But it's all PINK. Everything is PINK.
In a sincere effort to clean this disaster of a house (or perhaps a hormonal nesting fit, who knows?) I kind of declared jihaad on the laundry the other day and washed EVERYTHING. While collecting and sorting things to be washed, I decided to include the small rugs from the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom, as well as the bathmat from our bathroom upstairs. I threw them in with the towels from the pets' houses and set the whole thing to super wash and extra rinse, figuring all the fabrics that the pets can yuck up might as well get clean together.
Imagine my horror upon going to switch the loads from washer to dryer, and finding that while everything was quite clean and smelled like spring breeze, it was also all bright, flourescent, almost NEON pink. Apparently, the same red towel that several years ago dyed all of my husband's socks pink during his bachelor laundry days has been alive and well all this time. Unbeknownst to me, it became a dog house towel and subsequently gained entry to my washer along with all my pretty rugs and other towels.
I threw the damn thing in the big trash can in the garage after I fished it out of the machine, still wet and everything.
The bathmat, which was a creamy beige color to start with, is now a dusty rose type shade, which I guess isn't so bad, although it doesn't match the beige-and-blue bathroom for shit. The two other rugs, both of which had white backgrounds, are completely lost causes. They turned the syrupy, bubble-gum pink of the strawberry lip gloss purchased by 12-year-olds who think they're buying real makeup. Naturally, neither the kitchen or the downstairs bathroom contains the slightest drop of pink in their decor.
Thank god I didn't wash any of the people towels in that load, because I would have had to make an emergency run to Target for new ones. I'm still at the point where even too much of a color or a smell makes me queasy, and I sincerely doubt that I could have stood a bathroom where every fabric was some shade of mottled mauve.
On the other hand, if this kid is a girl, I already have the floor coverings to make her the perfect Strawberry Shortcake Playhouse.
Shit.
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis:
amused - Listening to:jewel
Fourth of July sucks. Hate, hate, HATE.
I never liked this holiday anyway. Am not a big fan of fireworks, and am especially not a fan of placing any type of flaming projectile in the hands of children or men who have consumed enough alcohol to cause them to revert to Neadrethal thinknig (ooh, fire pretty, want to touch!).
However, holidays like this are compounded by the fact that they aren't really holidays for anyone who works in the restaurant industry.
So. Damn. Busy. All day long. So. Damn. Tired. All day long.
Two other instances of note....
I told Paula tonight. It was pretty much unavoidable. I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer, because she was getting susupicious, and I figured it was better to get to choose the circumstances than to blurt it out at work in a moment of frustration. She took it much better than I expected, but I think she's more excited at the moment and not thinking about the work ramifications. I give it a week, tops, before she has a major freak-out about it.
and
My husband gets major points for trying. He talked to one of the girls he konws at work who recently had a baby, and she told him that she drank Gatorade and ate applesauce in the mornings to help with the morning sickness. Even though I have more of evening sickness (what a misnomer in THAT name, it hits whenever it feels like), he figured anything he could do to help. So I woke up this morning to find he'd brought home two big things of gatorade and a huge container of applesauce. He doesn't know that I've never much liked gatorade OR applesauce. And I'm not going to tell him. He gets major points just for the effort.
And at this point, I'll try anything. I'm thoroughly tired of running to the bathroom every time I'm overwhelmed by the smell of food in one of the coolers at work.
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis:
exhausted - Listening to:wallflowers
Hmmm. I'm scouring WebMD trying to refresh everything I ever knew about pregnancy, especially since it will be another week or two before I make it in to the doctor. I just ran across an article of normally mundane things that you should avoid during pregnancy, one of which is changing the litter box because apparently there's something in cat crap that can make you sick and hurt your baby. Nine months of getting to avoid scooping out the sandbox, guilt-free? BONUS!
(Hey, don't judge. It's not like I won't ask my doctor or the vet first to confirm this wasn't written by a crackpot. I'm not a total slouch.)
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis:
awake - Listening to:muse
Dearest baby not-yet-named,
Here's the deal kiddo: We can be hungry, or we can be sick. Not both at the same time. If you're going to make me so starving hungry that I plot and plot all day what sounds good for dinner, please don't push it back at me 20 minutes later because you changed your mind. I understand that for the next nine months, you get to dictate both the cravings and the anti-cravings. Which is fine. Just kindly pick and stick to one at a time.
Thanks,
Mommy
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis:
blah - Listening to:aerosmith
I told Aaron last night. He took it incredibly calmly. I wasn't expecting him to react badly, of course, but I was expecting him to be a little more... something. Shaken up? Excited? Nervous? I don't know. Maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet (hell, it hasn't sunk in for ME), but he just seemed so passe about the whole thing. I tried to talk to him about how we're going to have to completely change our work schedules (at least one of us) and how we can't afford for me to take much time off or quit my job, but I don't think he was really in the mood for the specifics and the serious stuff. He acts like it's really not a big deal, which is both true and not true.
One the one hand, this is not the ideal time for us to do this, school-wise or work-wise or financially, but we'll be okay. We'll scrimp and save, we'll cut some corners where we can, and we can make it work. It will be tight, probably really tight for a while, but we'll manage.
On the other hand, we're going to have a BABY. This means that our lives are about to change FOREVER. This means that we can no longer plan to do anything, from taking a long vacation to going out for dinner, without considering our child. This means that for the next two years, I will probably never sleep longer than four hours at a clip. Our house will be overrun with baby clothes, strollers, toys, bouncy seats, tiny spoons, and enough diapers to reach from here to the moon. We don't have the right to be lazy or irresponsible anymore. All the priorities are about to change.
On a related note, I already miss margaritas. It's going to be a LONG nine months.
I strongly suspect that much of this freak-out is hormone induced, because it's not like all of this becomes reality tomorrow. At least we have more than half a year to prepare for this. And I'm sure Aaron will reach is freak-out stage too.
I can't wait to tell my family and my friends. We agreed not to tell much of anybody until Sarah gets home from Costa Rica in three weeks. My dad already knows, purely by accident, so we're going to wait to tell anyone else in the family until after Sarah gets back. I want to tell her and my mom together, and I want them to know before everyone else does. I'm going to wait a while to tell Paula and everyone at work too, I don't need them fussing over me all the time. Although, Paula will probably catch on faster than everyone else. She's already noticed that I seem really tired and she's been asking me if I'm sleeping well. I haven't told her that I'm sleeping all the time. Pretty soon she'll be noticing that I'm not climbing up after things on high shelves like I used to and that I'm not ordering junk food like appetizers for dinner, so the game will probably be up. Everyone else can wait a while though. I'd like to at least make it through the first trimester, and really be beyond the biggest risk of something going wrong, before I go telling everyone. Kind of just don't want to jinx it.
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis:
calm - Listening to:pogo game music
Today we shall note three interesting phnomena:
Observation One:
When you're told several times over the course of several years that, due to the unusual nature of your own biology, it will be very difficult, if not impossible, for you to become pregnant without the employment of some sort of fertility aid, you seem to become rather complacent about the idea of getting pregnant. The concept seems so remote that, especially when your cycle is somewhat irregular anyway, you don't really worry about being late. If you seem to think that you are late, you tend to chalk it up to stress, which routinely causes you to overshoot a "normal" cycle by as much as two weeks. If you find yourself experiencing extreme, crushing fatigue for no apparent reason, you presume you're working too many hours or staying up too late. If you find yourself feeling extra cranky, you attribute it to the fact that you work for a jackass and with a bunch of dumbasses, and nothing more. If you discover a certain measure of nausea and general not feeling good, you cleverly deduce that you must be coming down with something. Damn summer colds, they get you every time.
Observation Two:
When you finally take a pregnancy test, more for the heck of it than because you actually think you are, and more to shut up all the people who keep grilling you about when you're going to have kids already, you will expect it to be negative. You will read the package carefully, learning that the appearance of only one line means that you are not pregnant. You will follow the directions to the letter, so as to avoid any mistakes that might confuse the test. You will take it carefully, wash and dry your hands neatly, (after all, does ANYBODY manage to take one of those things without making a mess??) and confidently sit back to wait for the appearance of a single, negative line.
Observation Three:
When two lines appear, you will be absolutely, positively, terrified.
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis: pregnant
- Listening to:nothing
As a plus-sized chick, I totally understand that sometimes you may not look fabulous doing something you enjoy, but if you're happy and safe and not hurting anyone else, more power to you. A lady (or gentleman) living large may not look as gorgeous as Jessica Alba when riding a motorcycle or frolicking on the beach, but there are no laws indicating that one must be svelte and cute in order to enjoy outdoor sports, so to all those who nay-say on the basis of cellutlie, fuck 'em.
However, when I nearly miss the turn for my street because I'm helplessly gaping at the man and woman crammed onto a bright red Vespa at the gas station, both of whom were wearing clothes so unflattering for their forms that they should be BURNED, causing the female half of the couple to no only bare her midriff but also to nearly showcase her boobs to the world, I ask that stupidity cease and desist, IMMEDIATELY. Spare tires are perfectly acceptable on Vespas, but very distracting if carried in plain sight.
This moment of randomness has been brought to you by the fashion police.
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis: amused
Five minutes... ready, go.
I do laundry all the time, almost every day it seems, yet I never have any clean socks. Paula was way cooler about that fuck-up I made yesterday than I deserved. I somehow didn't get the temperature checked on the smoker before I left on Weds night and it wasn't turned up, so we ruined half a case of pulled pork. And I guess I also left the toaster on all night. Paula was surprisingly restrained about the whole thing. I think I was harder on me than she was about it. My insturance rep is a dork. He just came by to have us resign our renters insurance policy because he forgot to put some codes on the first copy and they rejected it. Dumbass. I have got to get that car title switched over to my name, but I refuse to go anywhere near City Hall on a Friday. Contrary to previous belief, I didn't break the vaccum when I accidentally sucked up one of Aaron's shoelaces in it, resulting in smalll plumes of smoke emanating from the vaccum. I mailed in a secret to Post Secret last week. Am dying to see if it posts.
That is all for today.
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis: meh
- Listening to:dishwasher
It's snowing. It's the second week of APRIL, and it's SNOWING in Kansas City.
I have GOT to have a conversation with the Cold Guy, because this is getting ridiculous. As the resident Rain Goddess, I can't tolerate this crap much longer.
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis:
puzzled - Listening to:Long Road Out of Eden ~ The Eagles
Currently dying of a massive toothache that just won't go away. This happened around this same time last year and I went in for a checkup and xrays and the whole nine yards. The conclusion was that the roots of a couple of my teeth are too close to my sinuses, and when my sinuses swell because of allergies or weather changes or because they just feel like it, my teeth are going to hurt. On the one hand, I was glad not to need a root canal or something evil like that. On the other hand, theres not much I can do about this but wait it out whenever it happens, and it blows.
- Location:home
- Current Psychosis:
hurting - Listening to:nothing
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lindydragon2121- Lindy
