I really feel guilty for complaining about being pregnant. I have several dear friends that want children so badly but are having a hard time getting pregnant, and I know I am blessed to be on my 2nd pregnancy.
But seriously.
These women that gush about how much they loooooove being pregnant...what are they on?!
Let's go through the list of fun things that happen during pregnancy...or at least the things that happen to me:
1. Fatigue - I'm not talking about your normal 'I participated in a bar crawl and didn't climb in bed until 5am' exhaustion. I'm talking about not even having the energy to get off the couch to get a red bull from the fridge. When I was pregnant with Morgan, Michael would ask 'what did you do today?' and I would answer 'rotate from one side of the couch to the other and change the tv channel.' I seriously have the energy level of a slug with mono when I'm pregnant, which is horrible because I'm usually pretty high strung / high energy. During this pregnancy I have had a toddler to keep up with. It's been hard! It took a lot of work to train her to get a red bull from the fridge for me while I took up residence on the couch! She needs lots of activity, and that's hard to find during the winter. I would drag myself to the gym so she could play in child care while I got on a bike and pedaled at 5mph while playing on my iPhone or take a nap under the bleachers. Doctors blame my thyroid. I blame the parasite for sucking the life out of me.
2. Nausea - so far I've made it through 1 entire pregnancy, c-section, and 26 weeks of this pregnancy without tossing my cookies. *giving myself a high-five* I HATE throwing up. I will fight it to the death. With this pregnancy I was so much more queasy all day everyday. For weeks I could only eat certain foods, because just even looking at anything else made my esophagus close off. Going to the grocery store was torture. Who know that Krogering could be so miserable? There were certain parts of the store I would have to close my eyes through (meat department) and pray I wouldn't run over some little elderly lady stopping to check out the price of reduced pork.
3. Needles - I hate needles. That and my disgust for gross people is what kept me from going into the medical field. Needles are one of my biggest fears (along with snakes, frogs, worms, fish, drowning, getting burned, darkness, aliens, ghosts, lizards, mayonnaise, germs...) As soon as you find out you're pregnant, be prepared for all of the needles over the next few months. At your first doctor appointment, they give you several bags of information, free magazines, samples, and coupons, and do a huge round of blood work checking for everything from HIV to cupcake addictions. Then if you have a normal pregnancy (which I never have) around 24-26 weeks you have the glucose test done where you drink this horrible tasting syrup, keep it down for an hour and then have blood drawn to test your glucose and A1C level. During my first pregnancy, I had too much sugar in my urine (you get to pee in a cup every single time you're at the doctor...you'll eventually become a pro and not pee on your hand) around 18 weeks so I had to have the glucose testing done early. And then I had the 3 hour test done which means I got to have my blood drawn, then drink the yummy syrup, then have blood drawn every hour for the next 3 hours WITHOUT EATING OR DRINKING anything other than water. Who comes up with this medieval torture for pregnant women?! And those test results came back saying I was borderline diabetic. They thought it was gestational, but it turns out I've been borderline for years and it's never been diagnosed. They sent me to a condensing dietitian ('okay, out of these 3 choices, which is the best for breakfast?' I know I'm supposed to point to the oatmeal and scrambled eggs but I can't help myself so I point to the bagel with cream cream and jam. Sure enough, he closed his eyes and sighed. Mission accomplished). Then I had to go to an endocrinologist (whom I still go to; I love the physician assistant there, she's fabulous) where they sent me home with a glucose meter. They asked if I wanted them to show me how to use it but I figured between 2 master's degrees Michael and I could figure it out. WRONG!!! I was stabbing every finger and we could NOT figure out how to get the blood to go onto the test strip so the stupid machine could get a reading. We finally took it to Michael's common sense country grandma who has diabetes and she showed us how to use it. So for the rest of that pregnancy I was supposed to check my sugar 3 times a day and keep record to turn in at my appointments. Sigh. It hurt!!!! And then the c-section....IV catheters in both hands, and let's not even talk about the needle in the back. Worst. Pain. Ever. The combination of the noise I made and the size of the needle made an intern leave the room before he passed out.
So after all of THAT fun, I decided having another baby was a great idea! And during THIS pregnancy we've had the Little C issue where I have to get my blood tested every 4 weeks to check the antibody levels. The ladies at the hospital lab are getting to know me really well.
4. Waddling - not because I'm trying to balance this weird new belly growth, but because my hip joints hurt so much! During pregnancy your ligaments loosen up, and sometimes it's very painful. For me, of course, it's very painful. If I spend a day moving around a lot (shopping...cleaning house...chasing the ice cream truck down the street...) then by night I am hunched over like a medieval wench, hobbling and shuffling around. I'm usually about 5 steps behind Michael whenever we're out running errands. Between the waddle and the fact that my pregnancy pants keep falling down (turning into MC Hammer pants), I have lost my usual quick stride.
5. Food cravings / aversions - People assume that all pregnant women wake up in the middle of the night and go crazy for something weird like Cesar salad with pickles and hot fudge. Well I've never craved pickles during my pregnancy...at night. It's more like you see something on tv and you want it. NOW. and it's all you can think about until you have it. And it's entirely possible to have a food meltdown as well. During my first pregnancy, Michael and I stopped at a KFC for a healthy dinner. All I wanted was mac-n-cheese. That's it. And guess what? They were out. So I went to the car and cried. Over mac-n-cheese. Forget about all of the suffering in the world. I couldn't get my mac-n-cheese. And food aversions....all of a sudden, normal foods that you eat on a regular basis become the enemy. During my first pregnancy, it was burgers. This broke Michael's heart; he adores burgers and could eat one every single day. I couldn't even watch burger commercials without my esophagus closing off. During this pregnancy I crave fruit and regular soda....which is really weird because I never drink regular soda normally. I usually drown myself in water all day long, but it's been hard to drink during this pregnancy. Don't worry, I don't give in to the soda and I still drink water. But wow...a cherry Coke every so often tastes amazing.
6. Weird body stuff - your skin and hair go crazy, and not always in good ways. During my first pregnancy, my skin erupted like a high school boy hitting puberty. During this pregnancy, my skin is amazing! ....but it's really dry. I get these weird reddish dry patches on my face that I have to drown in Aquaphor and then I forget about it and go out in public with a greasy shiny Aquaphor face and people look at me weird like I've just left the plastic surgeon's office for some treatment. And I get itchy red patches in the bend of my elbows that look and feel quite lovely. Seriously, what's that all about? Sometimes I wonder if I'm allergic to needles...I get the rash in the areas where they are inserted after all. And with this pregnancy...the body hair. It must be from the boy hormones, but all of a sudden I have fuzz everywhere. Yesterday I asked Michael if he wanted to compare belly fuzz and he just kept watching TV and ignoring me because he knew there was no 'right' answer to that.
7. Organ discomfort - yes you read that correctly. A fetus takes up residence inside you and shoves all of your organs out of their normal habitats. My stomach is up so high that I have chronic heartburn and every time I bend over I feel like I could throw up. My bladder is so low (and flat) that any drop of liquid sends me to the bathroom, therefore I'm in the bathroom ALL DAY. Morgan was breech, and so far Deuce is breech as well. He's in the exact same position as Morgan, his head over to the left of my upper organs, his feet stomping on my bladder all day and night. And he's mean!! When Morgan moved around it felt like flutters for a long time, and then I could feel her stretch and move her head around (and see her move her head around under my left ribs, so weird and gross) but she wasn't as violent as her brother. I never felt gentle flutters with Deuce, just stomps!! He kicks and punches like he's playing soccer and the drums at the same time. Sometimes I shake my belly to try to get him to stop, then I realize that might fall under 'shaken baby syndrome' so I panic and stop. Both of my children are night owls, during and after pregnancy. I collapse in bed exhausted at night and Deuce decides it's party time. I can't roll to my left side, because that smashes his head and he punches me. I can't roll to my right side, because that's the perfect position for him to run in place. So I'm stuck on my back with him smashing my organs, until he falls asleep. Most women love feeling their babies moving around inside them. I hate it. It's creepy. It's like having a parasite growing inside you, making you uncomfortable for 9 months in every way possible.
8. Maternity clothing - the most unsexy thing you will ever wear in your life...pants with the full belly band. It comes up over your growing belly and touches the bottom of your bra (which isn't saying much I guess, because your boobs get so big and saggy that your bra hangs lower than usual...) whenever I'm getting dressed and Michael catches me pulling the pants up to my chest, he gets a twinkle in his eye...and it's not because he's thinking to himself 'that's the beautiful mother of my children'...honestly I think he's wondering if he can pull off the full belly pants for tailgating during football season.
9. Weight gain - yes I know, we're pregnant, we're going to gain weight. But I gained 55 pounds with Morgan. After she was born I lost 25 (I was retaining that much water!) but the other 30 took about 15 months of strict diet and exercise. During this pregnancy I swore I would exercise and keep my weight under control. Then the fatigue and nausea and hip pain and bladder stomping set in. I stay active; I have to. I have a 3 year old. And a house to clean. But my hips are already starting to keep up with my growing belly. And my arms and face are getting fluffy. It's stressing me out, but at least I know this is my last pregnancy and after he's born I can work on losing weight and keeping it off. Diet, exercise, diet pills, voo doo, whatever works.
And that's all I can cover today...Morgan has found something with Disney princess babies in it and she's beating me in the side saying 'I want this one and this one!!!'
I think I covered most of the awesomeness of pregnancy...I just really don't enjoy being pregnant. At. All.
I don't know whether to admire Michelle Duggar or wonder what's mentally wrong with her...21 pregnancies....shew.
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
skeeter buffet
I have a lot of allergies. Mosquito bites being one of them. And they LOVE, I mean totally ADORE my blood. I need to see if there is some sort of research proving that skeeters prefer type B blood, because I think 'B' stands for buffet.
We've been trying to enjoy this unusual tropical summery weather for March in Ohio. I swear the other day it was hotter than any day I've ever experienced here in the summer. I was so hot it was tempting to chunky dunk in the mud puddles on our street.
My mom came to visit during her spring break (awesome!) and one evening we met up with some of my friends for a play date at a local park. Morgan had a blast. And I was so proud of her...out of 4 kids she came home the cleanest. She was even wearing white shorts. That's my girl.
During our time at the park, I was a skeeter buffet. I am not even kidding when I say I had about ten bites on each leg below the knee. On the drive home, Morgan was crying because she didn't want the fun to be over, and I was driving with one hand, scratching with the other, and giving my mom the stink eye for laughing at my bites. Skeeter bites on mom = zero. Skeeter bites on Morgan = zero. Seriously, what gives?!
Once we were home, I took a long hot shower and used half a tube of Benadryl cream and half a tube of hydrocortisone on my bites. I had to reapply every 2 hours during the night as well. The next day, the bites were huge and red and swollen; I looked like I was suffering from some Biblical disease (I seriously need to make sure I'm covered in skeeter bites next time I go to an amusement park...maybe the sea of people will part and I can go to the front of the line)
Oh and I have pregnancy cankles from being on my feet a lot lately. And from eating pinto beans every day. mmmmmm
I have tried everything, from medication to home remedies....Benadryl cream, hydrocortisone, Eucerine calming cream with oatmeal, Calamine lotion, baking soda paste, cat spit. Nothing gives comfort for longer than an hour. And I don't scratch!!! But ohhhhh how good it feels. Now I understand how an itchy dog feels. It's so tempting to just roll around in the floor digging at my legs. But my mom has put the fear of impetigo in me since childhood. "if you scratch those bites they will get infected and you'll end up with impetigo and have to get your leg cut off."
Hey, I understand her method of parenting. The fear factor works.
After the redness and swelling and misery set in, Michael and my mom felt sorry for me. Michael even stopped at Kroger on our way to see the Hunger Games (fantastic movie by the way!) so I could get Calamine lotion. I applied liberally on the way there and was complimented with 'you smell like an old lady.'
Awesome...cankles, pregnancy belly, bug bites, and old lady stench. It doesn't get much more romantic than that.
So apparently I'm going to have to stay indoors until after Deuce is born and I can drown myself in Off to keep the bugs away.
And now I'm off to apply another layer of medication.
We've been trying to enjoy this unusual tropical summery weather for March in Ohio. I swear the other day it was hotter than any day I've ever experienced here in the summer. I was so hot it was tempting to chunky dunk in the mud puddles on our street.
My mom came to visit during her spring break (awesome!) and one evening we met up with some of my friends for a play date at a local park. Morgan had a blast. And I was so proud of her...out of 4 kids she came home the cleanest. She was even wearing white shorts. That's my girl.
During our time at the park, I was a skeeter buffet. I am not even kidding when I say I had about ten bites on each leg below the knee. On the drive home, Morgan was crying because she didn't want the fun to be over, and I was driving with one hand, scratching with the other, and giving my mom the stink eye for laughing at my bites. Skeeter bites on mom = zero. Skeeter bites on Morgan = zero. Seriously, what gives?!
Once we were home, I took a long hot shower and used half a tube of Benadryl cream and half a tube of hydrocortisone on my bites. I had to reapply every 2 hours during the night as well. The next day, the bites were huge and red and swollen; I looked like I was suffering from some Biblical disease (I seriously need to make sure I'm covered in skeeter bites next time I go to an amusement park...maybe the sea of people will part and I can go to the front of the line)
Oh and I have pregnancy cankles from being on my feet a lot lately. And from eating pinto beans every day. mmmmmm
I have tried everything, from medication to home remedies....Benadryl cream, hydrocortisone, Eucerine calming cream with oatmeal, Calamine lotion, baking soda paste, cat spit. Nothing gives comfort for longer than an hour. And I don't scratch!!! But ohhhhh how good it feels. Now I understand how an itchy dog feels. It's so tempting to just roll around in the floor digging at my legs. But my mom has put the fear of impetigo in me since childhood. "if you scratch those bites they will get infected and you'll end up with impetigo and have to get your leg cut off."
Hey, I understand her method of parenting. The fear factor works.
After the redness and swelling and misery set in, Michael and my mom felt sorry for me. Michael even stopped at Kroger on our way to see the Hunger Games (fantastic movie by the way!) so I could get Calamine lotion. I applied liberally on the way there and was complimented with 'you smell like an old lady.'
Awesome...cankles, pregnancy belly, bug bites, and old lady stench. It doesn't get much more romantic than that.
So apparently I'm going to have to stay indoors until after Deuce is born and I can drown myself in Off to keep the bugs away.
And now I'm off to apply another layer of medication.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
revenges of the kittehs
So a couple of weeks ago I decided to participate in a highly entertaining event called cat breading. Yep, you shove a slice of bread around your cat's face then try to keep a steady hand to take a photo while laughing until you cry.
I shoved bread around both cats' faces. I laughed. Morgan laughed. I took pictures. I laughed at the pictures. I sent the pictures to my friends. They laughed. I posted the pictures on Facebook.
The kittehs have sought out revenge. Yes, that's 'kittehs' not kitties...if you visit websites like icanhascheezburger.com you'll understand.
During my last blog I wrote about stepping in a wet spot on the carpet. Fabulous way to start the day. I almost dropped my Cheerios. I took off my socks and threw them in the dirty clothes. Later that day while doing laundry, I found a large dried wad of cat hair on my sock.
EWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!
I stepped in a HAIR BALL and didn't even know it!
I screamed and did an 'ew ew ew' dance while Shiner and Calvin rolled on their backs and laughed.
The cats are going out of their way to make my life miserable.
There are extra nose prints in the windows.
There is extra hair in all of my curtains.
Nubbies have been left in random places....these are disgusting cat toys that especially Shiner loves. They used to have feathers, but now all that is left are the nub of the toy, hence the name 'nubbie.' I've seen them in the litter box...and in the middle of our bed. The cats know I hate nubbies; I want them to stay in the basement. But they have been appearing in every room upstairs.
Nubbie
There has been an increase of cat fight club meetings (the first rule is...I can't talk about cat fight club...oh snap, I just broke the rule...) leaving wads of cat hair all over my freshly vacuumed carpet. I never know who the victor is; they never honor me with the joy of watching them fight and neither one ever has a bald spot, despite the fact there is a huge patch of hair on my floor that has been jerked out by the roots.
We spent last weekend with my inlaws. When we came home Monday, I wanted to cry because my house was such a mess after our crazy busy week last week. There was a layer of white dust on everything after the new window installation. And the cats apparently had a frat party while we were gone. Michael always does a quick scan of the house for cat vomit and couldn't find any, but there were piles of hair everywhere, nose prints in the windows, items knocked off tables and counters, and 2 innocent looking kitties that acted like they didn't even know we were gone.
I dove into cleaning as soon as we had unpacked. I was in the process of wiping dust and cat hair off of Morgan's train table in our living room when I stepped in something that felt like a wet washcloth. I looked down and saw cat vomit squishing through all the toes on my right foot. I screamed. I said some bad words that Morgan should never repeat even though she totally heard everything I said. I hopped on one foot to the bathroom. Morgan started crying because she is very sensitive and didn't understand why mommy was screaming and cussing and hopping on one foot. Michael comes to investigate and finds me sitting on the edge of the bathtub, sobbing like a child, scrubbing my foot; Morgan standing in the living room, big tears rolling down her face, asking 'is mommy okay?'
The cats were somewhere rolling on their backs laughing hysterically, giving each other high fives (or fours...however many toes they have).
Anybody want 2 cats?
By the way....that's in our bed...where MY feet are supposed to go. Sigh.
I shoved bread around both cats' faces. I laughed. Morgan laughed. I took pictures. I laughed at the pictures. I sent the pictures to my friends. They laughed. I posted the pictures on Facebook.
The kittehs have sought out revenge. Yes, that's 'kittehs' not kitties...if you visit websites like icanhascheezburger.com you'll understand.
During my last blog I wrote about stepping in a wet spot on the carpet. Fabulous way to start the day. I almost dropped my Cheerios. I took off my socks and threw them in the dirty clothes. Later that day while doing laundry, I found a large dried wad of cat hair on my sock.
EWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!
I stepped in a HAIR BALL and didn't even know it!
I screamed and did an 'ew ew ew' dance while Shiner and Calvin rolled on their backs and laughed.
The cats are going out of their way to make my life miserable.
There are extra nose prints in the windows.
There is extra hair in all of my curtains.
Nubbies have been left in random places....these are disgusting cat toys that especially Shiner loves. They used to have feathers, but now all that is left are the nub of the toy, hence the name 'nubbie.' I've seen them in the litter box...and in the middle of our bed. The cats know I hate nubbies; I want them to stay in the basement. But they have been appearing in every room upstairs.
NubbieThere has been an increase of cat fight club meetings (the first rule is...I can't talk about cat fight club...oh snap, I just broke the rule...) leaving wads of cat hair all over my freshly vacuumed carpet. I never know who the victor is; they never honor me with the joy of watching them fight and neither one ever has a bald spot, despite the fact there is a huge patch of hair on my floor that has been jerked out by the roots.
We spent last weekend with my inlaws. When we came home Monday, I wanted to cry because my house was such a mess after our crazy busy week last week. There was a layer of white dust on everything after the new window installation. And the cats apparently had a frat party while we were gone. Michael always does a quick scan of the house for cat vomit and couldn't find any, but there were piles of hair everywhere, nose prints in the windows, items knocked off tables and counters, and 2 innocent looking kitties that acted like they didn't even know we were gone.
I dove into cleaning as soon as we had unpacked. I was in the process of wiping dust and cat hair off of Morgan's train table in our living room when I stepped in something that felt like a wet washcloth. I looked down and saw cat vomit squishing through all the toes on my right foot. I screamed. I said some bad words that Morgan should never repeat even though she totally heard everything I said. I hopped on one foot to the bathroom. Morgan started crying because she is very sensitive and didn't understand why mommy was screaming and cussing and hopping on one foot. Michael comes to investigate and finds me sitting on the edge of the bathtub, sobbing like a child, scrubbing my foot; Morgan standing in the living room, big tears rolling down her face, asking 'is mommy okay?'
The cats were somewhere rolling on their backs laughing hysterically, giving each other high fives (or fours...however many toes they have).
Anybody want 2 cats?
By the way....that's in our bed...where MY feet are supposed to go. Sigh.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
latest Mommyland adventures....
By the beard of Zeus. What. A. Week.
Monday morning Michael gets home around 7:30 after working his 6th night shift in a row. We are scheduled to have new windows installed in our house at 8:30. They show up at 8. While I'm still in bed. The doorbell rings and I roll out of bed and waddle around trying to find clothes as fast as possible while I hear Michael talking to the window crew. I'm still in my nightgown, hair fuzzed out, no glasses, when Michael knocks on the door asking if I'm ready for the guy to come in our bedroom to do final measurements on our windows. I end up with something like a green shirt, black pants, and pink socks on while a kind middle aged man busts into my bedroom with measuring tape and a judgemental look because my kid and I are still asleep. Little does he know that my kid didn't fall asleep until midnight the night before! Morgan was so exhausted she slept through them coming into her room to measure the window, slept through them pounding out the windows and drilling in the rooms around her, slept through Michael chasing down the cats to shove into the basement for the day (so they wouldn't escape out the new holes in our house)...which is all extremely irritating because sometimes all I have to do is walk past her bedroom at night and I hear 'mooommmyyyyy...' because I somehow woke her up with my presence in the hallway.
So Monday I spent the day listening to Michael snore on and off on the couch because he was exhausted....apparently he's not superhuman and can't work 12 hours overnight and then stay up the next day? I felt sorry for him...until I realized he was the one that scheduled that day for windows. The cats meowed and scratched at the door all day. Michael had to put a baby gate on the stairs, tilted so that they couldn't jump over it, in order to keep them from digging a hole through the basement door. Every 5 seconds we were dragging Morgan away from the workers. Shattered glass and toddlers don't go well together. Then it started to rain. I felt so sorry for the workers. And with gaping holes in my house it was almost cold enough to dig out my ski clothes. I ended up leaving with Morgan to go run some errands...and at the first stop I couldn't see past my pregnant belly or the boxes I was carrying into the post office and stepped in a puddle, soaking my feet.
Why can't pregnant women drink vodka?
In the middle of all of this mess I receive a phone call from my doctor telling me that they were reviewing my file and in the ultrasounds they had done 2 weeks previously, they are seeing a cyst on the baby's brain.
What?!!
She was like '99.9% of the time it goes away on it's own but we want you to go back to the specialist in Pittsburgh for a level 2 ultrasound just to make sure everything is okay.'
Awesome.
That woke Michael up and he did some research online for more information and found out it's fairly common, but that sometimes it can be an indication of a chromosome disorder and that's why doctors want to do further tests. I had some sort of blood testing done to check to screen for Down's Syndrome and other problems and as far as I know, the results came back normal, because my doctor never said anything otherwise.
Ultrasound was scheduled for Wednesday. As usual, I vented to my family and friends about my latest issues. I honestly have an amazing support group of people in my life. We had so many people praying for us, so many encouraging texts and emails. I love the people in my life. We honestly weren't worried; we both embrace the idea of not worrying until you have a concrete reason to. But there was still that little weight sitting on our chests, anxiety over having even more pregnancy issues, irritation over the fact that doctors over analyze everything nowadays and stir up so much stress and worry during pregnancies. However did our mothers and grandmothers survive without all of these high tech tests?!
So Tuesday....Michael took a 12 hour overtime shift. I wanted to choke him for taking it, but honestly we ALWAYS need the money so I can't really complain over the fact that he loves his job enough to work so much overtime. That's how we save up money to redo bathrooms and replace 43 year old windows. So I just gave him stink eye and kept my mouth shut...sort of. Morgan and I got up at 7:30 and waited for the workers to return to finish the window job. I had to shove the cats back in the basement while our deck door was being replaced. Morgan was like 'oh no! there's a hole in the house mommy!' and I had to drag her away from it every 5 seconds. By noon the weather warmed up and it felt amazing outside. I let the ground dry up a bit in the sunshine before asking Morgan if she wanted to go out and play (like she was going to say no...) and we dragged her tricycle out of storage and within 30 seconds she wiped out and was screaming. I think I remember having a conversation with Michael about her needing a helmet and he was like 'oh she won't need a helmet for a tricycle, they are sturdy' so I sent him a text with this picture:
with the caption 'ummmm she needs a helmet...'
and he texted back 'ummmm is she okay?'
well after I pulled the bike off her and saw that she had minor scratched on her knee and wrists, she kept saying her head hurt, but I didn't feel any knots, and bubbles distracted her from crying so I figured she was okay. Then about an hour later I was brushing her bangs out of her eyes and saw this:
how the heck did I miss that?!!! It's moments like this that make me feel like mom of the year.
No more tricycle until we buy her a helmet.
Wednesday morning we all woke up at 7:30 again (this is killing me and Morgan...) so that I will have time to have my monthly bloodwork done before we go to Pittsburgh. Michael and Morgan drop me off at the Weirton hospital where I am greeted by the ladies that are usually working in the lab and recognize me by now. 5 vials of blood later and I'm back in the car with a Tudor's biscuit (thank you Michael) and we are on our way to Pittsburgh.
Pittsburgh is a beautiful city. It takes a little less than an hour to get there from our house, depending on traffic. I love how you drive down the interstate and see nothing but a tunnel, and as soon as you pop out the other side of the tunnel, BAM there's a city! Morgan loves it. She's a city baby; so much to see and do.
The ultrasound went really well. She confirmed it is indeed a boy (within about 6 seconds of placing the wand on my abdomen, baby boy was like 'hey...look at my junk ya'll!'). She did a very thorough ultrasound...checking his kidneys, measuring arms and legs. And best of all, she found NO cysts on his brain! They are already gone! And no indicators that he is anything other than a perfect baby.
I would have enjoyed all of this information so much more if the combination of having 5 vials of blood, being exhausted, and laying on my back while being poked with an ultrasound wand wasn't making me extremely nauseated. I stared at the ceiling trying to fight through it, but when I broke out in a cold sweat and got dizzy I decided to say something about it. Next thing I know, I'm on my side with a wet cloth on my head and Michael is wiping the ultrasound goop off my belly while Morgan is trying to figure out how to get on the table to have her stomach examined.
A doctor came in and confirmed everything...no cysts, and everything looks normal.
Leaving Pittsburgh, Michael and I were so lighthearted and happy. A huge weight has been lifted off our chests. It's wonderful to know that baby boy is fine. I have about 16 more weeks to keep him safe and healthy until his big debut into this world.
To celebrate we took Morgan shoe shopping (the kid LOVES shoes, and her feet are growing so fast) and went to Jared to have all of our wedding rings cleaned (way overdue...some of the diamonds were loose in my engagement ring and I had to leave it there for a couple of hours to have it serviced). When we left, Morgan was so upset, she cried... 'my diamond store!!!' She loves sparkly things....like most women do.
We slept in today and it was glorious. Morgan woke up around 7 and I climbed in bed with her so she would go back to sleep. I woke up to her drawing shapes on my nose...'circle...rectangle...octagon....oval....GOT YOUR NOSE!' then stepped in a damp spot on the carpet where one of the cats regurgitated some water (soaking my socks and making me say some words that Morgan shouldn't repeat) then had to clean up the cup of milk that Morgan spilled down herself onto the floor.
And those are the latest adventures in Mommyland.
Monday morning Michael gets home around 7:30 after working his 6th night shift in a row. We are scheduled to have new windows installed in our house at 8:30. They show up at 8. While I'm still in bed. The doorbell rings and I roll out of bed and waddle around trying to find clothes as fast as possible while I hear Michael talking to the window crew. I'm still in my nightgown, hair fuzzed out, no glasses, when Michael knocks on the door asking if I'm ready for the guy to come in our bedroom to do final measurements on our windows. I end up with something like a green shirt, black pants, and pink socks on while a kind middle aged man busts into my bedroom with measuring tape and a judgemental look because my kid and I are still asleep. Little does he know that my kid didn't fall asleep until midnight the night before! Morgan was so exhausted she slept through them coming into her room to measure the window, slept through them pounding out the windows and drilling in the rooms around her, slept through Michael chasing down the cats to shove into the basement for the day (so they wouldn't escape out the new holes in our house)...which is all extremely irritating because sometimes all I have to do is walk past her bedroom at night and I hear 'mooommmyyyyy...' because I somehow woke her up with my presence in the hallway.
So Monday I spent the day listening to Michael snore on and off on the couch because he was exhausted....apparently he's not superhuman and can't work 12 hours overnight and then stay up the next day? I felt sorry for him...until I realized he was the one that scheduled that day for windows. The cats meowed and scratched at the door all day. Michael had to put a baby gate on the stairs, tilted so that they couldn't jump over it, in order to keep them from digging a hole through the basement door. Every 5 seconds we were dragging Morgan away from the workers. Shattered glass and toddlers don't go well together. Then it started to rain. I felt so sorry for the workers. And with gaping holes in my house it was almost cold enough to dig out my ski clothes. I ended up leaving with Morgan to go run some errands...and at the first stop I couldn't see past my pregnant belly or the boxes I was carrying into the post office and stepped in a puddle, soaking my feet.
Why can't pregnant women drink vodka?
In the middle of all of this mess I receive a phone call from my doctor telling me that they were reviewing my file and in the ultrasounds they had done 2 weeks previously, they are seeing a cyst on the baby's brain.
What?!!
She was like '99.9% of the time it goes away on it's own but we want you to go back to the specialist in Pittsburgh for a level 2 ultrasound just to make sure everything is okay.'
Awesome.
That woke Michael up and he did some research online for more information and found out it's fairly common, but that sometimes it can be an indication of a chromosome disorder and that's why doctors want to do further tests. I had some sort of blood testing done to check to screen for Down's Syndrome and other problems and as far as I know, the results came back normal, because my doctor never said anything otherwise.
Ultrasound was scheduled for Wednesday. As usual, I vented to my family and friends about my latest issues. I honestly have an amazing support group of people in my life. We had so many people praying for us, so many encouraging texts and emails. I love the people in my life. We honestly weren't worried; we both embrace the idea of not worrying until you have a concrete reason to. But there was still that little weight sitting on our chests, anxiety over having even more pregnancy issues, irritation over the fact that doctors over analyze everything nowadays and stir up so much stress and worry during pregnancies. However did our mothers and grandmothers survive without all of these high tech tests?!
So Tuesday....Michael took a 12 hour overtime shift. I wanted to choke him for taking it, but honestly we ALWAYS need the money so I can't really complain over the fact that he loves his job enough to work so much overtime. That's how we save up money to redo bathrooms and replace 43 year old windows. So I just gave him stink eye and kept my mouth shut...sort of. Morgan and I got up at 7:30 and waited for the workers to return to finish the window job. I had to shove the cats back in the basement while our deck door was being replaced. Morgan was like 'oh no! there's a hole in the house mommy!' and I had to drag her away from it every 5 seconds. By noon the weather warmed up and it felt amazing outside. I let the ground dry up a bit in the sunshine before asking Morgan if she wanted to go out and play (like she was going to say no...) and we dragged her tricycle out of storage and within 30 seconds she wiped out and was screaming. I think I remember having a conversation with Michael about her needing a helmet and he was like 'oh she won't need a helmet for a tricycle, they are sturdy' so I sent him a text with this picture:
and he texted back 'ummmm is she okay?'
well after I pulled the bike off her and saw that she had minor scratched on her knee and wrists, she kept saying her head hurt, but I didn't feel any knots, and bubbles distracted her from crying so I figured she was okay. Then about an hour later I was brushing her bangs out of her eyes and saw this:
how the heck did I miss that?!!! It's moments like this that make me feel like mom of the year.
No more tricycle until we buy her a helmet.
Wednesday morning we all woke up at 7:30 again (this is killing me and Morgan...) so that I will have time to have my monthly bloodwork done before we go to Pittsburgh. Michael and Morgan drop me off at the Weirton hospital where I am greeted by the ladies that are usually working in the lab and recognize me by now. 5 vials of blood later and I'm back in the car with a Tudor's biscuit (thank you Michael) and we are on our way to Pittsburgh.
Pittsburgh is a beautiful city. It takes a little less than an hour to get there from our house, depending on traffic. I love how you drive down the interstate and see nothing but a tunnel, and as soon as you pop out the other side of the tunnel, BAM there's a city! Morgan loves it. She's a city baby; so much to see and do.
The ultrasound went really well. She confirmed it is indeed a boy (within about 6 seconds of placing the wand on my abdomen, baby boy was like 'hey...look at my junk ya'll!'). She did a very thorough ultrasound...checking his kidneys, measuring arms and legs. And best of all, she found NO cysts on his brain! They are already gone! And no indicators that he is anything other than a perfect baby.
I would have enjoyed all of this information so much more if the combination of having 5 vials of blood, being exhausted, and laying on my back while being poked with an ultrasound wand wasn't making me extremely nauseated. I stared at the ceiling trying to fight through it, but when I broke out in a cold sweat and got dizzy I decided to say something about it. Next thing I know, I'm on my side with a wet cloth on my head and Michael is wiping the ultrasound goop off my belly while Morgan is trying to figure out how to get on the table to have her stomach examined.
A doctor came in and confirmed everything...no cysts, and everything looks normal.
Leaving Pittsburgh, Michael and I were so lighthearted and happy. A huge weight has been lifted off our chests. It's wonderful to know that baby boy is fine. I have about 16 more weeks to keep him safe and healthy until his big debut into this world.
To celebrate we took Morgan shoe shopping (the kid LOVES shoes, and her feet are growing so fast) and went to Jared to have all of our wedding rings cleaned (way overdue...some of the diamonds were loose in my engagement ring and I had to leave it there for a couple of hours to have it serviced). When we left, Morgan was so upset, she cried... 'my diamond store!!!' She loves sparkly things....like most women do.
We slept in today and it was glorious. Morgan woke up around 7 and I climbed in bed with her so she would go back to sleep. I woke up to her drawing shapes on my nose...'circle...rectangle...octagon....oval....GOT YOUR NOSE!' then stepped in a damp spot on the carpet where one of the cats regurgitated some water (soaking my socks and making me say some words that Morgan shouldn't repeat) then had to clean up the cup of milk that Morgan spilled down herself onto the floor.
And those are the latest adventures in Mommyland.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Cat Breading
You read that correctly...cat breading. Not breeding.
My BFF Paul enlightened me on this process. There is a whole collection of cat pictures online. I've been wanting to try it for a while, but Michael said no. I was not to humiliate his kitties.
I married into 2 black cats. Michael had just gotten both of them (at different times...and from different locations...but they are both black) right before I met him. They are about 6 years old now. Shiner and Calvin. Shiner is 'mean kitty.' He's full of cat attitude and hates me and Morgan. He scratches and bites us any time he thinks he can get away with it, for no reason other than he's in a bad mood!! I took him for a walk one time (yes both cats walk on a leash...) and out of nowhere he decided to bite a chunk out of my ankle. It bled down into my shoe. Last summer (while on a walk) for no reason whatsoever, he stood up like a bear and attacked Morgan, scratching up her face and stomach. One large gash on her eyelid probably would have guaranteed his death if Michael had been home for that, but he was at work (which means I got to deal with all that drama on my own....that was a fun evening). So I don't take mean kitty for walks anymore. He still randomly will strike out and scratch Morgan's leg just because she's walking near him and he's cranky. And she still loves him and won't leave him alone!!! Michael gets so upset with him, he throws Shiner in the garage for 'time out' (among other punishments) and Shiner just ADORES Michael. That's the problem. Shiner remembers life before Morgan and me and he hates that we messed it up. Life when Shiner could take a nap without having to keep an eye open to watch for Little People being thrown around.
And then there's Calvin. World's dumbest cat. You just look at him and think 'awwww, poor dumb kitty.' He has never scratched or bitten. Morgan rides him like a horse, decorates him with jewelry and bows, and he loves the attention. My complaints about him are his wet nose leaving snot trails all over my windows (and across our legs and feet...yuck) and his bulimia. He barfs a log of cat food at least once a week.
So last night as I was throwing out a couple of old slices of bread....I decided to try breading on my cats. Michael was at work and couldn't stop me.
Here's how it works:
you take a slice of bread, cut out a hole (or dig out one with your hands), hold your cat down and gently place the slice of bread over their face. Photos are not the best quality because using iPhone while restraining a breaded cat is tricky.
CALVIN
SHINER
My BFF Paul enlightened me on this process. There is a whole collection of cat pictures online. I've been wanting to try it for a while, but Michael said no. I was not to humiliate his kitties.
I married into 2 black cats. Michael had just gotten both of them (at different times...and from different locations...but they are both black) right before I met him. They are about 6 years old now. Shiner and Calvin. Shiner is 'mean kitty.' He's full of cat attitude and hates me and Morgan. He scratches and bites us any time he thinks he can get away with it, for no reason other than he's in a bad mood!! I took him for a walk one time (yes both cats walk on a leash...) and out of nowhere he decided to bite a chunk out of my ankle. It bled down into my shoe. Last summer (while on a walk) for no reason whatsoever, he stood up like a bear and attacked Morgan, scratching up her face and stomach. One large gash on her eyelid probably would have guaranteed his death if Michael had been home for that, but he was at work (which means I got to deal with all that drama on my own....that was a fun evening). So I don't take mean kitty for walks anymore. He still randomly will strike out and scratch Morgan's leg just because she's walking near him and he's cranky. And she still loves him and won't leave him alone!!! Michael gets so upset with him, he throws Shiner in the garage for 'time out' (among other punishments) and Shiner just ADORES Michael. That's the problem. Shiner remembers life before Morgan and me and he hates that we messed it up. Life when Shiner could take a nap without having to keep an eye open to watch for Little People being thrown around.
And then there's Calvin. World's dumbest cat. You just look at him and think 'awwww, poor dumb kitty.' He has never scratched or bitten. Morgan rides him like a horse, decorates him with jewelry and bows, and he loves the attention. My complaints about him are his wet nose leaving snot trails all over my windows (and across our legs and feet...yuck) and his bulimia. He barfs a log of cat food at least once a week.
So last night as I was throwing out a couple of old slices of bread....I decided to try breading on my cats. Michael was at work and couldn't stop me.
Here's how it works:
you take a slice of bread, cut out a hole (or dig out one with your hands), hold your cat down and gently place the slice of bread over their face. Photos are not the best quality because using iPhone while restraining a breaded cat is tricky.
CALVIN
SHINER
I texted these pictures to Michael and he replied with 'my poor kitties' and an emoticon with a big frown and tear.
Mwahahahaha
Then I texted them to every friend and family member that I thought needed at laugh at 9pm.
**no cats were harmed in the process of this breading.
I highly recommend breading your cat. Especially if he/she doesn't have claws.
Afterwards, both kitties tried to eat the bread crumbs...then spit them out so I would have soggy kitty slobbered bread crumbs to clean off the floor, then cleaned their faces for an hour.
Totally worth it.
Cheerios
You know how people joke about how Twinkies and roaches could survive the Apocalypse? I disagree.
Cheerios.
They are tasty. Healthy. I eat them a lot. So does Morgan.
But they are evil.
They creep down into the deepest cracks of your couch and have babies. They find their way into the creases of your kids' carseats.
You sit down to eat a bowl....and sure enough, one somehow manages to escape. No idea how, but there it is, in the floor, staring back at you with its hollow eye.
You put a bowl out for your child to snack on....and it lasts for a week. It's like the story of Jesus with the fish...the Cheerios just keep multiplying no matter how many are eaten!! And your kid just keeps munching on them, no matter how many days that bowl has been out (okay maybe I'm tattling a bit about my parenting skills...leaving the same snack out for days...)
Have you ever tried to vacuum one?!!!
Your vacuum will just glide right over it and the Cheerio will stay in place, resistant to the sucking power of your yard sale vacuum sweeper. You try again. And again. And again. You end up cursing the Cheerio, jumping up and down with a crazed look in your eye, making a fool of yourself in front of the cats (but don't worry, just bread head them and the humiliation will be even...I'll post pictures and instructions in the next blog).
You finally end up throwing the vacuum down on its side, picking up the Cheerio, and force feeding it into the suction.
SUCCESS!!!
And as soon as you turn the vacuum upright and continue sweeping, that Cheerio falls back down onto the floor making you question your sanity and the laws of gravity and nature. You look around to see if some alien is hiding and taking notes of your progress, then pick up the Cheerio by hand and throw it in the trash can.
Then you move the couch cushions to see what your toddler has been squirreling away and under the Little People, smashed crackers, and smeared boogers....there are Cheerio families just hanging out in the deep cracks of your couch. They are too deep for your sweeper hose to reach. Of course.
My suggestion....yell for your toddler or your dog to help. Morgan is great at digging out Cheerios and most of them make it to the trash can instead of her mouth.
And smashed Cheerios.... *eye twitch*
The other evening Michael and I were enjoying way too much peace and quiet. We were watching something on TV while I worked on a crochet project and after a while I realized we hadn't been interrupted by the child. Usually she runs down the hallway and Michael sings 'here she comes to wreck the day!' at least 10 times during any show we are trying to watch, but she had been in her room for at least half hour keeping to herself.
I immediately knew she was doing something bad.
Sure enough, I found Morgan watching Dora on her TV....and a huge mound of crushed chocolate Cheerios ground into her white rug.
sigh.
I probably slightly overreacted by screaming that I was going to throw all of her toys out into the yard and Morgan cried the entire time I cleaned. I think it took about 20 minutes to vacuum, scrape, and shovel all those crumbs out of her fluffy white rug.
20 minutes of my life gone. Over Cheerios.
Someday we will be able to afford a new vacuum, not that ours isn't great, it works just fine. But I want one with Cheerio sucking powers. I'll be looking for those exact words on the box.
Cheerios.
They are tasty. Healthy. I eat them a lot. So does Morgan.
But they are evil.
They creep down into the deepest cracks of your couch and have babies. They find their way into the creases of your kids' carseats.
You sit down to eat a bowl....and sure enough, one somehow manages to escape. No idea how, but there it is, in the floor, staring back at you with its hollow eye.
You put a bowl out for your child to snack on....and it lasts for a week. It's like the story of Jesus with the fish...the Cheerios just keep multiplying no matter how many are eaten!! And your kid just keeps munching on them, no matter how many days that bowl has been out (okay maybe I'm tattling a bit about my parenting skills...leaving the same snack out for days...)
Have you ever tried to vacuum one?!!!
Your vacuum will just glide right over it and the Cheerio will stay in place, resistant to the sucking power of your yard sale vacuum sweeper. You try again. And again. And again. You end up cursing the Cheerio, jumping up and down with a crazed look in your eye, making a fool of yourself in front of the cats (but don't worry, just bread head them and the humiliation will be even...I'll post pictures and instructions in the next blog).
You finally end up throwing the vacuum down on its side, picking up the Cheerio, and force feeding it into the suction.
SUCCESS!!!
And as soon as you turn the vacuum upright and continue sweeping, that Cheerio falls back down onto the floor making you question your sanity and the laws of gravity and nature. You look around to see if some alien is hiding and taking notes of your progress, then pick up the Cheerio by hand and throw it in the trash can.
Then you move the couch cushions to see what your toddler has been squirreling away and under the Little People, smashed crackers, and smeared boogers....there are Cheerio families just hanging out in the deep cracks of your couch. They are too deep for your sweeper hose to reach. Of course.
My suggestion....yell for your toddler or your dog to help. Morgan is great at digging out Cheerios and most of them make it to the trash can instead of her mouth.
And smashed Cheerios.... *eye twitch*
The other evening Michael and I were enjoying way too much peace and quiet. We were watching something on TV while I worked on a crochet project and after a while I realized we hadn't been interrupted by the child. Usually she runs down the hallway and Michael sings 'here she comes to wreck the day!' at least 10 times during any show we are trying to watch, but she had been in her room for at least half hour keeping to herself.
I immediately knew she was doing something bad.
Sure enough, I found Morgan watching Dora on her TV....and a huge mound of crushed chocolate Cheerios ground into her white rug.
sigh.
I probably slightly overreacted by screaming that I was going to throw all of her toys out into the yard and Morgan cried the entire time I cleaned. I think it took about 20 minutes to vacuum, scrape, and shovel all those crumbs out of her fluffy white rug.
20 minutes of my life gone. Over Cheerios.
Someday we will be able to afford a new vacuum, not that ours isn't great, it works just fine. But I want one with Cheerio sucking powers. I'll be looking for those exact words on the box.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Hell on Ice
It's been a pretty busy week. As I stare at these birds we call 'black chickens' standing in the rain in our backyard, I realize I needed to update the world on my fascinating life.
A week ago we drove to Pittsburgh (about an hour from our house, less if there's no traffic) to take Morgan to see Disney on Ice. I noticed on Facebook that EVERYBODY is taking their kids to Disney on Ice back home (it went to Charleston WV) so I frantically checked to see if they were coming to Pittsburgh and sure enough, they were coming the week of Morgan's birthday! Perfect!
So after working a 16 hour shift overnight, poor Michael dragged me and Morgan out of bed when he got home at 7:30 (we stay up late and sleep in late around here...) so we would have plenty of time to get there. The big decision that morning...what princess dress to wear (not me...or Michael...but for Morgan). She has Rapunzel, Belle, Snow White, Tiana dresses from the Disney Store, and Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty from Big Lots. She went with Rapunzel because she has the matching shoes and necklaces.
Traffic was a pain going into the city, and some ambulance kicked up something solid that chipped our windshield, putting a damper on the fun.
And then we took a wrong turn. Yes we have a GPS, but Pittsburgh has one of the craziest road systems. We were supposed to turn right, but there were 2 roads next to each other and we happened to get on the one that is a freeway and the closest exit was a mile away, where we had to listen to 'recalculating' repeatedly and find an exit to turn around on. At this point Michael is started to fume about how we won't get to our seats in time, I'm trying not to cry about the windshield because I know it's not in our policy for our insurance to fix it so it will probably just stay chipped and make the Land Rover as ugly as our Mazda that has had a cracked windshield for 3 years, and Morgan is pointing out churches and yelling 'castle!'
We finally get back to where we need to be, only to run into 'event traffic.' A huge line of cars waiting to turn into parking lots and garages and disgruntled parents running across the road dragging children ages 2-7 leaving a trail of princess dress glitter.
Then it's our turn to be the disgruntled parents running through the parking lot. I'm loaded down with diaper bag and purse and 5 month pregnant belly; Michael is carrying our 36 pound 3 year old, trying to keep her diaper covered with her princess dress, hissing at me 'you should have put tights on her to cover her butt! It's cold out here today!'
Yeah it was really cold. And tights would have been a great idea. Especially since we were going to be watching ICE SKATING. But I put socks on Morgan instead of tights, and I wore a short sleeve dress with leggings and flats. Michael didn't even wear a coat.
We followed the herd of people to an entrance...only to find out it's the WRONG ENTRANCE because we needed to pick up our tickets.
sigh.
Michael is about to fall over from running with Morgan for a mile so I end up carrying the kid, my purse, the diaper bag. Waddling down the sidewalk not even caring about the stares I get from random people over my grunting and cursing (okay so maybe cursing when there are that many toddlers around is a little rude...)
We found our entrance, got our tickets, rode escalators up several stories of the building, dodged school groups of screaming children, and found our seats. I used to drive to Pittsburgh for hockey games and big concerts (like Korn...yes, I've seen Korn live) but this was the first time I'd been in the new arena. I was a little sad when we drove past the old one being torn down...but I totally forgot all about it when I was in the new one. It's amazing! But we had to go to the very top and then walk down to our seats which made me very dizzy and brought back memories of trying to walk back to my seat after 8 beers at a NASCAR race. The levels are so steep! But it means every seat is a good one. Michael got tickets in the balcony, in the very front, they were much cheaper than the lower level, and Morgan could stand the entire time and not bother anybody but us.
The entire place buzzed with noise. The row behind us was filled with kids from a school group that kicked the back of our seats for 2 hours.
Michael looked at me with glazed over 'just worked 16 hours at a power plant' eyes and said 'this is my hell.' And then 'that's totally going to be my Facebook status.'
Michael never posts on Facebook. So when he does, it's pretty epic.
The show finally started and Morgan shook all over from excitement. The first half was pretty entertaining, even for me. My one complaint is that they crammed all of the princesses into a short time frame (but I hear they have a separate show for Princesses on Ice...) Morgan cried at Intermission because she thought it was over, but then the 2nd half was somewhat boring and she was ready to go when it was over.
Highlights of the show:
giving the boy behind me the 'stink-eye' for kicking my chair. it worked. he stopped.
changing Morgan's Pullup during a dark scene. nobody even noticed and Morgan didn't even blink about that fact that for a few seconds she was naked under her dress.
Michael saying 'ya know what? Snow White is actually pretty homely.'
Me: 'why do you say that?'
Michael: 'well, she's got that really short really dark hair. and her dress is ugly.'
Me: (laughing....until I realize my hair is short...and dark)
I gave Michael the stink-eye.
He drank his 5 hour energy shot and didn't notice.
We worried that Morgan would have a meltdown after the show but she was ready to go. 2 hours was enough. The meltdown didn't happen until she saw the school buses lined up out front and wanted to go to school. She's such a weird kid. She begs to go to the doctor (even the 'teeth doctor') and begs to go to school.
Hanging out at home with me is so boring you'll beg to go to the doctor or school.
A week ago we drove to Pittsburgh (about an hour from our house, less if there's no traffic) to take Morgan to see Disney on Ice. I noticed on Facebook that EVERYBODY is taking their kids to Disney on Ice back home (it went to Charleston WV) so I frantically checked to see if they were coming to Pittsburgh and sure enough, they were coming the week of Morgan's birthday! Perfect!
So after working a 16 hour shift overnight, poor Michael dragged me and Morgan out of bed when he got home at 7:30 (we stay up late and sleep in late around here...) so we would have plenty of time to get there. The big decision that morning...what princess dress to wear (not me...or Michael...but for Morgan). She has Rapunzel, Belle, Snow White, Tiana dresses from the Disney Store, and Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty from Big Lots. She went with Rapunzel because she has the matching shoes and necklaces.
Traffic was a pain going into the city, and some ambulance kicked up something solid that chipped our windshield, putting a damper on the fun.
And then we took a wrong turn. Yes we have a GPS, but Pittsburgh has one of the craziest road systems. We were supposed to turn right, but there were 2 roads next to each other and we happened to get on the one that is a freeway and the closest exit was a mile away, where we had to listen to 'recalculating' repeatedly and find an exit to turn around on. At this point Michael is started to fume about how we won't get to our seats in time, I'm trying not to cry about the windshield because I know it's not in our policy for our insurance to fix it so it will probably just stay chipped and make the Land Rover as ugly as our Mazda that has had a cracked windshield for 3 years, and Morgan is pointing out churches and yelling 'castle!'
We finally get back to where we need to be, only to run into 'event traffic.' A huge line of cars waiting to turn into parking lots and garages and disgruntled parents running across the road dragging children ages 2-7 leaving a trail of princess dress glitter.
Then it's our turn to be the disgruntled parents running through the parking lot. I'm loaded down with diaper bag and purse and 5 month pregnant belly; Michael is carrying our 36 pound 3 year old, trying to keep her diaper covered with her princess dress, hissing at me 'you should have put tights on her to cover her butt! It's cold out here today!'
Yeah it was really cold. And tights would have been a great idea. Especially since we were going to be watching ICE SKATING. But I put socks on Morgan instead of tights, and I wore a short sleeve dress with leggings and flats. Michael didn't even wear a coat.
We followed the herd of people to an entrance...only to find out it's the WRONG ENTRANCE because we needed to pick up our tickets.
sigh.
Michael is about to fall over from running with Morgan for a mile so I end up carrying the kid, my purse, the diaper bag. Waddling down the sidewalk not even caring about the stares I get from random people over my grunting and cursing (okay so maybe cursing when there are that many toddlers around is a little rude...)
We found our entrance, got our tickets, rode escalators up several stories of the building, dodged school groups of screaming children, and found our seats. I used to drive to Pittsburgh for hockey games and big concerts (like Korn...yes, I've seen Korn live) but this was the first time I'd been in the new arena. I was a little sad when we drove past the old one being torn down...but I totally forgot all about it when I was in the new one. It's amazing! But we had to go to the very top and then walk down to our seats which made me very dizzy and brought back memories of trying to walk back to my seat after 8 beers at a NASCAR race. The levels are so steep! But it means every seat is a good one. Michael got tickets in the balcony, in the very front, they were much cheaper than the lower level, and Morgan could stand the entire time and not bother anybody but us.
The entire place buzzed with noise. The row behind us was filled with kids from a school group that kicked the back of our seats for 2 hours.
Michael looked at me with glazed over 'just worked 16 hours at a power plant' eyes and said 'this is my hell.' And then 'that's totally going to be my Facebook status.'
Michael never posts on Facebook. So when he does, it's pretty epic.
The show finally started and Morgan shook all over from excitement. The first half was pretty entertaining, even for me. My one complaint is that they crammed all of the princesses into a short time frame (but I hear they have a separate show for Princesses on Ice...) Morgan cried at Intermission because she thought it was over, but then the 2nd half was somewhat boring and she was ready to go when it was over.
Highlights of the show:
giving the boy behind me the 'stink-eye' for kicking my chair. it worked. he stopped.
changing Morgan's Pullup during a dark scene. nobody even noticed and Morgan didn't even blink about that fact that for a few seconds she was naked under her dress.
Michael saying 'ya know what? Snow White is actually pretty homely.'
Me: 'why do you say that?'
Michael: 'well, she's got that really short really dark hair. and her dress is ugly.'
Me: (laughing....until I realize my hair is short...and dark)
I gave Michael the stink-eye.
He drank his 5 hour energy shot and didn't notice.
We worried that Morgan would have a meltdown after the show but she was ready to go. 2 hours was enough. The meltdown didn't happen until she saw the school buses lined up out front and wanted to go to school. She's such a weird kid. She begs to go to the doctor (even the 'teeth doctor') and begs to go to school.
Hanging out at home with me is so boring you'll beg to go to the doctor or school.
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