jparks: "You're going to make a great mother!"
me: "Thanks! You're going to make a great motherfucker!"
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
two very unrelated things
Have ya'll seen the ads for G-Force, the latest bit of movie awesomeness from Jerry Bruckheimer? I swear I saw the trailer, heard Tracy Morgan voicing one of the guinea pigs, and thought "There is no way this is a real trailer. It has to be an ad for 30 Rock." I guess I just couldn't believe that a movie about spy guinea pigs could actually exist and that real actors had signed up to star in it. I have no intentions of seeing G-Force, but I would be the first in line if 30 Rock Tracy Morgan were starring in it. In fact, can someone make that movie right now? And instead of a regular guinea pig, have it be Tracy's head CGI'ed onto a guinea pig's body. Genius!
Now that I'm nearing the end of pregnancy I've been browsing regular clothes and day dreaming about what I would buy if I knew what size I'm going to end up. Tonight I found this dress that I love:
It's cute, right? But then I clicked to see more views of it and I think the dress has a vagina:
The description makes no mention of this random opening and I can't see any reason for it. Is there something obvious that I'm missing?
Now that I'm nearing the end of pregnancy I've been browsing regular clothes and day dreaming about what I would buy if I knew what size I'm going to end up. Tonight I found this dress that I love:
It's cute, right? But then I clicked to see more views of it and I think the dress has a vagina:
The description makes no mention of this random opening and I can't see any reason for it. Is there something obvious that I'm missing?
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
derailed
You know, I have no excuse for posting so sporadically and then when I do post it's all baby crap and no one really cares about that expect for jparks and I's moms. So I started a post tonight and then was instantly sidetracked when some friends started twittering about 16 and Pregnant, specifically the adoption episode. Have you seen it? No? Dear god, you should. But be warned: have kleenex ready.
Anyway, so my other post got derailed and I forgot what I was talking about and have decided to resort to a picture:
Those booties are killing me with their cuteness. KIIIIILLLLLIIINNNG.
Also, in about 2.5 weeks I'll have someone to wear them. Well, someone besides Lily. She's getting pretty tired of trying out all the baby stuff.
Yeah, I am that person. Whatever.
Anyway, so my other post got derailed and I forgot what I was talking about and have decided to resort to a picture:
Those booties are killing me with their cuteness. KIIIIILLLLLIIINNNG.
Also, in about 2.5 weeks I'll have someone to wear them. Well, someone besides Lily. She's getting pretty tired of trying out all the baby stuff.
Yeah, I am that person. Whatever.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
my possibly imaginary injury
Do women have a groin muscle? If so, is it possible to pull it? Because holy mother of god, the PAIN. Also, if females can pull their possibly imaginary groin muscle, how long does it take to stop hurting? Because if I have another week of this then I might just die. No wait, there is no might, I'm 100% certain I will die. My obituary will read "Regan Parks died of a injury that no woman has ever suffered from before. She will be fondly remembered and laughed at forever because really, a groin injury?"
The other night I was trying to crawl out of bed and was instantly knocked on my ass by pain. Jparks is normally a light sleeper but somehow he slept through my very loud cursing and screaming. I'm not certain he was actually sleeping as much as ignoring me because nothing says fun like a preggo howling in the middle of the night. I am now fairly certain that if I go into labor at 2am I will be left to my own devices until a respectable hour, say 7am or so. And before he is able to fully function as my labor coach he'll need to grab an iced latte and a danish. Not that I'm bitter about this or anything, nope, not me. Don't mind me honey, I'll just be over here laboring away while you enjoy your cheese danish. Perhaps you could hand me a knife to cut the cord with when you're done?
After the pain subsided enough for me to finish dragging myself out of bed, I spend the next 30 minutes slowly walking the 10 feet to the bathroom. And then the 30 minutes after that was spent lowering myself onto the toilet. Who knew a pulled imaginary groin muscle hindered a person's ability to move so much. Since that fateful night I have had the worst time getting out of bed because that's when the pain is at its most unbearable. I imagine I look like a roach flipped over on its back, legs and arms flailing about as I try my best to make any progress at all. It's enough to make me cut out any liquids after 8pm so I don't have to perform this lovely dance more than once a night. And, in case anyone is wondering, I usually only have to pee once in the middle of the night and that's if I have to pee at all. Apparently this is strange for someone as knocked up as I am. Yay for me and my wonder bladder!
The other night I was trying to crawl out of bed and was instantly knocked on my ass by pain. Jparks is normally a light sleeper but somehow he slept through my very loud cursing and screaming. I'm not certain he was actually sleeping as much as ignoring me because nothing says fun like a preggo howling in the middle of the night. I am now fairly certain that if I go into labor at 2am I will be left to my own devices until a respectable hour, say 7am or so. And before he is able to fully function as my labor coach he'll need to grab an iced latte and a danish. Not that I'm bitter about this or anything, nope, not me. Don't mind me honey, I'll just be over here laboring away while you enjoy your cheese danish. Perhaps you could hand me a knife to cut the cord with when you're done?
After the pain subsided enough for me to finish dragging myself out of bed, I spend the next 30 minutes slowly walking the 10 feet to the bathroom. And then the 30 minutes after that was spent lowering myself onto the toilet. Who knew a pulled imaginary groin muscle hindered a person's ability to move so much. Since that fateful night I have had the worst time getting out of bed because that's when the pain is at its most unbearable. I imagine I look like a roach flipped over on its back, legs and arms flailing about as I try my best to make any progress at all. It's enough to make me cut out any liquids after 8pm so I don't have to perform this lovely dance more than once a night. And, in case anyone is wondering, I usually only have to pee once in the middle of the night and that's if I have to pee at all. Apparently this is strange for someone as knocked up as I am. Yay for me and my wonder bladder!
Thursday, July 9, 2009
entering the final phase
Today is July 9th, which means I have one month to my due date. One month to accept the fact that I'm terrified of newborns and yet I'm going to have one of my own. One month to enjoy sleeping in more than two hour blocks. One month to come to terms with the fact that I might crap on myself in front of a room of people.
In the past few days my nesting instinct has kicked in and I've become a whirlwind of do-do-do and buy-buy-buy. Technically we have everything we need, yet I'm not feeling done. I routinely look at my registry and debate if I want to buy the wipe warmer or if I want to live without it. Do I need the bottle drying rack? Or any other number of things that seem excessive, but how can I survive without them? I doubt my mom wiped my ass with a warm wipe and I'm a seemingly normal and well adjusted adult, so do I really need to wipe my kid's ass with one? After spending time thinking about this I want to punch myself in the face, because why am I wasting brain power debating warm wipes?
Up until this week I was managing to not look too hugely pregnant, but today I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I swear it's like I'm hiding a basketball under my shirt. I suspect this last month is when I'm going to put on all my pregnancy weight since all that's left for him to do is get fatter. Right now he sits high, cramping my organs and kicking me in the lungs. I am impatiently waiting for him to drop lower so I can breath again, but I don't think that's on his agenda for anytime soon. In fact, if anything I think he's climbing higher and possibly plotting an escape through my throat.
At times one month seems like forever and I can't understand why I feel so compelled to rush around like a mad person trying to get things done. But then the next minute hits and I freak out even more because one month is not that long. 30 days? IS THAT ALL? How am I supposed to organize an entire house in that time? How am I going to find the time to categorize his clothes by type of outfit and then by size with only 30 days? I can't wait for this month to be over with just so I can finally have some relief from this neurotic nesting and can move on to other things. Like trying to figure out how to keep my nipples from cracking and bleeding. Wow, parenthood is going to be fun.
In the past few days my nesting instinct has kicked in and I've become a whirlwind of do-do-do and buy-buy-buy. Technically we have everything we need, yet I'm not feeling done. I routinely look at my registry and debate if I want to buy the wipe warmer or if I want to live without it. Do I need the bottle drying rack? Or any other number of things that seem excessive, but how can I survive without them? I doubt my mom wiped my ass with a warm wipe and I'm a seemingly normal and well adjusted adult, so do I really need to wipe my kid's ass with one? After spending time thinking about this I want to punch myself in the face, because why am I wasting brain power debating warm wipes?
Up until this week I was managing to not look too hugely pregnant, but today I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I swear it's like I'm hiding a basketball under my shirt. I suspect this last month is when I'm going to put on all my pregnancy weight since all that's left for him to do is get fatter. Right now he sits high, cramping my organs and kicking me in the lungs. I am impatiently waiting for him to drop lower so I can breath again, but I don't think that's on his agenda for anytime soon. In fact, if anything I think he's climbing higher and possibly plotting an escape through my throat.
At times one month seems like forever and I can't understand why I feel so compelled to rush around like a mad person trying to get things done. But then the next minute hits and I freak out even more because one month is not that long. 30 days? IS THAT ALL? How am I supposed to organize an entire house in that time? How am I going to find the time to categorize his clothes by type of outfit and then by size with only 30 days? I can't wait for this month to be over with just so I can finally have some relief from this neurotic nesting and can move on to other things. Like trying to figure out how to keep my nipples from cracking and bleeding. Wow, parenthood is going to be fun.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
celebrating three years of wedded bliss. also, mini doughnuts!
You know how most people like to recap their weekends in blog posts on Monday? Well, I'm bucking the trend and doing it on Tuesday. I'm such a rebel! Who knows what you'll find over here in my corner of the internet!
Friday was jparks and I's wedding anniversary and to celebrate I booked us a room at the InterContinental and bought us tickets to see Spamalot. On a whim we decided to grab dinner before the show at Out The Door and holy crap, was it good. I could easily have their cellophane noodles with crab every night. Spamalot was incredibly funny and the hotel was incredibly nice. I was a tiny bit worried that I would be miserable without my four million pillows, including a full body one, but the fact that I could turn the air con down to 65 degrees, guilt free, really helped.
On the 4th we went and saw Transformers in IMAX and I can't come up with anything to say about that piece of crap movie that isn't already said here. The only good thing about seeing it was the coffee shop in the lobby that sold mini cake doughnuts. I think I might start a petition to get mini doughnuts sold in more places because they are the perfect treat, big on flavor and tastiness, but small on size.
Sunday I had the best intentions of getting up and acting like a normal human, but I was hit with another wave of "Perhaps I should stay near the toilet or maybe this bucket." I'm really loving that morning sickness can pop its head back up late in pregnancy as a bonus treat. Nothing says fun like trying to make a mad dash to the bathroom when getting out of bed takes at least a minute thanks to a large stomach and a bad sense of balance. This is how my whole day looked:
Despite the breakdown on Sunday, yes there were tears because there's only so much feeling like crap that I can take before I hit a wall, the weekend was a great one. Jparks was very proud of himself for making it through three years of marriage without me killing him but I told him the true test will be this next year when I'm sleep deprived and extra cranky. If he survives this year then I think it's safe to say we'll be together for life.
Friday was jparks and I's wedding anniversary and to celebrate I booked us a room at the InterContinental and bought us tickets to see Spamalot. On a whim we decided to grab dinner before the show at Out The Door and holy crap, was it good. I could easily have their cellophane noodles with crab every night. Spamalot was incredibly funny and the hotel was incredibly nice. I was a tiny bit worried that I would be miserable without my four million pillows, including a full body one, but the fact that I could turn the air con down to 65 degrees, guilt free, really helped.
On the 4th we went and saw Transformers in IMAX and I can't come up with anything to say about that piece of crap movie that isn't already said here. The only good thing about seeing it was the coffee shop in the lobby that sold mini cake doughnuts. I think I might start a petition to get mini doughnuts sold in more places because they are the perfect treat, big on flavor and tastiness, but small on size.
Sunday I had the best intentions of getting up and acting like a normal human, but I was hit with another wave of "Perhaps I should stay near the toilet or maybe this bucket." I'm really loving that morning sickness can pop its head back up late in pregnancy as a bonus treat. Nothing says fun like trying to make a mad dash to the bathroom when getting out of bed takes at least a minute thanks to a large stomach and a bad sense of balance. This is how my whole day looked:
Despite the breakdown on Sunday, yes there were tears because there's only so much feeling like crap that I can take before I hit a wall, the weekend was a great one. Jparks was very proud of himself for making it through three years of marriage without me killing him but I told him the true test will be this next year when I'm sleep deprived and extra cranky. If he survives this year then I think it's safe to say we'll be together for life.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
I'm ranty which I should blame on the hormones but really I'm just a bitch
Lately I've been doing a lot of reading (shout out to my kindle!) and I've got to admit that I just don't get David Sedaris. Specifically his latest book, When You Are Engulfed In Flames. And possibly even the one before that too.
Before you start telling me that I have no sense of humor or that I'm obviously an idiot let me explain that I really loved his earlier books. I can't make it through a Christmas without reading Holidays on Ice and yet his latest books have left me feeling meh. I just don't see the funny in them. Can anyone explain to me what I'm missing?
In addition to lots of reading, I've also been watching lots of tv without the use of tivo. I know, what the hell kind of third world country am I living in? Since I'm lacking the tivo I can't pause and then fast forward through commercials and it seems I've forgotten how annoying commercials can be. First they are so loud. If the show's volume is here, the commercial's volume is HERE!! And god forbid it's a commercial featuring Billy Mays because then the speakers blow out and my ears bleed. But I doubt that'll be a problem anyone more. (In tribute to Mr. Mays I'm pouring a little OxyCean into every load of laundry I do this week. Which I mostly do anyway, but now it's a touching tribute and not just an effort to eradicate stains.)
Besides the volume issues, I'm slowly being driven crazy by commercials for various technical colleges where the recent graduate proclaims "If I can do it, you can do it!" This pisses me off to no end because it does not work as a sales pitch. That's what you say when you are totally pathetic at something yet can still do it, so the speaker is admitting that she's a moron. Right? "I'm a burn out loser/total fucking idiot/have the attention span of a gnat but if I can do it, you can do it!" This does not entice me to sign up for dental assistant classes. The only thing that makes me more angry is when it's a voice over saying "If she can do it, you can do it!" Really Mr. Voice Over, you think the person is an idiot? Do they know what you think of them or do they only find out once they've gathered their family around to see their commercial debut? How embarrassing for them. I hope you end up going to their dental clinic and they get to scrape your teeth and gums with the pointy hook until you bleed.
Unrelated, I'm feeling incredibly huge today. And I think I'm getting fat in the neck. How does a neck get fat? How does one lose weight from their neck? I miss working out and running. whhhiiiinnnneeee
Before you start telling me that I have no sense of humor or that I'm obviously an idiot let me explain that I really loved his earlier books. I can't make it through a Christmas without reading Holidays on Ice and yet his latest books have left me feeling meh. I just don't see the funny in them. Can anyone explain to me what I'm missing?
In addition to lots of reading, I've also been watching lots of tv without the use of tivo. I know, what the hell kind of third world country am I living in? Since I'm lacking the tivo I can't pause and then fast forward through commercials and it seems I've forgotten how annoying commercials can be. First they are so loud. If the show's volume is here, the commercial's volume is HERE!! And god forbid it's a commercial featuring Billy Mays because then the speakers blow out and my ears bleed. But I doubt that'll be a problem anyone more. (In tribute to Mr. Mays I'm pouring a little OxyCean into every load of laundry I do this week. Which I mostly do anyway, but now it's a touching tribute and not just an effort to eradicate stains.)
Besides the volume issues, I'm slowly being driven crazy by commercials for various technical colleges where the recent graduate proclaims "If I can do it, you can do it!" This pisses me off to no end because it does not work as a sales pitch. That's what you say when you are totally pathetic at something yet can still do it, so the speaker is admitting that she's a moron. Right? "I'm a burn out loser/total fucking idiot/have the attention span of a gnat but if I can do it, you can do it!" This does not entice me to sign up for dental assistant classes. The only thing that makes me more angry is when it's a voice over saying "If she can do it, you can do it!" Really Mr. Voice Over, you think the person is an idiot? Do they know what you think of them or do they only find out once they've gathered their family around to see their commercial debut? How embarrassing for them. I hope you end up going to their dental clinic and they get to scrape your teeth and gums with the pointy hook until you bleed.
Unrelated, I'm feeling incredibly huge today. And I think I'm getting fat in the neck. How does a neck get fat? How does one lose weight from their neck? I miss working out and running. whhhiiiinnnneeee
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