Maybe in Bad Lady Land
It's 10:45.
If I left work now, do you think that I could still consider this a half day?
*ponders*
Like a waterfall in slow motion, Part One
2 years ago
Friday, December 31
Happy New Year
How are YOU spending your New Year's Eve? Perhaps many of you are still in bed.
Me?
Oh, I'm at work.
We don't get today off.
You see, the Accounting Department (I always knew those guys were trouble) needs to be here to close out year-end accounting stuff. The books. Or something.
So, because they have to be here, we ALL have to be here. I made it to work in a record 28 minutes. Hmm, I wonder if that's because I WAS THE ONLY CAR ON THE ROAD?
At least I have saved a half-day of vacation, so I'll be outa here sometime in the noonish hour.
/end bitterness
Happy New Year everybody! See ya in the '05.
How are YOU spending your New Year's Eve? Perhaps many of you are still in bed.
Me?
Oh, I'm at work.
We don't get today off.
You see, the Accounting Department (I always knew those guys were trouble) needs to be here to close out year-end accounting stuff. The books. Or something.
So, because they have to be here, we ALL have to be here. I made it to work in a record 28 minutes. Hmm, I wonder if that's because I WAS THE ONLY CAR ON THE ROAD?
At least I have saved a half-day of vacation, so I'll be outa here sometime in the noonish hour.
/end bitterness
Happy New Year everybody! See ya in the '05.
Thursday, December 30
So this part really sucks
I failed my glucose test. FAILED IT!!!!!
So now I have to go to the hospital on Wednesday for a three-hour tour -- I mean test -- so we can find out just how bad it's going to get. Gestational diabetes? Probably. Full-blown diabetes? Maybe not now but probably in the future, since it's in my family history and if I have the gestational kind I'll probably get the real kind at some point.
I'm trying not to freak out about it. Maybe it's nothing. Or maybe I'll just have to modify my diet. What I'm most worried about, and it shows you what a selfish bitch I really am, is whether or not I'll still be able to drink a Diet Coke every day. Because this would be right up there with the apocolypse as far as I am concerned.
I failed my glucose test. FAILED IT!!!!!
So now I have to go to the hospital on Wednesday for a three-hour tour -- I mean test -- so we can find out just how bad it's going to get. Gestational diabetes? Probably. Full-blown diabetes? Maybe not now but probably in the future, since it's in my family history and if I have the gestational kind I'll probably get the real kind at some point.
I'm trying not to freak out about it. Maybe it's nothing. Or maybe I'll just have to modify my diet. What I'm most worried about, and it shows you what a selfish bitch I really am, is whether or not I'll still be able to drink a Diet Coke every day. Because this would be right up there with the apocolypse as far as I am concerned.
You complete me
I hate to even admit this, but I find that when Incompetent But Likeable is not in the office, my work day is missing something.
He has been on vacation for the past few days, and it just wasn't the same around here. I need his constant pacing, his humming and singing of random tunes such as "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round", and his useage of terms such as "gosh darn" and "doggone" and "jeez oh man."
It just balances off my stress level to have him be a different kind of crazy.
I hate to even admit this, but I find that when Incompetent But Likeable is not in the office, my work day is missing something.
He has been on vacation for the past few days, and it just wasn't the same around here. I need his constant pacing, his humming and singing of random tunes such as "The Wheels on the Bus Go Round and Round", and his useage of terms such as "gosh darn" and "doggone" and "jeez oh man."
It just balances off my stress level to have him be a different kind of crazy.
Wednesday, December 29
I promised myself that I wouldn't become one of these people, but it's happened anyway
I know that no one cares, but I'm starting to put together ideas and plans for the baby's room. I'm going with a moon and stars kind of thing that will work for a boy or a girl. So here is the first piece in the puzzle, courtesy of Pottery Barn Kids...
They're curtain rods for the windows, and then I'll get either the sheer star curtains that PBK has or some solid denim-colored curtains, also offered at PBK.
I didn't want to become one of these people obsessed with a "theme" for a baby's room, but, oh well. It must be something in the hormones.
I know that no one cares, but I'm starting to put together ideas and plans for the baby's room. I'm going with a moon and stars kind of thing that will work for a boy or a girl. So here is the first piece in the puzzle, courtesy of Pottery Barn Kids...
They're curtain rods for the windows, and then I'll get either the sheer star curtains that PBK has or some solid denim-colored curtains, also offered at PBK.
I didn't want to become one of these people obsessed with a "theme" for a baby's room, but, oh well. It must be something in the hormones.
Tuesday, December 28
Complications
Ok, my main goal in posting this is for some kind soul to comment that everything that I have posted about is normal and that I, for the most part, shouldn't worry.
I had my second pre-natal appointment this morning, wherein I got the results back from the bloodwork they did last time. This was after they attempted to get the baby's heartbeat with the heart monitor wand thingy and couldn't, so they shuffled me off to the ultrasound room, where everything was found to be normal (thank goodness -- except the baby looks even less humanoid than last time they did the ultrasound ... did I mate with E.T. and not realize it?).
However, some things came back from my blood test that weren't so normal... one being my blood sugar level. So I had to drink this orange pop stuff and they drew more blood to test for gestational diabetes. If that comes back high, and it probably will since I've been eating crappily since Christmas Eve, I have to go in to the hospital for a longer test to pinpoint whether it's gestational or actual full-blown diabetes. Lovely.
Also, my iron levels are very low, so I'm going on a supplement. They said that my iron level was typical of someone at 24 weeks, and I am almost at 12. Not good. But I knew that I was slightly anemic, so not a big deal I guess.
The triple whammy was that my blood type is negative, and that means, I get a big shot in my ass when I'm farther along.
Not to mention that I then got the full-blown, in-the-stirrups exam and all that entails. All in all, a banner trip to the ob/gyn.
Ok, my main goal in posting this is for some kind soul to comment that everything that I have posted about is normal and that I, for the most part, shouldn't worry.
I had my second pre-natal appointment this morning, wherein I got the results back from the bloodwork they did last time. This was after they attempted to get the baby's heartbeat with the heart monitor wand thingy and couldn't, so they shuffled me off to the ultrasound room, where everything was found to be normal (thank goodness -- except the baby looks even less humanoid than last time they did the ultrasound ... did I mate with E.T. and not realize it?).
However, some things came back from my blood test that weren't so normal... one being my blood sugar level. So I had to drink this orange pop stuff and they drew more blood to test for gestational diabetes. If that comes back high, and it probably will since I've been eating crappily since Christmas Eve, I have to go in to the hospital for a longer test to pinpoint whether it's gestational or actual full-blown diabetes. Lovely.
Also, my iron levels are very low, so I'm going on a supplement. They said that my iron level was typical of someone at 24 weeks, and I am almost at 12. Not good. But I knew that I was slightly anemic, so not a big deal I guess.
The triple whammy was that my blood type is negative, and that means, I get a big shot in my ass when I'm farther along.
Not to mention that I then got the full-blown, in-the-stirrups exam and all that entails. All in all, a banner trip to the ob/gyn.
Holiday recap
Here we go...
The past few days have been a blur, beginning Wednesday night with my slippery trip to the store for cookie ingredients, then Thursday's cookie baking, and Friday's frenzied cookie baking. I got off scot-free with the herring, no excuse needed, on Christmas Eve.
On Christmas Day we started off the morning at my in-law's, and then headed to my mom's for brunch. We arrived back at my in-law's and were there for the evening. My husband's dad's side of the family was there, and the men far outnumbered the women. There were my husband and his two brothers, plus three brothers of my husband's aunt and uncle, for a total of 6 men between the ages of 18 and 32 (isn't that a demographic group?).
Well, put together six men between the ages of 18 and 32 with about 40 beers, not to mention (yo ho ho and a) bottle of rum, and let the fun begin. There is much speculation about the bottle of rum, but the only one who appeared to drink it was my 18 year old brother in law. And he was probably the most sober in the group.
The Christmas party was rolling along just fine on its own. There were spirited conversations about how much the Browns suck, how much certain players on the Cavs suck (Zydrunas Ilgauskas, I'm looking at you), how much certain players on the Indians suck (we picked up Jason Bere AGAIN?), and other various topics. Everyone was laughing and enjoying each other's company, when my husband's uncle Mike brought out the karaoke machine.
Karaoke
Oh crap. Karaoke. It's funny at first because uncle Mike does the first song and he puts a "robot voice" filter on, and great hilarity ensues. Owen's aunt does the next song, Abba's "Dancing Queen," and we are rolling with laughter. A few other people begrudgingly take the mike and do various crowd-pleasing songs, and it's still funny to me because I'm laughing at other people's expense.
Owen's aunt is adamant that everyone take a turn, but I'm still laughing because I'm thinking that someone else will refuse and the whole karaoke thing will die down.
But my stoic, non-fun father-in-law takes the mike and does "New York New York," and I know I'm fucked. Suddenly this is not funny anymore, because I realize that I am going to have to choose a song to do and these are my in-laws and I've married into this family and am carrying a child so I can't run away and join the witness protection program when this is over.
I consider myself a decent singer; I can carry a tune. But I don't like being put on the spot. Luckily I chose the Temptations' "My Girl" and everyone sang along with me, so it wasn't so bad. And it made my brother-in-law's rendition of Britney's "Oops I Did It Again" so much funnier after the burden of karaokeing was lifted from my shoulders.
Finally after everyone had a turn, we returned to normal Christmas conversation. Which is pretty much when the 18-to-32 year old male contingent had gathered in the kitchen. By this time the beers had been flowing pretty heavily. They were trying to decide whether or not someone should eat the last pierogie which was languishing in its bowl, and had been for several hours. It had coagulated in butter and had hardened into a greasy, artery-clogging glob. My husband, the man to whom I pledged "to death do us part," declared, "Why not? It's Christmas!" and popped the pierogie into his mouth and ate it in one bite.
Fifteen minutes later, he plopped down next to me, his eyes glazed over, and informed me that he was "right on the edge."
"You're way over the edge, pal," I told him. Sure enough, several seconds later, he was nowhere to be found.
Turns out he was yakking in the upstairs bathroom.
Barfing husband
The beer ran out, and thus the party began to break up. One of my husband's cousins picked up my husband's shoes and handed them to his girlfriend, thinking they were hers, even though she had already put her shoes on. Same thing for my purse, which he gave to her. I'm surprised he didn't try to roll the piano out of the house. They wanted to say goodbye to my husband, but he was nowhere to be seen. That's because he was still praying to the porcelain god.
And there he stayed, long after the last guest left, and we all took turns going up there to knock just to see if he was still alive. I was seriously envisioning a trip to the emergency room. Finally, after about 2 1/2 hours of waiting, we finally got him out, got his coat and shoes on, and I transported his drunk ass home and got him into bed.
I let him sleep until noon the next day and then went in to make sure he was breathing, as I had done several times during the night. I wasn't sure if we were going to make it to my dad's. I would have just gone by myself, except that my car was buried under at least a foot of snow, and at least a two-inch thick layer of ice.
Ice, ice baby
So he got his act together and we drove his four-wheel drive vehicle (thank goodness we had it or we might not have left the driveway at all on Christmas) to my dad's, about an hour away. That was a more subdued event, with everyone poking my stomach and asking questions about the baby that I haven't even had time nor the inkling to ponder yet.
The baby got lots of Christmas stuff, too. So far the baby has four outfits, some toys, and a bassinet. And I got lots of maternity clothes.
It was a whirlwind weekend, and then I had to get up at the buttcrack o' dawn to travel with my boss to Steelerstown. Those little shits in Pennsylvania got a dusting of snow. You can see the grass for heaven's sakes! Memo to self: move away from the lake. Lake? Bad. No lake? Good.
There's much more to report, but it's also lunch time, and I am making a grilled cheese sandwich in our toaster oven in the work kitchen, so it shall have to wait until later.
Here we go...
The past few days have been a blur, beginning Wednesday night with my slippery trip to the store for cookie ingredients, then Thursday's cookie baking, and Friday's frenzied cookie baking. I got off scot-free with the herring, no excuse needed, on Christmas Eve.
On Christmas Day we started off the morning at my in-law's, and then headed to my mom's for brunch. We arrived back at my in-law's and were there for the evening. My husband's dad's side of the family was there, and the men far outnumbered the women. There were my husband and his two brothers, plus three brothers of my husband's aunt and uncle, for a total of 6 men between the ages of 18 and 32 (isn't that a demographic group?).
Well, put together six men between the ages of 18 and 32 with about 40 beers, not to mention (yo ho ho and a) bottle of rum, and let the fun begin. There is much speculation about the bottle of rum, but the only one who appeared to drink it was my 18 year old brother in law. And he was probably the most sober in the group.
The Christmas party was rolling along just fine on its own. There were spirited conversations about how much the Browns suck, how much certain players on the Cavs suck (Zydrunas Ilgauskas, I'm looking at you), how much certain players on the Indians suck (we picked up Jason Bere AGAIN?), and other various topics. Everyone was laughing and enjoying each other's company, when my husband's uncle Mike brought out the karaoke machine.
Karaoke
Oh crap. Karaoke. It's funny at first because uncle Mike does the first song and he puts a "robot voice" filter on, and great hilarity ensues. Owen's aunt does the next song, Abba's "Dancing Queen," and we are rolling with laughter. A few other people begrudgingly take the mike and do various crowd-pleasing songs, and it's still funny to me because I'm laughing at other people's expense.
Owen's aunt is adamant that everyone take a turn, but I'm still laughing because I'm thinking that someone else will refuse and the whole karaoke thing will die down.
But my stoic, non-fun father-in-law takes the mike and does "New York New York," and I know I'm fucked. Suddenly this is not funny anymore, because I realize that I am going to have to choose a song to do and these are my in-laws and I've married into this family and am carrying a child so I can't run away and join the witness protection program when this is over.
I consider myself a decent singer; I can carry a tune. But I don't like being put on the spot. Luckily I chose the Temptations' "My Girl" and everyone sang along with me, so it wasn't so bad. And it made my brother-in-law's rendition of Britney's "Oops I Did It Again" so much funnier after the burden of karaokeing was lifted from my shoulders.
Finally after everyone had a turn, we returned to normal Christmas conversation. Which is pretty much when the 18-to-32 year old male contingent had gathered in the kitchen. By this time the beers had been flowing pretty heavily. They were trying to decide whether or not someone should eat the last pierogie which was languishing in its bowl, and had been for several hours. It had coagulated in butter and had hardened into a greasy, artery-clogging glob. My husband, the man to whom I pledged "to death do us part," declared, "Why not? It's Christmas!" and popped the pierogie into his mouth and ate it in one bite.
Fifteen minutes later, he plopped down next to me, his eyes glazed over, and informed me that he was "right on the edge."
"You're way over the edge, pal," I told him. Sure enough, several seconds later, he was nowhere to be found.
Turns out he was yakking in the upstairs bathroom.
Barfing husband
The beer ran out, and thus the party began to break up. One of my husband's cousins picked up my husband's shoes and handed them to his girlfriend, thinking they were hers, even though she had already put her shoes on. Same thing for my purse, which he gave to her. I'm surprised he didn't try to roll the piano out of the house. They wanted to say goodbye to my husband, but he was nowhere to be seen. That's because he was still praying to the porcelain god.
And there he stayed, long after the last guest left, and we all took turns going up there to knock just to see if he was still alive. I was seriously envisioning a trip to the emergency room. Finally, after about 2 1/2 hours of waiting, we finally got him out, got his coat and shoes on, and I transported his drunk ass home and got him into bed.
I let him sleep until noon the next day and then went in to make sure he was breathing, as I had done several times during the night. I wasn't sure if we were going to make it to my dad's. I would have just gone by myself, except that my car was buried under at least a foot of snow, and at least a two-inch thick layer of ice.
Ice, ice baby
So he got his act together and we drove his four-wheel drive vehicle (thank goodness we had it or we might not have left the driveway at all on Christmas) to my dad's, about an hour away. That was a more subdued event, with everyone poking my stomach and asking questions about the baby that I haven't even had time nor the inkling to ponder yet.
The baby got lots of Christmas stuff, too. So far the baby has four outfits, some toys, and a bassinet. And I got lots of maternity clothes.
It was a whirlwind weekend, and then I had to get up at the buttcrack o' dawn to travel with my boss to Steelerstown. Those little shits in Pennsylvania got a dusting of snow. You can see the grass for heaven's sakes! Memo to self: move away from the lake. Lake? Bad. No lake? Good.
There's much more to report, but it's also lunch time, and I am making a grilled cheese sandwich in our toaster oven in the work kitchen, so it shall have to wait until later.
Sunday, December 26
Recaplet: Christmas
When I get some time I'll post at length about the past few days' adventures, but I'll give you a few teaser bullet points now to whet your whistles...
When I get some time I'll post at length about the past few days' adventures, but I'll give you a few teaser bullet points now to whet your whistles...
- Karaoke
- Barfing husband
- Ice, ice baby
Meanwhile, tomorrow, I'll be driving to Pittsburgh with my boss to attend a meeting, and then driving back. Oh, and I'll be meeting my boss in my office parking lot AT 7 A.M. Won't that be a lovely way to start off the week!
Friday, December 24
Cookie tally
Here's what we've done so far:
1 batch of butter cookie dough: has chilled overnight and is ready to be rolled
1 batch of snickerdoodle dough: has chilled overnight and is ready to be baked
1 batch of peanut butter Hershey kiss cookies: done (and Mr. Bulky did not have the unwrapped kisses so I had to do that by hand -- grr)
2 batches of peppermint bark: done
1 batch of peppermink bark: ruined (poured into a glass baking dish to dry and it wouldn't come out
1 batch of buckeyes: ruined (consistency not solid enough, globs of peanut butter mixture fell into chocolate and had to be retrieved by hand)
Sister in law: on her way over for round two
Now for tonight, I need a fresh excuse not to partake in my husband's grandmother's pickled herring. I'm going to try to play the pregnancy card and see how that flies. I've never had to eat it before, though, so why tarnish my perfect record?
Happy Holidays to all!
Here's what we've done so far:
1 batch of butter cookie dough: has chilled overnight and is ready to be rolled
1 batch of snickerdoodle dough: has chilled overnight and is ready to be baked
1 batch of peanut butter Hershey kiss cookies: done (and Mr. Bulky did not have the unwrapped kisses so I had to do that by hand -- grr)
2 batches of peppermint bark: done
1 batch of peppermink bark: ruined (poured into a glass baking dish to dry and it wouldn't come out
1 batch of buckeyes: ruined (consistency not solid enough, globs of peanut butter mixture fell into chocolate and had to be retrieved by hand)
Sister in law: on her way over for round two
Now for tonight, I need a fresh excuse not to partake in my husband's grandmother's pickled herring. I'm going to try to play the pregnancy card and see how that flies. I've never had to eat it before, though, so why tarnish my perfect record?
Happy Holidays to all!
Wednesday, December 22
It's snow joke
Last night when I arrived home from work, my husband was in possibly the worst state of depression that I had ever seen him in. And it was all because some asshat on the radio predicted up to EIGHTEEN inches of snow.
I turned on the local news and my trustworthy Channel 3 weatherman was only calling for about 2 to 4 inches spread out over the entire day.
Which brings me to my point: I think that weatherpeople should be physically punished for reporting gross inaccuracies in their forecasts. Every winter we go through this. Some snow-happy meteorologist tells the viewing audience that this is going to be one of the worst storms of the century, that we haven't seen snow like this since Rutherford B. Hayes was President, and that if we have to drive, we should not do so under any circumstances because we will most certainly become stuck in a snow drift for days before anyone can rescue us and we'll have to survive off of the months-old french fry that we find underneath the driver's seat. We go to bed that night and wake up prepared for the worst, only to open the window blinds and find a dusting of snow and clear roads.
I'm thinking a public flogging would do nicely. Or maybe just a giant dunk tank that people can come take free throws at.
Although, the snow is coming down at a pretty good clip right now.
Last night when I arrived home from work, my husband was in possibly the worst state of depression that I had ever seen him in. And it was all because some asshat on the radio predicted up to EIGHTEEN inches of snow.
I turned on the local news and my trustworthy Channel 3 weatherman was only calling for about 2 to 4 inches spread out over the entire day.
Which brings me to my point: I think that weatherpeople should be physically punished for reporting gross inaccuracies in their forecasts. Every winter we go through this. Some snow-happy meteorologist tells the viewing audience that this is going to be one of the worst storms of the century, that we haven't seen snow like this since Rutherford B. Hayes was President, and that if we have to drive, we should not do so under any circumstances because we will most certainly become stuck in a snow drift for days before anyone can rescue us and we'll have to survive off of the months-old french fry that we find underneath the driver's seat. We go to bed that night and wake up prepared for the worst, only to open the window blinds and find a dusting of snow and clear roads.
I'm thinking a public flogging would do nicely. Or maybe just a giant dunk tank that people can come take free throws at.
Although, the snow is coming down at a pretty good clip right now.
Tuesday, December 21
My God, what have I done?
Maybe it's because we haven't spent that much money on Christmas presents this year, but in some kind of guilt-tripped stupor, I volunteered myself and my unreliable sister-in-law, so really just myself, to make the Christmas cookies this year.
And I'm not just talking about your Christmas cutout sugar cookies. I'm talking peanut butter cookies with a hershey kiss in the middle, snickerdoodles (which I'm told are some kind of cinnamon cookie -- MPF), buckeyes, peppermint bark, and probably something else I'm forgetting.
This is no small task, as you might imagine. It's a three-day affair. Beginning tomorrow with...
SHOPPING.
*cues eerie music*
I will travel to a store called, no joke, "Mr. Bulky," in search of chocolate and peppermint. Then to the grocery store for the other cookie-making ingredients. Then I will go home and delve into the GIANT TIN OF POTATO CHIPS my aunt sent us yesterday.
On Thursday, our task will be...
DOUGH MAKING
*a woman screams somewhere in the distance*
I am out of my element when it comes to this kind of stuff. I don't even think I own a rolling pin. Shit!
Also on Thursday, I will see what is left in the GIANT TIN OF POTATO CHIPS.
Finally, Friday will be the
MARATHON BAKING SESSION.
This may actually begin Thursday night. We have to be at my husband's grandparents' house on Friday afternoon, so time is tight. If there are chips left in the GIANT TIN OF POTATO CHIPS, they will be finished off.
Then, there is the
BAGGING OF THE COOKIES!
Someone please tell me why I did this to myself.
Maybe it's because we haven't spent that much money on Christmas presents this year, but in some kind of guilt-tripped stupor, I volunteered myself and my unreliable sister-in-law, so really just myself, to make the Christmas cookies this year.
And I'm not just talking about your Christmas cutout sugar cookies. I'm talking peanut butter cookies with a hershey kiss in the middle, snickerdoodles (which I'm told are some kind of cinnamon cookie -- MPF), buckeyes, peppermint bark, and probably something else I'm forgetting.
This is no small task, as you might imagine. It's a three-day affair. Beginning tomorrow with...
SHOPPING.
*cues eerie music*
I will travel to a store called, no joke, "Mr. Bulky," in search of chocolate and peppermint. Then to the grocery store for the other cookie-making ingredients. Then I will go home and delve into the GIANT TIN OF POTATO CHIPS my aunt sent us yesterday.
On Thursday, our task will be...
DOUGH MAKING
*a woman screams somewhere in the distance*
I am out of my element when it comes to this kind of stuff. I don't even think I own a rolling pin. Shit!
Also on Thursday, I will see what is left in the GIANT TIN OF POTATO CHIPS.
Finally, Friday will be the
MARATHON BAKING SESSION.
This may actually begin Thursday night. We have to be at my husband's grandparents' house on Friday afternoon, so time is tight. If there are chips left in the GIANT TIN OF POTATO CHIPS, they will be finished off.
Then, there is the
BAGGING OF THE COOKIES!
Someone please tell me why I did this to myself.
Monday, December 20
Phew!
I told my boss. It's all over! Yay! Everyone knows now!
He was happy for me, and then came back to reality and realized that I'd be out when nothing major was hitting, so it was all OK in his book.
Then we walked out of his office and I stopped to peruse the many boxes of chocolate we've gotten from vendors and he says, loudly, "Take all you want! You ARE eating for two now!" So in case anyone didn't know, they knew now.
Hee. And yay! Even Bad Lady mustered up some congratulations for me! Incompetent but Likeable said it was "neat."
And you know what? He's right.
I told my boss. It's all over! Yay! Everyone knows now!
He was happy for me, and then came back to reality and realized that I'd be out when nothing major was hitting, so it was all OK in his book.
Then we walked out of his office and I stopped to peruse the many boxes of chocolate we've gotten from vendors and he says, loudly, "Take all you want! You ARE eating for two now!" So in case anyone didn't know, they knew now.
Hee. And yay! Even Bad Lady mustered up some congratulations for me! Incompetent but Likeable said it was "neat."
And you know what? He's right.
Now it can be told
I'm a tricky bitch, aren't I?
I haven't told him yet but I'll tell you guys...
Yep, I am about 2 1/2 months pregnant, my due date is July 14th. I have known for about a month, I have had my first ultrasound, and I'm going back next week for some kind of checkup thing.
The whole thing is still kind of an abstract concept to me, but everyone around me is talking about bassinets and maternity clothes and I'm only vaguely comprehending the idea that there's something inside me that is eventually going to be able to cut the grass so my husband won't have to. I'm just barely catching on that I will have full responsibility for the care and upbringing of another human being. Thankfully I have a great family who are all very excited. This will be the first grandchild for both my parents and my husband's parents, so we're just going to give up any hope that s/he won't be spoiled, because there's not a chance.
I'm sure that in the upcoming months I'll be looking for advice from all of you moms out there, as soon as I kind of figure this whole thing out.
Now wish me luck -- as I will definitely need it. Both for talking to the boss and for the rest of the seven+ months of this journey that I'm about to take.
I'm a tricky bitch, aren't I?
I haven't told him yet but I'll tell you guys...
Yep, I am about 2 1/2 months pregnant, my due date is July 14th. I have known for about a month, I have had my first ultrasound, and I'm going back next week for some kind of checkup thing.
The whole thing is still kind of an abstract concept to me, but everyone around me is talking about bassinets and maternity clothes and I'm only vaguely comprehending the idea that there's something inside me that is eventually going to be able to cut the grass so my husband won't have to. I'm just barely catching on that I will have full responsibility for the care and upbringing of another human being. Thankfully I have a great family who are all very excited. This will be the first grandchild for both my parents and my husband's parents, so we're just going to give up any hope that s/he won't be spoiled, because there's not a chance.
I'm sure that in the upcoming months I'll be looking for advice from all of you moms out there, as soon as I kind of figure this whole thing out.
Now wish me luck -- as I will definitely need it. Both for talking to the boss and for the rest of the seven+ months of this journey that I'm about to take.
Friday, December 17
Red alert
OK, look, the elf hat thing didn't happen. I ended up getting suckered into selling those damn Lance Armstrong wristband bracelet things for charity, and those things went like hotcakes. But anyway, forget about the elf hat for now, we've got a workplace update, and it's a good one!
It has not been 100% confirmed, but I think Screech resigned at the end of the day today.
Long story short: another job offer came her way earlier this week. She was overheard by several people talking about it. One of those people went in and reported it to my boss. I have pretty good reason to believe that it was Bad Lady, because, man, that shit's right up her alley. Yeah, Screech should have been more careful, but man, that's pretty low to run in and tattle-tale to the boss. Especially since we thought a few weeks ago that Bad Lady was looking for another job.
And then add to that that Screech received a fax on our office fax machine from her new employer, which somehow also ended up in my boss' hands. Yikes. Bad move.
So there was this huge, tearful confrontation yesterday, and she was supposed to tell him today what she was doing.
I left early so I didn't hear the outcome, but it looked like she was going to leave. I mean, at this point, she's already pretty much screwed her credibility here, so, it's probably for the best that she goes.
That drama will continue on Monday.
And the timing couldn't be worse as far as I'm concerned, because I'm planning on dropping a bombshell of my own on Monday ...
TO BE CONTINUED
OK, look, the elf hat thing didn't happen. I ended up getting suckered into selling those damn Lance Armstrong wristband bracelet things for charity, and those things went like hotcakes. But anyway, forget about the elf hat for now, we've got a workplace update, and it's a good one!
It has not been 100% confirmed, but I think Screech resigned at the end of the day today.
Long story short: another job offer came her way earlier this week. She was overheard by several people talking about it. One of those people went in and reported it to my boss. I have pretty good reason to believe that it was Bad Lady, because, man, that shit's right up her alley. Yeah, Screech should have been more careful, but man, that's pretty low to run in and tattle-tale to the boss. Especially since we thought a few weeks ago that Bad Lady was looking for another job.
And then add to that that Screech received a fax on our office fax machine from her new employer, which somehow also ended up in my boss' hands. Yikes. Bad move.
So there was this huge, tearful confrontation yesterday, and she was supposed to tell him today what she was doing.
I left early so I didn't hear the outcome, but it looked like she was going to leave. I mean, at this point, she's already pretty much screwed her credibility here, so, it's probably for the best that she goes.
That drama will continue on Monday.
And the timing couldn't be worse as far as I'm concerned, because I'm planning on dropping a bombshell of my own on Monday ...
TO BE CONTINUED
Thursday, December 16
Headache from Hell
If I've seemed grumpier than usual this week (what's that you say? I'm always grumpy? So this week I was not discernibly grumpier than my usual, grumpy self?), it is because I have been plagued by the Headache from Hell.
Wait, that wasn't dramatic enough...
It is because I have been plagued by the Headache...
FROM HELL!!!!!!
The Headache from Hell arrived last Friday, and its bags were packed for more than just an overnighter. This mo' fo' brought furniture and made itself at home.
Tylenol was no match for this bad boy, as it scoffed at the mere mention of acetominophin. It giggled childishly as it made my head throb with every sudden movement. It relished in my pain.
HFH was my steady companion all weekend, coming and going as it pleased, but never disappearing completely. On Monday, I took HFH to work with me. Tuesday, HFH was still my constant companion. On Tuesday afternoon I had had enough and took the afternoon off, went home, and slept. THAT scared the crap out of HFH. Apparently, sleep is HFH's arch-nemesis.
So on Wednesday, HFH left me alone. I thought that I had finally beaten it into submission, and that we had parted ways.
Not so fast.
Today, I woke up, feeling fine and well-rested. And that's when there was a knock at the door, and there, standing at the doorstep with more luggage, was the Headache...
FROM HELL!!!!!! (part two, HFH Takes Manhattan)
This time, it's personal.
If I've seemed grumpier than usual this week (what's that you say? I'm always grumpy? So this week I was not discernibly grumpier than my usual, grumpy self?), it is because I have been plagued by the Headache from Hell.
Wait, that wasn't dramatic enough...
It is because I have been plagued by the Headache...
FROM HELL!!!!!!
The Headache from Hell arrived last Friday, and its bags were packed for more than just an overnighter. This mo' fo' brought furniture and made itself at home.
Tylenol was no match for this bad boy, as it scoffed at the mere mention of acetominophin. It giggled childishly as it made my head throb with every sudden movement. It relished in my pain.
HFH was my steady companion all weekend, coming and going as it pleased, but never disappearing completely. On Monday, I took HFH to work with me. Tuesday, HFH was still my constant companion. On Tuesday afternoon I had had enough and took the afternoon off, went home, and slept. THAT scared the crap out of HFH. Apparently, sleep is HFH's arch-nemesis.
So on Wednesday, HFH left me alone. I thought that I had finally beaten it into submission, and that we had parted ways.
Not so fast.
Today, I woke up, feeling fine and well-rested. And that's when there was a knock at the door, and there, standing at the doorstep with more luggage, was the Headache...
FROM HELL!!!!!! (part two, HFH Takes Manhattan)
This time, it's personal.
I'm Lost
Last night, for lack of any quality Wednesday programming, I decided to try and tune in to ABC's Lost to see if I could figure out what was going on. I've heard good things about this show but missed the premiere and all subsequent episodes, so I was not so sure that I could pick it up mid-season and know what was going on.
As luck would have it, the pilot episode was being re-run last night, so know I have a basic understanding of the premise. It's a cool, weird, scary, messed up show.
Someone please catch me up so I can feel like one of the cool kids who's in the know!
Last night, for lack of any quality Wednesday programming, I decided to try and tune in to ABC's Lost to see if I could figure out what was going on. I've heard good things about this show but missed the premiere and all subsequent episodes, so I was not so sure that I could pick it up mid-season and know what was going on.
As luck would have it, the pilot episode was being re-run last night, so know I have a basic understanding of the premise. It's a cool, weird, scary, messed up show.
Someone please catch me up so I can feel like one of the cool kids who's in the know!
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