Ho. My. God. It feels like I've had PMS for four months straight. Sometimes the tears come easily, and sometimes it's the Madness. For some reason, I'm finding it very easy to be bitchier to people I know. Strangers, too. I find myself sticking up for myself more if I feel slighted. Like the other day when the other receptionist decided to take her lunch at 11:00 and told me about it right after I'd decided to take MY lunch at 11:00. Usually I go at 12:00 and she goes at 1:00. But see, I'm pregnant. Don't hungry pregnant women win every time? They should. Anyway, she didn't get back until 12:15, and with each second that passed past 12:00, I grew pissier and pissier. When she finally arrived she said "I actually didn't leave until 11:15," and instead of my usual "it's no big deal!" I said "oh. I didn't know that," and you better believe I had a tone. I wouldn't have minded so much, but just the day before she told me she was going to lunch with the one other woman in the building who is responsible for the phones. They didn't return for an hour and a half! By then I was about to start chewing on the edge of my desk. How rude.
But I must admit that this sense of entitlement I feel about being pregnant isn't really how I feel. In fact, I sort of despise the fact that everyone knows I'm pregnant. People will tell you that you'll never experience such kindness and concern in your life. What they really mean is that you'll never experience such nosiness and what is known around the blogosphere as "assvice." My niece's mother keeps signing me up for all kinds of preggo-related shit and constantly asks me how I'm feeling. I don't want to be called "mama" yet. I don't want to be told how everything is going to change once the baby gets here because NO SHIT. I can't tell you how many times I've been asked about the sex of the baby. I have half a mind to not fucking tell ANYONE once we've found out. I'm thinking about keeping the name a secret too (not that we've decided yet) because shouldn't there be SOME element of surprise? If for no other reason than it's totally fun to torture people with info like that? Then again, I've seen my friend Steph (due the end of May) fend off all kinds of baby name suggestions while she was cornered at her shower. She and I have very similar personalities, especially when it comes to our hatred of unwanted advice. It's an Aries thing. So on the one hand, if I tell everyone what we've picked I won't have to hear all the suggestions. On the other hand, I don't have to see any looks of disagreement about the cuteness of the name we've chosen. What's a preggo to do? And please let's not mention that a few months ago I was asking for baby name suggestions. Oh, I just mentioned it? Crap.
Next time I get pregnant, I might just keep it a secret until I can't anymore. Because I really can't stand people all up in my business. And I can pretty much guarantee the first person to touch my belly will fucking regret it. See? Bitchies. I scoff at concern and gestures of kindness. No excuse, yet the biggest and bestest excuse ever.
Something to be happy about: I just found out that my (online) school will give you financial aid for anything over six credit hours. So far all of my classes have been five, so I've had to take two classes at once in order to get the loans. It's not a big deal because managing two classes is pretty easy. But now I only have 300 and 400 level classes left, and while I'm excited about that, it means they'll be more work. And more work plus a newborn baby...well, I'm not too keen on that. So to sum up, I will only be taking one class at a time after the baby arrives, at least until I have the new Mom thing sorted out, and I can still get the precious loans. (I'm trying to squelch my growing worry about taking harder classes during the crazy, sleepless, haggard newborn days. I have no delusions. I know it's going to suck.)
This was the most boring post ever. I would love for you to suggest something for me to write about.
5.09.2007
5.01.2007
week 16: inflation and cessation
Yes. I finally feel like maybe there is something in my gut. My fundus, dude, it's getting harder. Or bigger. Or both. Eww. Sqwik. All I know is that if I manipulate my abdomen in certain ways, I can totally feel my uterus. I had an ultrasound on Friday, and can I just tell you? The thing is like ten times bigger than it was a month ago!
What I really want to talk about is not smoking. You see, I truly enjoyed smoking cigarettes. I loved having a reason at work to go outside and take a break at 10:00 and 3:00. I loved the feeling of rolling down the windows in the car with the music loud and a cig in hand. I loved the way it went with a beer, a tangy cocktail, or a nice cuppa coffee. I loved the deeply-smoked after dinner smoke, and I loved a second one if the meal was particularly satisfying. I loved the first cig of the day on the way to work, and I loved the last cig before bed. I loved the occasional cigarette in bed, you know when.
I always knew it would be really hard for me to quit. I told myself I would smoke until I got pregnant, thinking surely it must be a million times easier when you have such a strong motivation to quit. Pretty sad that I couldn't be my own reason. But since nearly all of the people who read this also smoke, I'm sure you understand. It's just that good. And legal.
I am very surprised at how easy it was for me to quit. I had a sneaking suspicion that I was pregnant for about a week before I actually peed on the stick. I didn't quit when I suspected, in fact, I cherished those cigarettes like never before. I knew once I knew that I couldn't keep doing it. And once I knew, like a champ, I fucking quit. Just like that. Easy as pie.
Every once in awhile I stole a drag off of Micah's cigarette, right up until a few weeks ago, but it only happened every few days, and usually only after a meal. For some reason, this is the cigarette craving I cannot elude. After every meal, without fail, I feel...squirmy. Unsatisfied. Like I'm missing something and I don't know what it is, except I do know what it is. I miss my fucking cigarette. All of them, actually, but especially that one.
It worries me. It worries me that after two months of not smoking the smell of someone else smoking still makes me want to smoke. I am already salivating at the thought of having a cigarette with my first post-partum cocktail. That does not bode well for my future as a non-smoker. You know what? Being a non-smoker is fucking weird. Being a pregnant non-smoker is just about the most alienating combination of things for me. I can't think of a more awkward way to live.
Within the past week I have developed what I'm pretty sure is the famous I Just Quit Smoking Cough. It's a deep, rough cough that sometimes produces an interesting blob but mostly it just sounds like a smokers cough. I've been told this is my body trying to expel the ten years of tar I've loaded up in there. While I must admit on some level it's quite satisfying, both the not smoking and the subsequent coughing, the fact is that I would still be smoking if I didn't get pregnant and every little nook and nerve in my body knows it.
I plan to attempt breastfeeding, which means I still won't be able to smoke post-partum. If I get a breast pump, which I probably will, I could pump ahead of time if I know I'm going out for drinks and maybe a few smokes. I just think it's sad that I'm already thinking of ways to get my cigs in without harming the babe. It doesn't bode well. I really hope that by the time I give birth the thought of smoking repulses me enough to never touch one again.
Or maybe just when I'm having a drink. COME ON. That shit is the best.
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p.s. Happy Birthday to my blog!
What I really want to talk about is not smoking. You see, I truly enjoyed smoking cigarettes. I loved having a reason at work to go outside and take a break at 10:00 and 3:00. I loved the feeling of rolling down the windows in the car with the music loud and a cig in hand. I loved the way it went with a beer, a tangy cocktail, or a nice cuppa coffee. I loved the deeply-smoked after dinner smoke, and I loved a second one if the meal was particularly satisfying. I loved the first cig of the day on the way to work, and I loved the last cig before bed. I loved the occasional cigarette in bed, you know when.
I always knew it would be really hard for me to quit. I told myself I would smoke until I got pregnant, thinking surely it must be a million times easier when you have such a strong motivation to quit. Pretty sad that I couldn't be my own reason. But since nearly all of the people who read this also smoke, I'm sure you understand. It's just that good. And legal.
I am very surprised at how easy it was for me to quit. I had a sneaking suspicion that I was pregnant for about a week before I actually peed on the stick. I didn't quit when I suspected, in fact, I cherished those cigarettes like never before. I knew once I knew that I couldn't keep doing it. And once I knew, like a champ, I fucking quit. Just like that. Easy as pie.
Every once in awhile I stole a drag off of Micah's cigarette, right up until a few weeks ago, but it only happened every few days, and usually only after a meal. For some reason, this is the cigarette craving I cannot elude. After every meal, without fail, I feel...squirmy. Unsatisfied. Like I'm missing something and I don't know what it is, except I do know what it is. I miss my fucking cigarette. All of them, actually, but especially that one.
It worries me. It worries me that after two months of not smoking the smell of someone else smoking still makes me want to smoke. I am already salivating at the thought of having a cigarette with my first post-partum cocktail. That does not bode well for my future as a non-smoker. You know what? Being a non-smoker is fucking weird. Being a pregnant non-smoker is just about the most alienating combination of things for me. I can't think of a more awkward way to live.
Within the past week I have developed what I'm pretty sure is the famous I Just Quit Smoking Cough. It's a deep, rough cough that sometimes produces an interesting blob but mostly it just sounds like a smokers cough. I've been told this is my body trying to expel the ten years of tar I've loaded up in there. While I must admit on some level it's quite satisfying, both the not smoking and the subsequent coughing, the fact is that I would still be smoking if I didn't get pregnant and every little nook and nerve in my body knows it.
I plan to attempt breastfeeding, which means I still won't be able to smoke post-partum. If I get a breast pump, which I probably will, I could pump ahead of time if I know I'm going out for drinks and maybe a few smokes. I just think it's sad that I'm already thinking of ways to get my cigs in without harming the babe. It doesn't bode well. I really hope that by the time I give birth the thought of smoking repulses me enough to never touch one again.
Or maybe just when I'm having a drink. COME ON. That shit is the best.
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p.s. Happy Birthday to my blog!
4.25.2007
minutiae
I watched the first episode of Notes From the Underbelly, that sitcom about pregnancy, and I loved it. But I'm not sure when it's on and I never watched it again. Should really try to get back on that.
LOST has been really good lately! Just in time for the season to be almost over!
I have an OBGYN on Friday for a check-up and to hear the baby's heartbeat. There had better be one. I've been ridiculously paranoid about that.
I do not like the word fundus, which I had to look up: noun (anatomy) the base of a hollow organ or that part of the organ farthest from its opening; "the uterine fundus"; this term has been thrown around lately in the pregnancy forum that I visit, and it freaks me out. These chicks say stuff like "My fundus is reaching my belly-button!" Yuck.
Barney will never take up any sort of residence in our apartment. Ever.
Baby Einstein seems like a pretty good idea, though.
Randomly got an email from the Academic Program Director of Kaplan congratulating me on doing so well in my American Women class. I've gotten nothing but As for three terms, so why now? Weird, but appreciated.
OMG U GUYS!!! There's a blog, Claudia's Room, written by this chick who is rereading The Babysitters Club books and gives complete, snarky descriptions of the each book! Think I've died and gone to heaven. I used to LOOOOOVE the BSC books. Remember how each chapter started with a BSC journal entry by one of the club members and it had different handwriting for each girl? I totally did that. I had my own journal and I tried to write like six different girls would. Sometimes the blogger, Tiff, posts the book covers, which HOLY SHIT! They take me right back. And the descriptions of the outfits are fucking hilarious in their 80s badness. Please tell me you all were all over the BSC too. Who was your favorite? I loved Mary Anne and Stacey. Hated Mallory. And when's the last time you read the words "Jenny Prezzioso?" (OMG AGAIN, I think my mom saved all my BSC books! Oh shit...I have to have a girl. I have so many awesome things to pass down to her.)
I know I'm a little late to the party with this next comment, but it's a little scary to me that I'm agreeing with Fox News that NBC never should have shown the VT murderer's tapes. I just don't see the point. They claim that's what any responsible media outlet would do, but I wholeheartedly disagree. Who benefits from seeing that tape? We don't need to see that tape to understand that the guy was crazy. Showing that tape is exactly what he wanted, and it shows troubled people considering similar acts that they too can be famous.
I started a savings account! Fucking responsible, I tell ya! I'm hoping with all my hopeseses that I will have this job until the end of summer at least. I want to dump as much money as I can into the savings (with Micah's help) so we don't have to worry about money this winter. It's hard for Micah to work regularly during the winter because of the nature of his job. He already said he would do whatever is needed to support our family (!) over the winter so I can stay home with the wee one. What I would really love is for Micah to be able to stay home with us, to bond properly. This is all such a big IF, though. I am basically on a week-to-week basis at this job. At any point they could decide they don't need me. The money is simply too awesome to go looking for something that will absolutely keep me employed until October. So I'm riding it out. Hopefully the fact that I'm pregnant will make them less hesitant to send me on my way. Gack! So much to worry about.
Fruit. Cannot consume enough fruit. My current favorite lunch, the thing I never tire of, is a $9 fruit salad bowl, fresh, cold, yummy, from Dierbergs. $9 is twice what I'd normally pay for my workday lunches, but the fact that it's so fucking healthy makes it okay. Many sources tell me that craving fruit means I'm having a girl. I don't know if you remember or if I've really talked about it much, but fruit is the only thing I've been able to eat consistently for these first 16 weeks.
Having a girl would be awesome. As I said, I have so much to give her from my own childhood because my mom decided to keep everything. My friend Stephanie is having her second child, a girl, at the end of May. My niece is a girl. It would just work so nicely. Plus, have you SEEN baby girl clothing? CA-YUTE.
Speaking of which, I was at Targs the other day getting a baby shower gift for Steph, and I happened upon the motherfucking cutest baby dress I've ever seen. It posed a big dilemma: do I buy it for Steph knowing she's having a girl and winning big awesome friend points because the dress is just that cute, or do I keep it for myself just in case I have a girl? I only saw one of them, sadly, but I'm so obsessed with this dress that I'm going back to Target today to make sure. Because I decided to give the one I bought to Steph. I am manifesting my own great karma, y'all.
Speaking of which, I lent a buddy in dire straights $50 the other day. Later that day, I won $40 on a scratch-off. Manifest! (God, that is so fucking new-age hippie of me.)
Just in case you were wondering, my big ultrasound, the one the doctor insists on calling "the anomaly scan," is on the very last day of May. This is the first scan that could show us the sex of the baby. OMG.
Please let it still be alive.
LOST has been really good lately! Just in time for the season to be almost over!
I have an OBGYN on Friday for a check-up and to hear the baby's heartbeat. There had better be one. I've been ridiculously paranoid about that.
I do not like the word fundus, which I had to look up: noun (anatomy) the base of a hollow organ or that part of the organ farthest from its opening; "the uterine fundus"; this term has been thrown around lately in the pregnancy forum that I visit, and it freaks me out. These chicks say stuff like "My fundus is reaching my belly-button!" Yuck.
Barney will never take up any sort of residence in our apartment. Ever.
Baby Einstein seems like a pretty good idea, though.
Randomly got an email from the Academic Program Director of Kaplan congratulating me on doing so well in my American Women class. I've gotten nothing but As for three terms, so why now? Weird, but appreciated.
OMG U GUYS!!! There's a blog, Claudia's Room, written by this chick who is rereading The Babysitters Club books and gives complete, snarky descriptions of the each book! Think I've died and gone to heaven. I used to LOOOOOVE the BSC books. Remember how each chapter started with a BSC journal entry by one of the club members and it had different handwriting for each girl? I totally did that. I had my own journal and I tried to write like six different girls would. Sometimes the blogger, Tiff, posts the book covers, which HOLY SHIT! They take me right back. And the descriptions of the outfits are fucking hilarious in their 80s badness. Please tell me you all were all over the BSC too. Who was your favorite? I loved Mary Anne and Stacey. Hated Mallory. And when's the last time you read the words "Jenny Prezzioso?" (OMG AGAIN, I think my mom saved all my BSC books! Oh shit...I have to have a girl. I have so many awesome things to pass down to her.)
I know I'm a little late to the party with this next comment, but it's a little scary to me that I'm agreeing with Fox News that NBC never should have shown the VT murderer's tapes. I just don't see the point. They claim that's what any responsible media outlet would do, but I wholeheartedly disagree. Who benefits from seeing that tape? We don't need to see that tape to understand that the guy was crazy. Showing that tape is exactly what he wanted, and it shows troubled people considering similar acts that they too can be famous.
I started a savings account! Fucking responsible, I tell ya! I'm hoping with all my hopeseses that I will have this job until the end of summer at least. I want to dump as much money as I can into the savings (with Micah's help) so we don't have to worry about money this winter. It's hard for Micah to work regularly during the winter because of the nature of his job. He already said he would do whatever is needed to support our family (!) over the winter so I can stay home with the wee one. What I would really love is for Micah to be able to stay home with us, to bond properly. This is all such a big IF, though. I am basically on a week-to-week basis at this job. At any point they could decide they don't need me. The money is simply too awesome to go looking for something that will absolutely keep me employed until October. So I'm riding it out. Hopefully the fact that I'm pregnant will make them less hesitant to send me on my way. Gack! So much to worry about.
Fruit. Cannot consume enough fruit. My current favorite lunch, the thing I never tire of, is a $9 fruit salad bowl, fresh, cold, yummy, from Dierbergs. $9 is twice what I'd normally pay for my workday lunches, but the fact that it's so fucking healthy makes it okay. Many sources tell me that craving fruit means I'm having a girl. I don't know if you remember or if I've really talked about it much, but fruit is the only thing I've been able to eat consistently for these first 16 weeks.
Having a girl would be awesome. As I said, I have so much to give her from my own childhood because my mom decided to keep everything. My friend Stephanie is having her second child, a girl, at the end of May. My niece is a girl. It would just work so nicely. Plus, have you SEEN baby girl clothing? CA-YUTE.
Speaking of which, I was at Targs the other day getting a baby shower gift for Steph, and I happened upon the motherfucking cutest baby dress I've ever seen. It posed a big dilemma: do I buy it for Steph knowing she's having a girl and winning big awesome friend points because the dress is just that cute, or do I keep it for myself just in case I have a girl? I only saw one of them, sadly, but I'm so obsessed with this dress that I'm going back to Target today to make sure. Because I decided to give the one I bought to Steph. I am manifesting my own great karma, y'all.
Speaking of which, I lent a buddy in dire straights $50 the other day. Later that day, I won $40 on a scratch-off. Manifest! (God, that is so fucking new-age hippie of me.)
Just in case you were wondering, my big ultrasound, the one the doctor insists on calling "the anomaly scan," is on the very last day of May. This is the first scan that could show us the sex of the baby. OMG.
Please let it still be alive.
4.19.2007
adventures in dog-parking
Avery, my lucky little dog, is a member of the local dog park. I knew I wanted to sign him up and fork over the $50 fee as soon as he was old enough and neutered. We've been going for two months now, and I have some observations to share with you.
1 - There isn't much you can do when you notice a dog shitting but the owner doesn't notice. I suppose if I were on really friendly terms with the owner I would say "hey, I think your dog just pooped," but that's still sketchy no matter the terms of friendliness. You're implying that they aren't watching their dog closely, which is liable to get you the stink eye, even if you're right. (Because I am nothing if not way too honest about the wrong things, I rarely pick up Avery's poop if we're the only ones there. I know. Terrible. But I am NOT the only one who leaves poops. Oh, and the one time Avery had explosive diarrhea in the park? Didn't even try. I'm pregnant. I would've puked all over myself.)
2 - It's a really weird thing, the relationship between dog owners at the dog park. First of all, you never ask someone you've never met what their name is, because this isn't a bar. It's a dog park. You say "what's your dog's name? I've never seen him before," basically ignoring the fact that the dog has an owner, an owner that you are currently talking to. How can you become friendly with someone if you don't even know their name? In the dog park, it's possible. In two months, I've only learned the names of probably four owners. I know all the dog names, though.
3 - Referring back to #1, you don't want to look like the dog park Nazi. One too many "your dog just pooped!" and you'll realize everyone is standing on the other side of the park. I found myself feeling like a bit of a rule-stickler though (quietly stewing, not makes a scene), because there's this one couple who brings their two grown Labs AND their nine-week-old puppies, and you know what? That's a no-no. If I diligently waited until Avery was four months (the rule) to sign up, SO SHOULD THEY. I can see why it would be tempting considering they've already paid for the older Labs, but...I dunno. It miffs me. It's not arbitrary - puppies are much more likely to carry diseases and not have their shots yet. Plus, I highly doubt they paid the extra fee for the extra dogs. Ugh. But everyone overlooks this because they're puppies. Delicious, floppy puppies.
4 - I always, ALWAYS worry that men who come by themselves think I am going to flirt with them. Why do I worry about this? Seriously. So stupid. I think it's because my very first visit there, this guy comes in with his dog and I guess I was feeling pretty chatty since I was excited to be there, and he was VERY quick to drop the word "we" in the conversation, as in "WE live just over there. It's OUR first dog." So now I try not to be overly friendly with the dudes.
5- When all conversation fails, watch the dogs. When you try to be funny and that numskull just won't laugh, go fill up the water bowl. When you try to be funny and it works? You actually get strangers laughing? Quietly consider, for the the four hundredth time, that you really should do stand-up.
6 - Bringing Micah is so much fun! I love watching him watch Avery and the other dogs. It must be similar to how it will feel to watch him play with our child. Oh my god. That's still so weird to say!
7 - Avery does this adorable kissing-up thing where he tries to french kiss other dogs. He literally puts his tongue in their mouths, tail wagging, and licks. He usually only does it with dogs that aren't so accepting of his rambunctious puppy nature.
8 - Some of the dogs are total assholes. One attacked Avery for basically nothing - he was mad Avery had the toy he wanted. Some asshole dogs, not surprisingly, have asshole owners, like the husky mix who growls at any dog trying to have fun while his owner scoffs about this and that, judging, needling, picking up trash on the perimeter, the mumbling martyr. Why bring a dog that refuses to have fun? What's amazing is that this particular woman happens to run the fucking park! I think. She sure acts like it.
9 - There's a massive, I mean huge, Mastiff/German Shepard named Bear who tries to hump Avery. I find this hilarious. Avery does not.
10 - Avery is the life of the party, a tireless and perfect playmate. I can hear people getting excited about his arrival as he scampers up to the gate. There's one puppy in particular who gets along smashingly with Avery - he's a seven-month-old puppy named Dox (Avery is eight months) and he's the exact same size and spastic level as Avery. It's like watching a proper boxing match where the contenders are the same size and you think "now this is a match up!" Except the other day Dox and Avery ganged up on a few submissive dogs, which makes me so embarrassed and we left soon after.
11 - When there are more than five dogs there, it gets totally hectic. But I still have fantasies about arranging for all the dog park members to bring their pooches at the same time on the same day. Imagine. It would either be the most hilarious or the most dangerous thing ever.
12 - I fucking hate whoever decided to fill up the plastic baby pool everyday that it breaks 65 degrees. My dog DOES NOT need that much of a cool down yet, THANKYOUVERYMUCH. Avery leaves that park fucking filthy nearly every single time, which is fine when it's dust, but you can imagine the yuck factor after much pool carousing followed by repeated tackles in the dirt.
13 - Ok fine. Watching Avery splash around in the baby pool is beyond cute. I love it. But I can fucking hate it too, ok?
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In Other News...
I feel NOTHING in my abdomen. I'm paranoid the baby died and I've had a missed miscarriage. I'm sure this is a fairly typical thing to worry about, but seriously, I have not felt any twinges, stretching, or anything that would indicate that something is indeed GROWING in my STOMACH. I'm kind of freaking out about it. You'd think I could feel SOMETHING. Not, like, kicking or anything...but perhaps the pulling/rearranging of organs that you'd think would correspond with something GROWING in your STOMACH.
I have an OBGYN appointment a week from tomorrow. I have to wait it out. I'm sure everything's fine and I'll just feel stupid. BUT MAYBE NOT. Oh god.
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My lunch today consisted of one leg of a fresh rotisserie chicken, fried pork skins, and fresh strawberries. My life is getting weirder fo shizzle.
1 - There isn't much you can do when you notice a dog shitting but the owner doesn't notice. I suppose if I were on really friendly terms with the owner I would say "hey, I think your dog just pooped," but that's still sketchy no matter the terms of friendliness. You're implying that they aren't watching their dog closely, which is liable to get you the stink eye, even if you're right. (Because I am nothing if not way too honest about the wrong things, I rarely pick up Avery's poop if we're the only ones there. I know. Terrible. But I am NOT the only one who leaves poops. Oh, and the one time Avery had explosive diarrhea in the park? Didn't even try. I'm pregnant. I would've puked all over myself.)
2 - It's a really weird thing, the relationship between dog owners at the dog park. First of all, you never ask someone you've never met what their name is, because this isn't a bar. It's a dog park. You say "what's your dog's name? I've never seen him before," basically ignoring the fact that the dog has an owner, an owner that you are currently talking to. How can you become friendly with someone if you don't even know their name? In the dog park, it's possible. In two months, I've only learned the names of probably four owners. I know all the dog names, though.
3 - Referring back to #1, you don't want to look like the dog park Nazi. One too many "your dog just pooped!" and you'll realize everyone is standing on the other side of the park. I found myself feeling like a bit of a rule-stickler though (quietly stewing, not makes a scene), because there's this one couple who brings their two grown Labs AND their nine-week-old puppies, and you know what? That's a no-no. If I diligently waited until Avery was four months (the rule) to sign up, SO SHOULD THEY. I can see why it would be tempting considering they've already paid for the older Labs, but...I dunno. It miffs me. It's not arbitrary - puppies are much more likely to carry diseases and not have their shots yet. Plus, I highly doubt they paid the extra fee for the extra dogs. Ugh. But everyone overlooks this because they're puppies. Delicious, floppy puppies.
4 - I always, ALWAYS worry that men who come by themselves think I am going to flirt with them. Why do I worry about this? Seriously. So stupid. I think it's because my very first visit there, this guy comes in with his dog and I guess I was feeling pretty chatty since I was excited to be there, and he was VERY quick to drop the word "we" in the conversation, as in "WE live just over there. It's OUR first dog." So now I try not to be overly friendly with the dudes.
5- When all conversation fails, watch the dogs. When you try to be funny and that numskull just won't laugh, go fill up the water bowl. When you try to be funny and it works? You actually get strangers laughing? Quietly consider, for the the four hundredth time, that you really should do stand-up.
6 - Bringing Micah is so much fun! I love watching him watch Avery and the other dogs. It must be similar to how it will feel to watch him play with our child. Oh my god. That's still so weird to say!
7 - Avery does this adorable kissing-up thing where he tries to french kiss other dogs. He literally puts his tongue in their mouths, tail wagging, and licks. He usually only does it with dogs that aren't so accepting of his rambunctious puppy nature.
8 - Some of the dogs are total assholes. One attacked Avery for basically nothing - he was mad Avery had the toy he wanted. Some asshole dogs, not surprisingly, have asshole owners, like the husky mix who growls at any dog trying to have fun while his owner scoffs about this and that, judging, needling, picking up trash on the perimeter, the mumbling martyr. Why bring a dog that refuses to have fun? What's amazing is that this particular woman happens to run the fucking park! I think. She sure acts like it.
9 - There's a massive, I mean huge, Mastiff/German Shepard named Bear who tries to hump Avery. I find this hilarious. Avery does not.
10 - Avery is the life of the party, a tireless and perfect playmate. I can hear people getting excited about his arrival as he scampers up to the gate. There's one puppy in particular who gets along smashingly with Avery - he's a seven-month-old puppy named Dox (Avery is eight months) and he's the exact same size and spastic level as Avery. It's like watching a proper boxing match where the contenders are the same size and you think "now this is a match up!" Except the other day Dox and Avery ganged up on a few submissive dogs, which makes me so embarrassed and we left soon after.
11 - When there are more than five dogs there, it gets totally hectic. But I still have fantasies about arranging for all the dog park members to bring their pooches at the same time on the same day. Imagine. It would either be the most hilarious or the most dangerous thing ever.
12 - I fucking hate whoever decided to fill up the plastic baby pool everyday that it breaks 65 degrees. My dog DOES NOT need that much of a cool down yet, THANKYOUVERYMUCH. Avery leaves that park fucking filthy nearly every single time, which is fine when it's dust, but you can imagine the yuck factor after much pool carousing followed by repeated tackles in the dirt.
13 - Ok fine. Watching Avery splash around in the baby pool is beyond cute. I love it. But I can fucking hate it too, ok?
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In Other News...
I feel NOTHING in my abdomen. I'm paranoid the baby died and I've had a missed miscarriage. I'm sure this is a fairly typical thing to worry about, but seriously, I have not felt any twinges, stretching, or anything that would indicate that something is indeed GROWING in my STOMACH. I'm kind of freaking out about it. You'd think I could feel SOMETHING. Not, like, kicking or anything...but perhaps the pulling/rearranging of organs that you'd think would correspond with something GROWING in your STOMACH.
I have an OBGYN appointment a week from tomorrow. I have to wait it out. I'm sure everything's fine and I'll just feel stupid. BUT MAYBE NOT. Oh god.
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My lunch today consisted of one leg of a fresh rotisserie chicken, fried pork skins, and fresh strawberries. My life is getting weirder fo shizzle.
4.14.2007
the dawg
Don't have much to say this rainy Saturday morn, howe'er I hope you'll enjoy some pictures of my dog. Because my dog is cute. He's getting to be such a good dog (knock on some sturdy mothereffing wood because currently he only destroys his own stuff and let's keep it that way).
awwww. this might be the bestest puppy picture evah. look at the tootsies and the cocking of the head.
awwww. this might be the bestest puppy picture evah. look at the tootsies and the cocking of the head.
dog eyes don't photograph so well. and yeah, he totally matches our floor.
aww.
ewww. SO CREE-EE-EEPY. That's totally Satan. See what I was saying about dog eyes?
I hope this doesn't make you afraid to know him.
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