I don't wanna!

So, apparently, if you do not eat constantly when you are 37ish weeks pregnant you run the risk of almost passing out in Target and having to go in to the doctor's office and be hooked up to an NST for 20 minutes only to be told that you should be eating more.  Yep, that was one sentence.  And that really happened to me last week.  And I feel stupid.  Oh well, what can you do? 

How awful is it that I lack the motivation to do anything?  Eating included.  I don't want to go to work.  I don't want to go to school.  I don't feel like thinking about what I'm going to put on the walls in the nursery.  I don't want to sit at home on the couch by myself and be bored.

Quite a problem I have here.  Well, not really, considering I have to go to work and school, but you get the idea. 

What I really want to do is be at home spending time with J.  That is literally the ONLY thing that I can honestly say that I want to do right now.  Oh, and sleep.  That would be nice, but unfortunately, it seems to be a thing of the past.

And one more thing to add to the list of things I WANT to do... give birth.  Any time now would be good.

My breakfast was better than yours

I bet no one can top what I had for breakfast yesterday morning. J said he wanted eggs. I looked at him like he had lost his mind... if I was cooking, he was getting cereal or an english muffin. That is how I roll in the mornings, especially mornings that do not involve coffee (which is Monday-Thursday and I treat myself on weekends... don't judge).  However, he said he was cooking. Alrighty then.

Note to self: do not leave husband in the kitchen unattended.

I walked in and he told me not to look. This was the first sign that something could be potentially wrong and/or harmful to my health. When breakfast was ready, my eggs were very colorful. This was sign number two.

So what did he actually cook for me to eat? What was so special about these eggs? They were semi-scrambled, more omeletish.  ISH.  And these eggs included red bell peppers, onions, black beans, and hot dog weenies.

Yep, I said hot dog weenies. Told you my breakfast was better than yours.

The wait is over!

Because I know y'all have just been waiting on pins & needles, right?  In my world, y'all are all nodding your heads with great enthusiasm.

The patient educator from my doctor's office called me at 5:30 yesterday evening.  Now, anytime the patient educator calls, it is not a good sign.  Usually, it is because she needs to set an appointment to sit down and chat with you... about your diabeetus and what not.

Imagine my surprise when she non-chalantly said, "You passed."  Do-huh?  Apparently, my numbers were great.  So I immediately called my mama and ordered up this:

(minus the oranges and such)

for her to bring with her this weekend.  "This" is actually out of the Southern Living Christmas 2009 magazine and is listed as a Chocolate-Citrus Cake with Candied Oranges (http://find.myrecipes.com/recipes/recipefinder.dyn?action=displayRecipe&recipe_id=1940908) 

We are purists when it comes to chocolate and prefer not to mix it with citrus, hence the negation of the oranges and such.  So basically, it is just chocolate and more chocolate (ganache).  But who doesn't like that? 

I plan to eat as much as I possibly can, but I also have to save room for the goodies that will be served Saturday at my shower!

The 3-Hour

My three hour glucose test really wasn't terrible.  I mean, if you can get past having your arm stabbed four times and almost dying of sugar overload, lack of sustenance, and massive withdrawls of blood.  But whatevs.

This day was... interesting.  And that, my friends, is one hell of an understatement.  I don't even know if I can convey the hilarity that ensued, but I will give it a shot.

To begin, I did not have an appointment.  Well, I mean, I made an appointment.  They just didn't write it down.  But never fear!  Albertha will take care of her baby!  I would be the baby and Albertha would be the lovely Jamaican woman who tried not to put her baby in too much pain.  And yes, she seriously referred to me as "my baby" the entire three hours. 

For example, "Oh baby, how long did it take you to drive here?  On no baby!  Oh my baby, but we have another office closer to you baby.  And what is my baby going to do afterward?  Well, I'm going to take good care of my baby."  This went on for the entire three hours.

It was actually quite pleasant.  These days you get so used to the fact that most people can't bother to be nice that when someone really is nice you kind of have to savor the moment.  Albertha was awesome.  So awesome that I didn't even cuss when she stabbed me that final time.  It hurt like a bitch.

Oh, and I'll leave you with one more gem from Albertha.  After my second draw, she walked into the room across the hall.  As I was examining my wound, I heard her call out, "Baby, do you need your diaper changed?"  I quickly looked up and glanced around only to realize that she was speaking to ME.  Umm, what?  Does she think that I pooped myself or something?  I must have had an extremely distressed look on my face because Albertha laughed and asked if I needed to go to the restroom.  Didn't I tell you my day was interesting?

And in case you are wondering, I don't have my results back yet.  But just in case, I went home after my test and had a slice of coconut cake, and small taste of chocolate cake, and a popsicle, and a mini Cadbury egg.  Yeah, it sounds gross now when I see it in print.  But hey, you never know, right?

I have a Confession (and an update)

First, a little bit of background.  Yesterday was a particularly irritating day.  So what do I do on days when I'm irritated?  I have a milkshake.  Maybe this wasn't the best idea because my 1 hour glucose test was this morning.  Hell, I figured with more than 16 hours till the test I would be fine, right?  And maybe it had no affect, but I still failed my test.  With a 151... FAIL.

Otherwise, everything looked great.  My iron levels and my weight were both really good.  The doctor said that Baby J is perfectly on track and that she isn't even worried about my anks, which I totally blame on my MIL since she has been feeding us for the past two weeks due to the destruction and reconstruction of my kitchen.  I also blame MIL for me possibly catching the diabeetus.  Fingers crossed, hopefully not.

After my appointment, I was starving.  I had not eaten since about 6pm the day before, and even them all I had was a couple of veggie spring rolls.  As a treat to myself because I totally deserved it, I had this for lunch...

Yes, that is a double and the fries and Diet Coke were medium. 

Feel free to drool (sorry to my non-meat eating friends).  It was damn good.  But WAIT, that is not the confession.  The confession is...

I want another one.

I better just hang this on my fridge now as a warning.

I am having a love affair...

With spinach hummus.  Yes, you read it right.  I dip a hard, crispy bagel chip (of the Everything variety) into the creamy goodness that is spinach hummus, and savor every last morsel.  This may actually end my love affair with chocolate... okay, probably not, but it will be a healthy alternative for snacking.

Last night, I ate two hot brownies covered in ice cream and magic shell. 

I hate water

Really?  Water?  The only way I can stomach it is if I am eating something.  Good thing, or actually not so much, that I am eating ALL THE TIME.  I am so hungry. 

Yesterday, I had my first go round with the queasiness.  That is no fun.  And the only thing that cures it?  You got it, eating. 

So let's see...  total weight gain to date is a whopping 8 pounds.  That is insane.  How in the name of all that is holy is that even possible?!  Sorry if I'm a bit obssessed with weight, but... well, I'm obssessed with weight.  Always have been.  Yeah, I know, I need to just get over that now.

And on a totally unrelated note, I'm getting the H1N1 shot tomorrow.  Woohoo.  Hey, at least I'm not working tomorrow.  Yay!  Hope you all have a great weekend!

This is not good.

As I sit here at my desk today, I look like I should be reading cheesy lines for my starring role in a porn flick.  Yes, it is that bad.  I have on a white button down shirt and the buttons are about to pop off.  I am trying desperately to hide them with my scarf, to no avail.  How did I not notice this before I left my house?  Probably because I was too busy trying to gather everything edible in the house to take for lunch.  By the way, lunch now lasts approximately eight hours.

Ah, the joys of pregnancy.  Is it okay to say that even though I'm not even seven weeks yet?  Probably not.  Here is a run down of my "ailments" thus far:

• Bouts of dizziness:  The kind that makes you feel like you had one too many lemon drop shots and the room is spinning.
• Excessive hunger:  Saturday night I was hungrier that I had ever been in my life.  No shit.  I was so hungry that it hurt.
• Desperate need for sleep:  I am tired all.the.time.  Not just the lay your head down for five minutes kind of tired.  I'm talking deep sleep coma kind of tired.
• Weight gain:  A touchy subject, I know.  I have always been pretty thin.  It has really done a number on my mental state to see that I've gained seven pounds so far.  Yes, you read that correctly, seven pounds.  Blame it on whatever you wish, but I've never weighed this much in my life and it is a hell of a shock to see on the scale.

So far, only a little bit of nausea and fleeting at that.  I guess I consider myself lucky, but I've got a long road a head of me!  Please keep your fingers crossed that these buttons don't decide to give in to the stress right in the middle of my finance presentation tonight.  And if they do, please God let my body respond in kind by allowing me to just pass out or die of embarassment right there on the spot.

My husband is lucky to be alive

Because I almost killed him at 12:15 this morning.  We went out with some friends to a Mexican restaurant last night for J's birthday.  Now let me just say, being that it was his birthday I gave him a hell of a lot of slack.  And yes, he hung himself.  Good God.  The beer and tequilla were flowing, and there I sat faking illness because I could not partake in the festivities.  Can I just tell you how much it sucks to be with eight other people who are drinking when you can't?  It sucks.  And my husband is the most obnoxious drunk EVER.

I did not eat at the restaurant.  I didn't want to go in the first place, but I sucked it up and went for his sake.  It wasn't all bad, but I had no intention of sitting there for three hours, which we did.  Then J got more obnoxious when we got home.  He laid down on the living room floor and "went to sleep."  Yes, he passed out.  Thankfully.

Then at 11:30 he decided to get in the bed with me.  After 45 minutes of listening to him snore, I lost it.  I became a screaming banshe.  Yep, I was screaming at this drunk man at 12:15am.  I was so tired, all I wanted was to sleep.  Finally, I grabbed my pillow and went to the guest room. 

Then, I realized I was hungry.  Luckily, there were leftover meatballs in the fridge.  And oh my, they were fantastic.  Just what I needed.  Unfortunately, it wasn't quite so easy to go back to sleep. 

So here I sit today at my desk with a massive headache, still hungry, and exhausted.  My husband is lucky to be alive.

Thank God It is Friday

So here is how my morning went: wake up, sex, shower, amazing breakfast of grits, eggs, bacon and frying pan toast.  Good morning, indeed.  And I was on time to work.  Score.

Hopefully, my good day will continue to be just that.  When I leave work, I am headed back out to the camp ground.  I am absolutely not, under any circumstances, a "camping" person.  I don't do tents, bugs, etc.  Granted, this kind of tenting is a little different because we are in wooden structures, not actual tents.  My idea of camping is a night at the Holiday Inn, thankyouverymuch.

Alas, I will be roughing it tonight.  Wish me luck.  I am on a quest to determine if there truly is enough alcohol in this world to make camping fun.  Methinks not.  I plan to take tons of pictures, so I will try to post some of them for you to get an idea of what in God's name I'm talking about.  Until then, I hope you all have a fabulous weekend!

It's a boy!

Not for me, obviously, as I am not pregnant.  My best friend just had her big u/s today.  I'm so happy for her!  And at the same time, I just found out that a girl I knew from high school lost her baby after delivery.  It is amazing to me how this whole process works.  Why is it so easy for some, while some are subjected to so much suffering?  And then there is me.

I'm kind of in a blah mood today, so I will not ramble on with the "why am I not knocked up" rant.  We haven't been trying that long, really.  I would rather discuss something a little more interesting.  How about Camp Meeting?

I am entirely certain that you are wondering what those two words mean.  Is it camping?  Is it a meeting about camping?  Not exactly, or at all.  Camp Meeting began in my sleepy little town 200+ years ago.  It began as a religious revival, but has evolved into a great week full of family, friends, and TONS of food.  And yes, there are still church services.  Back to the food... fried chicken, grits, ham, green beans, potato salad, pineapple casserole, rice and gravy, pea salad, dinner rolls... and that was just last night!  And good Lord the desserts.  I had just a taste of the pecan pie, but I was torn between that and the chocolate pie, and the brownies, and the red velvet cake.  I'm going to gain twenty pounds this week, I swear. 

You can not truly understand this unless you have been there, or one like it.  I'll try to post pics at some point.  The "camp ground" is a huge circle of 100 tents.  And I do not mean camping tents.  They are wooden structures, most of them two stories.  Very basic.  As odd as this all sounds, it is a lot of fun and it is nice to socialize with our family and all of the other families.  Last night, we were sitting around the fire and J told me that he could not wait until we had children running around playing at the camp ground.  He wants so badly to throw the football with his little boy.  It is very sweet.  And as I watch him watching the kids play, I can't help but be hopeful.