Lessons learned in Pregnancy. Part 1.

I have been in blog hibernation for some time now.  Not that I haven't been reading, etc. But I have tried to collect stories from time to time, only to promptly forget them. But, to celebrate a return to bloggyville, I have put together the first in a series of lessons I have learned over the past 6 months of being preggers.

First off, I guess I have some news to divulge (though if you follow me on Twitter @sjlz, you may already know this)....

The baby that is happily kicking away in my belly? It's a ..... girl!!

Which brings me to lesson #1:
Ultrasound technicians are very sweet and kind people, but generally speaking, very clinical. When I asked her "How sure are you?" (because that's what all of the baby books suggest if you really want to know what you're having), she proceeded to show us - and label - our baby girl's "girl parts" - but using the most clinical terms. I thought my husband was going to pass out when she said the word "Labia."

Lesson #2:
Everyone is psychic, and everyone will predict for you what you're having. They will all be 100 percent sure. Now, I have thought that I was having a girl for some time. In fact, since the moment I knew I was pregnant, I have thought it was a girl. I remember getting in my husband's car about a week and a half before I'd know for sure and gagging at the smell of the air conditioner. My first thought was: I'm pregnant, and it's a girl. But, of course that didn't stop people from telling me, over the next 18 weeks or so what I was carrying. It's low, so it's a boy. It's wide, so it's a girl. It's low, so it's a girl... you get the point.

In fact, one woman - a practical stranger - was so convinced I was carrying a boy that when I gently told her that I actually knew that it was, in fact, a girl, she said to me: "Maybe you're having twins." Really?! It's not possible that you may be wrong, practical stranger? Instead, you're going to assert your instinct over medical science?

Lesson #3:
Morning sickness does not always happen in the morning, and it does not necessarily stay away after the magical 13 week mark. Mine came back. As did some of my strange food aversions. If I even look at a box of raisins, I fight the urge to gag. Some smells are still so powerful and overbearing that I just can't be around them.

Lesson #4:
No matter how hard you try: you will pee when you sneeze or laugh, you will randomly burst into tears over silly things, your baby will kick you at inopportune times (like when you're in your boss' office and it's not a time for distraction or laughter - and this is usually the time the kicks tickle you in some way).

Lesson #5:
Some things that once mattered to you, will just float away. This is true for a lot of things in my life, but one of the more obvious and trivial things: I eventually gave up makeup. Every once in a while, I'll bust out the Benefit and apply a dash of make up and throw on some lip gloss. And by every once in a while I mean... once a month. And this is from a Sephora-loving addict. My fancy collection of makeup, mascara, lip gloss, tools and brushes sits in a drawer. After week 16 or so, I just stopped wearing it. My skin had finally cleared up from first trimester acne and it darkened, so my light colored makeup would no longer fit the bill. And, mind you, I was someone who NEVER went out in public without makeup. Not since I was 17 or so. The glow that people refer to, in my case, is my oily t-zone, unadorned by product to try to lessen the problem.

There are a LOT more lessons I've learned, and continued to learn. Before I break out with part 2 - I'd love to hear some lessons from the other moms out there.

What have you learned?

Party's over, SJ. Start blogging again!

Not to call SJ out right after her birthday or anything, but she's been holding out on you guys. That's right, she knows whether she's having a girl or a boy and she hasn't told you yet. If I were you, I'd be a little miffed that she's been holding out. I mean, it would be understandable that she hasn't been blogging if she didn't have anything to talk about, but she very clearly does. So, SJ, on behalf of the blog readers who still check in with us despite every other post talking about my pregnancy, I'm going to have to ask you to spill it.

But let's make those readers work for it. While SJ and J already have a name picked out for their son or daughter, the Pretend Husband and I are still debating our options (made more difficult by having to agree on a boy AND a girl name). So, everyone is required to leave a comment suggesting a girl name and a boy name for FunnyKid, who is due in less than six weeks and is in danger of being named Herbie if we don't come up with something better. And when we hit five comments, SJ will post her news (I think. I mean, I'm assuming she'll go along with this. No promises, but I think I can convince her...)

How about it? Want to help spark SJ's triumphant return to the blog? Start suggesting names...

I'm engaged to my husband!

Look what I got...

It's big, it's shiny and it's 100 percent fake. As the weather has heated up, my fingers have gotten a lot more swollen to the point where I can no longer wear my wedding and engagement rings.

I feel a little funny being knocked up and not wearing a ring so I had the idea to hit up Kohl's to buy the gaudiest rock I could. The Pretend Husband preferred I get something that could actually pass as a real engagement ring, which is how I ended up with this one. And it's weird not wearing my rings, but this one will do. After we paid $8 for it and were leaving the store, I said to the PH, "Why did you spend thousands of dollars on my ring? You could have saved so much money by buying it here!"

I may be fooling myself, but I think it looks pretty real (I realize the photo is a bit fuzzy). I also think I'm being a little silly by feeling like I need to wear a ring while pregnant. What do you think? Do people notice that kind of thing? Should I care?

Because a true friend turns the attention on herself when you're having medical issues...

My best friend in high school, "Bertha," was put on modified bed rest this weekend, meaning she can't leave her house for the next two weeks and can only get up from the couch to use the bathroom or sit at the dinner table, but no cooking or setting up the nursery or being on her feet. She has 10 weeks left in her pregnancy and is hoping the bed rest will not be continued through all of them since she has a lot of work left to do to prepare for this baby.

While I was on the phone with her yesterday hearing about her predicament, I tried to come up with some things she could do from the couch. I suggested she have her husband wash all of the new baby clothes and then bring her the basket so she can fold them on the couch. Then I asked her to watch "Oprah" for me today and be ready to summarize it when I call (I also vowed to call a lot more now that I have a captive audience. She can't avoid my calls now!)

Last night, I came up with a few more ideas, so I emailed her to suggest she read through the entire archive of this blog and send me an email detailing how funny she thinks I am. And, if that task gets done fast enough, how about I send her some beads and she can spend some time making crafts that I can then sell as my own? I'm still coming up with some more ideas for her and am open to suggestions.

But, please, let's make sure they benefit me in some way. Because although this concerns Bertha and whatever precautions need to be taken to keep her son healthy and safe, I've managed to make it all about me. That takes talent.

I should not be allowed to make promises before 10 a.m.

The wonderful Mollymoo at Exquisitely Wasted gave us this here award (I think it's because she thinks SJ and I are so demure and quiet about our lives and she just wants to know more about us). Also, I may have promised one of SJ's sisters that I would blog every day this week. I blame the fact that it was early in the morning and I hadn't yet hooked myself up to an IV bag of coffee. I wasn't thinking straight. (And SJ, I will cheat and not post if you do. How about we make it a "something gets posted everyday" week rather than "Kat posts everyday"? Good? Good.)

Oh, and just to make an incredibly long post even longer, I should explain that, although the rules of the award only say to share 10 things about yourself, I-- for some strange reason-- went with a job/career theme.

1. I have no desire to become a real estate agent (I don’t think I’d be great at negotiating deals), but I am positively addicted to real estate in general. I love going online and looking for houses for people (only people who are already looking themselves, I should add—I don’t try to persuade people to move). I may be freaking SJ out because every time she mentions a house she has seen or wants to see, I ask for the address and look it up online. The two of us may or may not have spent almost an hour on the phone recently going room-by-room through the photos of each of the five houses she had seen that day. I’m not admitting to anything.

2. I have never had any desire to be President. Or a nurse. Or have any career that would send me into the corporate world. Or do anything that involved science. Or be a flight attendant (I would not be able to keep a straight face in turbulence).

3. I spent a couple of summers and holiday vacations working as a waitress at a country club. It was a great job, for the most part, and it’s where I learned how to quickly and properly cut a wedding cake– a skill that has not really come into play for me since. The club members were all fairly cordial, but some of their kids were horrific and entitled. They liked to order the staff around as though we were their personal servants. I’m sure more than one of them was served an ice cream sundae that had been spit on (I never did it, but not all the wait staff were as classy as me…)

4. I have secretly considered getting my master’s degree and going into teaching. But not little kids. Perhaps at a college? Maybe someday.

5. I WILL flip a house someday. Although hopefully not one I’m living in at the time since I’ve done that and it’s not as fun as it looks. But how awesome would it be to turn something outdated and run down into a beautiful home? And maybe this time I could actually even turn a profit (the only flaw in the plan the last time around…)

6. My job in middle school and high school was as a soccer referee. I did it for seven years and made mad money. In fact, I worked weekends during the spring and fall and was able to take the summer off. I sometimes wish I had stuck with it (summers off sound nice…) Is it possible to become a professional town league soccer referee?

7. After almost two years of marriage, I still sometimes introduce myself with my maiden name. I blame my weekend job because I use my maiden name on the radio. It’s confusing for me. The other day, I introduced myself to a group of people as Kat Maiden Name…… Married Name. So it sounds like I have a hyphenated name—with a very long hyphen.

8. Although all our babysitters growing up were cool and let us stay up to watch television until the moment my parents pulled into the driveway (and sometimes we even got away with it), when I was old enough to babysit, I was the mean babysitter who made kids go to bed at whatever bedtime their parents gave me. I think I was just really stuck on the concept of following the rules at that age. That, and it was impossible to raid the cabinets if the kids were awake and watching.

9. My worst job was the summer between high school and college, when I worked in the kitchen of a restaurant (I had wanted to be a waitress, but the only position they had open was as the salad bar stocker). I was really ill that summer, but had recovered by my final day of work—the day I was required to peel and chop 20 pounds of carrots and then, as a finale, de-vein 40 pounds of raw scallops. It was the most disgusting job ever and my hands smelled like seafood for days. I swore up and down I would never work in a restaurant kitchen again (it may also have to do with why I don’t cook too often either. Ok, probably not, but I may have to plead “Post Traumatic Disorder” if the PH ever questions it…)

10. I’m living the dream, people. I recently found a cassette tape (and then found something that could actually play it!) that had my young voice playing the part of the DJ in between my favorite 80s hits. Even as a kid, I wanted to be on the radio. Then, as I grew older and worked for newspapers in high school and college, I wanted to be a journalist. Look at that! I’m a journalist on the radio! It’s nice when a plan comes together.

I think I'm supposed to "tag" people but I'm not going to put you on the spot. If you have a blog and want to spend a lot of time coming up with a huge list of things about yourself, go for it. If you don't want to, how about everybody leaves a story about their best or worst job in the comments and we'll call it even? Good? Good.

You'll kick your computer in frustration... then you'll thank me for helping make you smarter

Can you name all the countries in the world? Do you even know how many there are? There are 195 and I can name 150 of them in 15 minutes.

You have to go to Sporcle.com and get addicted to the quizzes, like I did (work has been a bit slow lately). There's a ton of different ones you can take (naming the U.S. presidents, naming the U.S. states in alphabetical order, naming four-letter movies, etc.) but I challenge you on the countries of the world one.

The first time I took the quiz, I think I named about 60 countries. Then I decided that was shameful and have been working at it ever since, taking the quiz every few days and then studying the ones I missed. Now I can even spell "Djibouti" (a country in Africa), "Uzbekistan" and "Bosnia and Herzegovina" (that's a tricky one because it won't accept just "Bosnia")

Here's your challenge: go take the quiz, report your score in the comments and then assure me I'm now not the only one totally addicted to that site.

If you're still sad about any of the celebrities that died last week, you should probably skip this post

I've gone back and forth on whether to write about this topic because of the whole don't-speak-ill-of-the-dead thing and all. But it keeps rewriting itself in my head and I figured the only way to get it to stop is to actually put it down. And I'm curious to hear if people agree, disagree, could care less, think I'm a terrible person, didn't hear this news until just this second, etc.

So, a bunch of celebrities passed away in the past week. It's too bad and it's always sad when someone loses their life. But, honestly? I don't really care. They weren't my friends, I'm in no way related to them and I'm about as far from the person who gives up their day to stand outside Michael Jackson's house and cry while laying flowers at the gate as you can get.

I'm absolutely fascinated by the MJ story in terms of how the media has covered it. I couldn't believe how many people said, "We will all always remember where we were when we heard Michael Jackson died." Really?!? That's how much he means to you? His death is a life-changing event for you? Because it's not for me. I will remember where I was on September 11, I still have a clear memory of watching the Challenger explode and I can recall even the most minute detail from my mom's last day alive. But a washed-up pop icon with a questionable criminal history? Eh.

One article I read last week was titled, "For Generation X, A Really Bad Day." And it quoted a 38-year-old man talking about how MJ's death is a defining moment for Generation X and the moment that finally turned that generation into adults. Really?!? He's 38 years old and just getting around to becoming an adult? His wife must be so proud.

Was Michael Jackson a star? Yup. He did a lot for the music industry in his day and he was a heck of an entertainer. Was he also just a person with a whole lot of issues? Yes he was, and that's the part that seems to be getting lost in the shuffle. His death is sad, yes, and particularly terrible for its effect on his children (although I also question the effect his apparently daily drug use had on them...) but it's not the end of the world, the worst thing that's ever happened to me or a reason for the media to hype it into more than what it is. Let's all keep it in perspective, shall we?

Rhetorical questions (but feel free to answer...)

While I was walking the dogs this morning, one of them paused halfway through to vomit in the middle of the road three times. I may have made her finish the rest of the walk. Does that make me a bad mother?

The Pretend Husband just quit his job and is planning to open his own business. Despite all of the work I'm doing for it, he would agree only to name me "Director of Marketing." I may have traded in some sexual favors in order to be promoted to "Vice President." Does that make me a bad person?

One of the people who works for me, an older man, cannot ever say my name correctly (seriously, he's gotten it correct once in the five years he's worked for me). Let's say my name is KAT [Married Name]-- well, this guy introduced me to a group of high school students this morning as "Chat" [Maiden Name]. I may have interrupted to give my real name and followed up with, "so you're wrong on both counts." Does that make me a bad boss?

How to know your blog has arrived...

The Pretend Husband never reads this blog. Every once in awhile, when I think I've been particularly witty, I'll read him my post. But I don't think he would even know how to find it.

But he thinks about it. A few months ago, he "forbid" me from posting anything about him (quite randomly and in the middle of an argument about something else entirely). I kind of let his declaration pass without comment, didn't write anything about him for a week or two and then subtly brought up how I had posted about something that involved him. Luckily, he didn't have a problem with it because, let's be honest, the PH and his shenanigans (or the PH putting up with mine) comprise at least 80 percent of what I talk about.

Last night, the PH and I were discussing some stuff related to his career after I had designed some materials for him. We went through the different designs and talked about what he liked about them and what changes he wanted made. Then, as he was walking out of the room, he looked back at me and said, "And no, you can't post them on the blog to ask people's opinions."

So, I'm curious... does your significant other read your blog? Do they ask you to limit their presence on it or ask for any restrictions such as not using their name? Do they even know what a blog is?

FunnyGal KAT: Turning to the Internet for marital advice since 2007

Sorry about that whole falling-off-the-face-of-the-earth thing lately. Work kicked my butt (I left the office around noon today because I was already well over 40 hours for this week). But now I'm back.

However, the "funny" seems to have been left back on the deck of my family's cottage, where we hung out with SJ and J and some other fun people for Memorial Day. What did we do? Well, nothing, and that's just the way I like it...

So, since I have no funny, let's play a little game called, "Is My Marriage Normal?" First the background and then I will ask the question and open the floor to your own stories, comments about how you can't believe I would even consider this, amusing anecdotes I can use as my own until something funny happens to me, etc.

I will try to make the background as succinct as possible. Basically, the Pretend Husband handles our finances and I stay in the dark about our fiscal health (numbers were never my thing). Anyway, the PH and I have very different spending habits and, in an effort to curb his a bit and take away my (self-imposed) guilt about buying new shoes or something like that, I have suggested we each open a checking account linked to our joint account. Each week, I propose we put an "allowance" into each account that we could use for expenses like going out to lunch, new shoes, a round of golf, new shoes, my soccer registration, a night out with the guys or new shoes. Expenses like gas and groceries would still be paid out of our main account.

So, what do you think? Is it weird to be an adult and have an allowance? I tend to like the idea (except for it being called an allowance...) because I think it will cut down on what the PH spends and will give me "mad money" so I won't have to ask the PH if it's OK to spend money (only because I don't want to mess up his budgeting by taking money out of our joint account, not because I need permission-- that would be weird). OK, enough of me trying to justify this. Do you do it? Do you have any better ideas? What do you think? Is My Marriage Normal?

Did I mention how good the ice cream is?

If there is one sport I absolutely cannot tolerate, even for a few minutes, on TV or in person, it's baseball. And golf. Yeah, I said "one sport" but I hate them both. Except I probably hate baseball more because there's a chance of being asked to go to a game, while no one has ever asked me to a golf... match? tournament? game? extravaganza? Whatever you call it, I've never been invited.

And now I am faced with what I'm calling a "very important decision" (but only because work is slow and life is boring and this decision is about as important as it gets right now. don't worry, I realize it doesn't really rank in the grander scheme of things...)

But anyway. The Pretend Husband was given tickets to a baseball game this weekend. And he's peer pressuring me into going with him. The good part? It's in the city I went to college in, a city I love, love, love and haven't been to in way too long and it's home to the best ice cream I've ever had. But. I would have to go to the stupid baseball game.

So, on the one hand, city I love, best ice cream ever, a night away from home, the best ice cream ever, hanging out with the PH, the best ice cream ever... And, on the other stupid hand, stupid baseball. I'm a fan of football and I will willingly watch basketball games with the PH, but I cannot stand baseball. It's long, it's boring and it's long.

Let's hear what you think? Do I suck it up with the best ice cream ever as my sweet, sweet reward? Or do I skip it purely for health reasons (i.e. there's a strong possibility I would die of boredom if forced to sit through an entire game...)?

My cheeks are burning as I type this...

In lieu of amusing you today, I'm going to confess something completely and utterly embarrassing (which, come to think of it, probably will amuse you). Did you ever have a dream (perhaps even a dream where you are-- ahem-- getting intimate...) about somebody that you would never, ever think about-- ahem-- getting intimate with in real life?

But you have that dream and the next time you see them, either in real life (or say... on the news), you're completely embarrassed and can't even look them in the eye (or even look at them on the screen...)? Yeah, I had one of those last night. And I soooo don't want to admit who it was because I do find it incredibly embarrassing. But, I can't think of anything else to write about today, so I will share. It was...

Barack Obama

Augh! I can't even type it without my face turning totally red. I'm not even sure why I'm so mortified by this confession of mine (except who dreams about getting lucky with politicians--  and does not having this dream about a rock star or a model make me old?!?), but I do know one thing. I will feel so much better if you tell me something embarrassing about yourself. (And if you do happen to know Michelle Obama, could you tell her I apologize for dream macking on her husband? Thanks.)

Delurk yourselves, bitches!

Oh, I don't mean to imply that any of our lovely readers are bitches; it's just that I and my test group have determined that everything is funnier when you add the work "bitches" to it. For example:

Not funny: "We need some more drinks."

Funny: "We need some more drinks, bitches!"

Not funny: "Get out there and mow the lawn, Pretend Husband."

Funny: "Get out there and mow the lawn, bitches!"

Not funny: "My cat died yesterday."

Funny: "My cat died yesterday, bitches!"

OK, maybe not that last one...

Anyway, now that the funny lesson is over, there is a point to this post (this is where you answer, "Don't worry, bitches, we're used to having to skip to the 14th paragraph of your posts to find the point...") Well, I guess yesterday was some sort of de-lurking day where people were encouraged to come out of the darkness and leave comments on the blogs they read.

Yeah, we're a day late (bitches!), but I'd still like to know who's out there. I mean, we apparently have 23 people following the blog (and a couple more who have told me they read it, but they've been known to lie anyway) but we have never gotten close to that many comments. So, tell us a joke, announce your presence, tell us we're funny or share what you had for dinner. It doesn't matter what you say, but make sure you comment. Now, get to it (bitches!)

Come share too much information about your personal hygiene!

It's group participation time again, kids. This time, I'm doing a little poll and the question is, how often do you change your sheets? C'mon, don't be shy! Once a week? Once a month? Once a year? The question came up last night while the Pretend Husband and I were changing the sheets on our bed. I will only reveal how long the sheets had been on our bed if we get at least six responses to this poll (don't get too excited, we've only been living in the house for a few months so it's not like I last changed them in February or something!)

On a completely unrelated note... Last night, while the PH and I were in the car, that song called "Christmas Shoes" came on. It's all about a poor boy who wants to buy some shoes for his mom for Christmas so she'll look pretty "if she meets Jesus tonight." Yup, the kid's mom is dying and he wants to get her one last Christmas gift that will make her smile... and I started laughing and couldn't stop. In my defense, it's because of how cheesy the song is and I have something about songs about mundane things (musicals totally crack me up because instead of saying something in three words, people sing about them in at least 30). Yes, I'm a terrible person (but at least I change my sheets regularly!)

Grab the kids, it's group participation time! (Our fun holiday game)

So I came up with an idea for a fabulous game and I have to say that I thought of it all myself, with no help from anyone. Especially not Southernbelle. What? You don't believe me because I'm making such a big deal about this being my idea? Fine, then. It wasn't.

Southernbelle hosted a really fun game on her blog that is still ongoing. It involves a person posting their wish in the comments (such as "I wish I could turn invisible at will") and other people totally killing that wish (such as "You can turn invisible at will, but the technology is still new so you are never completely in focus when visible") and then posting their own wish. You should definitely go to Southernbelle's blog and play!

But not before you play the other fabulous game she came up with and asked us to host. Here's how it goes. I'm going to post the first half of a sentence and  you're going to complete it in the comments and then post the first half of the next sentence. So, if I write "I hate it when..." you would write something witty like "...my mom makes me pay rent for living in her basement. But I love it when..." and then the next person would finish that sentence and write the first half of the next sentence. Got it? Because I don't know how I could make it any more clear (especially since Southernbelle summed it up in a sentence when she explained it and I just provided a paragraph's worth-- it must be the journalist in me). And if we come up with a good plot line, I will be claiming it as my own work and publishing it under my byline (you have been warned...)

So, the first sentence fragment is...

"The most annoying thing about the holiday season is..."