Just Ramblin’ Along

Holy crap. I don’t really have a super cohesive topic for today but that seems like an appropriate first sentence anyway. I tend to not have super cohesive topics most days but I’ll pretend this is different somehow.

I’ve been wanting to write more on here but I’ve been using all my words for National Novel Writing Month which, if you didn’t know, is where you try to write a 50,000 word novel within the confines of November. I’ve never tried anything like this before so I decided to go for it. My word count as of yesterday is 25,006. (For comparison’s sake, not including this post I have written about 85,000 words on my blog.)  So yeah, after getting in my daily word count on that thing my brain is usually too fried to come over here and offer words but I figured today I would try.

Ivy turns five months old today. It’s crazy to me that she’s already almost half a year old. It feels like some sort of cheat of the calendar or something but it’s true. She likes sitting up now and loves it when we hold her up so she can stand. She’s not a fan of tummy time, doesn’t seem interested in rolling over but she’s gotten the hang of grabbing things now and can almost sort of shove them in the direction of her mouth.

She’s also discovered her feet now and loves the cats so much it’s hilarious. She doesn’t know how to pet them yet but her smile is enormous when we take her hands and run them along their soft fur.

Still no interest in solid foods though my boobs are more than up to the challenge of keeping my behemoth baby well fed. I’m looking forward to the day when I won’t be the sole provider of food for her.

Yesterday a friend of mine gave me a gel manicure (a first for me but it came out really well). When I got home I was holding Ivy and she grabbed my thumb in one hand and with her other she very deliberately poked at the colored nail with a face full of confusion and Trying To Figure It Out.

Teething is a bitch. Our pediatrician’s appointment last month revealed three incoming teeth but none of the sons of bitches have cut yet. So we’ve been holding a lot of cold teething rings up to Ivy’s very drooly mouth while she chews and wails. When the pain gets really bad for her we give her Tylenol (following the directions our pediatrician gave us). I’ve gotten really good at holding a wailing baby while coaxing it to swallow the icky icky medicine.

I’ve been working on a knitting design that I’m making up myself but I hit a part in the work where it’s just a long patch of nothing and since I am the knitter with ADD I have put the thing down in an attempt to work on more interesting projects. Except I haven’t been doing that either so really I’ve just been sitting on my butt doing nothing.

I want to try writing more for this blog soon (but god I feel like I’ve said that like 40 times and followed through like, twice) but with NaNoWriMo going on, that is my official priority. I want to write some stuff before Thanksgiving but no hard feelings if it doesn’t work out.

Right?

What I’ve Been Doing Instead of Posting

Taking lots of naps

Frantic nesting bursts in which I try to clean everything in the apartment, only to wear myself out after the first twenty minutes, leading to a three hour nap

Dicking around on the internet

Playing video games

Watching all of Markiplier’s Five Nights at Freddy’s videos

Reading lore on the Five Nights at Freddy’s wiki

Having nightmares about Five Nights at Freddy’s

Cooking a butt load of really tasty food

Eating all of the tasty food, leading to regret in the form of gastric reflux

Hiding from the extreme heat like a pregnant slug

Drinking ALL THE WATER IN THE WORLD

Running to the bathroom to pee again because ohmygodmoveI’mgonnawetmyself

Rubbing the pointy heels of my baby through my tummy as they push out with all their might yet again because they’re mad they’ve had the hiccups for like, the last hour

Going to doctor’s appointments

Doing fuck all

Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to wrap my head around the changes in my life that are right around the corner

Trying to find ways to not aggravate my SPD

Wearing sun dresses without caring that I haven’t shaved my legs in over a month, LIKE A BOSS

(Because seriously, I couldn’t reach to shave my legs even if I cared enough at this point to want to)

Being excited for the Mystery Science Theater 3000 reunion on the 28th

Trying to decide if the baby is gonna be an asshole and choose that exact moment to be born, making me miss the whole thing

Being torn up about my reaction to said possibility because as much as it would suck to miss the show I have still hit the point where I’m like, “HURRY UP AND BE BORN!”

Attempting to socialize with people, desperate to find someone I can talk to about anything other than my pregnancy (seriously, I’m excited, you’re excited, but I am capable of talking about other stuff as well)

Finally go swimming and use the maternity suit I bought like, a trimester and a half ago (but it still fits and is really cute!)

Strongly considering packing my hospital bag before giving up pretty much immediately

Swearing off tomato based pasta sauce forever because at this point it’s less a food and more a trigger for instant nausea and vomiting

Still not going into labor. Damn.

When Trolls Attack

So you may have noticed that I haven’t been posting a whole heck of a lot on here as of late. (Or not. Much more likely the not because even when I was good about posting I tended to go through long jags of blog-silence because I absolutely suck at making myself write on a regular basis.)

This recent bout of silence has just been because things have been hard lately. And not the fun, “I can totally make a self deprecating joke about this!” sort of hard. More like the, “I don’t even want to talk about these problems with my close friends, let alone type it all out for the internet.” Partly because I don’t want to inadvertently enter myself in the Pain Olympics (where everyone tries to outdo each other’s pain) and partly because the sorts of troubles we’re going through right now are not the kind I feel comfortable sharing.

I don’t think a whole lotta people out there want to hear me wallow and whine and bemoan a bunch of things that I can’t do anything about. And for me personally, whining and wallowing about things I can’t do anything about has a tendency to just stress me out even more. I try to post things that are more on the lighter side but my brain has been more preoccupied with the Bad Stuff which is why posts have been extra rare lately.

But then I remembered a story that had happened not too long ago that I had wanted to write about before I lost someone very dear to me.

And I figured, “Hey, this is still pretty funny.” So here goes.

I was going to run to the store for some milk. As I waddled walked to my car I saw a small, folded up piece of paper on the ground right by my driver side door. Like someone had stuck it in my handle and it had fallen out. The note said, “From: ME 2: U ;p”

outside note

Feeling completely confused, I opened it up. Only to find a grainy, faded-looking black and white printout of a naked woman engaged in a sexual act on top of a man.

My first instinct was to look around to see if someone was watching me for a reaction of some sort. I dunno, maybe I just got Punk’d? But there was no Ashton Kutcher or anyone else around and I stood there dumbly for a few seconds before I realized I was standing in broad daylight with a piece of porn unfolded in my hands for all to see.

I hopped into my car and started looking at it more thoroughly to see if it had any sort of advertisement on it. Maybe I had just misunderstood this whole thing entirely. Maybe it was a bad attempt at “clever” marketing done by a local sex shop or something. Honestly I was just trying to combat the heebie jeebies that were hitting me that someone had purposefully done this to me to get a rise out of me (pun wasn’t intended but I’m leaving it in because it’s too perfect not to).

But no. There was nothing more to this paper than the bizarre handwritten outside and the grainy, porn-o-riffic inside. I folded it up and stuck in my purse, drove to the store and bought the milk.

And of course, I do have a photo of the picture in question and I did censor all the naughty bits that most people find a lot of offense but I still put the image after the jump because, I dunno you may be at work or something and even though you can’t see anything explicit it might still be too NSFW for you to want to look at right now.

Continue reading

Today on, “Definition Theatre.”

Matt and I were sitting in bed the other day; he was playing on his phone and I was knitting. There was a tissue on the bed between us that I had pulled just in case I needed to sneeze.

Matt noticed the tissue and picked it up, asking if he could use it to blow his nose. “Sure, go for it.” I said.

“Wow. It’s like a fancy napkin or something.” He said right as he blew his nose.

I stopped and looked at him.

“It’s called a Kleenex.”

He stopped and looked at me sideways. “Don’t say a word,” he said as his face started to turn red. “Just, don’t.”

EPILOGUE: Matt admits that even as he was saying the fancy napkin line his brain was like, “Wait, what? Are we seriously saying that? Stop! Abort!” I about died laughing (but then, so did he) and he said it’s now officially my turn to have a severe lapse in common sense. (We take turns without really meaning to. If I say something particularly stupid or lacking in logic there is an almost guaranteed chance that Matt will be the next person to make a hilarious mistake. And then it ping-pongs back to me. It’s the saving grace of this marriage, I swear.)

“Vignette” is way too fancy of a word for this post

It’s a snowy day and I’m feeling a little bit lazy so here are some more little random fun bits (no, not those kind of fun bits, ya pervert) instead of a “real” post.

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I told Matt that we should have named Fang-A-Lang Ariel instead. He kind of just looked at me and I said, “Cause she always wants in here with us.” He sort of shook his head like he didn’t get what I was getting at so I started to sing, “She wants to be where the people are. She wants to eat, wants to eat their foo-ood. Batting and playing with anything that, mooooves!” Looking at his face all I could think was, “Ha ha and you married me, sucker!

(If you don’t get my song reference then you’re dead to me.)

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I got to learn that babies don’t like Doppler wands at all. Or at least mine doesn’t. My doctor was just checking the heartbeat, making sure everything was still going well and the baby kept running away (so to speak) from the Doppler. My doctor’s face would light up as she would pinpoint the heartbeat but not two seconds after finding it the steady, quick, whoosh whoosh whoosh, would be replaced with various gurgling Katie-stomach sounds because my baby was all, “Fuck this!” And had moved away. I tried not to laugh as my doctor pursued my baby throughout my uterus with the Doppler, trying to get enough of the heart beat for her to be able to say everything was normal. Pro-tip: if your doctor doesn’t have a sense of humor about that sort of thing then maybe they’re kind of a jerk. Just sayin’.

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Matt and I decided to get one last toy for ourselves before the baby gets here and splurged on an Xbox One. I was surprised (and a little suspicious of) the lack of a power button. Apparently you just have to hold your finger in front of the little Xbox symbol and it turns on. Matt demonstrated for me and my reaction can best be described as, “Puritan during Salem witch trials.” He laughed at me but I got revenge when he was surprised and baffled that the Xbox one has wireless internet and didn’t require us staking a cord over to it. We were like the apes at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey.

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Because of how Fang’s lower jaw is set she ends up sticking our her tongue while she sleeps 90% of the time. She’s very blasé about it too; she doesn’t mind if we poke her tongue or anything like that. She’ll still sit there with most of her tongue sticking out with a facial expression that reads, “What? What’s so funny?” The other day she was cuddling next to me and I looked down to see her tongue was actually rolled up like a taco. It was so adorable and bizarre and I tried to get a picture of it but of course as soon as I got my camera going she woke up and started cleaning herself.

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Matt and I don’t share blankets. We can’t, actually. It’s my fault. I am a world class Blanket Thief and Cocooner. We tried sharing blankets for years but what would always happen was I would get cold, roll myself up in all the blankets, stealing them from Matt. This would bake me like a roll in an oven so I would eventually kick off all the blankets in a wad between Matt and I, like a weird textile third person in bed with us. We would both end up waking up in bed cold and with no blankets, wondering at the weird blanket wall in-between us.

And while I could have tried to blame Matt for this too, he is not the first person in my life to accuse me of such behavior so we’re both sure it’s me. I still do it to some extent even though I have my own blanket now. That’s why Matt calls me a Cocooner. I somehow manage to wrap the blankets around myself in such a way it looks like I’m getting ready to undergo a metamorphoses. I can go to bed with my comforter right side up, with the pattern at the bottom and when I wake up the blanket is upside down with the pattern at my face. I don’t know how I do it either.

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Matt finally started playing Dragon Age: Inquisition (which means now we get to fight over whose turn it is to play). For this he made his character a female Qunari mage. (Just picture a 8’6″ woman with grey skin, horns and a staff that lets her throw lightning around as needed.)

While I have a tendency to play the game multiple times over Matt tends to focus on one play through during which he tries to collect/do everything possible. So when it comes to the romance aspect of the game I tend to only flirt with or pursue one person at a time (so I can be surprised when I play through other romances) and Matt is currently flirting with everyone he can. (He is a gentleman and stops if the other character is like, “Whoah, hey not interested.” Otherwise all bets are off.)

It’s kind of fun to watch this huge, lumbering woman flirt with everyone available to her. Matt’s favorite people are the ones who get flustered or don’t know how to respond to his flirting. I tease him that he’s not used to being the one who gets to do the flustering as opposed to being the one who is flustered. (If I had waited for him to start flirting with me I would die an old maid, let’s just put it that way. Matt is lucky that he’s super cute when he blushes.)

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I keep feeling like there was something funny and interesting that I wanted to say but my brain has just been shrugging and saying, “I dunno. Go eat some cookies. We’re starving.” So I’m gonna end here and indulge in some sweet treats while trying not to think of my impending gestational diabetes test.

Sleepless

Guh. I am not one of those people who does well with very little sleep. If I am yanked out of a peaceful slumber without enough z’s under my belt I turn into a cranky, whiney bitch. The worst part is I can’t even nap. My body does this thing where once I’m up, I am UP which means being awake until nightfall where I can pass the fuck out once more. Naps leave me feeling grumpier than before, usually with an unexplained migraine thrown on top of it.

So the fact that I’ve been starting to experience some of this pregnancy sleep problems crap that I’ve always read so much about it a bit of a bother.

So far it’s only really boiled down to being the last week or so with only two nights out of the last seven being bad enough for me to want to whine and cry. Most of it is common complaints: leg cramps, knees aching (I did finally learn to keep a pillow between my knees and ohmygod it helps soooo much), baby deciding to kick the crap out of my stomach as soon as I drift off to sleep, and needing to wake up to pee a lot (that’s another one the internet lied to me about. All these freaking pregnancy newsletters going on and on about how around 20 weeks you start to feel relief from needing to pee all the time because your uterus is ascending away from your bladder. LIES. ALL OF IT BIG FAT LIES).

None of those really compare to Wednesday night when I woke up twice unable to breathe. There was never really any warning beforehand, no dreams of suffocation or anything like that. Just suddenly jolting straight up awake, struggling to breathe in, feeling as if an elephant or something was sleeping on my chest.

Both times sitting up helped and I was able to start breathing again pretty quickly. (Matt never woke up for either of these, by the way. There was some grumpiness at the time of SURE DON’T LET MY SUFFOCATION DEPRIVE YOU OF A GOOD NIGHTS SLEEP OR ANYTHING.) Also both times I had weird not-awake thoughts of, “Is this heartburn? It doesn’t feel like heartburn but what if that’s all it is?” Which, I don’t even know why my brain was convinced I was having heartburn. It didn’t resemble heartburn in the slightest.

Fortunately my sister happens to be a L&D nurse so I tend to go to her a lot with my basic questions of, “how concerned should I be right now?” Her answer was that it sounds like potentially sleep apnea or gastric reflux and to talk to my ob about it when I see her on Tuesday. She also chastised me for sleeping on my back but I explained that I keep falling asleep on my side but I guess I’m rolling over onto my back while I sleep or something. Fun times.

Last night was just pure insomnia. I was exhausted and begging Matt to turn off the video games so we could go to bed (I got him started in Inquisition, what have I done?) at like, 10:30pm. I then proceeded to get in bed, lie down and stare at my ceiling for like… Five hours or so. I didn’t start actually falling asleep until about 3am or so which means I feel like eight different kinds of ass today.

I’m super jealous of Red sometimes. He possesses the remarkable ability to sleep whenever he needs to regardless of the time of day. He’s also not a light sleeper as evidenced by the other day when he slept entirely through the jackhammer team working right outside our front door.

That’s right. He slept through jackhammers. What were jackhammers doing right outside our apartment, you may ask? I was wondering the same thing honestly when they got started. We live on the first floor and the stairs to get to subsequent floors are concrete set in like, metal frame beds. I guess the initial landing on the stairs right outside needed replacing so they were jack hammering the concrete out so they could replace it.

All I know for sure was that once the work started all of the cats clustered onto my bed (more specifically, onto me) and were looking around as if the end of the world was descending upon them. Shy and Fang set aside their differences so they could huddle in terror together, confident that they would be dead soon.

Once the jack hammering stopped there was a few moments of reprieve before a whole new auditory hell opened up. I still don’t know what they were doing but it sounded… Well it sounded as if a giant robot had asked someone what it means to blow a raspberry and so their human friend demonstrated what a raspberry is and the robot tried to imitate that sound. Constantly. For two hours.

And Red slept through all of it. So freaking jealous.

I’ll be interesting someday, I swear

Something about me sitting down at my desk and opening the laptop seems to signal to all the cats that, hey! I’m gonna be sitting down for a while, probably, you should cluster on over and try and figure out what I’m doing! Maybe poke around at the screen or (in the case of Fang-A-Lang) stare at the march of words that appear on the screen or take swipes at the cursor when it moves. It is a little unnerving to sit down to write and have all three cats surround me and stare at me with cold unblinking eyes. I dunno, maybe they’re trying to imitate an internet audience. Great verisimilitude you guys! Now go away.

(Pffff look at me, casually dropping a crazy-ass word like verisimilitude in here, like I’m all fancy-pants or something. I still remember the first time I ever heard that word and looked up what it meant. It was when that movie, Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events came out. Count Olaf uses the word as an explanation as to why he cast Judge Strauss to play the judge in his play. I had to turn on the subtitles on the DVD to see how the word was spelled so I could look it up. And in case you were reading this boring anecdote about remembering the first time I learned a word, wondering if the rest of the post was going to be this same level of exciting, let me just tell you know that yes. Yes it is.)

Yeah I don’t really have a concrete like, theme or topic for today but since that never seems to stop anyone else (ooooh sick burn to lots of people on the internet, including myself!) I’m just gonna write little bits about stuff I’ve wanted to talk about but none of it is long enough to be a post proper on its own.

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Matt finally felt one of the baby’s kicks the other day. He’ll be quick to point out that he “faintly” felt it but still. He finally felt our baby move so that’s a win in my book. The baby has been so much more active lately and I’m able to feel movement pretty much throughout the day now. But the other day I sat and watched my stomach with a sense of bizarreness as I could see my stomach pop up and down occasionally, like I was popping popcorn in there or something.

(Has anyone else ever noticed how much pregnancy stuff is like, pure body horror? Like if you were to take descriptions of what pregnant women feel and go through with the Having Something Grow Inside Them and replaced the word “baby” with “creature” you suddenly have the plot to a sci-fi horror movie? No? Just me? Carry on, then.)

Matt has been dying to feel the baby kick for AGES now; pretty much ever since I started noticing movement. But since our baby seems kinda lazy (it likes to have on frantic burst of movement and energy and then, oop, back to sleep for three hours) I’ve never been able to get his hand on my tummy in time. Even the other day I saw my stomach go OOP outwards with a kick and I was like, “Hand! Hand!” And yanked Matt’s hand onto my stomach and then… Nothing.

Matt got the funniest look on his face and proceeded to sort of push down onto my stomach like he was playing the saxophone or something. Then he put his hand on me and waited a sec. Sure enough, his weird movements elicited a, “What the hell?” response from the baby who gave one solid kick right at his hand as if to say, “Cut it out, up there! I’m trying to sleep!”

Matt looked at me as soon as the kick happened and asked, “Was that a kick?” When I confirmed that it was, he looked so giddy and happy so I’m sorry to say, baby that your daddy doesn’t regret his pestering you one little bit. In fact if pestering you is the only way he gets to feel your little movements you may need to strap in and get used to being bothered more.

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I think I’ve been doing well with the pregnancy brain. Most of the time. There are still a lot of moments in conversation where my brain is like, “Ooh! We have a point! It’s relevant to this conversation and everything!” So I start telling my story or whatever and suddenly it’s like my train of thought hit a penny and derailed violently, taking out not only the point I was trying to make but also causing collateral damage to other thoughts and speech processes as well. So my talking suddenly cuts out and I look blankly at whoever I was talking to and have to ask embarrassing things like, “What were we talking about? Do you happen to know what I was going to say? Who are you again?”

Now I’ve gotten to the point where I insist that I did have a point, I swear! It was right here a second ago, I honestly don’t know where it’s run off to! Red or Matt will roll their eyes like, “Suuuurrre you did.” The fact that I do love talking and tell stories that rarely have points on good days doesn’t help my credibility here.

Talking problems and the occasional getting lost aside, I feel like I have a pretty good grip on this whole pregnancy brain thing. That is until yesterday.

I wanted to play Dragon Age: Inquisition so I grabbed both the Xbox remote and the TV remote and plopped down in bed. I held out the remote to turn on the TV and heard a weird click that usually denotes that the remote has successfully turned on the TV and it’ll be powering on shortly. Only, the sound was slightly off and I had popped my wrist right as I was clicking the power button so I figured I must not have hit the button hard enough and tried again.

There! That time I totally heard the TV respond and so I sat in silence for about five minutes, waiting for the TV to turn on. Let me reiterate: I sat for FIVE MINUTES staring at the black screen, waiting for the TV to turn on like, yup! Any second now! It’s sure gonna turn on soon!

As I’m sure you already figured out, I had actually turned on the TV the first time but stupidly thought I had just heard my wrist pop, so when I clicked the remote again I just turned off the TV. And then I stared at it; waiting for it to turn on. At no point in time did I think something like, “Huh, this sure is taking a while.” Nope. Nosiree Bob. I was certain that at any second the screen would burst to light and I would be awarded for my patience with hours of Inquisiting fun.

I’m a dumb ass.

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Last Saturday Matt and I drove down to visit my grandparents as a way to cheer up my grandmother who had had the unfortunate luck of falling down in her driveway and breaking her right wrist in like, four places requiring pins to be fixed up right. Considering her right hand is her dominant hand she was having trouble getting used to her new limited abilities and just in general was feeling really blue.

It’s a three hour drive from my place to their house and since I had all but begged Matt to go with me, I offered to drive so he could just play video games or whatever. But in my car there is a rule, if I’m driving I get to pick the music.

So the moral of the story is that it’s probably a bad idea to drag your husband with you on a trip to see your family and then force him to listen to you sing at the top of your lungs to Bonnie Tyler. Just a thought.