Posts Tagged pregnant
ishly
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Body/Health, Humor, Miscellaneous Blabbering, Rant, Weight Loss/Getting In Shape on February 20, 2009
new year’s eve
(don’t act like you don’t kick off the new year by taking inappropriate love pictures of yourself with meat.)
And then.
I wanted to lose weight starting Januaryishly.
And not because of some dumbass resolution that I felt compelled to make as I jumped off the cliff with all the other lemmings just because of the scribbled marks of letter and number on a calendar that tells us what we are supposed to call this time in space that we are all sitting in.
Yeah, it was January. A new year happened. (you can hear the whoopty-frickin-doo in this, right?)
Contrary to my having been “2009’s Anxious Mistress,” nothing magical happened when the clock struck midnight and 2009 rose in all its glory.
My ass stayed fat, my heart stayed broken, my mind stayed confuzzled, and there was no effing prince charming standing here waiting to cram a glass shoe on my foot and tell me how DAMN GORGEOUS I AM.
Which makes him a big, fat doodiehead jerk, because it would have been nice to go to the ball. Or live happily ever after.
AHAHAHAHA.
I can’t believe I just wrote that.
Because, BLAH. And also? GAG.
Resolution Schmesolution, in other words.
But I did want to lose the weight. The weight that I had ALREADY lost through a lot of hard work and will power (no, I have no idea where the hell I got it from, so I have no secrets for you) Augustishly 2008.
You know, back when I was bragging about being able to pull my pants down without opening them, and being such a womping moron that I posted a video of it online.
And that was the 10lb mark, and I lost at least 5 more lbs after that and I was feeling really great.
But shit, man, sometimes it just seems like life hates it when things are going well. (I’m so optimistic, it’s disgusting.)
So I got pregnant, and got fat way too fast, because that’s also what life likes for me. Pregnant = sick-novomit-butlotsoffat.
So 3 months in I got all the fat and none of the baby. And then the none of the baby part made me do what? Sit on my ass and eat. And drink.
Because cookiescakeburgerschocolatewinepeanutbutterpizza = happiness, right? (RIGHT!?)
No. But still. This is my reaction.
Yeah, when the worst of the shit of life smears itself across my upper lip, forcing me to think the world smells like an asshole, I can think of nothing to do but cram food into my facehole.
And all that weight I lost Julyishly and gained back Novemberishly got added to, even, Decemberishly.
Causing me to feel quite lardishly.
And so? The desire to lose weight Januaryishly 2009.
And now it’s Februarishly. And I’ve really lost no significant weight. My body is still lumpy and plumpy and the fat pants are tight. Oh, woe is me when the FAT pants get tight.
Why, oh why are the fat pants tight?
It MIGHT be because I haven’t tried in any remotely small way to exercise or get back on my old healthy diet.
YOU MEAN YOU CAN’T GET MAGICALLY UNFAT JUST BECAUSE YOU WANT TO?
Oh. Yeah. Ok. But there’s one problem I’m having.
I can’t find the motivation.
Honestly, most of the time all I want to do is sleep. Just wanna curl on up into a big, fat-roll adorned, snoring, furry (shaving? hah!) ball and EFFING SLEEP.
It’s called HIBERNATING. And bears get to do it. Yeah, they are allowed to do this. They’re allowed to eat like total jerks until they’re fat and gross (and furry, them bitches don’t shave, yo) and then they sleeeeeeeep. And what do the damn bears do that’s so great that they deserve this? Hmm? What do they do that makes them soooo great?
Nothing. That’s right. I am giving the bears EXACTLY ZERO PROPS.
I want to hibernate. And God Help Anyone who tries to wake me.
That’s what the CLAWS are for.
Repeat after me: “Lotus is sleeping. We shall not wake her. We shall make pies for when she awakes. But we shall not wake her. All hail The Fat, Furry, Sleeping Bitch.”
Tell me when it’s Spring.
Maybe then I’ll feel motivationishly again.
I was going to write about VD today, but I like this one better.
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Love, My Son, Parenting, Pregnancy on February 14, 2009
It’s Valentines Day.
I’m thinking of him today,
as I always will on this day.
He is so special to me.
I cherish…
The way it feels when he holds my hand.
The soft caress of his fingers on my cheek.
That special smell that is only his.
I love him in a way that I will never love anyone else.
When he sings to me my heart fills with joy.
Dancing with him is divine.
There’s something so intimate about sitting alone in the dark with him, his arms wrapped around me.
Every time he tells me he loves me, everything else is swept away.
I would do anything for him.
He is bound to me for eternity.
My son.
On this day, 3 years ago, I found out I was pregnant.
I will never receive a more profound, meaningful, or loved gift.
I hope you can all remember to find meaning and love, too, wherever it waits for you in your lives.
No matter what day it is.
Where I go on and on about baby making and blahblahblah…
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Uncategorized on April 22, 2008
So, if you read yesterday’s post, you know that I am pregnant. *smirky face bursting with happiness*
Or, as John enjoys saying, “I banged you and got you knocked up!”
Either way.
A few of you have asked if we were trying. The answer to that is actually both yes and no.
See, when I got pregnant with Braden, we were REALLY trying. I was taking my basal body temperature every day at 6am before I started moving (thermometer and notepad on bedside table) and then charting it online to create ovulation prediction graphs. I was using ovulation predictor kits – Pee on a stick every day and it will say YES! or NO! so that you know if you should RUN HOME AND DO IT.
I was testing and charting my cervical position, openness, and mucous, for crying out loud! You haven’t lived until you’ve swished your finger around in there thinking, “is that high and medium or medium and open?” and “I think this is egg-white mucous, it’s pretty slimy….”
THAT’S trying.
This? Well, this was basically trying the relaxed way. As in, I stopped taking The Pill at the end of January to regain my libido and shrug off the worst of my depression. (And it worked! Hurrah!) But John and I discussed everything in detail, and decided that we wanted to get pregnant sometime this year, anyway… so we figured we would just forget about trying NOT to get pregnant.
So basically… we tried by not NOT trying. Hah! Looks like it worked for us. We feel incredibly blessed and are grateful beyond words.
The other question I’ve been getting is: when’s the due date/how far along are you?
I would love to tell you… but I cannot do so yet with certaintly. (And the control freak in me is positively FREAKING OUT ABOUT THIS, by the way. She’s just having seizures and melt-downs, pulling her hair out in clumps and FROTHING AT THE MOUTH.)
My last cycle was only 3 weeks long. Usually I’m a 4-weeker. Ovulation is generally during the second week, if nothing is fertilized, my period happens in week 4. Last month, “my period” happened in week 3. This both weirded me out and upset me. See… that tends to be a bad sign, because if your cycle is too short, you don’t even have the chance to become pregnant. Stick that together with what I learned from my Endocrinologist – women with Hashimoto’s (like me) often have trouble conceiving – and you had one worried Baby Momma. It was also right when we were moving out of Mold House… so I was already stressed. So, I just assumed my body was BLAH and I didn’t even take a test.
But upon reflection? That could have been implantation bleeding. Implantation, you see, occurs 6-13 days after ovulation (like, possibly in your third week, fyi). Well, that last “period” was also very light and very short.
The point of all of that drawn-out blahblahblah? It’s possible we conceived either Mid-March or Early April. And we’re not absolutely sure which!
Sooooo. The Carrolls are packin’ it up early Tuesday morning and heading to the lab at the OBGYN’s office. There, blood will be drawn and tested for pregnancy hormone or hCG. If the hormone levels are very, very low, the nurse says it is almost certain I conceived just recently. If they are above “10,000″ (direct quote from her) it indicates a pregnancy further along, and I can have an ultrasound for precise measurement. She says the labs should be back by Tuesday afternoon, so I’ll keep you all posted.
And before long, I may even be able to put up one of those cheesy sidebar widgets where you can watch my Floating Virtual Baby grow and imagine you’re seeing into my very own, real, wet and slimy uterus!
YAY!
Paradise Below Us
Posted by Lotus, aka Sarcastic Mom in Uncategorized on February 4, 2008
Ahhh. Renting a house. I suppose that some people are able to have a good experience renting a house. Unfortunately, The Carrolls are not those people. Let me tell you our lovely story.
May 2006: Move from Austin, TX (*sniff*) to Nashville, TN. Move into apartment (gag) while trying to sell house in Austin (torture).
I really, really tried to keep a positive view of things.
After all, I was glowing with the aura of happy pregnant lady!
It didn’t work.
May 2006 – May 2007: Miserable living in apartment. Why?
*Brown Recluse Spider infestation.
*Loud “Horse-Laugh Harry” upstairs. I honestly think he is the illegitimate child of Mr. Ed. Really.
*Drug Dealers outside our window. Thank you, but no, our recovering drug-addict friend would NOT like to buy some pot from you, asshat.
*Stupid lady smoking a cigarette practically in my VERY PREGNANT face at the pool, who obviously had a death wish, but got lucky and somehow survived with her life. I am not holding a grudge, she just really deserves to have her Marlboros shoved into her other bodily orifices. While they are lit.
*Sh*tty Property Management Office that likes to lose your packages. “Ohh, really? That was your package? So sorry. We thought the box looked like it would be happy WITH SOMEONE ELSE.”
Etc.
May 2007: Not ready to buy another house yet, but eager to leave apartment living, we rent a house.
Summer 2007: Among (many) other crappy things, we discover that there is a problem cooling the house. The AC Unit runs all day long just to try to maintain a 78Degree temp setting. It fails. It is usually at least 85 in the house.
We nearly die.
Property Management fixes some of the faulty duct work (wasn’t even ATTACHED TO THE VENT under the house!!!), but refuses to do the entire job. We are left with leaky duct work.
Bills arrive for AC. We die again.
Current Day: We have just received a gas (heating) bill. This is separate from the electric bill. Almost $250.
For one month.
Our heads simultaneously exploded.
For that amount? My ass better have been leaving all the doors and windows open, cranking the heat up to about 85 and walking around here NAKED, sipping rum-filled drinks from my SWANKY COCONUT CUP and getting my feet rubbed by the Cabana Boy by the INDOOR, HEATED POOL that we had installed, while lovely Hawaiian tunes play in the background. AND I’d be needing to have had perfectly moisturized hair and skin and a FREAKING TAN.
Oh. No. Wait. Is that what was happening? HELL NO. I was all up in this mother wearing my ugly sweatshirts and socks, scratching my dried out, pasty-white, itchy skin, wondering why the stupid heater has to run so much just to maintain a temperature of 68.
DUR. It’s because our CRAPPY Property Managers and CRAPPY House Owner refuse to fix the duct work properly! They literally told us this on Friday. “Hi. This is your CRAPPY Property Manager. I am a useless bag of ****, have a nice day!”
They refuse to fix it. They don’t care about our exorbitant Heating/Cooling bills.
I think, in short, this is what they said to us:
Except they aren’t cute.
John walked outside the other night and saw steam rising out of the door to our crawl space.
STEAM IS RISING OUT FROM THE CRAWL SPACE.
*slaps self in forehead*
Of course! The Tropical Party is under our house, not inside it!
I need to pack up my hula skirt and my coconuts and squeeze under there. Do you think the Cabana Boy is waiting to give me a foot rub?
Until then? I’m off to browse real estate in Nashville. Guess who’s moving in May?
Yeah, I know, lists/ugh. I've always been bad at accepting compliments, and this is no different. I was surprised and honored by this - someone thinks I've done a good job. Icky Listness aside, that makes me smile. :-)lotus works
lotus supports
lotus is impressed by her friends
lotus digs
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