Oh, the Madness!

My gosh, things have been insane lately. Two weeks ago D went to get the alignment fixed on his car, which ultimately could not be done because we need part A and part B before the alignment can be toyed with, so we basically ended up paying $60 for NUTTIN at all. Then, D left his wallet there after paying the bullshit $60 for NUTTIN and didn't realize it until about an hour later. The crackwhore clerk was gracious enough to give him his wallet back, minus his bankcard and cash. Lovely. That night was spent on the phone with monotone bank lady A, who assured me that the card was blocked and that no charges had been made, though one had been attemped but they used the wrong PIN# so it didn't go through. OK.

The next four days were also spent on the phone, with non-English speaking bank lady B, nice and cheery cheerleader bank lady C, sexy & smooth deep-voiced bank guy D, and FINALLY with dorky-sounding but extremely helpful bank guy E. This was all necessary because the dipshit that took the card racked up nearly $700 in charges at... gas stations and fast food restaurants. Um, yeah. Hungry and desperately in need of loooots of gas, I guess. Bastard! We also filed a police report. Meh. I'm just glad I'm not still on hold with the bank. Because at one point I was sure I'd have to cancel all my weekend plans due to being on hold for thirteen days in a row.

At first, the lesson learned was this: D simply should not have a bank card in his possesion. Upon further analysis of the situation, the ultimate lesson is as follows: THE WORLD IS GOING TO SHIT AND YOU CAN'T TRUST ANYONE. I'm sure there was a time when the Pep Boys would have actually CALLED US and said, "Hey silly, come get your wallet!", and D would've gone back up there and they'd have given him his wallet, had a laugh about D's forgetfulness, and TAKING HIS FUCKING CARD AND SPENDING IT ON BULLSHIT WOULD NEVER HAVE CROSSED ANYONE'S MIND. But noooooo.... so, in conclusion, do not give forgetful people bank cards and do not trust anyone. The world is full of shitty, shitty people. But if you're nice to bank people they might make things a little bit better. After 4 or 5 days.

Anyway, I totally passed out/fainted/made an ass out of myself at my mother's birthday lunch at an Italian restaurant on Sunday. After the meal I felt all clammy and hot, then my ears started ringing, then everything got fuzzy, and I stupidly asked my mother for assistance to the restroom. After maybe 5 steps in the general restroom direction, I lost it and woke up slumped in a chair, a SWARM of people all around. I was given ice water, an ice pack, a wet cloth and many looks of concern. Being nearly 35 weeks pregnant, people thought I was going into labor. Nope. Nothing to see over here, y'all! Just passing out, heh! This happened once before about a year and a half ago, and I was not pregnant then and was somewhat tipsy and had just smoked some weed. So I thought I had just outdone myself. But now my doctor wants tests done and blood drawn, "just to be sure nothing is seriously wrong". Fun.

On a much happier and exciting note, Ethan is doing GREAT. He is simply marvelous. He kicks and squirms and my tummy moves in waves and there's a butt poking out here, a foot there. He keeps a pretty regular schedule which is awesome. He will be here in one month from tomorrow. I am so. freaking. excited. Am getting carseat installed in car this weekend. Am packing diaper bag and washing baby clothes and packing hospital bag, too. Because I? Want to be prepared. I want to be ready, or to trick myself into *thinking* that I am ready.

I can't wait!

P.S.

Ethan,

Let me just say that you totally made out at your baby shower. You got so many awesome gifts! An extensive collection of cute onesies, blankets, teething rings, blocks, toys, stuffed animals, a new crib (yeah, IT ROCKS!), changing table, carseat/carrier, mini bathtub, bath products, socks, beanies (looooove the beanies), mittens, play gyms and clothes. Grandma Cary? Got you the SWEETEST carpenter pants, little red jacket and white onesie from BabyGap. Everything is so stumpy and I hope you love it as much as I do. Stay warm in your cozy, snug little home baby! Let me know if you need anything. I will see you very soon.

Love, mama

6 Weeks to Go...

Dear Lil' E,

I promised myself that I would not write internet letters to you at any point in time, but at this stage of the game it's very hard to resist, especially since I am so excited to meet you and weak with motherly love.

You will be here in 6, maybe 7 weeks. Tomorrow is your baby shower. I tried to pick out all the cool, colorful, hip baby things that I think you'd enjoy, but please be aware that much of our family does not know how a "registry" works, so you'll probably get 4 of one thing and none of another, and we'll have to spend these last few weeks rushing around and making exchanges so we're up to par with the baby necessities checklist. Try to ignore the harsh 4-letter words you often hear me exclaim. They mean nothing and should not be repeated until you are at least 2, maybe 2 1/2. Also? Someone other than myself should teach you proper punctuation and grammar skills. Aunt Emily will be great for this... but we'll talk about her later on.

I can't wait to hold you. I wonder what color your hair will be, what color your eyes will turn... will you be a smart ass like your mama or goofy as hell like your dad? Maybe a little of both, and either way we'll love you just the same. I can't imagine loving you any more than I already do, even not having met you just yet. But I know that when you are actually here, my heart will probably explode into a million pieces and I will fall to my knees and be wrapped around your chubby little finger for the rest of our lives. You already got me, kid... I'm a sucker for chubby thighs and spit up, what can I say?

Let's talk a bit about the family members you will see most frequently upon arrival: Grandma Cary, my mom... she's the cute little blonde woman that will make you smile and giggle without doing a single damn thing. You'll love her. Though we haven't figured out what we want you to call her yet (Grandma is too old-school for her taste), I'm sure the two of you will get along just fine. Then there's Aunt Carolyn. You can turn to her for fashion advice and free Mexican food from On the Border. She's going to school to be a grief counselor, so if I screw you up too bad she just might be able to help. And if you're ever into drag? Have her show you how to do your makeup. Aunt Emily, the book-smart wizard I mentioned earlier, wants 800 kids of her own one day. You'll give her lots of practice for her future family, so save most of your super poopie diapers for her. She'll thank you in the end. She's going to school and majoring in MATH, so consider all of your highschool algebra homework already done. She's also way into piercings, so she'll be your personal hole-punching consultant as well. Aunt Bonnie, the last of my sisters, is one of the sweetest girls I know. She'll be graduating highschool around the time you get here, so I'm sure the two of you will bond instantly over this newfound immersion into the "real" world. You can also get free Mexican food from her. And she might even let you borrow her Reno 911 dvd. Last but not least, Uncle Nowell and Uncle Robin. They just entered highschool this year. For now, they have lots to offer in the way of video game cheat codes, anything that has to do with a computer (they built their own!) and fine dining at Taco Bell. (Try the 'cheesy gordita crunch').

All in all, I think you'll like it here. You'll never be lonely, that's for sure. You've been really good to me in utero, and I promise to make it great for you out here. I love you. Soooooo much.

Love, mama

P.S. I promise to never, ever eat my weight in tootsie rolls again like I did this afternoon. I know, I felt it too.

Sleep, Sweet Sleep!

As I wade through my 32nd week of pregnancy, I must aknowledge that I have been extremely lucky and/or blessed so far. My major complaints up until now have been pretty minimal: frequent and increasingly urgent potty breaks, breakouts that only a 14-year old could understand, being even more of a bitch than normal and napping like I'm three times my age. Now I've got a brand spankin' new problem that is killing me slowly but surely, one that I think will last long after lil' E is here: the inability to sleep. I try to get my healthy dose of 7 - 7.5 hours a night, but it's H-A-R-D. I seriously wake up to pee at least 3 times a night, AT LEAST. In a basic 7-hour stretch, that means that I am asleep for no more than 2 to 3 hours at a time. And I seem to be waking at the same times each night: 11:15 p.m., 1:30 a.m., 2:45 a.m., 3:30 a.m. and these days at 4:20 a.m., 40 minutes before my alarm goes off. Dear god.

Also? The hip thing. I spend the majority of the night sleeping on my left side, with a pillow between my legs. My hips hurt. Oh, the agony! My hips feel like an old creaky door sounds, if that makes any sense at all. This is due to increased relaxin, a hormone that limbers you up during pregnancy in preparation for birth, I know. Thanks. I may be able to do the splits 5 ways, but I sure as hell can't get a decent night's sleep.

One more thing... Sweet husband o'mine? STOP TAKING ALL OF THE COVERS. You tug on them and tuck them into every tuckable place on your body... between your legs, under your back, between your neck and shoulders. You basically wrap yourself in covers so you look like a mummy, and most nights I wake up shivering with nothing but a 1' x 1' corner to cover up with. I don't consider myself to be weak by any means, but prying the covers out from between your bear-trap knees is more than I can handle at 3 a.m. So honey? Ease up a bit. Thanks. And I love you!

2 noteworthy dreams:

1/That I had an aggressive brain tumor that required surgery every single day. I was awake during each surgery, and the surgeon was my OB GYN.
2/That I gave birth to a girl. And everything we have is for a BOY. I actually woke up in a panic thinking that we had to return everything.

We're in the home stretch! I can't wait to meet you, Ethan! I'll love you even if you DO have a cheeseburger instead of that hotdog the doctor pointed out so clearly!