Ok, so it's been a while since I've been able to just sit down and write. And I think my life is busy now...
This past Sunday was my anti-shower baby shower. My mom and the girls put a whole tonne of work into the day and it was absolutely fan-tas-tique!! I didn't get too many pictures (read: Rory was too busy making sure the beer got drank by himself and everyone else to take that many6) so if anyone out there has some, please email to my yahoo or post on yer facebook...please? But really, a super day and a good time was had by 99.9% of attendees (you can't win 'em all). I will do the event justice by doing a separate post when I have some accompanying photographs.
This past Wednesday I reached my 33 week of pregnancy. Seriously, is this business over yet? Each day brings new and mostly unpleasant surprises - in the past few weeks mainly chronic heartburn waking me up, some carpel tunnel, and condescending nurses who think they know it all (but don't know nothing). Whatever. I am just so tired of being pregnant it is making me grumpy. Yes, all you smart-arses, grumpier than usual. I sort of feel like staying in bed, curled up with my doggy, all day, EVERY DAY.
People (you know, all of those helpful people that feel the need to tell me their opinion, all the time, and talk like they are certainly the only person who would be an expert on the subject) tell me I will forget all this discomfort after my precious bundle of joy arrives. I think I will likely NOT forget, and not only because I have now recorded it for posterity on this blog, but mostly because it is part of my martyrdom that begins with baby's birth. Lord help the poor sprog when he gets his first "how could you do this to your mother? Do you know what I went through to bring you into this world?" speech. Like I'm a freakin hero or something. I'm sure things *may* get exaggerated slightly (seeing as I have been VERY lucky i think with this pregnancy - my compatriots have had worse experiences and would probably like to punch me when I b*tch). But this type of melodrama is my speciality, and while I'm told marrying Rory has toned it down about a thousand notches, no one can erase that oh-so-special part of my personality. I come by it honestly though, right mom :) ?
So, for now I wait. Not just for the birth of the most special little man in the universe, but also for more of my friends to get knocked up and share in this life-affirming 9-month experience of delight known as pregnancy.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Clicky passes over to Mommy land
I want to give a big shout out to my partner-in-pregnant-crime, Clicky (aka Cheryl Clarke-Levi) who braved what I understand was a pretty wicked labour so that we can all drool over her sweet-as-pie little girl, Chelsea Florence Levi.
"Big C" came in weighing 5 pounds, 12 ounces and was born on September 3. Before any of you new boy mommies get any ideas, Chelsea is already betrothed to our unborn son, so back off.
Mommy is still sort-of recovering but in great spirits, and if we are all lucky, both will make an appearance at my baby shower next weekend.
Rockin the Third Trimester
Hello folks,
I have been sadly neglectful of my precious blog lately, but no more. I blame my job making me work...imagine that.
ANYWAY. As I have said many times in the past few weeks, this third trimester stuff is for the birds. Besides the aches, heartburn, and constant trips to the bathroom, there are more serious issues to contend with, which I will discuss (perhaps at too much length) now.
"BABY BRAIN"
Friends, this is not a myth. I could not be more absentminded if I was featured in the movie "Dazed and Confused". Another frequent catchphrase of mine lately is "Of all the things I miss since falling pregnant, I miss my mind the most". I thought I was a little absentminded before, but recently I have been surprising even myself. Perhaps the hair should be dyed blonde again in honour of my new heights I have reached in forgetfulness...I don't know. So, if any of you have been a victim of this lovely side effect from my pregnancy, please know it is not personal. Some days, I forget my name- true story, so don't laugh. I ordered a teddy-gram for my dear Clicky on the recent birth of her daughter and gave them the name Samantha Grant. Yeah, it's only been like almost two years since I've been Blaney. Nice one.
CLUMSINESS
So you think you are clumsy and perhaps I'm being dramatic. Hmmm. We'll see. Besides the fact that things fly out of my hands (usually something messy or delicious that I was about to eat), I have set a new record for self-inflicted injuries in the past few weeks. Now I know we're all used to UPIs (unidentified party injuries) from those fun nights out, but I don't drink. So there's those bumps and the like that I have learned to ignore, but last week's incident takes the cake. While taking my frozen peas (that's an "Scarbourough ice pack" to the uninformed) back to the freezer, I pulled open the same door I have pulled open a million times a day for the past 8 years or so and managed to pull it over my foot. Not impressed? Well, I broke my toe and sliced it up so well that my foot could have been a extra on CSI. The wound was mostly superficial, so we're all having a grand old laugh over the incident, but I actually had to fill out a WSIB form.
SIDEBAR: As if that wasn't painful enough, one of my coworkers started giving me major evils when the facilities management came to fix the door. He then proceeded to berate me about them fixing the door because in his opinion, another 1/4cm of rubber to cover the sharp metal under the door was going to obstruck the airflow in the hallway. He then continued his verbal assault later that day when I tried to heat up my lunch in the kitchen, saying I would have hurt myself anyway, even if the door was fitted properly, so why did I have to mention it at all. Somehow he was under the impression that I had kicked the door and injured myself that way. Clearly he was confused between this broken toe and the one I got from kicking my car tire 7 years ago, when he had not met me. Self-absorbed jerk.
BACKPAIN
Have you seen my belly? Do you know it weighs 35 pounds? Has anyone seen my back support belt? 'Nuff said.
GENERAL B*TCHINESS
Holy Gawd, if you see my face looking like thunder, get the hell out of dodge. I can no longer control the beast. My other half is currently up for sainthood by being an absolute doll lately and really being fabulous by helping out with everything. My friend Nick saw this day coming and has saved himself by offering his lazyboy to me on Who Night weeks ago. My friends have been wonderfully support on the whole, as has my family. They will all be spared. However, those who have remained safely in the shadow of the pending onslaught of pregnant hormones should check themselves before they wreck themselves. Ask the coworker who thought her 20-hour workweek and general work-avoidance techniques were going to continue to go unnoticed. Is she still sitting comfortably after my verbal attack of last week? Nope, she's on her toes now. What about those who dare to make comments about my current weight? You can be assured that they will think twice before making any weight-related comments to ANYONE again. And so on. Just heed my warning, and do unto others and all that jazz. You too may escape the beast.
In any case, I am assured by the mommies that this is as bad as it's going to get (except for that whole labour thing) and that I should just struggle through and it will all be worth it. I'm very sure they are right, but some days I have to take it an hour at a time. Not cause I'm a total suck, just cause it's so constantly annoying. When oh when we i feel normal enough to b*tch about something else? I know my darling husband can hardly wait (he who sought to stop the moaning by sweetly buying me a book entitled "50 days worse than yours" - God love him).
I have been sadly neglectful of my precious blog lately, but no more. I blame my job making me work...imagine that.
ANYWAY. As I have said many times in the past few weeks, this third trimester stuff is for the birds. Besides the aches, heartburn, and constant trips to the bathroom, there are more serious issues to contend with, which I will discuss (perhaps at too much length) now.
"BABY BRAIN"
Friends, this is not a myth. I could not be more absentminded if I was featured in the movie "Dazed and Confused". Another frequent catchphrase of mine lately is "Of all the things I miss since falling pregnant, I miss my mind the most". I thought I was a little absentminded before, but recently I have been surprising even myself. Perhaps the hair should be dyed blonde again in honour of my new heights I have reached in forgetfulness...I don't know. So, if any of you have been a victim of this lovely side effect from my pregnancy, please know it is not personal. Some days, I forget my name- true story, so don't laugh. I ordered a teddy-gram for my dear Clicky on the recent birth of her daughter and gave them the name Samantha Grant. Yeah, it's only been like almost two years since I've been Blaney. Nice one.
CLUMSINESS
So you think you are clumsy and perhaps I'm being dramatic. Hmmm. We'll see. Besides the fact that things fly out of my hands (usually something messy or delicious that I was about to eat), I have set a new record for self-inflicted injuries in the past few weeks. Now I know we're all used to UPIs (unidentified party injuries) from those fun nights out, but I don't drink. So there's those bumps and the like that I have learned to ignore, but last week's incident takes the cake. While taking my frozen peas (that's an "Scarbourough ice pack" to the uninformed) back to the freezer, I pulled open the same door I have pulled open a million times a day for the past 8 years or so and managed to pull it over my foot. Not impressed? Well, I broke my toe and sliced it up so well that my foot could have been a extra on CSI. The wound was mostly superficial, so we're all having a grand old laugh over the incident, but I actually had to fill out a WSIB form.
SIDEBAR: As if that wasn't painful enough, one of my coworkers started giving me major evils when the facilities management came to fix the door. He then proceeded to berate me about them fixing the door because in his opinion, another 1/4cm of rubber to cover the sharp metal under the door was going to obstruck the airflow in the hallway. He then continued his verbal assault later that day when I tried to heat up my lunch in the kitchen, saying I would have hurt myself anyway, even if the door was fitted properly, so why did I have to mention it at all. Somehow he was under the impression that I had kicked the door and injured myself that way. Clearly he was confused between this broken toe and the one I got from kicking my car tire 7 years ago, when he had not met me. Self-absorbed jerk.
BACKPAIN
Have you seen my belly? Do you know it weighs 35 pounds? Has anyone seen my back support belt? 'Nuff said.
GENERAL B*TCHINESS
Holy Gawd, if you see my face looking like thunder, get the hell out of dodge. I can no longer control the beast. My other half is currently up for sainthood by being an absolute doll lately and really being fabulous by helping out with everything. My friend Nick saw this day coming and has saved himself by offering his lazyboy to me on Who Night weeks ago. My friends have been wonderfully support on the whole, as has my family. They will all be spared. However, those who have remained safely in the shadow of the pending onslaught of pregnant hormones should check themselves before they wreck themselves. Ask the coworker who thought her 20-hour workweek and general work-avoidance techniques were going to continue to go unnoticed. Is she still sitting comfortably after my verbal attack of last week? Nope, she's on her toes now. What about those who dare to make comments about my current weight? You can be assured that they will think twice before making any weight-related comments to ANYONE again. And so on. Just heed my warning, and do unto others and all that jazz. You too may escape the beast.
In any case, I am assured by the mommies that this is as bad as it's going to get (except for that whole labour thing) and that I should just struggle through and it will all be worth it. I'm very sure they are right, but some days I have to take it an hour at a time. Not cause I'm a total suck, just cause it's so constantly annoying. When oh when we i feel normal enough to b*tch about something else? I know my darling husband can hardly wait (he who sought to stop the moaning by sweetly buying me a book entitled "50 days worse than yours" - God love him).
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