BabyMomma Update

There you have it.

I don't know how it is that it got so bad ...

but I am a certifiable control freak. I think it's exacerbated by all the recent changes going on in my personal life, not to mention the freaky-weird things that occur normally from being pregnant, but I need a self help book (or five) to try and let go of the fact that I just can't control everything I want to.

I like for instance, that I can clean up the kitchen everyday. It makes me feel like I am creating order out of chaos in a universe filled (moreso lately) with elements beyond my control.

I like sticking to a routine, even though I also like having the flexbility to create something spontaneously. The hitch here is that I need to be the one with the spontaneous idea most of the time, otherwise it interferes with my precious routine that is strict and regimented to suit my needs.

I'm not nearly as bad as the organizational housewife who was on Wife Swap the other night, and frankly, I don't really care if you leave your socks bundled up in various places of the house - picking them up gives me a sense of control so it probably works out better for everyone involved.

You can imagine how I'm coping with the crazy influx of horomones then. Not. Very. Well. I get PMS but it's not rampant, I can recognize it, and oh, it only lasts two days. These pregnancy horomones never stop. Or they stop for two days and I feel rational and sane again, and then the slightest thing sets me off. Meanwhile I live with a man who is mostly sad that his pragmatic and rational wife has departed the apartment leaving him with a crazy, irrational, hypersensitive freak. So naturally, he laughs at me because it's all so damn silly. Normally I would probably laugh too, if I thought it was going to go away in two days, or... ever. But instead I just get huffy and want to cry some more because not only am I crazy, now I'm the slightly annoying, mostly-amusing crazy lady.

Baby, please come soon so I can return to normal.

My husband has a mullet.

Jen, I need help here.

Even if I only get twenty bucks, I can still take us to a movie and not have to move the fucking thing again.

Otherwise known as "How to get rid of things that mean nothing to you, but you don't just want to throw away."

Ten years ago I dated what I thought was a man. Now before you go and categorize this as some kind of sick and twisted Crying Game scenario, let me me explain that I was young and my idea of a man has since changed dramatically. Back then I thought that men who were controlling, domineering, mean, dismissive of my feelings, and withdrawn were the ones worth pursuing.

Anyway, this particular man did three very nice things for me while we were together:

1) For no reason at all, he came home with flowers and a card and was making me my favorite spaghetti.
2) Carried me to our Christmas tree in the middle of the night while it was lit and beautiful. As a present he gave me an emerald necklace to match some earrings he previously purchased.
3) Took me to Le Virage in Walnut Creek where we had an amazing bottle of wine and excellent food in a private room to celebrate my 21st birthday. Naturally I wore a stunning red dress and adorned myself with the jewelry he bought for me.

Yes, these things seem insignificant. Yet, in a relationship peppered with such rarities they seemed enough to stay with someone who didn't really want me.

Eventually I gave away the earrings because my skin has no tolerance for any kind of metal poking through it; I've no desire to conform to that standard, and I don't need to keep on re-piercing my ears to confirm what I already know.

I've held onto that necklace though. At first because it had sentimental value, and then because I couldn't decide how I wanted to dispose of it. I've moved it nearly ten times and every time I move I wonder to myself, "Why do I have this? What should I do with it?" Every time I end up stashing it in the bottom of my nightstand where I won't have to think about it for months/years to come.

The other night I saw a commercial for a pawn shop named Abla Jewelers, and I decided that even though I won't get very much money, I'm selling the necklace for whatever they offer. At the very least I won't have to move it again and stash it at the bottom of the nightstand.

Today I discovered why I don't buy cookies more

I went grocery shopping today, and made a pact with myself to only buy things on sale. This worked out really well, except somehow my crazy brain took that to mean I could buy anything i wanted to eat _right now_ so long as it was on sale. I was so embarrassed by the contents of my shopping cart that I forced myself to put some things back because it was turning into a heap of junk food instead of the normal things I take home.

I bought:
Mother's Iced Oatmeal Cookies
Baked Doritos
Cinnamon Rolls
Waffles (those aren't really bad for you)
Ice Cream

Things I barely restrained myself from purchasing:
Lite Cool Whip
Frozen Pizza
Enteman's anything

Then I promptly came home and ate 5 cookies and now I kind of want to either fall into a food coma, or purge myself of the sugar I just consumed.

Peeing in a cup is definitely under-rated

and can provide minutes of fun!

Today, I got to give _two_ urine samples! TWO!! It was the most fun I'd had since filing my taxes last year.

Those of you who don't get pinched, prodded, poked and dripped on are seriously missing out on the glamorous life of a pregnant woman.

Strange sayings from the doctor's office

"You have really tough skin -- I was worried I wouldn't be able to get the needle through."

"Stevie Wonder could draw blood from that vein, don't you think?"

These were both said about me. Hmmm.

Incidentally, we are not naming the baby Madeline

but thanks for the insightful suggestion.

Since discovering the sex of our baby (see, I told you we should have been surprised!) people have been obsessed with figuring out what we are going to call her. There's been conjecture, suggestion, attempted coersion, bribery, and a slew of other things that involve attempts to provide wisdom on what is best.*

In case your heart is thumping frantically inside your ribcage because you are simply dying to know, yes, we've picked a name. And no, it is not a secret.

So why then the mystery? And why don't you know yet? I'm gonna go out on a limb here and suggest that my readers are smart enough to deduce why they don't know, but for those of you who can't figure it out, the main reason is that we are reluctant to name a person we've never even seen, let alone interacted with.

Naming someone is complex and difficult. It's a decision (the first among many I'll make, I'm sure) that will affect my daughter for the rest of her life. Between Nick and I we are bound to have the most precocious, ambitious, stubborn little baby ever brought into the world.

Do you really think I want to start out on the wrong foot by giving her a name she hates? Absolutely not.

*Sidenote: The opinions of others are not limited to names, bedding, feeding, sleeping, or baby-proofing. I am sure I will get dozens more unsolicited opinions on things I have yet to think up.