Couch Potato

Hello, world. I have not forgotten my blog. I think about it often, actually, but since I have been doing the same thing every day since when I last posted, there hasn’t been much point to updating. Plus summoning up the mental stamina to write a blog post is a bit daunting lately.

So what have I been up to? Nothing. Laying on the couch, wishing I was unconscious. Forcing myself to eat whenever possible. Missing normal life. Loving Husband for doing all of the cooking, cleaning, and his normal house chores, and working 40 hours a week, all with a smile and a hug. Isn’t he amazing? Loving Munchkin for being perfectly content while watching cartoons (*cringe*) and playing all day long. Plotting revenge for bored teenagers who seem to enjoy trespassing and harassing us in the middle of the night. I vote paintballs, but I don’t want to spend the money on supplies, nor would I be willing to do a night watch.

I hope to feel better soon. I wish I felt better NOW. Hopefully life (and blog posting) will return to normal…soon.

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Pregnancy is warping my sense of reality

Please, oh please, tell my why this is making me so freaking hungry:

Hospital Food from 11 Different Countries

Because seriously, hospital food? Why does it look so delicious? It shouldn’t. I remember from Munchkin’s birth, wherein I was in the hospital for five days, that some of the food was unidentifiable, and most certainly inedible. I lived in college dorms for three years, where I was subjected to similar mass-produced, overcooked and tasteless food. I should have been traumatized.

And yet, it looks so succulent that I sat here, salivating, and contemplated giving birth in the hospital.

Yeah, it’s that serious.

Heave Ho

Just a week ago I complained on a message board that I wished I had actually “felt pregnant”, because just going off of a pee-stick made it feel unreal.

I ate my words, and then my stomach contemplated throwing them back up.

Actually, I don’t feel quite that bad. I haven’t actually thrown up (although I was threatening to while in the shower this morning, and I realized that the shower is a great place to blow chunks, provided it’s not very chunky), and I am still able to take care of Munchkin without too much trouble. Housework, however, has been demoted to the lowest position on the priority list, and now Husband has started to pitch in more than usual to pick up the slack.

Mostly I’m feeling a little queasy off-and-on (as opposed to last time, when it was very constant, but hey, I’m not even six weeks along yet), tired, unable to regulate my body temperature, and burpy. Oh, and completely airheaded. I had to run from the checkout counter to my van at the grocery store today because I forgot my wallet in the dash. D’oh.

And my relationship with food has taken a dramatic turn. Sometimes the thought of food or eating turns my stomach, and other times I feel like a ravenous wolf. My normal, healthy, simple-ingredient based diet is not whetting my appetite. On the contrary, it makes me gag a little. What did I get at the store today? El-cheapo frozen burritos, ramen, Lipton dry soup packets, Veggie Booty (okay, that’s semi-healthy), macaroni and cheese in a box, and canned chili. It’s probably a good thing my oven is broken, because otherwise my kitchen would also be filled with baked things filled with chocolate and butter and chocolate and white sugar and chocolate. With chocolate frosting.

I have my first appointment with my midwife tomorrow, the same woman who was my midwife with Munchkin. I’m sure it’ll just be a time to reconnect with her and go over the basic pregnancy protocol (like, um, diet). I’m looking forward to seeing her again, although I’m not looking forward to driving, literally, all the way across the Portland Metro Area. (Remember my rant about driving to the airport?) I’m just going to try to avoid assaulting innocent motorists on the interstate with my van. QUEASY, FREAKISHLY-SHORT PREGNANT LADY WITH A MINIVAN COMING THROUGH!

One Helluva Week (Stay with me till the end)

We’ve had an interesting week here at the Anderson Haushalt. Let’s go in reverse order, just to confuse everybody…

Tonight we had a wicked thunderstorm go through town. Actually, it wasn’t that big of a deal, because we’re from North Dakota and some summers are tenacious enough to produce these storms DAILY. But there were gusty winds, some rain, and a bit of lightning and thunder. Based on the news coverage, you’d think there was a hurricane coming through town, eating babies and pooping in the river. Our town dodged the worst of it, but part of the big tree in the front yard didn’t make it and ended up on the side of the cul-de-sac. Our nice neighbor lady was out there in the rain and lightning dismantling with with manual pruning shears and putting the pieces in her yard debris bin. Nice, but crazy. Things even out.

I brought my herbs in off the deck as the winds started up. I put them on the floor in the dining room. Unfortunately tonight Munchkin decided to throw a temper tantrum instead of eating supper. In a fit of toddlerhood bawling, she backed up–and fell butt-first right into my basil pot. Darn.

Yesterday was even more exciting. I’m not sure if I’ve mentioned the foul odor coming from the crawlspace. It stinks. Earlier this week (or was it last week?) Husband descended into the depths to clean up some cat feces that had been there since the inspection several months ago. Unfortunately, it still stunk. And it was only getting worse. Last night he again descended into the depths and made a frightening discovery. A rotting, putrid, decomposing, maggot-filled corpse of a cat.

Yummy.

Poor Husband had to extract this dripping and fragile corpse and dispose of it. It stunk to high heaven. Later this weekend Husband has to descend for the third time to replace the moist and juicy vapor barrier on which the cat had expired, finish cleaning up more feces that had been missed by the inspector, and plug an access hole under the deck so we don’t get any more deathly smells in our house. I don’t envy his job. I’m so glad I have a valid excuse not to be the unlucky soul that has to carry out this gross job. You see, I’m not sure I’m immune to toxoplasmosis, a parasitic disease carried in cat feces. It can cause miscarriage if contracted in the first trimester of pregnancy.

Did I just announce my pregnancy in the same paragraph as I described a old dead cat? Oh, the shame.

We found out a week ago that I am indeed pregnant, due to burst in early February of next year. Huzzah! Now I have a completely different topic to blather on and on about incessantly! And here’s a coincidence for you: we conceived on the day we closed on the house. It was meant to be.

I’ve been feeling a little ditzy, really tired (and hence the lack of updates as of late, since I like to update at night when it’s quiet), and a bit averted to food before I’ve actually sat down to eat it–after that, it’s no-holds-barred, eat like my life depends on it. After all, I am eating for three. (Let’s do the math: Me + Munchkin (breastfeeding) + Little Fetus = 3) I really, really hope my first trimester doesn’t end up like it did last time, with me on the floor for a couple of months, feeling like I’m about to throw up but (nearly) never actually throwing up, not accomplishing anything but memorizing the daytime TV schedule to keep my mind off of the never ending gag reflex.

And now, I really do need to go and sleep so I can grow a baby in my belly.