby is making its way out of a vagina. I’m not expecting it to be like cracking open a peanut, or buttering fucking toast. Regardless of how unpleasant one’s experience may have been though, it is never a good idea to talk about it with someone who is preparing to bring their child into an already cold and cruel world. Duh.

I’d recommend not inquiring about a person’s birth plan-- i.e. “I hope you'll be using a whole lotta drugs!!!” This is none of your business. If the pregnant volunteers information about how she intends to give birth, act like whatever she says is the best idea you’ve heard in your entire life, even if she wants to do it on a mountain top with only Sherpas to help. Remember you are dealing with a pregnant person. Just agree. The pregnant is always right. Trust me. You don’t want to get smacked.

Fran and I have been taking a hypno-birthing class which is proving to be amazingly helpful and calming so far. The idea is to manage your own pain for as long as you can by using meditation and hypnosis along with special exercises and movements that help the baby find its way out and keep you comfy. We’re about half way done with the class and I have to say it’s been useful. Fran is going to be a fantastic birthing coach and I’m going to be an amazing baby pusher-outer. Even if we forget everything we’ve learned by the time test day comes, we’ll at least have had the experience… Hippie hypno-birthing class= Good times.

The horror stories I’ve heard so far have not terrified me, they’ve irritated me. I don’t know what to expect, but I do know that babies have been coming out of vaginas for a looooong time. It’s normal. It’s not a sickness. The way people talk about it you’d think there would be a huge market for sterilization. But there isn’t because birth is doable. It’s doable and I’m not scared. In considering all of the crazy and miraculous things my body has done already, A.K.A. growing an infant, I’ve become positive that I can birth one.

IZZE Soda, you're my only friend.

Every once in a while I find a product that I believe in so whole-heartedly that I do free advertising for it. In this case, it's IZZE soda you guys. I was craving the pomegranate version of this little bev the other day (one of those nasty pregger cravings actually) and Fran bought me some. I'm savoring a bottle right this instant and because it is so delicious I thought I'd tell you all to try it. It contains 70% fruit juice and 30% carbonated water----no colors, no phony flavors, AND it actually has a sell-by date (this is a good thing). It's a tad spendy in the way of sodas, but if you feel like a soda this one is worth the extra cash. It's still cheaper than bottled coke from vending machines at $3.80 for 4 bottles. They also have a low calorie version which also only contains fruit and water. They just use fruit varieties with less sugar for the low cal version. It's rare to find a product that doesn't make you feel totally ripped-off so I like to share when I can. Oh and guess what the best part of IZZE soda is??? NO YOGURT!!!. They don't have a yogurt version. The minute the IZZE people start making yogurt versions of their drinks they'll lose a customer. Until then, I'm in love.

UPDATES:
(PICTURE TIME!!)

CORNEAS:
(My corneas have been retaining water (see last post) but it's only temporary.)

Please note the completely normal size of my ankle. Now I've always been under the impression that pregnants get swollen ankles when they retain water, NOT bloated corneas, but whatev. Since I left some folks concerned with my last blog post, I thought I'd let you all know that no, I won't have permanent vision problems. My corneas will go back to their normal fluid capacity once Nino is born. In the meantime, I'll be half -blind and unable to drive at night. It won't be worth getting glasses since I only have a few weeks to go.


HOME IS WHERE THE FART IS....ERR WHERE THE HEART IS:
(Just to give you a glimpse into our little world...)
You probably think that I stacked all of this crap on this dresser for the sake of the picture don't you? Well actually this is Franny's heap o' stuff. We haven't quite moved in completely since Fran's still been making renovations on the place. He also likes to have a little section of space that drives me crazy everyday so this mound has not yet dissipated. Note the 7 pairs of protective glasses as well as the many hats stacked up adjacent to them including a Fedora that belonged to Fran's pops (pictured in tiny photog on right.) The larger photograph of the hot pin-upy looking chick? That's Fran's mom, who thinks that "making love" can cure any ale pregnancy-related or otherwise. Seriously. Fran will tell her I'm nauseous and gassy and she'll say "you need to make love." Kay. And yep, you're right, that is a cooler propping up a Wham! record, for which I have no explanation.

Like I said, still not quite organized. I'm thinking this will be one of those mounds that won't go away until we move and then it will become a mound in the new place for years to come. It's a comforting mound.

Here is our super messy living room. I wasn't interested in cleaning it up before photographing. I figured that since I've talked about my vag so much in this blog, that I really didn't need to hide the fact that I'm a total slob. That is our new Love Sac Sactional couch. We're still waiting for the custom cover which should arrive in 7-10 business years.

When I found out I was pregnant I bought some plants to ensure that I could actually keep another living thing alive. Only one died! The rest are pictured here.

Our new kitchen table! For the first half of my pregnancy we ate dinner crammed next to each other on a recliner...good memories. Now, since I can manage to take up an entire couch and not feel I have enough space, I'm glad to have a table.

ME!

(After popular demand....pictures of me in my pregger suit with 5 weeks left to go!)

Firstly, this is the advent calendar that I devoured in its entirety one lazy November morn.

Me being a posey little pregger... like I do...

Me being fierce! If America's Next Top Model ever starts a pregger edition, this will be my tryout picture.

NINO!

(Thanks to all of the lovely ladies who attended my very fabulous baby shower in October, we've actually gotten everything we need for Nino's arrival (so far as we know) other than bottles!)(Somehow baby bottles have been the most perplexing purchase I've ever made in my entire life.)

Other than the hand-me-down books from my childhood, this is Nino's first book. "Forever Young" by Bob Dylan pictured with our still unframed, unhung poster of Bob himself. It's one of the better books I've ever read.

The main message of the book and one of the most important lessons our little one will ever learn.

Nino's first fridge art.

Nino's college fund. Actually Fran's whiskey bottle dime collection. He marvels at how perfectly the dimes fit into the spout of this whiskey bottle. What a total weirdo. :)

Nino's bum cream (it's creamy ya'll!)

Nino's little teeny sock next to his dad's giant man sock. (Displayed here on the Boppy!)

"What to Expect" being the book on this bedside table, is not the only indicator that a pregnant lives here. Note the Kleenex (hormones), the tube of belly rub (stretch mark prevention) and the box of pregnancy yoga cards (which I'll never ever use).

Closet full of more Nino stuff and camp gear.

We purchased this Cadillac of humidifiers for when Nino comes to town and gets real boogery. I drew a little face on him like I do.

Angry humidifier hates getting his picture taken. Oh and those are my prenatal supplements on the right there.

Nino's bed and travel system. You might have the impression that we're totally lax and lazy for not having set up Nino's bed and travel system yet. Well we are. Get over it.

Nino's bath and grooming supplies. He gets a whole bathroom cabinet to himself because he has way cuter stuff than Fran and I.

Nino land. We won't be moving into a bigger place until after Nino is born, so this is pretty much the nursery sans bed (lazy member?). You are looking at about 27 blankets, 3 of which were handmade by grandma's and aunties, a Boppy, toys, onesies, teeny socks, hats and other supplies.

So that is that.

WTF


Retaining water where??

It all started with some blurry vision I noticed Halloween night whilst walking with Fran. I saw a toddler dressed all in green walking with his dad. While my vision at the time was fuzzy, I commented that he sure was a cute little dragon. Fran corrected me by telling me, as I tripped on a curb, that I was actually looking at a stroller with a green blanket draped over it. Well at least I got the green part right.

Trouble.

We went to a party last weekend in Tooele. I had to drive us home because I'm the eternal sober driver and Fran had had about 4 hours of sleep total in the past 6 days so he was passed the hell out. I've never even been to Tooele, let alone driven from there at night. The drive was scary as hell! I couldn't see the signs! Headlights and traffic lights were misty psychedelic blobs. I didn't know where the fuck we were. We made it home though. Barely. Thank goodness.

Trouble.

Some of you guys who already use glasses might be thinking "uhhh big deal whiney. Get over it." But I've never had such a problem seeing! I blink and blink to try to focus and I just can't get anything clear. I told my doctor about it thinking I might have high blood pressure or maybe that I was blind with love for my unborn child (sorry). Turns out I'm retaining fucking water in my corneas. This is fairly common in women who wear glasses, and a little more rare in people who don't. Well shit. Could be worse. The sucker could be falling out as in the case of the protracted cornea which sucks way worse.

I had to enter the date of my last menstrual period to make this baby ticker doohickey accurate, and you know how I hate recalling the date of my last menstrual period, you guys.

Manners

I was just eating lunch in the break area at work. I was reading a pamphlet on caring for umbilical stumps (my reading these days is pretty riveting) enjoying some mashed potatoes like I do, when this guy I don't even know comes walking in, looks at my potatoes with this disgusted face and says “What is that?” I know he was talking about my food and not the umbilical stump literature because he couldn't even see what I was reading. His face looked like I was eating a bowl of umbilical stumps though.

Okay if you know me well, you know this shit drives me crazy. You don’t criticize someone’s food while they are eating it. This is a lesson you learn in first fucking grade. It’s so rude. Clearly the person is eating something they like so shut up. Not everyone has to eat PB and J on Wonder bread with the crust cut off. Sheesh!

I looked at the guy like he was the dumbest dumb bastard I’d ever seen in my life and said “it’s potatoes”. The tone in my voice said "what does it look like, putz?"
He said “ha ha. oh." and walked away.

Although I was about as sassy as the situation called for, I still wish I would have said more. Like I wish I would have said “Oh dude. There is something kind of gross on your head. It looks like it came out of a butt. Maybe your mom’s butt. Actually it looks like it came out of your mom's butt and then was eaten and puked out again and then shit on. I’m not sure what it is, man. It’s sick though. You should go to the bathroom and wash it off.” Then while the guy is all frantically trying to figure out what the hell is growing on him, I’ll say “oh my bad. It’s just your face. Weird.”

Don't you hate looking back on a situation and wishing you'd had the balls to say what was on your mind, especially when you were dealing with a total jerk off? Well I've decided that while I'm pregnant I'm going to get into the habit of verbalizing any snarky retort that comes to mind. I figure if there is any time I'll be able to get away with being total bitch it's while I'm pregnant right?

Ode to Baby Daddy
I always have trouble sleeping in the wee hours of the morning. This is due to several factors A) I fall asleep extremely early in the evenings B) The 2 sleep positions that are semi-comfy and safe for Nino are really hard on my hips past 6 hours and C) my 4 AM pee is like coffee. Not that I drink the pee or that the pee has a columbian aroma or anything. It just wakes me up like Folgers. “The best part of wakin’ up is peeing at 4 o’clock.”

Sunday morning was particularly difficult because I still hadn’t eaten Krispie Kreme doughnuts (see previous blog). I had thought about them all night long which was kind of refreshing since I’m usually thinking about awful things like Azaria Chamberlain and that damn dingo. Or car accidents and cancer. Saturday night and Sunday morning my thoughts were more like this…"I gotta pee and then get myself some Krispies. I gotta drink some water and then get me some Krispies. I wonder if you took 17 Krispie Kreme glazed doughnuts and smashed them into a giant ball if you could fit them in your mouth all at once. I’m doing it, once I get me some Krispies.”

Since it was still so early in the AM I thought maybe I’d risen before even Krispie Kremes could be delivered to my local Maverick. Franny had been working all night and would be coming home any time. I thought I’d text my old man and see if he could just pick some up on his way home from work. I was completely delirious from needing glazed doughnuts so badly that I only managed to text “Krispie Kreme”. I couldn’t even communicate with him in a full sentence. “Oh well” I thought. “He’ll know what I’m talking about.” Unfortunately, he got home moments later at 5 AM and didn’t have any doughnuts.

I kissed him hello and then sheepishly asked him if he’d received my text. He said he hadn’t and then checked his phone “Krispie Kremes?” he said. “You need a Krispie Kreme?” “I need several” I replied. He said he’d go and get some for me. I looked up at his tired face. He’d worked 12 hours straight all night long in the cold. He looked ready to sleep. BUT he did already have his shoes on so…. I proceeded to tell him that I only wanted glazed doughnuts if they were Krispie Kreme doughnuts and if they didn’t have Krispie Kreme’s then I wanted nothing. NOTHING ELSE WILL DO!

He came back 15 minutes later holding a bottle of eggnog and no doughnuts. I tried to remain calm as he told me that the clerk at Maverick had informed him that Krispie Kreme had gone out of business and that he didn’t get me any doughnuts. I seriously almost cried you guys. My head started to spin. I was thinking “out of business??? Now what am I going to do?” Then he offered me the eggnog to which I snarkily said “You know that has raw chicken in it. Just let me read. I need to be alone.” He stood there looking at his nutcase baby mama for a second and then casually pulled a plastic sack filled with three of the most beautiful glistening glazed Krispie Kreme doughnuts I’d ever seen in my entire life from his hoodie pouch. Sheesh!

(He always does that to me. He always tricks me into being disappointed so that I act like a total bitch and then he surprises me with something amazing. I don’t know why I always fall for it. For instance on the day my wedding ring was ready to pick up from Shane Company, I got home from work all excited to go and get it. He asks me “what do you want to do tonight.” “Get my ring” I answered. “Nah” he said. “I just want to get my drink on and start the weekend. Let’s get it on Monday.” I shot daggers at him from my eyes that were meant to pierce his soul. He kept going on and on about he just needed to chill out and that the ring could wait. And then when he could see I was going to lose my mind he grabbed a little gray box from the kitchen cupboard and handed it to me. He’d gone all on his own to get it. Sheesh. I'm such a freak.)

On this particular occasion I had no time to feel badly about my reaction however. Instead I just inhaled the doughnuts, licked my fingers and then fell asleep like a baby on the couch.

Here are some things that people ask you when you're pregnant:

How have you been feeling?
Have you been peeing a lot?
Do you know what you are having?
When was your last menstrual period? (Don't ask this one! Trust me, the pregnant will bite off
your face if you do. You get enough of this at the doc.)
Have you been sick?
Are you excited?
AND
Have you had any weird cravings?

In answering that last one regarding cravings, I've always replied that no, in fact, I do not have cravings. The first 5 months of my pregnancy were a bit tumultuous because of the incessant nausea. During that time, I'd have cravings but basically out of a process of elimination. I had to narrow my food options down based on what I thought I'd be able to keep down. The options included Ramen, peaches, and bean burritos so it wasn't too hard to narrow. Now I've entered the third trimester and I have to say that I am changing my tune. I am definitely having cravings, you guys.

I've just discovered the pregnancy craving in the last week or so. It's like having a psychotic episode. Once I get something in my head I HAVE to have it and IT has to be exactly what I want or I won't be able to move on with my life. Right now I cannot stop thinking about shiny glistening Krispie Kreme glazed doughnuts with a side of coleslaw and fruit loops. I'm not kidding. I picture it every time I close my eyes. I gotta have it. I would seriously give someone 50$ for a doughnut, some coleslaw and some Fruit Loops right now.

I Christmas shopped for 5 hours today so I can't bare to leave my house again. Plus, I'm sitting here blogging in my fat pants. If I go out in my fat pants, my self-esteem will suffer. (This is how fragile I am.) Fran is working right now but you better believe that if he was here I'd be sending him to the store. I wouldn't feel bad about it either. As far as husbands of pregnants go, Fran has gotten off really easily. He hasn't even met Bitchy McBitcherson, my most colorful alter ego. He has only encountered me in my "I'm huge and lame and everyone hates me. Tell me I'm pretty" mood just a few times. And I think the fact that I've waited until the last 2 months of pregnancy to crave random crap speaks volumes about just how easy he has it. I am a little concerned about this craving stuff though because I've already gained 35 of the 40 pounds my doctor requested I gain throughout the entirety of my pregnancy. This could get ugly.

Tis the season for creepiness!

It puts the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again...
(I wrote this post on Halloween but accidentally saved instead of posting. Oops! what a nimrod. I thought I'd post it now. Jess Haskell told me that I should get into the habit of posting every Tuesday. I'm flattered that Haskell wants me to post stuff so I'm going to start being more regular about it. I'd like her to also be more regular about posting on her blog as well. But you know, you can shit in one hand and pee in the other, or wait, what is it again? Shit in one hand and then what the hell can you do in the other one? Anywho, I thought I wouldn't waste the time I spent saving the photos below and go ahead and post this Halloween malarkey. Better late than never.)

I forgot it was Halloween until I was on my way to work and I saw a clown walking down the street. A clown, you guys! I initially thought to myself "Damn! Those goth kids are really taking it too far now! I hereby declare that all clown paraphernalia is to be seized and citations issued to any albino freak who mentions the word." Thank goodness I realized it was Halloween and that the clown suit was not some new dorkismajorkis emo trend in time to not run over the poor bastard. It could have been anyone taking advantage of the holiday. Looking back though, I still should have probably dowsed numbnard the clown in red paint or urine in manner of PETA just to limit the amount of clown ensemblage in our city. Don’t think I don’t carry paint and urine around in my car either. I totally do.

The only person I know who hates clowns more than I do is my friend Ahren Lee Castledine. They seriously make her poo a little. I think if she had a choice between ridding the world of al qadea or clowns she'd pick clowns. She is also afraid of eyeballs and scabs. Anyway, clearly she is a total weirdo, and in the spirit of the season and of making your friends poo, here's some stuff that scares.....

Scabs! Apart from them being diseasey, I personally really like scabs. I like to pick them and examine them in detail before flicking them off into the carpet.

Clowns! Clowns are so fucked you guys!

Tropical disease- Who isn't afraid of tropical disease....spooky!

This guy. Who the hell is this guy?! All I know is he's scary as hell.

Bad seeds.

Botulism. Botulism is scary as hell you guys. Any food borne neurotoxin that can paralyze a grown person within minutes of being ingested deserves some respect.

Bambina



I’ve officially entered the 3rd trimester ya’ll! Pregnancy is treating me pretty well. I feel really good. I’m loving life. I mean, I have to admit that I’m a bit more emotional than I’ve ever been. I take things really personally. Like when a traffic light changes to red, I think “Really? Pick on the pregnant chick, eh!” Or if the mallow cereal box is empty I think "Seriously??? But I just wanted some mallow!" and I cry a little.

Other than that, I love being pregnant. Also, I'm pretty sure this kid is a girl you guys. I think Nino is a girl. I’m not kidding. I know I was really positive at first that it was a boy, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m carrying an extra vagina around. When I talk to her I feel like I’m talking to my daughter. Who knows! I'll probably change my mind 7 more times before the birth. As fun as the whole not knowing the gender thing has been, I can’t wait to meet him/her and get it settled. Bambina and I have had some good times in the last few weeks. Life is good.

Here are some pictures of baby animals because why would you not want to see some baby animals?
(Sorry about the captions you guys. I just can't look at anything without thinking momish things about it.)

Mom polar: I asked you if you wanted me to bring the stroller and you said "No ! big boys don't need strollers." Well guess what! Big boys don't get carried across the arctic tundra by their moms.

Mom seal- Don't touch it whatever it is. It's for the potty and full of germs and we left the hand sanitizer in the Suburban.

Mom otter- It's about time you learned to swim, Nino. You're 37 years old.

Mom monkey- Are you ready to go to career day at school? I can't wait to talk to your class my job at the post office.

Baby monkey- Yah I guess, but could you maybe cover up your giant nipple before we go? It's just getting a little embarrassing.

Mom lion- Sniff sniff....Somebody's poopy. Somebody is poopy woopy. Who's poopy? Are you my poopy woopy?

Baby alligator: I had an accident.

Mom alligator: Oh for the love of God Bambina, why didn't you go before we left our underwater dwelling?