If irritability is a sign of labor...

Then I haz it.  No, seriously, why do you think I haven't posted in a few days?  Because I am in a serious funk.  Okay, maybe not that serious, but a funk nonetheless.

Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I'm sitting at work bored out of my mind and knowing that there are so many things I could be doing at home.  Let's have a run down of the things I have yet to finish before the baby gets here...

• Empty baby's bookcase of all of my old crap and put new crap on it
• Remove guest room pics and put up baby room pics
• Put bedding on the crib
• Finish putting up everything I got from my showers
• I'm sure there is something that needs washing
• Put together shelving thingie and put more new crap on it
• Wait impatiently for MIL to finish making everything that is supposed to go in the room (she really only has a couple of things left, but I am still ridiculously impatient)
• There has got to be something else that needs to be washed
• Have carseat installed

I could probably sit here all day and list things I need to do, but it would inevitably drive me mad.  Instead, I will just sit here and play Solitaire and stew over it. 

Hey there Internets...

I feel like I should just introduce myself all over again.  Seriously, I'm not ignoring you.  When I make it out from under my stack of schoolwork, I will attempt to entertain you.  Until then, I will leave you with this gem...

J and I went to a wedding this past weekend.  Now, for some odd reason, I detest any type of buffet.  Even though I know that there is nothing wrong with the food, I just can't bring myself to partake.  So, J gets his food and we sit down at a table (briefly, like just long enough for him to eat, we are not setting up camp here).  A lovely old man then proceeds to tell me,

"You may as well eat.  You are going to get fat anyway."

::Cue the "I'm going to rip your beating heart out of your chest you old geazer" glare::  Thank you and you are welcome.

Ummm, so yeah...

I never actually got around to posting more pics of the snow.  We got 7 inches, by the way, which is like a major snowstorm to us.  Duke played, we built a snowman, the in-laws annoyed me, blah, blah, blah.

That has been life for the past week, and I'm sure you have enough problems of your own that you don't feel like listening to mine.  Here is my laundry list anyway:

• Too much freakin' schoolwork
• My house is in desperate need of some attention
• As is my husband
• I still despise my job (but am very grateful to have one)
• My kidneys hate me and are intent on causing me as much pain as humanly possible 

I think that about sums it up.  And on top of that, I've had to battle with my mother-in-law, via the hubbs of course, about why I am a paranoidcrazypsychopath for not wanting my baby to sleep in the crib that my husband slept in as a child.  Excuse me?  Are we really going to debate this.

You are damn right we are.  Because she raised two children and obviously knows better.  Safety standards be damned!  J didn't get his head caught in the bars and suffocate, so why should I think that 30 years later my child might? 

The bottom line, aside from the fact that every bit of research screams DO NOT DO IT, is that I am not comfortable with it.  I am the mother, so I still get a say, right?  Right???!!!  For some reason, she feels that a Pack 'n Play will not suffice.  God forbid my child sleep in that contraption. 

Long story short, over a stack of IHOP pancakes, I convinced my relatively sane husband that this was not the best idea.  In other words, your mother is wrong and it ain't happenin'.  Is it possible that the simple cause of kidney stones is, in fact, a neurotic mother-in-law?   

I don't do STUPID.

We all know that men say stupid things, right?  Please tell me, for the love of Jesus, why three of them had to converge on me within three hours.  They must have been going for a record.

Friday night, J and I attended a surprise birthday party- one that I had no desire to attend to begin with.  It had been a long day at (the hell hole that I call) my office and I was tired.  And then there was this:

Man #1:  Look at you!  You aren't even showing.
This pissed me off because:  I have always prided myself on my pretty flat stomach.  Not totally, supermodel, flat, but good enough.  And this load that I'm sportin' isn't just because of the taco salad I had for lunch that day. 
My response:  I just smiled.

Man #2:  You are tired?  I know exactly how you feel.
This pissed me off because:  I am not certain, but I am pretty damn sure that he has never grown a human life before.  He, in fact, does not know exactly how I feel. 
My response:  I just smiled.

Man #3:  Hey, I don't think I know you.  Why don't you just let J stay here and hang out and we will make sure he gets home okay.
This pissed me off because:  A] I had no clue who this guy was.  B] He was drunk. C] I had been there for about three hours where everyone was drinking and it was cold (we were in the outside Tiki Bar, but they had plastic up) and I was absolutely exhausted and I really didn't care to be there from the get-go.
My response:  No, you obviously don't know me.  ::insert eye roll, and quite possibly a growl::

That was about as nice as I could be at that point.  My darling husband was smart enough to get in the car and not mutter another word to me, other than "I love you" before I went to bed, until the next morning.

Coping with Disaster 101

Run and hide.  Yep, that is my solution.  When something goes drastically wrong, just remove yourself from the situation.  And what situation was it?  Allow me to explain.

My ILs are super excited about the baby, which is good.  What is not good is the fact that they have been bugging J for weeks about telling everyone... or "spreading the news," as my MIL put it.  They can not seem to wrap their brains around the fact that it is NOT their news to spread.

Anyway, J and I decided to tell our friends Saturday night before the town Christmas party.  Repeat: OUR FRIENDS.  Oh, and we had told the ILs that they could tell family members.  What they heard was, "Please feel free to tell everyone and their mother's brothers."  And that is exactly what they did.

So as I entered the Christmas party Saturday night I was immediately bombarded with people.  In case I have not mentioned it before, I'm not too particularly fond of people, in general.  Especially those who will pass you in the grocery store without a word because they can't be bothered.  These are the same people who feel that, now that I am pregnant, they should be privy to every detail.  Some even going as far as to say that they didn't know we were trying....

Ummm, no shit.  FYI, my sex life is none of your effin business.  Why is it that people think an appropriate response to someone being pregnant is to ask "were you trying?"  People, I'm 30 years old, I believe I understand how to prevent pregnancy.  Steam is coming out of my ears as I type.  For serious.

Back to my original thought process: coping with disaster.  Needless to say, the party was completely ruined for me.  I tolerated it for as long as I could.  And then I left.  Yep, after an hour and a half of being under the microscope, I left the party.  Oh well, sitting on my couch watching football and eating Cheez-Its was a much better alternative to freezing my ass off while everyone else got drunk. 

Apparently, I am not Spiderman

Everything is annoying me lately.  J got out of the shower last night and the smell of the soap annoyed me (because it didn't smell right).  I made shrimp creole last night and it was gritty because J didn't get all of the veins out.  Oh come on, you would be annoyed by that, too.  And now I am annoyed because I am supposed to be going out with my friends tonight.  It isn't that I don't want to go, but because I'm in such a pissy mood and I feel gross.

Part of the reason I feel gross is because of the weight gain.  Yep, you read correctly.  I will be six weeks on Friday and I have already put on 3 lbs.  It isn't the number that bothers me, just the fact that I feel a bit pudgy and my clothes are a little tighter.  This feeling is further exaggerated by the following situation, which occured yesterday:

I was having a nice lunch with my co-workers when someone came into the office.  Nice person that I am, I let everyone else eat and I went to help the person.  Five minutes later, lunch resumed.  After lunch, the woman that I work most closely with (and a pretty good friend) said that another one of the women asked her if I was pregnant.  She literally waited until I walked out of the room and asked IN FRONT OF EVERYONE ELSE.  Two things piss me off about this: 1. She purposefully waited until I left the room.  2.  She didn't pull anyone to the side, she put it out there for everyone to hear.  This could affect my job, not to mention my sanity.

I have always been on the lean side and realize that I've put on a few pounds.  But seriously, it isn't that noticable.  So I have no clue what led her to this conclusion.  I really want to tell her IN FRONT OF EVERYONE to stop acting like a high school gossip queen and mind her own fucking business, but I'm not ready to out myself to everyone yet for the aforementioned reasons.  Alas, I shall sit back and stew over it.  My time will come.

Anyway, all of that aside.  I'm sitting at my desk trying to figure out what to do about tonight.  Maybe I can go buy a cheap and more comfortable outfit and still go tonight?  Then, what to do about my husband?  I can't tell him not to use soap.  I can't make him pay more attention to what he is doing.  I give up!  He told me that I am pregnant and that I do not have spidey-senses and that I need to get over it.  Boy, it is going to be a loooonnng eight more months for him!