Three day weekends have got to be one of man's most wonderful inventions. There are times when I would be willing to exchange modern plumbing for a three day weekend.
This weekend has been a great success in that I have done nothing useful or productive. Ok, that's not entirely true. I did nap. And I played Sims. And I helped my hubby pick out some pretty plants for our back yard. And I went grocery shopping. And I watched "Kill Bill Vol 1". Well, just look at all my accomplishments.
Mind you, I write this as I sit on the couch watching my husband clean. Just call me "Slackerella".
I think tomorrow we are going to drive to the outlet mall so I can get new walking shoes. This pregnancy has turned my feet into pudgy, swollen things that no longer fit properly into any of my existing shoes. This has made our walks much less pleasant than they used to be. I think my hubby is tired of listening to me piss and moan for the first 15 minutes of any walk about how my feet are falling asleep because my shoes are too tight. Why do I think this? Because he actually offered to go to the outlet mall with me to buy new shoes.
Do you know how excited I am that I do not have to go to work tomorrow? More excited than I am capable of expressing. Usually, at this time on a Sunday night, I'm sad and glum and moody thinking about getting up early and going to work. But tonight I am feeling light and happy because I get to sleep in tomorrow and play all day.
Several years ago, when I was young and poor, I participated in medical studies for my asthma. It wasn't a bad deal at all. I got free medical treatment and access to all the newest treatments and periodic big, fat checks for being a guinea pig.
When I moved to California, my asthma improved greatly. I rarely have any issues now.
During my pregnancy, I've been doing great. I've been passing all my tests and screenings of every sort with flying colors. Yesterday I got a call from my doctor's office regarding a glucose tolerence test I had the day before. You know it is never good when you get a call THE DAY AFTER a blood test. I failed my first screening.
What that means is that I need to be tested more thoroughly. What THAT means is that I have to do a three hour test with four blood draws. I'm not looking forward to that at all.
But the interesting thing is that UC Davis is doing a study on women who test with high blood sugars during pregnancy. The test just involves breathing into some measuring device to test metabolism. (And, of course, more blood. Vampires!) It also involves a bit of payment. I readily agreed to participate because I need the money and because I have long been suspicious that my metabolism is off.
So I go in on Wednesday for my three hour torture session. I do not do blood draws well. You can give me shots all day long, but try to remove my blood and I go all whispy and sweaty and lightheaded. I also have uncooperative veins. They sense "blood theft", shrivel up, and run screaming for the innermost parts of my body. So this should be big fun for everyone involved. On top of that, there's the general worry that comes with wondering if I've developed gestational diabetes. I know that's not the end of the world and that women who successfully control their GD go on to have healthy babies....but I obviously would prefer not to have to deal with the whole mess.
As I mentioned in the last entry, we're planning on having our baby baptised but we haven't been to church in a really long time. This weekend we decided to go check out a church by our house to see if it would work for us.
It didn't. The church had a strip mall vibe to it in my opinion. I was sort of looking around to see if Mary Magdalen's Nail Salon or The Holy Ghost Yogurt Shoppe might be around.
We had gotten the hours for mass from the internet and they turned out to be wrong, so there was one already in progress when we showed up. We could see inside the church because the front is all glass (sort of like an H&R Block). People were sitting in folding chairs.
We didn't want to stand outside the glass and stare at everyone so we decided we'd come back. Only, when we got back to the car, we talked about maybe going somewhere else. The whole strip mall vibe was really offputting. I was a little concerned that the church may have a drive-through confessional and that we may be able to request the Eucharist "To-Go". I remembered that I had seen a listing for another Catholic church nearby and suggested maybe we do a drive-by.
St. Joseph's looked a lot more like what we expected. As we drove by, my husband commented that we were "cruising for God". It looked like one mass had just ended so we decided to stick our heads in look around. Much better. It passed our initial test. You know, basing our decision on "looks". We decided to stick around to see if the rest of the package was as palatable.
We had some time to sit around and talk a bit before the next mass started. This whole thing is a bit weird for us. Neither of us are big fans of organized religion. My hubby mentioned that going to church makes him feel like a sheep. I pointed out that it is no mistake that they refer to the congregation as a "flock".
The mass itself was fine. The pastor was funny and had a nice voice with a slight irish accent. The whole experience sort of reminded me of the good parts of the the church I grew up in. We felt comfortable there.
So this is the church we've selected. I still have a lot of mixed feelings about this (as does my husband). Feelings that are far too personal to write about here. But the bottom line is that we agree this is what we want to do and we are happy we found St. Josephs's.
My husband and I were both raised Catholic. Being Catholic is sort of like being a Marine or an alcoholic. You know, "Once a Catholic, always a Catholic."
Notice that the word even has "holic" in it. That's "holic" from the latin word for "addicted to" and "cath" from the latin word for guilt.
Anyway....something we have always agreed on is that, when we did have a child, we would go ahead and baptise him so that our mothers would not have to set up vigil on our doorstep and pray rosaries for the soul of our horrible, sinful baby.
We thought this would be a fairly simple process. We thought we'd pick some Godparents and a church and just, you know, show up for the baptism. Yeah. It doesn't really work that way. Apparently, the Catholics actually want you to actually be an active member before they will accept your potentially heathen offspring into the fold.
Some churches are a lot more strict than the others. We have found one that will not force us to say 5 million Hail Marys for having been such slovenly Catholics. They do require, you know, that we actually go to services which is really going to put a damper on "Venial Sin Sundays". But I think we'll be able to handle it.
Time will tell, I suppose.
I didn't get to bed until late last night. Well, late for the pregnant me. I fell asleep pretty quickly while my husband read to the baby from ESPN magazine.
I woke up a short time later with heartburn. No biggie. I'm getting used to this. I rolled over and grabbed the jumbo sized tub o' Tums next to the bed and popped three of them in my mouth. Then I tried to go back to sleep.
I was just about there, too, when my poor hubby started to sneeze. And sneeze. And sneeze. It was nearly hypnotic. "Ahh-CHOO!" Pause, pause, pause, "Ahh-CHOO!" Pause, pause, pause, "Ahh-CHOO!" Then I realized that he wasn't going to stop. AND he seemed to be sleeping through it!
With the addition of my flailing and heavy sighing, he woke up. He saved our marriage when he took an allergy pill. Then my heartburn kicked in again.
Unfortunately, I was so frazzled by that point that every tiny sound in the room became as loud as a gaggle of 'tween girls at a Hilary Duff concert. That's when my cat decided to lick himself thoroughly. Ew. EW! EWWWWW!!!
I decided I'd work from home today so I could take a nap. But then my neighbor decided that 8AM was a great time to use loud lawn and garden implements.
At this point, I'm a slobbering eejit. I am neither sleeping nor accomplishing anything productive. This is probably perfect practice for my first months of being a mommy.
Oooo! Speaking of "mommy". My husband gave me a Mother's Day gift and a card yesterday. I started bawling before I opened either one of them. He's getting so used to my crying, he didn't even seem phased by this.
How do I go about nominating him for sainthood?
It had been becoming abundantly clear that my parakeet needed a new mommy.
It started when I first got pregnant and started sleeping approximately 27 hours a day. And when I wasn't sleeping, I was puking. So my little blue birdie was getting no love.
Eventually I stopped puking and I now only sleep about 12 hours a day. But still, my bird was not getting the attention he was accustomed to. He started to let me know about this by chirping very loudly at 3AM even when his cage was covered. It would only be worse for him when the baby is born.
So, I decided last week to try to find a new and more attentive home for him. My first idea was to check with my friend Cassandra. She has birds and older kids and that's an excellent combo. Fortunately, she agreed to let her kids adopt my bird.
They came to pick him up today. I was a little worried about introducing him to (and then forcing him to go home with) three strangers. Silly me! Dominica, Tommy, and Chirpie seemed to fall fiercely in love with each other at first sight. Dominica is thinking of renaming him "Blueberry" and he seems to be quite alright with that.
I was very sad to see him go but I know that he's in very good hands. He'll be getting more love and attention than he knows what to do with. Also, I get visitation rights.
The house has been very, very quiet without him here.
We've been spending a lot of time registering for things for the baby. Do you have any idea how much STUFF a baby requires?
Most stores will give you a checklist of "must have" items. We did not register for everything they recommended. Mostly because our house is not big enough to hold that much stuff and still allow us all to live here.
So after registering at Babies R Us, Target, and One Step Ahead, I'm beat. But I'm still worried that we overlooked something REALLY important. I fear that my failure to register for a bottle warmer will cause my child to develop a serious learning disability. Because I did not register for baby mittens, he will be doomed to always be chosen last for kickball. My failure to register for the proper number of body suits, snap shirts, and stretch overalls will mean nobody will go with him to the prom and he will become gay.
*sigh*
In all seriousness, I suspect that there are several "must haves" that one really must not need. I also suspect there are things that are not on any store list that other parents would say I definitely MUST HAVE. Like a prescription of valium or a kegerator.