Sleeping with Cats

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Mike, his mother, and his grandmother are currently on the I-40 and have (hopefully) escaped the worst of the bad weather that forced them to stop early in Liberal, Kansas. When Oklahoma starts closing roads, you know it’s bad, yo.

Meanwhile, I’m at home with two cats and trying not to spook myself out with 2300 square feet of empty space. So this means I’m sleeping with cats.

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you can officially stop asking

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Okay. I finally have a craving. Ready?

Sourdough English muffins.

You’re welcome, everyone who has ever asked me if I have any crazy pregnancy cravings.

…of course, being me, I don’t want to just buy them. I want to make them. Then I look at what it takes to make actual sourdough English muffins and then I said, nope, not going down that rabbit hole, not this late in pregnancy (8 months, 31+1 weeks), not with a mother-in-law about to move in, not with a baby shower on the horizon, not with all the other crap I need to get done.



Still deciding.

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Dealing With It

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First, some links for you:

  • “You Should Be” by Pamie – Honestly, I haven’t experienced this much, or maybe I just ignore it better. Things I have heard: concern over massages, concern over manicures/pedicures, concern over my food choices, and one concern for a glass of wine coupled with unconcern for cigars (I drank the wine, and declined the cigar). Still, it’s a funny read.
  • My OB Said What?!? – Does what it says on the tin. I don’t have many of these either, though I have a friend who most certainly does.

We have moved to that point in the pregnancy where I am watching birth videos and ordering breast pumps. I still crack up when I see the photos of women in handsfree bras pumping at desks like LA LA LA LA I AM A WORKING WOMAN. Which reminds me: I need to get some bras that unhook so I can use one of those handsfree brastpump bras.

Birth videos…I’ll be honest, they freak me out a little. Not the laboring. The crowning. I’m staring at a lady’s baby bits and she’s pushing and I’m thinking, “There is no way that — OH GOD HOW DID THAT JUST HAPPEN?” It’s like a friggin’ Transformer or something.

And while that’s neat and all, it’s still a little unnerving.

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In Which People Think We’re Crazy

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It is inevitable in this day and age that when you tell people you’re planning on having a drug-free childbirth outside a hospital, the response is often mixed.

There are the people who high-five you or say something like, “Right on!” and you know those are probably parents who have done or planned to do the same.

There are the people who nod and sincerely wish you well and you know those are people who weighed the options and decided it wasn’t right for them.

And then there are the people who look at you and say, “Lady, you are nucking futs.”

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CPCs, Or a Lack Thereof

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Based on my limited experience, the number one question I suspect every pregnant woman in North America gets: “So have you had any Crazy Pregnancy Cravings?”

After seven months of this, you’d think I’d have a better answer other than a sheepish, “…no?”

Okay, true, I did catch myself at a Sprouts with a pint of ice cream and a jar of pickles in my checkout cart, but it wasn’t because I wanted to combine them. My intent was to use the pickles in a homemade Thousand Island dressing, and the ice cream…was for shoving in my piehole. Preferably while eating pie.

Though I had bouts of morning gagness in the first trimester, at no point did beef, pork, fowl, fish, broccoli, kimchi, cheese, milk, or chocolate smell/taste better or worse than any other thing. Alcohol, early on, did make me queasy if I smelled it. So much so that for a while on Fridays, when my office rec room turns into a den of boozy iniquity, I’d have to circumvent it to avoid triggering my gag reflex. But alcohol isn’t exactly something pregnant ladies should be consuming much of anyway.

The thing is…I’m a weird eater. I will try almost anything once, and my idea of comfort food (chicken livers, for instance) is probably not yours. Dinner tonight? Fish and kimchi. Which sounds like “zomg a CPC!!” unless you know me and know that if I’m staring into my fridge and trying to figure out how to perk up my pan-roasted fish, I’m going to reach for the kimchi. Because why not? It’s tart (like lemon, which we put on fish) and spicy and crunchy and packs a ton of flavor in a very small package. Could be good. Let’s try it.

(Sidenote: it was good. I’ll probably eat it again for lunch tomorrow. But then, I look for any excuse to put kimchi on things, and I make a batch once every few months. My coworkers from South Korea appreciate this.)

I’m not saying that I’m every woman, or that women don’t get cravings during pregnancy, or don’t develop food aversions. I think I’m trying to say: I wish I had something clever to answer this question with because everyone — from coworkers to my massage therapist — is set on asking it.

Instead, I’m sitting around my house, digesting kimchi and fish and carrots and coconut water, thinking about the chicken livers I ate last week, and looking forward to the pho I’ll have tomorrow. And if you think of a better answer for the inevitable “what are you craving???” question…please. I’m all ears.

Drowning in Onesies

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Last month I spent an epic weekend just washing baby clothes. I then promptly took all those clean and dry adorable little outfits and dumped them on the bed in the nursery. Every now and then I’d poke my head in and look at the pile. Then my brain would melt into a gibbering pile of gray matter, the words NOPE NOPE NOPE repeating over and over in my head until I shut the door again. It was like gazing upon the face of an Eldritch Abomination. No amount of reassuring myself that it’s just a pile of wee baby clothes would help.  Because it’s not just clothes.  This is more than clothes.  This is a disorganized universe, and I will bring order to it, BY THE HAMMER OF THOR.

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