On uteruses and duderuses and ovaries and brovaries.

Parks and Recreation, hands down my favorite show on television.

Last week was very busy, and not by usual definition of busy, but because it was actually busy. At work. At home. At the doctor's office.

We started out last week with getting the first part of our genetic testing - the ultrasound where they measure the back of the neck to try to predict whether or not your child has Down's Syndrome. The results of any of these genetic tests won't change my mind as far as my pregnancy - there is no way I could terminate - but they're free, it's an opportunity to see our baby on screen, and I guess it would help prepare us beforehand if there was a problem. Truthfully, the reason I wanted them was for the extra pictures.

As the technician is capturing these wonderful pictures for us, she asks how if I conceived naturally. Um, no...it took 250 mg of Clomid to coax an egg out of my vault. And then she says that my "ovaries are huge and are pushing the baby away" and then says a measurement of a "cyst"....um, lady, you can't just say cyst and not expect me to freak out. She told me that it was just telling her which ovary produced the egg for the pregnancy...but I'm still a little skeptical.

When it came time for the actual test...SURPRISE, SURPRISE the baby was uncooperative and she couldn't get it in the right position to perform the measurement. As if I should have expected anything less from this baby, who has been causing mama problems from the beginning. Or any child of mine, for that matter. Ahem.

We did get some great pictures. Let me show them to you.

Isn't our little alien baby just adorable? I told my husband it looks just like him after I mentioned it looked like an alien. I should be forgiven because I didn't mean it THAT way and I was still reeling from the whole YOU HAVE A CYST ON YOUR OVARY thing.

I've been feeling the same as I've felt every other day, Pinky. Work was incredibly busy with things going on that if I told you I would have to kill you. This coming week is going to be a hundred times more busy and I have to travel. I started whining about it about 3 weeks ago.

To make it worse, I have to travel when the kid is having problems with another kid at school. The same kid who bullied her about her religious beliefs. This time he punched her (YES A BOY - I'm a feminist and believe in equal rights and all that jazz but BOYS DO NOT PUNCH GIRLS!), called her a dumbass, and told her to fuck off after she made a silly comment about how he should have caught a ball. She's terrified of the principal, who she is going to have to talk to on Monday and I can't stop thinking about it but I don't want to talk about it because it makes me cry that I can't be there for her. Thank goodness for my mom. Gramma don't take shit from anybody and is planning on going into the school first thing Monday morning to take care of this situation.

I almost feel sorry for the principal...he doesn't know what he's up against. Mama Bears are bad enough. Gramma Bears are terrifying.

We wrapped up our week by seeing the Hunger Games. It was good. As I have read the entire set three times, and the first book four times, it's hard to see parts you loved or stories that really helped the plot get cut. I GET that they only have a short amount of time to tell the entire story but I felt like some of the parts could have been left in and wouldn't have required any more time to explain.  Once again, the book is better than the movie. (The only exception to this rule is Twilight: the movies are better...and that's saying something.)

Ok, that's it from me this week. I'm off to pack for my trip and probably cry a little.


Until next time,
The Girl on Fire Because of Heartburn And Not A Flaming Dress

Stop, collaborate and listen.

Surprise, surprise...it's been rough here this weekend. I know, I know. SAME STORY. DIFFERENT DAY. GET OVER IT, LADY.

*SOB* please stop yelling at me! I'm trying. Swearsies!

I'm trying to remember to find the positive moments, in between the moments of nausea and pukes. I DO try to remember to be grateful I get to be nauseous and puke-y because it took so long for us to get here but I'm gonna be honest...that's a lot easier than it sounds. A LOT EASIER.

This week the positive moments were the time I get to spend with my family. It was not the time I got to spend in a 2 hour class about having a healthy pregnancy that consisted of having menstruation and conception explained to me IN DETAIL (um, got it) and a nutritional video geared toward pregnant teens, made in the 1990's, complete with lots of scrunchies, quick cuts, and one very annoying Vanilla Ice like host.

After a quick puke on Saturday morning, I took the kid to get her hair did (a touch up on highlights - I KNOW, SHE'S 12! and a much needed and very cute cut). She was a little upset at how short it turned out (loves it now, natch) so I took her to get rent some videos (we have basically watched everything that is watchable on Netflix) and I started feeling sick in the store. I got really short with the kid, who couldn't find the movie she wanted, and the line was long...so we left...with one very upset tween and one puke-y mama. It's been really hard on her, me being so yucky all the time. When we got home I asked the husband to take her back out, apologized to her, and had a good cry about it in my bedroom. LIKE A BOSS.

Sunday found us at my parents house, having corned beef and cabbage and just hanging out while the guys worked on the dog mansion for the Biggest Dog In The World. Both the dog and the kid gave it a thumbs up.

Now I'm sitting here, fighting many things that I'm feeling because puking is about 90% mental for me and I CONTROL MY BRAIN, STOMACH SO KNOCK IT OFF.

Time for puzzles.

Peace out, dearest readers.

Don't you...forget about me.

Not much different going on here. Same shit, different day.

I wanted to check in and let you know that I love you more than my luggage. I hope to return full force very soon so I can return the comment love to all of you...I read your blogs in my reader and star them to comment later but then later comes and I'm puking.

I spent Saturday listening to people that have no relation to me (that I know of) cleaning my house. As I said before, after 3 years my husband finally agreed with me to hire a cleaning service. I think having to deal with my whiny, puke-y, pregnant self has been a little much. FOR US ALL.

Sunday found me being coaxed out of the house by my mama and the kid to get some much needed shopping done (Target for the kid and maternity store for me - I am growing much faster than I did with my daughter...my chesticles are bursting from the seams). I've also determined that when I go to hell it will look like the mall. Complete with a Wetzel's Pretzels line that is never-ending and all the stores I need to go to as far away as possible from each other.

Just so I can prove that I'm not all about being all whiny I need to give mad props to the kid - she received a kick-ass report card. I am beyond proud of her -- she worked really hard to get those grades. She's also been so very helpful to me that I'm probably going to have to buy her a pony. Or since she will be 16 in 4 years (as she likes to remind me about when she wants me to cry) a car.

More from me later this week, maybe. Hopefully. Don't give up on me just yet. I'll be back soon.

Remember, Mama always comes back.

The Bella Swan Pregnancy

I'm at 9 1/2 weeks right now and I've decided that I would like to do a remake of the movie 9 1/2 Weeks because it was very misleading. My version would have no sex and lots of vomiting.

Remember when I said Baby: 0 Me: 1,047?

Yeah. That changed.

Baby: 2 Me: 1,151.

Despite my obvious lead, I still feel like anything more than 0 for the baby means I lose. I know this is a little gross and obvious but I do not enjoy the pukes. I keep my eyes closed and cry the entire time. The toilet does not flush fast enough and it hates me. My hair is too long and it hates me. I had a lovely dinner and now it hates me, too. Waaaah.

Maybe I should change the title of my blog to diary of a complain-y lady.

I know you're thinking...WHEN is she going to talk about Twilight? Seriously, it's the only reason that I even clicked on this dumb link.

Because of the pukes and the constant nausea, I have lost several poundages since this little journey started. While it's sometimes harder to button my pants, they are loose everywhere else. I'm actually not too upset about it as I've told several people that I would love to have a Bella Swan pregnancy - except for the dying and becoming a vampire part. I'd like to live and not drink blood the rest of my life. I also do not want my husband to eat the baby out of my stomach. I've made sure to specify that on my birth plan just in case there is any confusion.

I saw my new OB for the first time today and when I told him how horrible the nausea and vomiting was he looked at me and said "there's no reason you should be suffering like that, there's a medication you can take." He gave me a diagnosis of hyperemesis gravidarum and a prescription for Zofran. And then I professed my undying love for him and gave him a kiss on the mouth. With tongue. It was awkward for my husband. Probably.

He also confirmed (in a very non-direct way in which he did not mention Twilight at all, probably because it was so, ya know, obvious) that I am having a Bella Swan pregnancy because of the weight loss and that my blood tests showed that I would likely be anemic before this journey is over.

Sweet.