Missing: Sane mother-to-be

It’s been weeks since I have posted anything – I know: so much for starting a blog and then not “blogging”. I have been thinking about it a lot recently, but today I decided to come to terms with it. Maybe because I have been in the cruddiest mood for the last few days and I can’t seem to bake,  cook or snowshoe my way out of it so maybe writing will help. 

Not writing is the result of two issues, both as far from each other on the spectrum as Mr. Ed and Whoever the hottest young tiger-beat idol is… the twilight vampire kid? I am indifferent, but general population says otherwise. Reason one: there has been a lot going on- I have been busy, did Molly Gallagher’s wedding (gorgeous – very happy with that), work has ramped up considerably,  doing small things here and there that I CAN do to help the bathroom inch closer to being finished, complete and ready for operation – which it actually is (close to finished – not fully operational- although Lia did install our toilet on my birthday this last week- talk about a present!) , and ramping up for the holidays which on it’s own is mind blowingly stressful. Throw in a way overdue and VERY welcome new trip added to the calendar to Florida, the confusion and frustration of what to actually pack as not much fits or feels like it fits anymore; compounded with the fact that we are going in place of Uncle John an Aunt Lisa as John is still in the hospital and won’t be out until hopefully early this week, and they shouldn’t go. I don’t think life is as stressful for me as it is for Lisa these days – dogs, hospital, holidays fast approaching, hospital, kids coming and going, vacation postponing, plan making, hospital… the whole works. I can’t wait until we all hear that John is home- probably not any more that him wanting to be home! But you know what I mean- I digress. 

Anyway, I have been busy… aside from all of the above listed things, pregnancy busy is an added madness that we never seem to get relief from. Tried to go for our CVS test- twice.. no dice.. scheduled an Amnio for early January.. hurry up and wait… got blood test results back and they all look great.. wait you are doing an amnio? Well then we get to test for more stuff – stuff you have never heard of.. yep- found something-  just as we thought- you are not perfect- its insignificant, but important enough to test for and worry you with… I mean come ON people… its hard enough being pregnant and dealing with the every day ups and downs of carrying a mini me in there let alone being bombarded with this STUFF that I really don’t want to know isn’t that why I am doing an amnio? So I can know what is REAL? Urgh. At least I can have a glass or two of wine these days – that might be the ONLY thing that is working in my favor.

Reason two: and at the other end of the spectrum and weighing in at 25 pounds is that …nothing is going on. Nothing that I can share anyway. My busy is lame busy. The things that ARE actually going on have been things I have had to deal with a lot deeper than on here. Emotions running high don’t make for great reading, OR cooking apparently as I have had some real bombs over the last few weeks.  It is one of those things similar to seeing a good long lost friend who you haven’t seen in weeks, months, years , maybe since 11th grade and when you finally see them and that ask “what’s up?” you respond blandly by saying- “not much” – Bull-sh*t. That’s the response you give when you know that there is so much wheeling and dealing inside that you know it would be a complete burden to even break off a little piece and share.  Which in fact is very big of you, but also detrimental to the whole ball of string that is your being as this is a good friend, someone who you know you COULD lean on even if you have neglected to... so you bottle it up and say, “not much”.. duh- spill it!  So yes, if you effectively read between the lines I am the one bottling things up, annoyed, frustrated, worried, and scared all rolled into one ball of wax that has been avoiding all of said “nothings” to focus on being a busy body, keeping work rolling, and trying to get ready for the holidays when right now the least thing I feel like is dealing with the holidays.

Wait- I am coming to realize that I may actually be using this blog. I am using you to lament about things I can’t do, I shouldn’t do, I won’t do when really I could be talking about the really fun positive things like:  the absolutely powder perfect 9+ inches of snow we got yesterday and last night (even though my parents got almost 18!), we got a great little Christmas tree ,  I have been putting martha stewart to SHAME by baking up a cookie storm, we are out of the first trimester and have the best and most massive collection of ultrasound photos– did I say I am back to being allowed some wine yet!? YEAH! All of the little fun things that I actually DO like, that actually DO make me feel better… it is like they are not worth writing about ‘cause there is more serious stuff going “down” that I have to deal with so I can enjoy MORE of the fun little great stuff. Urgh – the never ending conundrum of the typical emotional roller coaster. I am scared that reverting back into manic pregnant lady is going to scare Taylor away as he oh so luckily gets to deal with me…. daily… poor guy. The gist is- it has got to end SOMETIME… SOMEHOW… I just would like to know how right now and I promise to write more … after our vacation which will hopefully help me relax a little.

A drinking problem

I don’t want to beat a dead horse here, but I have discovered the ultimate meaning of ‘you don’t know what you’ve got ‘til its gone”… I can’t seem to get over this not drinking thing. The not smoking? Not nearly as bad. But, no wine, no martini, no nothin’- ridiculously hard. And I’ll tell you why.

A drink is a signal. A signal for the end of the day, a signal that its Friday and the weekend has begun, a signal that you’ve accomplished so much that your back is sore and your feet hurt, a signal that there is something fabulous to celebrate, a signal that it’s the end of the night - it’s a signal for what ever we choose it to be.  That’s it. It’s not brain surgery or rocket science.

Imagine this- we go about a busy day. We complete the tasks we so eagerly set out to accomplish, and as per usual the day slips by before we know it. We are pooped, flat out exhausted and can’t wait to put our feet up and have a glass of wine – see? A drink signal for pencils down, time’s up, the day is over. Ahhhh… and that little glass of wine tastes great. It makes sure that we realize that there is nothing left to do from here other than relax, watch a little news, maybe catch up on some personal things, eat dinner and go to bed so we can do it all again tomorrow.

Imagine that we rinse and repeat this cycle throughout the long week- day in day out. Complete tasks, accomplish much, be ridiculously tired, and countdown to the weekend. And then it arrives. It’s Friday, its after five PM – YEAH! And it has been such a long week that you can’t remember what your crisis was on Monday, let alone the fact that you forgot your spouse’s name on Tuesday, your own name on Wednesday, and maybe for kicks your wallet on top of your car on Thursday. The week is over- it’s nothing but sunny skies and calm seas for the next two days and to celebrate you decide to step it up with maybe something in a fancy glass that comes with it’s own appetizer (read: olives)… or better yet (and if you are my husband) it is something that comes in a very simple small glass with ice and you can barely see through amber colored liquid named after a guy with two first names.  But that’s not the point, the point is this drink is a signal that you can put the week behind you and each little sip will wash away just the last little bit of hectic residue from the week. Ahhh… and the weekend begins.

Now imagine any of these scenarios without the end of day drink- we complete tasks we set out eagerly to accomplish, we run around like a chicken with our head cut off, we scramble to get through the nitty gritty minutiae of the day,  and before we know it its 5 pm we are pooped, and as always we still wonder where the day goes – it’s over and it is time to relax. (Of course, please feel free to insert your own work hours here)

But wait…. Is the day really over? I can stop trying to cross things off my to do list? But where is my signal? Isn’t there something that tells me to stop, put my feet up and relax for the evening? It’s gone!! Someone stole my signal!!! (In this case it happens to be my husband as he is the one that “put” me in my current situation ☺) Without it the day actually doesn’t seem to stop, instead it seems to keep going. It is this swirling abyss of to-do lists: dinner, to make, vacuum the 2nd floor, oh and I need to change the laundry over, and there are a few emails I should send to try and free up some time for tomorrow or another day in the week. My brain keeps going and going. There isn’t anything to help me make that end of day mental decision to put everything down because it can all wait. Put my feet up because it will all get done, it always does. To take a deep breathe and look up at the stars, hug my husband, play with the dog, watch Jeopardy and try scream the answers at the contestants (because they can clearly hear you if you just yell the answers to them), and anything other than what is on that damn list.

I get it now. I get the whole kit and kaboodle, how reliant we become on certain things to direct the way we live and act.  I am learning a precious lesson here, and I plan to take my new found wisdom to the streets. O.K. – maybe not to the streets, I really have very little time as it is. But I see how hard it is to create for ourselves new paradigms. This 'no consumption' thing really isn’t medically based (I know – that’s a joke, just bear with me) it is a process of removing every single one of our vices forcing us to re-asses our priorities, our motus operandi. Someone up there (or inside me) is whispering, “Little cricket listen to the frog he has wisdom to share” – and reminds me that having children is all about flexibility. Duh right? I'm flex, I am so flex I can bend in a breeze.  Sure, I know. But do we REALLY know how to be flexible? Resourceful? This test is about needing to learn new tricks, and in order to do it we have to start from scratch. And starting from scratch includes removing all previously known crutches and learning to walk on our own again, relearning how to accomplish twice the amount of daily tasks, be dead dog tired and still somehow manage to find calm, enjoyment, love, contentment, and relaxation.  

Whew… this is what it is going to be like having kids? Yikes – I could really use a drink.

ISO: Inspiration

I’ve been M.I.A. these last few days- physically and mentally. This last week has gotten very personal for some reason, or I guess I should revise and say it may be that I am taking things far more personally… Anyway, it has been one of those week’s that my thoughts seem better fit for private writing on paper than public writing here. I guess the hormones are really kicking in just that much more- finding their roots. The “prickly cactus” that I have been has morphed somewhat (not completely mind you) into a scared weepy version of myself which is pretty odd in it’s own right. Rarely am I scared or this weepy. Sure, in the past I’ve been …sometimes... but currently I feel like crying all of the time - of course I feel like laughing all the time too. I just wish my hormonally challenged brain would come back from the brink and make up its mind what the proverbial “we” want to do with ourselves. According to the three hundred calendars I keep an eye on , the baby is apparently the size of a raspberry! We were so spoiled by having the ability to have an ultrasound a week that now we feel lost with out being able to take a peek inside and see how our little nubbin is doing. We need an ultrasound machine here at home… don’t they sell a potable one now? Anyway, no need to re-mortgage the house for my selfish need to spy on the growing baby.

Aside from that all seems to be relatively well. I fear that I may have temporarily lost my mojo in the kitchen- maybe it is on vacation just in time for the first good thick frost, which covered the ground this morning. But this last week has been a week of blah dinners, not made without love, just made without effervescence or enthusiasm. So I as I sit here trying to generate a list of what to get from the farmers market I am in search of my inspiration. I have to figure out how to trigger it- going through my old cookbooks is out- I did that a few weeks ago only to ask myself why really I have all of these books with recipes I will no doubt probably never make as they are too poo-poo-tah-tah for at home casual dining, or have made so many times are now reside on the honored “over it” list. I then turn to thoughts of playing favorites.

You may not know that I am one of the biggest fans of “brunch” on the planet. Sleep in late, wake up to Bloody Mary’s, whiskey sours, mimosas (have I told you how much I miss cocktails yet? ) savory soufflés, sweet treats with powdered sugary flourishes, and everything a vehicle for butter – I dare say that life doesn’t get any better than brunch.

I have been remembering recently a hike / camping trip I went on when I lived out west. For the life of me I can’t remember where we were – or even what state we were in. It’s killing me. Anyway, location is not that important. We had gotten there at dusk so I had no idea what exactly to expect when I woke up that next morning which I oddly am a big fan of- the art of the elemental surprise. It was breath taking. There was a gorgeous lake, thick ranks of evergreens at the mountain line, crisp frost bitten air much like this morning, no one around for what seemed like miles – if at all - and the stillness that comes from being in the woods in the onset of fall. A silence that comes over everything as critters have not yet woken up, the birds have either flown away or are still nestled under their own wings, and the leaves have vanished so there is little rustling in the branches above. 

After a morning hike and loading everything into the car we drove to the surprise part of the trip- Brunch at the Lodge – the Lodge? Are you kidding? There’s a lodge? The fact that they served what was known to be the most incredible brunch for miles, maybe even states, far more than made up for the fact that my then boyfriend didn’t tell me that the luxury facility existed a mere half a mile away from our camping spot so as to not ruin the ‘surprise’- it was a sick sense of romanticism that only my then college mind would have been able to handle. I digress; the lodge was in fact a revelation in itself. It wasn’t just the sight of the hand hewn mass in front of us as we pulled up, inside of which I correctly envisioned the warmth of stoked fires, wall mounted moose antlers and “stuffed” wild salmon and trout. It was the fact that when we entered, the hushed sounds and warm smells of the lounge and dining room overwhelmed me in every sense that it brought tears to my eyes. (Ok, this may actually be a slight exaggeration - the teary part - but that’s what I imagine I felt like if I were ‘me’ then as I am me now – make sense? stay with me…. I am as I said- weepy) Anyway, after nice long hot showers we sat down for maybe the best fall brunch I can ever recall - or, at least at this moment. A long night in the cold made us ravenous and we ordered everything. Beautiful yeasty waffles with melted butter oozing over every square, house smoked salmon, and the most perfect poached eggs. We ate as kings, and deserved as much.

So now when I wonder, where oh where my inspiration has gone, I can think back to the warm satiated feeling I had while looking over the glistening mountain lake, high above the cares of the world, with the sweet powdery sugar taste still on my lips and realize that I don’t always need to be inspired by savory sauces, robust roasts, or sweet baked breads. Or worry about what is on the “not allowed to have list (mainly right now the smoked salmon and poached eggs which I thrive on). I can just be happy being inspired by warm feelings of the best type of food in existence: Brunch.

A Spooktacular Day

Wow… today we saw the baby’s heartbeat for the first time- very awesome, surreal and odd at the same time. God bless the wonderful world of ultrasound. I’ll be honest: these babies don’t grow nearly as fast as I thought. I know that they grow hyper fast – seriously I do, I went to Health Ed. in school, I hear what the doctors tell us. But 2mm?  That seems awfully small for a baby that causes such wide reaching mood swings. I mean, you’d think this thing was the size of the troll that lives under the bridge at this point given how much my mental state fluctuates. One minute I am happy as a clam, the next I am raging lunatic angry and ready to storm out of the house (and go where I don’t really know- it always seems like a great idea…) then the next I am sobbing and miserable trying to figure out how we are going to pull this whole pregnancy, baby, and parenting thing off. Normal? Yep.

The only true consolation that I realize I have is knowing that while we all think/ say that the men have it easy in this pregnancy thing, (at least I had imagined that Taylor did) I have come to realize that they don’t. I mean, there may not be too worse things than approaching Halloween and wondering what type of monster ate your wife and replaced her with the banshee that she sometimes becomes when a certain time of day is reached or a trigger crops up or for no reason at all.  There is a lot of caressing, and “there there” in our house right now.  To the point that Taylor rolled his eyes and laughed last night (after one of my fits of crying of course) when I said I wasn’t experiencing any real pregnancy symptoms. Woops. And I thought we were getting away scott free- oh how I was mistaken!

Past that, this week’s dinners have been relatively lackluster and nothing to write about. Not for lack of desire or inspiration but it was really hard to start a week off with Taylor's homemade gnocchi on Sunday-everything else pales in comparison. We are heading to the farm tonight for end of season lobsters from the Cape, which I can’t wait for. A limited lobster consumption this year is as close to heartbreaking as it gets in this house. I guess we can treat it as sort of our Halloween ‘treat’ since we don’t have neighbors, we don’t get trick or treaters, and there really isn’t anything uber-inspiring or that appeals to us to get ourselves dressed up for anymore.

I would say we really are growing up, but then realize that we do harbor a ridiculous desire to (for some reason) dress our dogs up for Halloween this year just for kicks. Torturous maybe but still gets a good hefty giggle out of us every time we talk about it.   I wont tell you as what in case we actually DO it and take pictures- I will of course then post the pictures for the world to see. If they only knew how we desire to mortify them then they would no doubt have done everything in their power to make sure that we didn’t reproduce. The cats on the other hand get left alone- we do have kitty wigs for them thanks to their aunt Lib but that usually doesn’t elicit too happy of a response and when a 24 pound cat with claws wants to tell you he isn’t messing around with a hot pink or blond wig that fits over his ears he gets his point across.

Even scarier than my crazy psychotic episodes might be what it would be like to experience a world series game on Halloween… in Philadelphia… not to say that I would not go and wear a witch’s hat if I had the chance, but I feel badly for any unsuspecting visitors (Yankees fans or not) for having to visit the scariest fan town in the nation on the scariest day of the year.

Go Phils and Happy Holler-ween!

My pants are too tight and it ain't the baby

Unbeknown to me – there is a pumpkin shortage going on. I have been dreaming of the nutmeg-ey goodness warm pumpkin bread, pumpkin sauce, of pumpkin pie… all of it. But it’s true, while I was able to  pick up some fabulous looking neck pumpkins when we were at Milky Way Farm yesterday (GREAT place by the way- perfect for kids too), I recently noticed when I was at the store the pumpkin shelves are barren… dry… zip…zilch…nada. And there is a sign noting that the Libbey Pumpkin Company would like everyone to bear with them, as there has been a pumpkin shortage – really? Why didn’t this make the news instead of the Balloon boy? We are on the cusp of the biggest pumpkin celebration of the year- Thanksgiving – and there is no canned pumpkin for when, in a pinch, you mess up your home baked, freshly pick’t pie pumpkins from your local farm? The ones you had planned on prepping months worth of golden pulpy goodness for breads, pies, sauces, and soups for? Not that I am planning on messing up my crooked squash mind you.  Anyway, good luck - there is a pumpkin shortage. On another note, and maybe oddly related- there also happens to be a frozen waffle shortage. Not sure how that happens but it’s also true – hmmm….

Anyway, the Beignets turned out FABULOUS…. I used the recipe from The Merlin Menu blog. The recipe is very basic, very easy and the result is near perfection. The only kicker was that after getting everything ready, dough, hot oil et. al. I actually realized that we didn’t have any powdered sugar – ACK… so they got cinnamon sugar and 10x went on the good old shopping list so a similar situation is avoided in the future. Mucho frustrating.

I have also been on a gourd kick over the last week. The other day at the Garden Store I bought 2 dozen baby gourds, yesterday I bought another dozen. It might be a problem now.  I do not usually buy gourds in the fall, but this year for some reason they have struck me as the perfect little do anything with décor item. While this is not ground breaking news to gourd lovers out there, nor is it me really as an event planner, for some reason this year things in the world of gourds “clicked”. They are easy to maintain – no watering needed (like the Mums I bought and watched slowly die a painful death at our doorstep) - easy to display – grandma’s tureen is perfect or I plan on hollowing them out (thanks for the paddle bit idea Lia) , and they look well… cute. … Martha watch out.

Here they are in my grandmother's tureen. Taylor got a new camera lens as well this week which translates to the fact that we have over 60 pictures of our gourds - so I thought I would do him the honor of using one here for him.

I think that realistically I am mentally morphing deeper into an abyss of ‘all things baby’ at this point which is not surprising given the circumstances, however is definitely an official new first hand personality development for me. Sure, I have always been drawn to the babies, children and children’s things- books, smocked dresses, little socks, blankets, red wagons, old school toys.  I could go on and on. But recently I have noticed that I am finding myself just generally attracted to small things. Mini artichokes peaked my interest on Orangette the other day, this weekend’s baby gourds, the little critter racer’s from the wisteria website I have been pining over (don’t ask), I even bought teenie weenie ditalini past-ini for soup this week - I have developed a penchant for small things. I’ll admit it, and I am watching it get worse daily.  

Maybe it is a compensation for the fact that I am staring down the barrel of the “you are not going to be anything close to small in the coming months” kind of gun (of course the beignets for breakfast and Taylor's delicate but belly filling homemade gnocchi for dinner yesterday certainly don’t help the situation – Taylor is convinced I will need back up warning beeps at the end of this whole baby thing) I am barely even hinting at a notorious ‘baby bump’ yet but it already seems that everything around me is getting smaller already. Maybe I am a sadist. Or it’s an undiscovered self-preservation technique.

There is a commercial on the television that has a woman wearing everything that is oversized– massive bracelets, big huge Texas sized hair, giant hobo bag, even a Great Dane walking by her side. Her friend in the ad tells her she looks like she’s lost weight- naw- “it’s just these big things- they make me look really small”. Well this is my opposites phase. I am attracted to small things so I can start to FEEL bigger… I like the way I work. Really I do… time to put my sneakers on and drag myself outside for a crisp fall walk before I really DO need the ‘beep…..beep…beep’

Whew

Anyone who has been, or is, or knows anything about pregnancy will tell you that in addition to having to steer clear of some key culinary delights that you never think you would really miss but really DO in order to give a growing chitlin inside a healthy fighting chance, also will remind you to steer clear from your (my in this case) favorite tasty beverages.

I get it, I know why, I follow it but honestly - I would have given my right arm (and maybe part of my left) for a glass of Cab last night at the ‘spill the beans dinner’… heck I’d take one right now. Why, oh WHY can’t someone come up with a fantastic alternative to cocktails for those of us craving but not able to indulge?

I have searched for “mock”tails for 2 days online (yes, MOCK tails, everything has a catchy name these days) and NOTHING…. I see loads of fruit juice based fizzy drinks that because they are poured into a specialty glass with a stem fall under the ‘tails’ category- WRONG. these drinks couldn't be farther from a real cocktail.  

Show me a fake Manhattan that actually TASTES like a Manhattan or a martini flavored water that you can throw in a couple of olives into and call it a Friday night , Non Alcoholic wine that actually TASTES like wine and not bastardization of grape juice and I will actually come to your house and mow your lawn. No Joke. Back it up with something to take the edge off that falls under my doctor’s approved pregnancy items list, and I’ll give you first right of refusal on the bragging rights to owning the worlds largest orange cat named Russell. (Seriously, it’s worth it, he is easily 25 lbs. - he could have a chance at a Guinness record).   


Aside from the lack of hot and cold spirit warming spirits that we usually delve into now that the thermostat is going up and the outside temp going down, things are good. The “spill the beans” dinner went great, moms and dads all very excited of course, Giddy in fact I think might be a better description, very cool. The small taste of that sparkling nectar of the gods on my lips and tongue was, as expected, all at once pure ecstasy and torture wrapped up nicely in a brown paper package and tied with a raffia bow by Martha Stewart herself. And despite the fact that only our immediate family currently know that T’s boys can swim it feels great just knowing we are not harboring intel that feels like a dirty little secret until the cat is out of the bag. (Shameless reference to the cat again as I really could use that drink and the offer for Russell still stands.) 

The Beef Bourguignon was good; the combo of the rainstorm and early evening chill, family, fireplace and something to celebrate worked out nicely in my favor. Crusty French bread… mmmm… and the homemade sweet apple compote I made the other day with the apples from the farm over ice cream, yes thank you, I WILL have some more, it was fall flavors at their best.

In my innate desire to surround this growing baby with the warmth of a kitchen and the sweet smells of homemade, home baked, and even home fried delights I wildly searched the other day to dig up a decent Beignet recipe- I found of course hundreds that all made my mouth water and I think maybe my knees weak. While I have never been to New Orleans, I have long been a lover and dreamer of the beignet. Any size, any flavor, savory, sweet, you name it. To me they are the ultimate piece of angelic fluff, little clouds of dough with breezes of powdered sugar – perfection. 

Although, the last time we (okay-I) made beignets, I cheated. It was one of those things that seemed like a great idea at the time but turned out more appropriate for the 101 items that could also be used as a home construction material list (oh and, remind me to tell you about the fact that we have only a semi operating, mid-construction master bath at some point as well and how I got us in this pickle). 

I used the Café du Monde mix that Peter and Bonnie brought back from NOLA – gasp – I know, I know… it was in a test, I was super curious to see if it actually worked, and it failed me miserably. 

Therefore, tomorrow, after a semi good night rest (and prayers that the dogs do not decide fake me out of bed at 7:30 only to go outside briefly then snake my spot with muddy paws) and before a planned afternoon of pumpkin picking followed by an evening of making homemade gnocchi, I plan on arising early to make homemade, from scratch, Beignets… I can’t resist. I can’t do very much it feels like these days but I am allowed to cook, and I am allowed to eat. So, as I settle a little deeper into nesting mode, Beignets, a little CBS Sunday Morning, pick ‘em yourself pumpkins, and homemade pasta all sounds ridiculously good. Maybe I’ll throw in a brief nap to put it all over the edge. 

Wow, a girl could get used to this pregnant thing. 

TWO TWO

Welcome to Day 22 of my "Gestational Cycle" which means that as of today we could SEE our teenie tiny baby the old candy jar... which is growing ridiculously fast. Just the other day when we were in to confirm this whole parents to be thing, our nubbin was the size of a pinhead, now an eraser. I am hoping that the next analogy will relate the baby to the size of one of the crazy huge prenatal vitamins I take 6 of each day just to make up for the fact that I take SIX of them... who's idea was it again to make these things so big that poor women who are lucky to keep down a saltine have to choke them down 2 at a time three times daily? The nerve.

What an odd experience this has been so far... we tell our parents tonight, which will make things MUCH better as we will have people to "turn to" to chat, lament, ask questions of, worry with, laugh with, plan with - the whole ball of wax...whew and finally. It is hard to keep this kind of news tucked in. It's like winning the lottery and then going back to work the next day like nothing happened... yeah, right.

We had our first ultra sound today, piece of cake. All is where it should be and looks like it should etc.. After a little internal stress last night on my end of "what happens if this ISN'T going to actually happen??" passed we rallied ourselves for a first thing doctor's appt.. As it turned out, the hardest part of the visit was realizing that our doctor has a bottle of what we can only assume to be "snake oil" in his office- I know WTF right???? This is no shabby doctor either, despite what the About me section may have you think of us- we do not live in a house with wheels in the deep south, we have all of our teeth and our church services aren't held under a canvas tent in a field.   This guy is top notch (and knows it actually-but that's another story), so seeing a funky clear glass bottle filled with various colored and sized snakes and snake skins soaking in oil was super creepy. 

I would like to add to this story that there is one thing that I knowingly fear the most... yep... snakes... I don't care if they are alive or dead; 2 inches small or 20 feet long; in our backyard in the wood pile or behind glass at the Zoo. They are, and will always be the same devilish, disgusting slithery things that make my knees knock. So yes, seeing this intriguing bottle on the obligatory doctor's office "Cool nick knacks I've collected in my travels thanks to your money" shelf set me back a little... breathe... over it... moving on...then he told me I couldn't have splenda along with the 3 million other things I can't have (sure - kick me while I am down- how else is someone supposed to make DECAF coffee taste better???).

I guess in the grand scheme of things I should be thankful. After nine months of trying for a baby, and the time finally being here, I should (and DO) feel lucky that the only thing that makes my knees currently knock are snakes in a jar and the rug woven of my multitude of vices being pulled out from under me. Oh yes, and my husband, but that's in a good way- still- for now...we do have a long way to go in this pregnancy though, hee hee. 

Anyway, we are back at home. I with my blah decaf coffee trying to determine what I can eat next that is on the short list of healthy things for mom to be, my husband with his amped up leaded version of the morning kick in the pants and a day of work at home on his hands. Our nutty dogs who for some reason seem to have the WORST smelling gas today (Budreaux in particular) and a pending rain storm that should arrive just in time for the big 'Spill the Beans' dinner with our parents - which is also why I made beef bourguignon for dinner aside from the fact its so easy its not funny. I am SO having an illegal sip of champagne tonight to celebrate. If this baby is going to be a Goetz, it better get used to the good stuff early on.