That one time I peed my pants....a little.

   So, remember how I said that 2.5 pounds would be back on in a jiffy? Its back! Plus an extra pound. That puts me at 19 weeks and 3.5 pounds gained. Not too bad, but I have gotta start exercising more. We are currently figuring out our gym membership due to some neglectful day care attendees(they couldn't find my son when I came to pick him up after working out and then realized he was locked in the bathroom, covered in toilet water, playing in the trash!) Yeah, so I had some words with the manager....BUT, that's no excuse for me to not exercise. So, hopefully by my next post I will have better news about my exercising.

   Things have been great in my home, but a little crazy. We moved to a bigger apartment that we absolutely love, but I am learning more and more about the necessity of baby-proofing, or should I say, "toddler-proofing", because babies are actually harmless. Toddlers, however, are pricey, sassy little buggers.
  I was sitting in our bedroom one day when I realized that my toddler had left the room....and so had my cell phone. I cringed as I heard a somewhat small, electronic-device-sounding splash come from the hallway bathroom and raced to find my Iphone 4S, sinking to its death and ultimate demise.

"Rest in peace, 4S....you lived a long, fulfilling life and died a tragic death. You will be missed."

    Lets just say my husband and I were beyond frustrated at this point with my son's toilet obsession. Unless, of course, he wants to potty-train himself. Then we're kosher. So, we made the long, arduous journey to Babies-R-US and headed to the baby-isle.
"Can I help you?" Said a nice, matronly, grandmother-type salesperson.
"Yes," I said, "we'd like to prevent any more of our cell phones from drowning in our toilet. Where can we find baby-proofing for toilets?"
"Oh," she said, glancing at my toddler, who was probably picking his nose at that exact moment, "I know exactly what you mean.<understanding, matronly, smile> "Let me show you the best one we have."
She walked me over to what looked like some sort of toddler-torture device.
"Perfect!" I thought to myself. "Maybe it squirts them in the face if they set off the laser, motion activated scanner...thing. Or something...."
Don't get me wrong, I love my son. But when $500 worth of merchandise goes the way of the dinosaurs because of him, I don't mind the idea of him getting a little bit of discipline in his life.
This technique seems promising as well:

  But my daydream ended when I heard her say, "Fair warning, though. I've had parents bring these back because they were so hard to open that even they couldn't figure them out." And then she walked away.
"Who do I look like?" I thought to myself, "Britney Spears??"

"Please...I can figure this thing out and we are getting it!" So, we did.
My husband installed it that night and gave me a tutorial on how to "unlock" it so I could use the toilet.
"You see this button?" He said. "You just push this button in, and while holding it down, push the handle in, and turn it to the right." He demonstrated.
"Like this?" I said, and did as he showed and told me to.
"Yup!" he said. "Looks like the lady at the store was wrong. We got this!"
....Can you feel the foreshadowing?....

   The next morning, I heard my toddler swearing from the bathroom.
"Dag ga BADda Schoom MAAAAAA!"(That's toddler profanity, for those of you who haven't heard it yet)
"YES!" I thought to myself. "SUCCESS!...Muwaahahahahahah!"(That's momma profanity, for those of you who haven't heard that yet)
He couldn't get the toilet-proofing device off the toilet. Hence, no splashy-splashy in the poopy-poopy.
Needless to say, he was furious, and I was elated. He couldn't get the toilet open! I was soon to find out, however, that he wasn't the only one...
   For most women, going pee several times a day is normal. And for most pregos, going pee every other hour is normal, and several times throughout the night.
  Well, nature called, and I decided to go use our master bathroom and avoid the toddler drama. I sat down, let nature do her thing, and then realized, MID STREAM, that there was no toilet paper. None. I stopped, held it, and started feeling the life drain from my body, instead of the pee. My heart started racing, my breath sped up, and I could feel my hands starting to shake.
 "Really?" You're thinking right now. "All that from having to hold your pee?"
But if you've ever been pregnant, you know EXACTLY what I am talking about. THERE IS NO ROOM. Sweet, baby bunting is hogging it ALL. So, when you gotta go, you GOTTA go. Or death. That's just how it is.

 AND, to get to go and then have to stop, mid-stream, is just plain mean.
But there was no toilet paper!
"What do I do? What do I do? Drip dry? Yeah, maybe drip dry.....and then, "Eeew. Nope, I NEED toilet paper!"
Then I remembered there was some in the other bathroom. My toddler's bathroom. The one that was booby trapped.
"I totally got that thing to work last night," I thought, "no biggie!"
So I waddled, ahem, to the other bathroom and started following my husbands instructions.
"Okay...okay...push the thing, and then...turn the, other thing...and AAAAAH, WHY ISN'T IT WORKING???!!
At this point, I am DYING. I have to pee so badly that my vision is starting to blur.

"Oh my gosh, oh my gosh...." I said to myself, "breathe Liz, BREATHE!" The pain was intolerable.
(Ya know, they really should have Lamaze classes dedicated just to teaching you how to hold your pee while pregnant and breathe at the same time.) 

I then decided that maybe Britney and I had more in common than I wanted to admit, and I gave up on trying to figure out this simple, yet deadly, device.
I waddled back to my bathroom and continued my journey......I peed. A lot.
I then realized I was back to my original dilemma. NO toilet paper. So, I called out to my toddler, who was no where in sight.
"Aiden! AIDEN! Momma's sorry she took away your favorite toy. If you bring me some toilet paper, I will let you play in the toilet as MUCH as you WANT today........<silence> Aiden? AAAIDEEEEEN!!!"
Now, let me remind you, my toddler understands two words: Milk, and Ball. Why I thought I could somehow get him to understand that mommy needed him to get me some toilet paper, I don't know.
So, I went "girl's camp style", flushed the toilet, pulled my pants up, and walked out of my room to find my toddler standing in the hallway with a strange, semi-frightened look on his face and no toilet paper in hand.
"Awesome." I thought. "Just awesome."
Maybe there really is such a thing as karma. You punish your toddler...he punishes you back. Bladder style.
"Why didn't you just grab some toilet paper and go back to the other bathroom in the first place?" You say?
Because, then I wouldn't have been able to blog about it. :)

Gonna have my cake and eat it too!

Hi friends!
I made some changes to look and layout of my blog. I hope you like it! Let me know if anything is hard to read, etc. And PHEW! I am so not tech savvy when it comes to blogs. It took me like 2 hours to figure out how to change everything to look the way it does(feel free to have a laugh at my expense, you pro-bloggers, you!) And, I have to admit that some of those things got there by accident. :)
I woke up this morning feeling pretty good about life and then I did my usual.....
1. Go pee
2. Weigh myself.
For those of you who have never watched your weight before, you might find that a bit extreme, but for all the rest of you, "thats how we do!" That half a pound of water weight can mean the difference between a prego-tantrum and a happy morning.
   I usually close my eyes while the numbers are going up. Cuz then I can't feel myself getting fatter.

So, I opened my eyes and......VIOLA! 2.5 lost. SAY WHAT???!? Playa, please. Happy dance!?

And then, I thought I should double check, just to make sure. So I got on, and off, and on, and off..until I had read the scale as 189 about 4 times.
"189 lbs??" You say. " Who would do a happy dance about that?"
Me. Thats who.
'Cuz I started out at 193.5, then dropped to 186(nausea CAN be your friend) and happily rested back down at 189. At 18 weeks pregnant, to have only gained a half a pound is like winning the prego lottery.
Now, before I get any haters hating on me(Yes, I have been watching episode after episode of Psych, my favorite show, and I feel like I have to talk like Guster when I talk about losing weight.)

 I am 30 pounds overweight from my first baby, and my current little girl is big and beautiful(got an ultrasound already, more on that later). So don't worry. All is well in babyland. She is getting what she needs and so am I!

And I am also an incredibly emotional eater...

(See? Guster has the answer for everything!)
But, I have been trying to eat better for atleast 2/3 of my meals, and I have been exercising. So, I'm not gonna pretend that I sit on my butt all day eating cheetos and have "magically" only gained half a pound, cuz thats just not true. My weight has fluctuated a LOT. How did I lose 2.5 pounds?
I was sick.:)
Totally cheating, and it will totally be back on again in a day or so. But, for one, brief, magical moment, I felt awesome about my weight.
IN fact, I can pretty much tell you where that 2.5 lbs will be coming from in the next few days:
Store-bought sheet cake. My arch nemesis.

It just looks SOOOOO good. Even if the bakers never get it right.
"Whats the occasion?" You ask.
"Nothing" I say.
 But really, I think I am going to get myself a ginormous, fattening, gooey, sheet cake......SLICE. And thats the kicker.  
"I don't have to eat an entire sheet cake, to eat myself some sheet cake."

You know thats right!

So that can be our motto.

The Pizza Hurt My Feelings

    Wahoo! Second trimester is here to stay! Someone asked me how I was feeling yesterday and I usually try to be completely honest...which, is a bad idea while being pregnant. Some of my responses thus far have been,
"Fat, but happy!"
"Miserable. But its worth it, right?"
"I'm just gonna say I'm feeling great."

   But now, I can give them nice, happy-pregnant lady responses like,
"So good!<maternal smile>"
"I feel great!<maternal smile and a belly rub>"
"So much better!<maternal smile plus belly rub plus sugar and spice wink in my eye>"

 For those of you who don't know what I mean by maternal smile, here you go:

 See? Maternal smile. That "I'm so going to forget about all of this in 9 months" kind of smile. Heart-warming, yeah? I use that smile on people at the grocery store when they try to butt in line. Or on my husband when I don't want to change my son's diaper....Works like a charm. (love you, honey!)
  But this is a blog about confessions. The nitty-gritty of pregnancy. The stuff no one wants to tell you about but that we all need a good laugh about. So let's move on, shall we?

CRYING.
  We all do it. Especially pregos, but we are CHAMPION criers. And we don't need a reason. Or a convenient place. Or even a reasonable time of day. In fact, lets just take reason out of the picture completely because it is not a typical woman's motivation to do anything, most of the time. There are several types of prego cries too. Here's a few:

1. "Nothing in our kitchen looks good to me...except that candle. WAIT! WHY AM I CRAVING A CANDLE??!"

                               ( I couldn't resist this one. You can find it huffingtonpost.com)

2. " Even my fat clothes make me look fat!!"

 
BUT, if I had to list the the worst kind of crying during pregnancy...it would be tantrum cries. Yup.

My latest tantrum cry?.......The Pizza hurt my feelings.

  A few days before Christmas I got my first taste of the glory we like to call "the 2nd trimester" and I felt like a champ. Seriously. All maternal, house-making instincts kicked in and I was like Martha Stewart on steroids. (Don't worry...I'm not even going to attempt to find a picture of THAT!)
  I started cleaning, present-wrapping, and baking like a fool. Homemade wheat bread, presents wrapped to perfection, and more clean loads of laundry than I had done in weeks.

   Everything was perfect. The house looked amazing, Michael Buble's Christmas album was playing, and all was right with the world. Then I remembered I was building a human. All of a sudden, I was so exhausted, I could barely stand. Not in a dramatic kind of way, but in a painful way. I felt like I had literally depleted my body of all its energy. Then it hit me. In all my eager, finally-have-energy-ness, I totally forgot to make dinner.
    Now, I'm not obsessive about making perfect dinners, but it was Christmas! Or close enough. And I had planned on cooking, but just completely forgot. (That's for another post!) So I called my husband, who was due home from work any minute, and asked him if we could have a pizza night. He said that sounded great and picked up a box for dinner.
    Sounds great, right?...Let me help you understand where my mind was at before my husband graciously handed my first slice.
    I had just mentally awarded myself the Olympic Gold Medal for prego-mommy-AWESOMENESS! I had baked, cleaned, wrapped, decorated, nutured, even SHOWERED, all in the same day.

 That was a huge accomplishment for someone who couldn't even get off the couch for more than 20 minutes at a time a month earlier. I felt like this inside:

But my body quickly reminded me what IT felt like all over:

  And all of a sudden, that pizza sounded like all things glorious. I had earned it! I promptly sat down on the couch, put my feet up, and sunk my teeth into the first slice. And then it happened. I threw the pizza back down on the plate, grabbed my mouth, and started crying, HYSTERICALLY. I don't mean like how I cried when Mufasa died on The Lion King. This. was. epic.
  My poor husband had no idea what had happened and what could possibly cause a grown woman to cry like that, but like the amazing man he is, he rushed over to me and held me while I sobbed.
 "What HAPPENED??" He asked.
"Are you hurt? Did you bite your lip? Are you bleeding? Whats wrong, Liz??"
Finally, I managed to get small fragments out in-between lip quivers and those choking sobs that kept coming...
"Tttttthhheee, ....ppppizza.....hurt....hurt, my....FEELINGS!"

  Now, I am used to translating for my husband. Luckily, for both of us, HE DOESN'T SPEAK CRAZY. 
"What do you mean it hurt your feelings?" He asked.

  I managed to wipe some snot on his shirt before I explained that...
"...I...wwworked, SOOO hhhard, ttoday, and...I just...I just...wanted....the pizza to, mmmake me feel better<insert awkward crying hiccup/burp combo>. And then.....the pizza....hurt me. The, the ssstupid sauce BURNT mmmmy llip, and, and that wasn't sooo bad, bbbut iit just made...me so sad...that the pizza...didn't ..make me..hhhhappy. It, just hurts my feelings....it hhhurt MY FEELINGS!"

  Feeling fat or craving things you don't have can't beat a good, "something hurt my when I am already hurting" kind of prego cry. You would have thought someone had murdered my favorite kitten. Or that they weren't going to make any more Star Wars movies after all. Or that Miley Cyrus was coming to town...I was DEVASTATED.
  So here's to all you husbands out there, and mine in particular. Thanks for the tissue giving, tear-wiping, snot-on-your-shirt-forgiving you do for the woman in your life. We don't make sense. And we never will. But we will carry your babies like the CHAMPIONS we are, and no amount of tantrums or demon pizzas can change whats coming in 9 months. I promise, its worth it:)

  
 

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