Good with the bad.

Well, we've all survived Christmas. That's about all I have to say about that.

I am very happy to be back home. I actually slept last night, which I haven't really done since I left for Hometown. It was wonderful.

I don't have another doctors appointment until January 7, but I may end up going in before then. My back is catching with every move I make. It may be time to visit an orthopedic to see if they can do anything. I have 12 more weeks of having Boogie on board, and I need to be able to move without crying every time I move a muscle. Last night was brutal. It took Bob and I around 15 minutes to get me out of our bed. Tears were involved. It was rough. And then it took almost as long for me to lie back down. Horrendous.

I'm also having some issues with my stomach again. During Christmas, every time I ate any food or drank anything, I barfed. This isn't morning sickness; it's my gastroparesis flaring up. It's been interesting. Puking when your ribs and back hurt with every move is nearly unbearable.

I am so happy when I feel Boogie kick. However, that's about the only damn thing I enjoy about this pregnancy. It's been a long 7 months, and while I want him to stay in there and cook a little longer, I'm ready for him to be here for selfish reasons. I'm in pain and misery every day. But like I said, feeling him kick makes it worth it. And I know it'll be worth it when he gets here. I'm just ready to feel better!

Drama.

Well. Today my little boogie decided to give me a little excitement.

I had yet another work Christmas lunch. (Working in 4 different facilities means lots of functions.) Once we were done eating, we had a mini-staff meeting. While still seated, I started feeling a little odd. Swimmy-headed, short of breath, funky heart rate... Once the conversation was over, I stood up, moved around a little bit, and all my symptoms got worse. My coworkers forced me to lie down for a bit. I text Bob and decided I should go to my doc, so he came and picked me up, and off we went.

After numerous blood pressure checks, pulse checks, and temp checks, my docs office released me to go. They said either I'm on the verge of getting sick or sitting in the chair at lunch compressed the blood flow back to my heart. Apparently that happens starting at this stage of pregnancy. The doc said it'll probably happen again, and when it does, to lie down on my left side to take pressure off that blood flow.

Hopefully it WON'T happen again, but I guess I'll be prepared when it does.

Furniture decisions.

So. Nursery furniture. And pretty much everything else baby related...

In the past, I've picked out furniture based on style, color, and whether or not I like it. Baby furniture and gear, however, must include all those things AND safety. It opens a whole new can of worms making sure this kidlet will be safe in whatever we put him in. Crib? Changing table? Car seat? Stroller? So many decisions!!

After reading online reviews of cribs ALL AFTERNOON, I've finally narrowed down some that I like. Cribs are tricky suckers. On one hand, you'd assume the more expensive the safer. That cheaper ones will collapse and amputate some needed part of your baby's anatomy. However, that doesn't necessarily seem to be the case. After reading up on what to look for in a crib and what to avoid, I found some relatively cheap ones that, according to the reviews, are sturdy and safe. I've narrowed down to three, from which Bob will have the opportunity to choose his favorite.

Same with changing tables. I want one that is a also dresser that I use for storage. I refuse to pay $900 for a Pottery Barn Kids dresser/changing table, even though I love it. Again, after reading every review written by moms way more paranoid than myself, I've decided to get an Ikea dresser and use it as a changing table. We have the coordinating grown up bed already and that thing is a solid beast. So I feel confident that the dresser will be just as solid. And the Moms all love it. Sooooo.

We've received our stroller as well. After posting it on facebook, I feel validated that I picked the right one. Moms came out of the woodwork to tell me they had that stroller and it's one of the best. Of course, I'd read the reviews and been convinced in the store, but it's nice to hear personal testimony that something you will be putting your child is top notch.

My friend Kat has always been a super paranoid mom, and I've made fun of her for years. However, I can see how and why she's like that. I mean, I'm carrying this little beast for 40 weeks of torture and agonizing. pain. I'm damned well going to do my best to keep him alive and safe so I can torture and embarrass him during his teenage years in as many ways as possible.  Payback's a bitch.

Kicks, much?

So apparently I'm carrying a horse. He certainly kicks like one. This dude... I mean. It's ridiculous. I can't imagine how active he'll be once he's actually got room to maneuver like the wiggle worm he seems to be.

He already has such a little personality. A strong one, just like his mom and dad. When I do something he doesn't like, I get a kick. Like in the mornings when I do my exercise class. We do a hamstring stretch that involves me leaning forward. Nope, he says. And he kicks. And kicks me to the point that sometimes I gasp. Dude. Lighten up. My poor students. They know when I suddenly sit upright that I've been assaulted from the inside.

Cravings.

I haven't reached the ice cream craving stage of pregnancy yet. I've eaten some over the course of the last 6 months, but no more than normal. I buy the little individual cups of Blue Bell, and I may have eaten 4 of them. Or 5. Whatever.

A friend of ours in Charlotte is pregnant with twins, and she has been on bedrest for the last few weeks. She has recently been allowed to start moving a little bit, so she and her hubs went to Target over the weekend. They went in and immediately bought ice cream. They checked out and paid for their ice cream. Instead of walking out the door, our friend walked over to Starbucks, grabbed a spoon, popped the lid off her gallon of ice cream, and started eating it right then and there. That, my friends, is a craving!

Baby goodies.

So I've started collecting baby clothes. I've bought a few pieces, and we've been given some hand me downs from E and Ben. Shopping online tonight could have been very bad, but I didn't buy anything. I did get a cute little romper and a shirt/pants set today at the mall. They were on sale and adorable, sooooo. I had to, right? I'm still searching for the perfect Easter outfit. I think that will be his major debut. It's also my birthday, and as of now, we're probably going to spend it in Atlanta with his Aunt Carly, Uncle Frank, and cousin SJ. I'm already excited about it!

Also, our stroller went on "clearance sale" this week. I text my mom and asked her if she thought we should buy it now or wait until later. Her response: send me the link, and I'll buy it. Holy crap! I'm so excited!! It'll be our first new piece of baby gear (besides my diaper bag). I can't wait to have it here and give it a test run.

Rollovers and names.

Well, I learned something about my baby. He doesn't like being squished.

We have a tempurpedic bed at home. With that kind of bed, I can lie down on my stomach and not squish the baby. The bed forms around my belly, and he still has plenty of room.

Our first night away from home during our Thanksgiving vacation, I rolled over onto my stomach and Baby started kicking the shit out of me. I was mostly asleep when this happened and immediately woke up laughing. I could just picture him in there, banging on my belly, yelling, "MOOOOM! You're squishing me!!" Poor kidlet.

During our trip, we also discussed baby names with our families. At the top of Bob's list, is his name. Bob isn't his real name. Really, his name is not quite that easy. He's a junior. And Bob is pushing for a third. I am not. I do not want a third. Plus, our baby girl name is a play on Bob's middle name. I don't want a third, because then we wouldn't be able to use our girl name (should we ever have a girl).

At the top of my list is Charles David. And we'd call him Charlie. In fact, I already do. I refer to him as Charlie when I talk to people. When I talk to him, I call him Charlie. It's kinda stuck in my mind.

When Bob was born, his mother was against having a junior. In fact, his original birth certificate had an entirely different name on it. But then his dad begged, his mom relented, and so Bob ended up a junior (as the story goes). As I've told his mom (and the rest of the family), I'll be way more of a bitch than she was. I will not have a third. I will not give in during the 11th hour. I will not change my child's birth certificate once it's signed.

So. Charles David. Charlie. My Charlie Bear. It's what I'm pulling for. Let's hope it happens. Because we all know, when Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy.

22 weeks!

I had a doctors appointment today. I was a little disappointed, because I wanted to see my little boogie. But it was an appointment only. Insurance will only pay for "medically necessary" ultrasounds. Next time I go in, my doc is going to "need" to measure the baby to make sure its not overweight or underweight. So I'll get to see him three weeks! Once I get through 28 weeks, I'll be going in every two weeks for appointments. It's getting closer!!

I was able to get an audio recording of his heartbeat. It's so strong and perfect!!

Bump watch. 21 weeks!

So this was the bump last week. I'm not taking weekly pictures yet. I figured I'd wait until later on in my pregnancy before I started with weeklies. Truthfully, I'll probably forget to take them anyway...

This is 21 ish weeks. As my Mom pointed out when I sent her the pic- My boobs finally stick out further than my belly. I hope that was a compliment...

From the seated position, I'm definitely large and in charge!!

How to raise our child.

This week, Bob has left the fuzzy butts and I home alone to travel to Maine. His Grandpa is currently living there (with one of his kids), and he's not in the best of health. Bob went up to spend a couple days with him. No one knows for sure how long Gpa will be here, so Bob wanted the chance to see him again.

Since he's been there, Bob has purchased groceries for the Aunt and Uncle Gpa is living with, and he's cooked them dinner tonight (with enough for leftovers). It makes me so proud that he's so thoughtful and generous. He didn't have to do all that. He didn't need any prodding from me. He just decided to do it.

When I see Bob do things like this, it makes so happy and proud that he will be the father of my children. When he sees that there is something he can do to help someone, he does it. He doesn't expect a single thing in return. He does it because he wants to make that other person happy. While he was in training in Little Rock back during the summer, he spent a weekend and went down to see our families. I didn't expect him to stop in and see MY grandparents, but he did. He spent the afternoon with them, and it meant the world to them. They are still talking about his visit 6 months later.

I want our son to be like this. I want him to genuinely respect his elders. I want him to see an opportunity to help someone, or make someone's day, or go out of his way to be kind to someone in need, and do it. I know it will take urging and examples from Bob and I to teach our kids this. We can show them through actions how we want them to grow up. We can mold them and help them learn to respect their elders, to see how to care for others, to have good manners. To say yes ma'am, no sir, yes thank you, and please. To treat others how they would want to be treated. To respect other peoples opinions and beliefs. To know that being different is okay.  These are things that are very important to me and Bob. I'm excited to watch our son grow up and become the man his dad is today.

Large and in charge.

Being pregnant is such a weird thing. I've never in my life weighed this much or had such a large stomach. Obviously, I know. It's just bizarre to know how large I am. And my boobs. Good lord. I don't understand how they're going to get larger, but as I understand, they will. They're interrupting conversations they're so big. As in, I'm talking and whoever I'm talking to waits for me to pause for a breath before saying, "Damn your boobs are enormous."

Baby G is racking up on good stuff too. His Aunt Carly sent him some cute bibs and onesies, and his Auntie Ashley brought him some adorable Saints gear for next football season. I'm so ready for him to be here, and not just to dress him, but to hang out with him!

Sugar much?

I've reached a new level. I've just bulk ordered Wonka Giant Chewy Nerds. A case of them. At least it wasn't a case of pickles... yet.

Houston: we have movement!!

Last night, after polishing off three Halloween size Kit Kats, I felt little dude move! I'm so very excited that I finally felt him. At this point, I'm kind of still assuming it was him. My stomach wasn't bothering me, I wasn't gassy, and I wasn't moving around. So that leads me to believe it was my baby guy.

Sickly.

So at my last appointment with Dr J, we talked about my gastroparesis. Use The Google to see what that is. Anyway, my main symptom is vomiting, and it's been fairly under control during my pregnancy. Dr J had warned me that it typically gets worse during pregnancy, but I thought I had dodged a bullet. I was wrong.

At this point, I've gotten over my morning sickness and my allergies, but now my GP has flared up and my ankles have started to swell.

I'm so ready for baby to be here!!

Lots of blue!

SO last night, Auntie Jess and I went to register for Baby. Holy balls. Instead of spreading out over several baby stores, I'm only registering at one for basics and one for cutesy stuff.

Last night, we were in BuyBuyBaby for almost 4 hours. I was smart and made an appointment with a personal shopper. Shavonda and Mike were lifesavers. There's no way possible I would have made it out of that store alive without their help. I feel like I registered for the entire store, but in reality, it's probably not even half of what we'll need for the baby. Once I got home, I tweaked it a little bit. I have a feeling it'll be like our wedding registry. I'll make tons of changes between now and March, and I'll stalk it regularly. While there, I bought a few things that I didn't think would be there later... a sweet little Wendy Bellissimo sweater and some burp cloths that were extra cute. Auntie Jess bought Baby a pacy holder with planes on it. Super cute!

I also started a Pottery Barn Kids registry online, mostly for blankets and cute little things. Although I did find a changing table there that I love. Bob will be in for quite a surprise when he sees all these things. And we'll both be shocked when we have to find a place for all this gear in our house!!

IT'S A BOY!!

Well, it's been a roller coaster week in our house.

Let's start with Wednesday. We found out.... WE'RE HAVING A BOY!!! HE was super very proud to show us his junk. As I was lying on the table, the tech did all the measurements first. Then she started looking for gender clues. She had barely started looking when I saw IT and started crying. Immediately. Bob was so confused. The tech said, "Aw. Mama sees what's going on!" We clued Bob in. He cried. I kept crying. We made the tech cry.

We both wanted a boy, but Bob was convinced it was a girl. We took all the pictures and went to sit in the hallway to wait to see Doctor J. While out there, we started crying again. We dried it up and went into an exam room, where we started crying again. The Doc had seen us a couple of times by then, and made a pretty good amount of fun of us for crying for so long. 

Here's our boy!

Saying hi to us.

A sweet little profile.

After my appointment, I went on to work that afternoon. After work, I was in a car accident. My poor car... A lady failed to stop while leaving a parking lot and t-boned my passenger side. We were both okay, but I called my doc just in case. She advised me to go to the ER just make sure the baby was okay. So 4-5 hours later, we left the ER with a confirmation that baby boy was okay and that HE was definitely a boy.

It was so cute during that ultrasound. He was asleep. The tech kinda pushed on my belly, and he woke up, looked around, stretched out, rolled over, and went back to sleep. It. Was. Adorable. And I cried. Again.

Along with everything else this week, my gpa ended up in the hospital for emergency surgery, and we also found out his brother passed away. I wasn't close to my great uncle, but I know it's weighing heavily on my gpa, especially since he was in the hospital and unable to attend the funeral.

So we're hoping next week we will all be back to normal. Or as much as normal as possible! For now, I'm working on keeping baby BOY toasty and snuggly. 

Sickly, but excited.

I hate to sound ungrateful or complainy, but gah. Being pregnant can suck. Especially during ragweed season. I'm so sick, and apparently I can't take a decongestant. I go to my doctor tomorrow, mainly to find out what Baby is (!!!!!!), but also to talk about my snottiness.

I always knew pregnancy would be difficult. I'd been hoping otherwise, but had a sinking feeling it wouldn't be easy. Between my back, my sinuses, and my exhaustion, I'm barely making it through the day. To say I'm ready to meet this little bundle would be an understatement... obviously for more than one reason!

Bump watch.

A couple of people have requested a picture, so I sent this out to them today. I'm posting it here too, so I can keep up as well. Please ignore our white walls, disorganized mud room, and Jack in the background. Painting our new house has fallen on a back burner, especially with me being sick this week. Hurricane Bob came home last night and our house is no longer pristine and put away.

I am 17 weeks along right now. I've gained 8lbs since getting pregnant. Next week, we find out what we're having. I'm excited. I have pinned sooo many things on Pinterest, to a private board, of course. I'm ready to start narrowing down those pins- either to pink or blue. Or shades of those. I don't want to do something typical, so our colors won't really be pink or blue. Not straight up anyway.

So here's the bump. This is why the girls at work call me "belly." As in, "Uh oh. Belly gotta pee. Again. Ya'll watch out."

Pickles and....

Well. I've had my first weird craving. Pickles at all isn't weird. I've loved pickles my whole life. But washed down with orange juice is new. I bought a jar of pickles at the store yesterday, and I've eaten them already. Paired with orange juice, of course.

The oj is good right now. I'm struggling with a raging sinus infection, which sucks even more while pregnant. I'm waiting on a call from my doc about drugs I can take. It's weird to me to think about what I take, what I put in my body, now that I'm pregnant. Drug users and addicts abuse all sorts of things while pregnant, and they have seemingly healthy babies all the time. And here I'm concerned about medicine that would make me human again. It's a hard fine line to walk. Or to nap on. Whatever.

New names.

I'm a little slow sometimes. Yes, I'm pregnant. Yes, I know I'm having a baby and this will likely change almost everything in our lives. But still. Last night, it just dawned on me that Bob and I will be Mommy and Daddy in a few short months. Of all of our names, given and nicknames, these are two we've never had before. It's weird to think about.

I've been thinking about planning ahead and the decisions we need to make: to bank cord blood, to use cloth diaper vs disposable, to breastfeed, which church to christen the baby, how many pack and plays and boppy's we need, whether or not to accept a free crib or buy a new one. I've considered all these things, but for some reason, I haven't considered them as "Mom." I've considered them as Rachel, as Bob's wife, as Dad's daughter, as Hank's mom. But not as Baby's mom. It's weird. I will be responsible for a whole 'nother person.  And it's scaring the shit out of me.

Part of my heart.

I'm typically a pretty sentimental person. I cherish my family and the relationships I've built. Some very important people in my life are no longer here. My Mamaw, my great Aunt Sara, otherwise known as Hazy, and my great grandmother, Grandma. There are others, but these three have recently, within in the last 10 years, passed away.

Oh how I wish they were still here. I want to so much to pick up the phone and call my Mamaw, talk to her about having a baby, to get her advice, to go pick her up and take her to dinner. I'd like to go to my Hazy's house, with a pizza and cheese dip in hand, and talk about the rest of our family and how I'll need to make sure I raise our kid to be normal, unlike the rest of the family. And I'd like to be able to take our child up to Grandma's farm so he/she will learn all about animals and the responsibility of a farm, just as I did as a child.

I miss these women an incredible amount. Earlier this week, one of the residents at my facility started singing Mamaw's favorite hymn. Just to hear that song, I immediately started crying. She, along with Hazy and Grandma, were so important in my life, and they still are. They would be so proud of the marriage that Bob and I have and the life we've built. They would be ecstatic over the baby. I mean, ridiculously ecstatic. Mamaw would teach baby all the Bible stories and how to properly till a garden. Hazy would teach baby all the good cuss words and how to make a mean margarita. And Grandma would teach baby about how to raise chickens and how to make an killer wedding cake. These are some of the things I learned from these amazing ladies. Things that are now my responsibility to pass on to baby. I can't wait to share these things with our kids. They will know all about the important people these lessons came from and how awesome they were!

A bump!

So I finally broke down and went shopping for maternity clothes. Actually shopping, not just perusing Target. I went to Gap and Destination Maternity.

Turns out, I DO have a baby bump in the right clothes. And I'm not sure I'm ready for the attention that bump will bring. I've been hiding it pretty well so far. I haven't told everyone at work that I'm pregnant, but when I roll in tomorrow in my newly acquired maternity pants, they'll all know. I didn't realize I wasn't ready until tonight when I was trying to decide what clothes to wear. It's just going to be weird.

Somedays you're the pigeon, somedays you're the statue.

Sometimes I need reminding of what I'm doing. A reminder of how awesome it will be in another 6 months. This morning was one of those times.

My sister in law sent me a cheesy, but much needed text this morning. It was a picture that said, "Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle."

This morning, I called in sick to work. For the last few days, my morning sickness has been a little crazy. It's just like mine and Bob's kid to do this... Kind of a- Hey mom, you're in your second trimester now, but boy are you going to get sicker by the day!

Today, after eating some ritz and going back to sleep, I woke up and took Hank outside. While downstairs, I needed to throw up. I went into our downstairs bathroom. While in there, Hank decided he'd also throw up all over our mudroom, in view of me, of course. So once I finished, I walked through and got some paper towels to clean it up. As I was cleaning it up, I got sick again. En route to the toilet, I slipped and fell in Hank's puke. And then I puked on the floor too. I banged up my knee and bent my not yet bendable big toe all the way back. So that left me sprawled out in mine and Hank's puke, with a hurt knee, and a throbbing toe. Crying. And still needed to barf. Again. Of course.

When I say this has been an awful morning, I mean it's been truly awful. Now please excuse me while I go puke again.

12 weeks!!

Look! It's a baby!! 12 weeks last Thursday and measuring perfect.

I can't even express how crazy it was to see this little thing jumping around during my ultrasound. How very surreal. He/she was very active Thursday morning. It was hard for the tech to get a good picture. Mainly because I was crying and my stomach was heaving from it. Cried the WHOLE TIME.

I am so ready to meet this sweet little thing! Gah! March is so very far away.

Big Booty.

So. I'm at that stage where I don't look pregnant, but my clothes don't fit any more. My boobs are too big, and my belly is too bloated. Today, I stopped at Target to pick up some maternity clothes. Guess what Target sucks at? Maternity clothes. They had ONE PAIR of maternity pants. ONE. So I bought a belly band. Hopefully that will help my tight waist band issues. My pants still "fit" but they get a smidge tight when I sit down. As far as the boobs go, I'm still looking for options. My plan is to hit up Destination Maternity this weekend. I don't need much, just some clothes for work mainly.

The few people who know I'm pregnant are counting down to Thursday. Everyone is stupid excited to share our news. I'm ready to tell all of my friends too. It's hard keeping something like this a secret! However, once Thursday around 10am happens, it'll spread like wild fire, I'm sure.

Pictures to come!!!

11 weeks!!

So. Here we are. Blogging from our new house!

A couple of weeks ago, I flew to Hometown for a birthday party, but mainly to tell my family I was expecting. They took it.... well. I told my Daddy at the airport when he picked me up. I wasn't sure I could keep quiet the 30 minutes from the airport back home. So he found out in the parking lot of the Monroe Regional Airport. He cried and giggled for about 5 minutes before he could compose himself enough to take the car out of Park.

From there, we went to my g'rents house, where I told them. My gma, a pretty calm lady, handled the news with a simple "congrats." I thought that was a smidge strange given her neeeeed for a "great grandbaby." Well, turns out, I shocked her into silence. Her later and continued excitement has been nothing short of ridiculous. I love it.

I was also able to tell my two best friends in Hometown. They are two very important people, and I wanted to tell them in person. So Fertile Myrtle and Kat are both stupid excited as well.

I go back for my 12 week ultrasound and bloodwork on Thursday. I am very nervous and excited. I'll be going alone since Bob has to work. I keep thinking, what if something has happened. But then I throw up again or someone hugs me and kills my boobs. Those are not so gentle reminders that I still have symptoms of pregnancy.

As I think I have stated before, I am scared shitless of miscarriage. The wife of one of Bob's friends had one last month, at 8 weeks. She's had a long hard year, losing her first baby last year during childbirth due to her dumbass doctor. And now losing her second after 8 weeks. I cry for her daily. I cry for her and pray for both of us.

Oh baby!

So. It's been a long week. I've puked all over town, fallen asleep at work, and heard the baby's heartbeat. HOLY CRAP.

I had my first official doctors appointment on Thursday. It took me approximately 45 minutes to pee in a cup. Yep. Talk about a shy bladder. Once I FINALLY squeezed out some urine, they immediately took me back to the room with a big CONGRATS! My doctor came in beaming, so excited, and ready to chat. We talked through all the, what I assume to be normal, things. Symptoms. Problems. Expectations.

They were able to squeeze us in with the sonographer too, so we were able to see and hear the baby that same day. Puking the last 5 weeks, being so tired I can't hold my head up, hearing the doc say congrats did not feel real. As soon as I heard the heartbeat, it was there. Real. Actual. And boy, did the tears start falling. Even sweet Bob teared up a little. The sonographer printed some pictures for us, and then I went out to do the pre-screening blood tests for genetic disorders. They haven't taken that much blood from me since the mysterious elbow incident of 2010.

So anyway. We have a baby. Growing and making it's Mama super crazy sick. Hank also seems to be aware of it's presence. He's now resting his head on my belly when we sit together, and it's super sweet.

For now, meet our March baby!

A crying jig. Or twelve.

So. The hormones are raging, and the tears are falling. Every single freaking thing causes me to cry. Commercials. Songs. Thoughts... Every thing.

The most frequent bringer-oner of tears... thinking of how I'll tell my Daddy that I'm pregnant. My poor Daddy has been waiting soooo long for a grandkid. As as I sit here crying, I realize how proud I am to be able to give him one.

I've arranged for him to pick me up from the airport when I go home in a couple weeks. If I don't tell him immediately, I don't know if I will be able to wait until we get back to the g'rents house (30 minutes away). I certainly can't tell him while he's driving... Dude would probably run off the road. So then do I tell him at the airport or wait and tell he and the g'rents all together? Gah!

Mom already knows, I had to tell her to get her input on morning sickness. She had it for 9 long months with my Brother Little. I knew she'd have some good suggestions for me. So anyway. It's soooo hard not to share with everyone yet!

I go to the doctor the day after tomorrow. Squeeeeee!!

Salty lemons.

I've always been a fan of lemons. The saltier the better, in my opinion. And right now, I'm craving salty lemons. When I was a kid, my parents used to get so mad at me for eating them, citing harm to my teeth as the reason behind their aggravation. I think it was really because I was eating them and they wanted them. Anyway. I've been inhaling lemons and tomatoes, with salt, of course. I don't know what that means exactly, but I'm anticipating elevated blood pressure during this pregnancy. I've GOT to get my salt cravings under control. Asap.

So this week is our first doctors appointment. I would have already gone in, between Bob's work schedule and Dr. J's maternity leave, it's been a nightmare. Doc returns to work Monday and Bob comes home on Wednesday. So Thursday, we'll go in and check this little nugget out on an ultrasound. I'm pretty pumped about it! I'm ready. I think.

I'll just say- I adore my doctor. I've only seen her once before, last year at my check up, but she was so awesome. When I saw her last year, it was after a long summer of funerals, a wedding, a cross country move, and getting used to Bob being gone all the time. To say I was in a bad place mentally would be an understatement. During my appointment, she just talked to me. As a friend. As a person. We spent 20 minutes just chatting about anything and everything. She immediately made me feel comfortable. I'd never had a female gynecologist before, which I told her, so she made it all super easy and open. I'm excited to experience this with her!

Smelly melly.

I've always had a pretty sensitive sense of smell. But now, I can smell anything and everything. And it's awful. Even the mention of smells sends me running to the toilet.

It's not just smells. The mention of things I don't like make my stomach churn immediately. My poor co-worker mentioned applesauce this morning and I lost my ritz crackers in the office garbage can.

After the last two weeks, this kid could be one and done. It'll take me a long time to forget this misery. I just hope this doesn't last past the first trimester... Good lord. Bleh.

The remedies.

So. I drove to work this morning, via two parking lots. In which I threw up. I walked into work, told my boss I was experiencing day long morning sickness, and came back home. Once life stopped spinning, I went to CVS and bought out the entire aisle of nausea aids. The best thing so far? Sea sickness bracelets. Score. Big time. I recommend.

But I figured if all else failed, at least I had Reese's cups. Those always work in any situation. I've had 5 so far today, all while wearing my awesome and stylish new wristbands!

Morning my ass.

So. Morning sickness is no joke. All day "morning" sickness is just plain wrong. I have cravings for food, but when it comes down to it, it all makes me sick. Bleh.

Like the cheesefries the other night- bleh. And the unopened bags of steak fingers in the freezer- bleh. And the Publix fried chicken that we purchase by the bucket- bleh.

For now, it's ritz crackers, ginger chews, and ginger ale. So gourmet

The search for steak... fingers.

So. When I was in elementary school, we had the most kick ass lunch menu ever. It was so good, that I still think about it. Often. It was a set menu every day, with sandwiches if you wanted that instead. Every day we had the choice of a hamburger, a ham and cheese sandwich, or a barbeque sandwich, and fries.

Monday we had chicken fingers and fries. Tuesday was a pizza pocket, corn chips, and cheese dip (which I've searched for ever since). Wednesday was fried fish filets and fries. Thursday was steak fingers, and you guessed it... fries. I don't remember what was Friday, which means it was something I didn't eat. So I had a ham and cheese and fries.

So the steak fingers... Any time I see them in the store, I buy them. Today I've been craving them, but I couldn't find them in my local grocery store. Or any of them. However, I FINALLY FOUND THEM! I went to four different stores, and finally found them at Publix. They won't taste exactly the same, but it'll be close enough. And I can't wait! But first- dinner tonight is Outback. I actually want food. Cheesefries and a cesar salad. Mmmmmmmm.

I'm taking my Mother's advice- if there's something you will actually eat- eat it. And often.

Holy nausea, Batman!

So. Guess what you shouldn't do? Fly to Maine, while pregnant, and experiencing ridiculous morning sickness. Every seafood sign, every lobster roll, every crab shack, every mention of non-beef related items made me queasy. Bleh. Literally. Then throw in a crazy bumpy flight (or two) and you have one insanely green pregnant lady.

On an uplifting note, I found some ginger chews at Trader Joes tonight and they're helping. Thank gawd. My diet has consisted of tums, ritz crackers, and ginger ale, and I'm still sickly. Then add in the exhaustion... it's exhausting. Literally.

I've heard that these are signs of a healthy pregnancy, so I'm totally okay with it. I'd rather be sick and tired and have a healthy baby than whatever the alternative is.

Three is a pretty big deal.

So. Three. Tres. Trois.

One. Two. Three. As in Bob and I, plus a baby, will make three.

Or three positive pregnancy tests means we'll be the THREE GUY'S instead of two shortly... OH MY GOD.

So yeah. Guess who's pregnant?! After knowing for 4 whole hours, I realize how nearly impossible it will be for me to keep this quiet for 8 more weeks. If my math is correct, I'm only four weeks pregnant right now. I have made my first doctors appointment, August 15, which will be around the 8 week mark.

Today has been a day of crazy emotions. Every single time I start to think about the fact that I'm pregnant, I start crying. I'm growing a baby. Holy crap. This is the single most important thing I have ever done in my life. I never thought I would feel this way. I never thought I would be this excited or nervous or ready. I never thought I'd be so emotional about this tiny human that is forming inside me. But then again, I've never been pregnant before. I never knew it would be like this.

Now comes the task of a) keeping myself as healthy as possible and b) picking out a way to tell everyone our good news (in 8 weeks). HOLY BALLS!!!!!!!!! I'M PREGNANT!!!!!!!!!

*(remember.... these posts were imported after the fact!)*

Party of one.

So I can't remember if this has been discussed or not...

Being the wife of a pilot is an often lonely life. Just like my birthday, Easter, and Memorial Day, I'll be alone on July 4. In years past, you'd find me hanging at some body of water, with a planned visit later to visit a very special birthday girl... my MP. This year, I'll be working. And will come home to an empty house.

Bob and I have been married for a little over a year, and I'm still not used to this lifestyle. Just when I think I am, I throw myself a pity party and regress a smidge. It doesn't help that Bob has been on an irregular schedule for the last 2 months. His training is over and now he's back at the airline with an extremely full schedule.

Sometimes I go back and forth between whether or not I want to be working right now. If I didn't have a job, I could go home and hang with the family, with no urgency (besides Bob and Hank) to come home to. I could take off to where ever (with unemployed BFF, Jess) and not feel guilty about leaving my patients. I fly off to meet Bob for long overnights in parts unknown.

Then I remember how much I adore my job. I think about how much it makes my life meaningful and and important. The things I do at work make a difference in my seniors lives. I think about how miserable I was last summer, unemployed and depressed, just sitting at home.


So tomorrow when you're enjoying family, friends, water, sand, hot dogs, and fireworks, think of me. At work. Making a difference, keeping my patients active and healthy. And then coming home for a pity party. Boo hoo.

One year.

It's been one year since four men were lost. Robbie, Paul, Ryan, and Joe. 

It's been one year since their families had to learn to live without them. 

It's been one year since Andy and Josh survived the crash that changed their lives forever. 

It's been one year of them trying to relearn how to be "normal" again.

It's been one year, but it seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago all at the same time. 

MAFFS 7 will always be remembered. 

Sappy Saturday.

Some days I realize just how lucky I am. Usually these are days when Bob is home. This morning, we walked Hank down to the waffle shop in our neighborhood, sat outside, and had a lovely breakfast.

This past week was our two year first-date-iversary. At this point, we've known each other for 11 years. We've been "together" for two, married for a little over one. We spent the week together, doing all the things we love.

When I stop to think about what we have with each other, I still get weepy. Sad, I know. We both acknowledge our joint sappiness frequently.

You always hear people say, "I married my best friend." They start dating and then become best friends. We became best friends and then got married. We truly have the very best of both worlds. Finally.

This concludes this edition of Sappy Saturday. 

Two way training.

So it's been ridiculously awesome to have Bob back home! I'm so happy his training is over. However, he's only home this week, and then he's gone again. I pretty much won't see him until our vacation at the end of July. I may get a day here or there, but that'll be it. It's going to suck, but at this point, I'm sadly kinda used to it.

This week while he's been home, I've noticed that he's pretty well trained. He likes to say that he's trained me, but I've also trained him. Usually before I go to sleep, I ask him to rub my back. It relaxes me and puts me close enough to sleep that I actually fall asleep shortly thereafter.

So one night this week, I asked, "Will you do me a favor?" His response was, "Roll over." I'd like him to just volunteer for the back rubbing, but I'm not complaining! I'm going to take full advantage of him being here.

Country Mouse, City Mouse.

So I grew up in the country. Our house was approximately 8 miles from Hometown, basically out in the sticks. I hated it more than anything while growing up, but now I can appreciate it.

Tonight, on the way to stalk our new house, I took the "country" roads and saw hundreds of lightning bugs. I adore lightning bugs. I was never one to catch them in a mason jar, because I thought that was mean. I have always preferred to see them out, in the air, lighting up, the way they're supposed to.

I like where our new house will be. In one direction, you can go back toward civilization, to Charlotte. In a couple of other directions, it's pretty remote. To the point you're not sure those living there have teeth or running water at home. But then a mile later, there's a Walgreens. It's weird. But I love it.

So the result of tonight's stalking trip...

Holy crap!! It's going up FAST!!

Happy Father's Day... TO ME.

So. Today is Father's Day. My Daddy and Pa are enjoying their Amazon gift card and pound cake (respectively) in Louisiana. Bob, being the sweet fella he is, went to see them this weekend, along with visiting his Aunt and Uncle. It sucks that he isn't here, but I'm glad he's able to see our families. Hopefully I'll get to see him next weekend. Maybe. (For Father's Day, Bob got a flask with a unicorn on it from the fuzzy butts, in case you're wondering.)

Anyway. With today being Father's Day and all, we knew grills would be on sale. Bob likes charcoal, I like gas. This will be an ongoing debate in our home for as long as we're together (kinda like Christmas decorations). We found a grill that combines both- gas on one side, charcoal on the other. But until we're sure what we'll want in the new house (built in outdoor kitchen or whatever), we aren't buying that one. I bought a different one instead. Today. For me.

A few months ago, I bought a baby table top grill from Target for $20. It suits me just fine, but Bob thinks it's dangerous and wants something bigger. For me. Since he hates gas. Makes sense huh?
Anyway, I've been on the hunt for a grown up, on sale, gas grill for the last week. I finally found one, and drove all over south Charlotte trying to find one 1.) in a box that 2.) wasn't damaged 3.) at a Lowes. Three Lowes stores later, I found one and purchased it. While in the check out line, I had the following conversation with the guy in line behind me:

Dude: Daddy wanted a grill, huh?
Me: NO. (pointing to myself) Mama wanted a grill.
Dude: Oh. So you're a single Mom?
Me: No.
Dude: But it's Father's Day...

Really? I can't just go buy myself a grill on Father's Day? People like this drive me crazy. I learned a long time ago not to assume anything or make judgements too soon. I'll judge the hell out of you once I know you, but not before. I'm just polite like that. Kidding. Kinda.

My Daily Homeless Encounter.

So. I go to several different facilities during the day. One of them is in the ghetto. I mean, straight up. Stray gun shots, broken down cars, and lots of foot traffic are normal. The facility is gated and  super nice. One block out of it though, is sketch city.

A couple of blocks away there is a really busy intersection that is a favorite spot for homeless people to beg. There's one guy who I see on pretty regular basis. I've tried to offer him granola bars, but he turns them down, despite the sign he holds saying he's hungry.

Today, knowing I had nothing to offer him, I just played on my phone while sitting at the red light. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him standing outside my window, gesturing wildly, trying to get my attention. I rolled down my window and this was our conversation:

Me: Yes, sir?

Him: You STILL texin'? (I'm assuming he said this, because I grabbed my phone and looked down as soon as my car stopped rolling.)

Me: Yes. I am.

Him: You idiot. Stop textin' and drivin'.

Me: I'm STOPPED AT A RED LIGHT...not driving.

At which point the light turned and I drove away as he flipped me off. It makes me want to avoid that intersection from now on. I mean, if you won't accept the food I offer you, don't harass me for sitting peacefully at the red light.

Myrtle.

One of my very best friends, Fertile Myrtle, reminded me today of her pregnancies. She has two adorable little guys (my "nephews") and she has not had one single bit of trouble conceiving. She got off the pill and was pregnant before she even had a period. Twice. Bitch. Kidding. Kinda.

It was so easy for Myrtle, but I have other friends who spent years trying, miscarrying, and trying again. The thought of a miscarriage scares the crap out of me, which is why no one will know I'm pregnant until the 12 weeks mark AT THE EARLIEST. As I get older, the threat scares me even more.

I'm also afraid of the possibility of multiples. I'm going to be an old(er) mom AND twins run in my family. Yikes. Not that I wouldn't love to have two babies, it's just that my body won't like me if I try to carry two babies at once. I have a whole host of health issues that will be complicated by twins. Hell, they'll be more complicated with ONE baby at a time.

Getting pregnant.

So. Here it is. 

Bob and I are officially trying to have a baby. I went off birth control 30 days ago today. We aren't telling anyone, which is possibly the hardest thing ever to keep quiet. And if/when I do get pregnant, holy balls! How am I going to keep that private? I'm usually an open book... I mean WIDE open.

I have a pretty big issue when I hear someone is under 12 weeks pregnant and they're telling everyone. I've had too many friends who have suffered miscarriages. I can't even imagine going through that myself, much less having to deal with having to tell other people I lost a baby. It just seems to devastating.

As of now, I haven't started my period yet. According to the Triage Nurse at my gynie's office, this is normal, especially considering that I took my birth control pills continuously (for over a year) so I wouldn't have a period. Life is funny that way. I've spent years not wanting a period and now, I'm impatiently waiting to start one.

So far, I've taken 4 pregnancy tests in the last month. Each time I've taken one, it's been a let down. Even Bob has gotten excited about anticipating the results. We need to just slow down, take life as it comes, and patiently make a baby. As the triage nurse today said, "No pressure and don't stress, but have as much sex as humanly possible all the time." Mmkay. I'll get right on that as soon as I get my husband back in town!!

*(Disclaimer- all pregnancy related posts have been imported and added after the fact!)*

It's got good bones.

Soooo. The pins came out. Holy balls. It was awful. There's a video of it on YouTube, courtesy of Bob. I haven't watched it yet, but I sent it to a guy friend today who proclaimed, "That's some seriously awesome shit!" So naturally, I can't wait to watch it... Not. But my foot is somewhat healed. The bones are where they're supposed to be, leaning the direction they were meant to, and I don't have permanent metal keeping them that way (unlike my right foot).

Now I'm stuck nursing a dried, cracked, swollen, oozy foot. You barf yet? Yeah. I have. My foot is that gross. Bleh. This poor mangled thing is in need of some serious attention, which I am happy to give, especially considering Bob left again today to go back to training. Boo. And again, if you're reading this and you need this surgery, let me know if you wanna see pics. I have weekly updates from both surgeries.

I actually have a pretty exciting weekend planned, and I'm already looking forward to it. A friend from work is hosting a Thirty-One party, which appears to be right up my alley. I also have shopping planned with my girls... One girl is going shoe shopping with me to find shoes that I can actually wear (starting next week!!). The other girlfriend is house accessory/furniture shopping with me. She just moved into a new house and we'll be in ours soon. Hopefully. I'm going to go ahead and start sale shopping for accessories so I don't have to purchase everything at once. It'll be bad enough with all the furniture we have to buy...

Speaking of houses... ours was framed today! We have vertical boards that resemble the walls. WOO HOO!!!!!

 

Sadly, our friends are already picking out "their" bedrooms. And even worse, they will each have their own. We may have picked a floor plan much too large for the two of us. Oh well. Guess we'll need to start having some babies to fill all those bedrooms. 

Boot be gone!

Sooo. Guess who gets out of a boot in less than 2 weeks? THIS GIRL! I'm super crazy excited. My pins come out on Monday, and then I'm in the boot until the doc is comfy with me walking without it, which I estimate to be two weeks. Mainly because I'm not wearing this damn thing any longer, whether he agrees or not. Screw you, doc.

Bob is coming home from training this weekend so he can be here for my pin removal on Monday. I get a smidge queasy and fainty in these situations. I'd rather him be there than just a friend. Not that my Charlotte friends aren't amazing... I'd just prefer my Bob there.

I went out to see him last weekend. We've done a pretty good job of seeing each other on weekends. He's traveled here more than I traveled there, but that's to be expected considering the boot situation. Although the experience was pretty pleasant last week. I have to say, airport peeps go above and beyond for those physically impaired. Or at least they did for me. It was a cluster to actually get to the airport, but once there, it was all smooth sailing... flying.

-I had a lighter suitcase. I can't wear a lot of pants unless the legs roll up over the boot, so I packed only dresses. I also only had to pack one shoe per pair, which saved a lot of space and weight.
-I was able to hitch a Skycap ride and not look like a lazy asshole. It was amazing. We left out of E terminal in Charlotte, which is the furthest from civilization. The walk would have been horrendous... I'd STILL be walking.
-I was able to upgrade to first class. More room equals easier sitting with the boot.
-Free booze in first class paired with a Tramadol made it a pretty sweet flight.
-At every turn, someone was asking if they could help.

Bob suggested I keep the boot handy and use it every time I travel. I'm not sure I could do that, but it sure did make traveling a lot easier.

Special moments.

Today I had planned on rushing through my last patient's appointment so I could get home to meet our contractor. When I arrived in the memory care unit of my facility, I found my patient with her husband, who had come for a visit. Once I realized he was there, I knew I could not rush through anything, mainly so he could see her progress and what I was working on with her.

We did our usual exercises (with her seated in her wheelchair), and then I began my bi-weekly ritual of enticing her to stand up and walk. I typically have a very hard time and today was no exception. Once her husband realized he could assist me, he stood in front of her walker and invited her to hug him. The first time she stood up, she hugged him and gave him a kiss. The second time she stood up to hug him, he had tears in his eyes. He looked over her shoulder at me and told me this therapy session might just be better for him than it was for her... it had been around 6 months since she had stood up to give him a real hug.

While I was about half way through my 30 minutes with her, the contractor called and left me a voicemail saying he would be late (I had to step out to grab something and so checked my messages).

Everything worked out perfectly. I was able to slow down and spend extra time with my patient and her husband. It was so beautiful to give this couple a chance to be "normal" again. To stand up and hug each other. To see them swaying as if to dance, which they both loved to do when they were younger. As I was leaving, he stopped me and thanked me for my work with her. He said he'd try to coordinate his visits with her to coincide with our appointments, not just to help me stand her, but so he could get some more hugs. He said he'd let his kids know when they could come get their hugs too.

Days like today make my years of education and years of searching for the "right" job worth every painstaking second.

SnuggleBitch.

So Bob would probably not be super happy for me to share this info, but oh well. He'll live.

He has a pillow that he's had since, uh, birth. It's been restuffed, restitched, and remolded several times over the years by his Mother. It's always lived in the same pillow case and he's always slept with it in his bed, except for when he's working or deployed.

"She" is lovingly called (by me), SnuggleBitch. He totally cuddles with her instead of me, which is okay because I don't love to be snuggled up on while I'm sleeping. I pretend to hate her. When he's home. However, when he's gone, she becomes MY SnuggleBitch, and I love her.

Between her and his t-shirt blanket, I can almost pretend there is body taking up half our bed. It's working until I can purchase this, which will be asap.

On the mend. Ish.

So I went back to the doctor yesterday to have my stitches removed. The nurse removing them was very lucky she didn't get punched. After surgery, once the stitches were put in, they covered my foot in some sort of surgical tape. In my brain, I thought she would remove that tape and then cut the stitches out one by one. Ooooohhhhh no.... She snipped the knots off either end and yanked them out. Sweet baby Jesus. I had NO idea she was going to do that. However, that pain only last about an hour. Whew. So now, I don't feel the stitches anymore... only the 4 pins sticking out of my foot.

So anyway. Bob is out of town for another 6 weeks or so. It pretty much sucks. Hopefully I'll be able to see him in a couple of weeks, but that's no guarantee. It's kinda like he's deployed, but still on American soil, which is weird but awesome at the same time.

Tomorrow I get to meet with our builder! Yay! Once I meet with him, they pour the foundation, and then we are scheduled to start framing on June 10. Woo hoo. I'm so ready for this new house. Our lives have been full speed ahead for the last two years and it's all about to go faster once the house is done. We're discussing furniture, paint colors, landscaping, and babies. So many decisions, so little time.

I'll think about that tomorrow.

Soooo. A week ago when I said the drugs were kinda working... I was wrong. Apparently that was still just the effects of the pain block. Which wore off last Saturday night. Which left me in sheer agony for days. The throbbing, stabbing, tear-inducing pain finally subsided around Wednesday and left me with a nagging dull ache. In addition to NOT really helping the pain, the meds I was given also made me sick. With or without food. Awesome.

Thursday I went back to the doctor for my first post-op appointment. Bob's mom drove me, thank gawd, because I was unable to leave the office on my own accord... I was wheeled out in my very own wheel chair. You see, I was shown the x-ray of my foot and then the bandages came off. And out I went. Literally. I passed out. Apparently my brain can't handle the x-ray image of the 4 screws holding my foot together, followed by actually seeing the pins sticking out of my bloody, bruised, slightly swollen foot.

Besides my little episode, the appointment went well. There was not as much swelling as I thought there would be. Just a smidge across the top of my foot and in my toes. This, I assume, was the result of having it propped up for 6 days. The next time I go back should be a different story. Since Thursday, I've been "walking" around in my boot. I've been to the grocery store, shopping yesterday (at one store only), and for a walk around our neighborhood. And when I wasn't walking, I didn't have it propped up either...

I go back to work tomorrow. Full time. Sink or swim. All in. It should be mildly entertaining. I'm taking pain pills and crutches with me just in case I should be in need of either. And maybe a "water bottle" filled with some sort of clear liquid with me too. A little vodka never hurt anybody. Kidding. Kinda.

Robo Foot.

So I had my foot surgery yesterday. I survived. My drugs aren't nearly as good as I'd like them to be, but they're dulling the pain a smidge.

This is a pic from after my last surgery. See that tiny little surgical shoe peeking out from behind that chair? That's what I thought I was getting. However, I was wrong.

This is what I'm working with now. Holy freaking balls. Robo-cop.

It's just ridiculous. It's heavy as shit too. I've had it propped up since the minute we got home yesterday. My doctor said I was to do nothing except be propped up until at least Monday. Know what that means, I'm bored shitless. Bob has a list of movies he's wanted me to see. We're painstakingly working our way through them. Yesterday was 12 O'Clock High. Today has been all golf all day. Tomorrow is Casablanca. Monday is some boy movie that I don't even know the name of. Super stoked about that.

See that big honker at the base of my left big toe? Supposedly under all these bandages, it's gone. It should look more similar to the right one now. Hopefully. I'll be taking weekly post-op pictures for this surgery too. If any of you peeps are interesting in learning more about having this surgery, I'll email you the pics. Seeing them will probably change your mind.

Happy Anniversary!

Well, we made it a year! Our one year anniversary was over the weekend. We have been through a lot in the last year, too much to recount. Instead of these horrible things pushing us apart, they brought us closer together. We've learned how to deal with each other, we've needed each other, and we've pumped each other up. We're each others best cheerleader. I mean, I'm obvs a better cheerleader, but you know... Bob's pretty damn good too.

To celebrate, we went down to Charleston. I've never been, and I was craving a beach. And Bob is typically on board with most everything I suggest. So we ordered a cake (our cake topper was misplaced by our venue after the wedding), and headed out. We had a blast hanging out in Charleston. We checked out the market, took a carriage ride, met one of his friends for drinks, and then headed out to Isle of Palms where we actually stayed. I kinda felt like I was with the Mayor. Bob ran into THREE people he knew. One from Charlotte, who we ran into walking down the sidewalk. Another from pilot training, who lives in CHS now, met us for a drink. Then when we were at dinner (try the Boathouse if you're ever in the area.. it's amazing), he saw a guy he played church basketball with in 2001 in Peachtree City, Georgia. Talk about random!! It was nice for them to catch up and say hi.

I forgot our bottle of Dom Perignon at home in Charlotte. So we had our cake and some cheap champagne in the paper hotel cups on Saturday night. Then Sunday when we got back home, we had hot dogs, cake, and Dom in crystal flutes. We're awesome and we know it.

We exchanged gifts before we left for the weekend. Neither of us could wait to give each other our gifts. He gave me a gorgeous crystal clock, which I thought was random until he pointed out clocks are the new "modern" first anniversary gift. It still makes me giggle that he gave me a clock, but it's so damn cute that he actually looked up what he was supposed to give me.

I went with paper for his gift. He received a collage-ish collection of maps of all the places we had our firsts...where we met, where we spent our first weekend together, our first I love you, our wedding, our honeymoon, and our first home together. Yes, I shamelessly stole this idea from Pinterest, but he doesn't need to know that. My plan is to frame pictures from each of those events and group it all together in our bedroom at our new house. It should be pretty freaking awesome and cheesy as hell.

As Bob's sister commented on our facebook picture, we're still smiling after one year. Hopefully all the rest of our years together will end in smiles as well :)

Evolution of a dog's name: Hank.

Hank the Tank
Hanker the Tanker
Honker Tonker
Honkey

No. The irony is not lost on me. We have a black dog that we call honkey. 

Which brings me to my favorite line in a current song, "Damn! That's a cold ass honkey."

New normal.

Lately, Bob and I have separately realized how unique our every day lives are compared to others. For him, it came when he was trying to schedule our house stuff around his work days. For me, it's been trying to explain to peeps how excited I was for him to be home for my birthday (and next for our anniversary- SQUEE!).

It's not totally normal to be away from your spouse 4 days a week, and then usually only see them at bedtime the other 3 days. We have to plan our lives around his uncertain schedule, which means we really don't plan, which means I've lost a lot of hair and sleep trying to curb my OCD. 

For example, I'm having foot surgery next week. I've known for years that I need this surgery, and I've been putting it off forever. Well now, we're ready to start talking about kids. Like as in, this year. I don't want to be pregnant with a unfixed foot, and if I wait until after babies, I probably won't do it. So we decided this was my year for the fixture. I want Bob in town for the actual surgery. If something went wrong, I'd want him there with me. The only time for us to coordinate that? In between the "vacation" he's taking for our anniversary and his 6-8 week long training out of state.

So. I have surgery on Friday and he leaves sometime early the next week, like Monday potentially, for Washington state. Does it work? In theory, yes. In practicality? We'll see. Luckily, his Mom is coming to stay with me for a few days post-op to help me maneuver life, and I'm super grateful she's available to come babysit!

This post isn't meant as a pity party, it's just confirmation of a realization that our lives aren't normal, but it works for us because we work hard at it.

Happy Birthday to us!

So Bob was at home all last week and went back to work today. It was awesome having him here for so many days in a row, which included my birthday!

Back when we were in college, Bob's Mom brought him some flowers from her garden on HIS birthday. Being the slick neighbor he was, he gave them to me as a gift. This started the swapping of birthdays. I get gifts on his, and he gets gifts on mine. It's a tradition that confuses the shit out of our friends, but we like it. As Jay says, Bob's birthday is my birthday and my birthday is my birthday. That's kinda what it's become.

I like that I get to focus on someone else on my "special" day. This year, I started looking for Bob's gifts well in advance. He received a set of ceramic red solo cup shot glasses. Those were his gag gifts. He got a movie he loves... 12 O'Clock High and a Santa for his Christmas collection. He has quite a few Santas from a specific line of collectibles. He's got patriotic ones, pilot ones, and golf ones. Yesterday, he received a Braves Santa. Boy, was he excited! I made me so happy to give something so special, that he wasn't expecting, that he had never even considered. I like things like that.

So anyway. It's been a weekend of my favorite foods, favorite drinks, and favorite people in Charlotte. I got a facial yesterday morning. We met Jess for lunch and petit fours, then she and I got pedicures. We all went to dinner (Sushi) and came back home for more drinks and a girl movie, Jane Austin Book Club (Bob went to bed). Today, Jess and I went to Bravo and had an amazing brunch, with Bellinis, of course. Then we went shopping. I didn't get TOO much... a Michael Kors clutch that I've been drooling over for months, some clothes, and boxers for Bob.

All in all it's been a fantabulous weekend! Woo hoo!

Sleepy decisions.

So. The last couple of weeks have been a blur. I've been super busy and having some strange health issues. Pretty much when I'm not working, I'm sleeping. It's weird. But pretty awesome at the same time. I do love me some sleep.

Anyway. My trip home was amazing. I was able to relax, hang out, and spend time with my family. Being stuck out here in NC with no family and very few friends makes Hometown that much more special. Dad's birthday went well. We just took him to lunch and gave him his gift... The Rusty Wallace Experience at the Charlotte Motor Speedway. He'll get to go to "race class" and then drive a race car for 10 laps around the track. I'm pretty sure he'll enjoy it when he actually finds time to come to Charlotte!

We're moving forward on the house front... both of them. We're having wood floors installed in our current house on Monday. Last week, we went and picked out all the stuff for the new house. If that wasn't 8 hours of hell, I don't know what is. OMG. It was brutal. Horrible. Ridiculous. Not that Bob and I argued that much, just the lady helping us was utterly unprepared for our appointment. But we got through it. And our house is designed. They should start the building process in the next few weeks, then it'll take 10 weeks to build. Woo hoo! I'm pretty pumped.

Anyway. Now we're caught up. It'll probably be another two weeks, especially if I continue my current sleeping patterns.

A much needed trip.

Steel Magnolias came on television last night. I watched it and cried the whole time. Like the entire length of the movie. For some reason, it made me ridiculously homesick. I haven't been home since Christmas, and this is the longest it's been since I've seen my family. Like, ever.

I chose to go home next weekend for a few reasons. Sunday is my Dad's 60th birthday. For our own health and well being, we decided against throwing him a surprise party. I value my life too much to receive the wrath of my father when it comes to parties, especially ones in his honor. He and my mom threw me a surprise 16th birthday party, and he didn't even come to that. He HATES parties. Weddings? He can handle if you're his child. Otherwise dude does NOT do parties. Like, ever.

A childhood/high school friend is getting married next weekend as well. It's a very formal, traditional Indian wedding. I got a kicking new dress, I'm debating some new heels, and I'll be rocking a new pashmina. I'm super excited she found her a "nice Indian boy" and that we get to celebrate with them. I'm taking advantage of this invitation, because this will probably be my only chance to experience an Indian wedding. Like, ever.

It's going to be hard to cram everything in to a few days. Also on the agenda: See Lacey and my favorite little boys, hang with Mom, go horse back riding with Dad (pics to come), teach Dad how to use his Kindle Fire (the phone calls aren't working), meet BL's new girlfriend, and then spend every other possible second with the g'rents.

I'm ready to go NOW!

SOLD!

In my current world, with little to no carpet in the downstairs and a torn up, grassless yard, this particular grassless yard makes me happy happy happy.

It's the site of our future home. With a sold sign on the lot. Holy balls.

I used to love trees...

If you're interested, I'm currently blogging live from a dismantled living room. I am just about sick of having a disheveled house and parts that are off limits.

Yesterday, they came and ripped up all the affected carpet. They'll be back later this week or next to remove ALL the carpet from downstairs and start taking down walls. They're going to cut the drywall out around the bottom of ALL the walls of the bathroom, since sewer water flowed under and through them all. This means that we will get the "open concept" we wanted in a house. Ha. We currently have FOUR dehumidifiers running to try to dry the walls out before removal. This makes it hard for me to stay awake downstairs. I have to sleep with white noise at night, and with 4 machines running, it's like sleepy time city, baby. 

The start of "the dig." I feel like it's an archaeological site. Like we built on sacred Indian burial ground (a la Poltergeist) and that's why we have such ridiculous things wrong with this house. See all those roots?! This is the neighbors pipe... (and a peek at my new car in the background :)

And we won't even call this a "root".... This is our sewer pipe. With a freaking tree growing out of it. Nice, huh? 5 feet long. Ridiculous.

The neighbors pipe below... which water is SUPPOSED to run through that. Turns out, about 6 units on our side of the street have been replaced as of today. They all looked just as bad or worse than ours. But of course, ours was the only one to back up into the house. On one hand, I'm thankful that we can spare someone else the headache of a sewer back up, but at the same time, damn it, why couldn't someone else be teaching this damn lesson! Gah!

So needless to say, every single damn water pipe on our new property will be clearly marked before I start planting trees. I may even have a locator come out and find the pipes as I'm digging holes for trees. I think I'll give myself a 20 foot radius in which no rooted plants will be planted. That should be good, right?

Holy shit. Literally.

There are no words strong enough or harsh enough to describe my level of anger right now.

So our kitchen sink stopped draining tonight as I was washing dishes. It eventually started working and we didn't think much of it, besides the fact that I would get a bottle of draino tomorrow. Then I started the washing machine. As soon as it hit the cycle where the water drains out, we had a gushing, spewing geyser/water fountain in the downstairs bathroom, shooting out of the toilet. We shut off the water valve to the toilet, but water kept gushing out.

Turns out, (after a $200 visit from Roto Rooter) our sewer pipe is busted in front of the house from tree roots, it backed up, and raw sewage came bursting into our house, via the toilet. It flooded the bathroom, the hallway, seeped through the walls, into the laundry room, the kitchen, and the living room, killing the carpet and the hardwood in the bathroom... all this in a span of 3 minutes as Bob ran out to grab the shop vac and I turned off the washing machine.

Soooooo. Bottom line- I hate this house. At this point, after the broken/leaking ac, the kitchen mold, and now the backed up sewer, we are talking about selling this piece of crap, taking a loss, and getting the hell out as soon as our new house in complete. Hell, maybe even before it's complete. I'd live in a half competed house if it meant I could get out of this hell hole sooner.

According to the plumber, the city isn't responsible because this land was purchased by an independent contractor and all the pipes were done by them during construction. We've been in touch with our HOA tonight and will get back in touch first thing in the morning, along with our insurance agent and possibly a lawyer. The fact that I had RAW SEWAGE IN MY HOUSE TONIGHT, does NOT sit well with me. I'm angry. These peeps better be happy to be dealing with (red-headed) Bob instead of me. I don't have my Mama's red hair, but I got the by-product of it... a temper when needed. And by God, I need it now.

Please think happy, restraining thoughts on behalf of the people we have to deal with in the upcoming days. They have no idea the level of fury that may unleashed on them, especially once Bob leaves for work on Thursday and I have to deal with all this LITERAL SHIT by myself.

They all spend the same.

SO. I'm kinda on an ebay kick. I found Bob a birthday present on there and it arrived today in a moderate size box. Covered in 13 cent stamps. 50 of them. Wow.

Back in college, Bob and I switched birthdays. It happened one year when his mom brought him flowers for his birthday, and then he gave them to me. So I get gifts on his and he gets gifts on mine. This year, I've gotten him two things he's wanted for a while, but not enough to purchase for himself. Soooo. I'm pretty pumped to give them to him next month... on my actual birthday!!

Sadie Green.

So. My most favorite-est great aunt's name was Sara Green. She never had children, so my Mom kinda became her surrogate child since my grandparents worked non-stop 24/7. When I came along, naturally I became her baby too. I really can't put into words what she meant to me. She was just the perfect aunt.

When I was growing up, her house was just magical. She had a wall of all our photographs, from her great-grandparents down to me and BL, all her siblings, all their kids, all the cousins, everyone, and most in black and white. She also hung lots of random things, one of which was sheet music from the song Sadie Green: The Vamp of New Orleans. It's not the most flattering song in the world, but it was special. One of her nicknames was Sadie, she adored New Orleans, and it fit her wild child personality pretty well.

Anyway. When she passed away, one of my great uncles snagged it off her wall before I could get there. I've been searching for this sheet music for YEARS, specifically since she passed away in 2007. And tonight, I WON IT ON EBAY! Omg.

I can't wait to mat and frame it and hang it our new house!!

Hanker's new hairdo.

Hank the Tank got his first big boy haircut this morning. He looks so skinny now!

The ladies said he was a good boy and played well with all the other doggies. They kept him around 3 hours, during which time I went and purchased him a horse stall. I mean, a large size crate. He outgrew his "intermediate" one, so we went up a size. And it's freaking gigantor. Good thing we're building a bigger house... the new one barely fits in our living room!

Bark Box!

So, ya'll know Hank is spoiled, right? Well, now it's official. I don't remember where I saw it, but I came across Bark Box. It's a monthly treat box for super rotten doggies. Our very first one came in the mail today. We just did one month as a trial to see how we'd like it. Since the Hanker loves it, we'll be ordering again. Maybe monthly. But don't tell Bob... I'll be using my newly acquired paycheck and not future house funds. Maybe.

Checking out the box.

The goods: A stuffed bone and rat (which is already minus one ear), a sample container of poop bags, and two bags of all natural treats,  

Feel Good Treats Classic Ranch Bars and Perfect Peanut Butter Little Eatz.

"Is all this really for me, Mom?"

Sniffing it out to make sure it's all legit.

Already bestest friends with his new rat, Ralphie. As you can see, Ruby the puppy dog, and Daisy the cow have fallen by the wayside. Ralphie is now king. 

(And yes, we name all his toys, and yes, he knows their names.)

 

Like them on facebook or visit their website. They have a coupon right now for $10 off your first box. So for just $19, your princess pup can get all this! Hard to beat!