Funny tummy

I saw this picture on Facebook a week or so ago and it made me laugh.

 

I find farts funny.  There.  I said it.  Don't judge, you know you laugh when someone farts, too.  Last year we were in Kansas City with Josh and Shawna and we were eating breakfast at Denny's.  There was a couple two booths away and all of a sudden the dude let one rip.  He and his wife looked at each other and his eyes were as big as eggs, he had the "uh-oh!" look on his face and then they started laughing and looking away from the rest of the dining room.  It was too late, we knew who the fog bomber was.  You know he thought he was going to squeak out a silent-but-deadly and instead it reverberated off of the pleather seat.  Serves him right for bombing everyone at Denny's.  Shawna and I died laughing.  And then we couldn't quit laughing.  And every time I looked at him I would start cackling some more.  It was hilarious!  I'm laughing about it now.

 

Anyhoo, this is supposed to be a story about my belly.

 

I walked into the bedroom to show this picture to D while he was getting ready for work and I couldn't stop laughing. It's just so stupid that it's funny. As I continued to laugh, D began to smile.

"Now you're tummy jiggles when you laugh."

Thank you for noticing my peanut pooch.

I laughed and said, "I told you it was like Santa Clause!"

Body pillows

I've been going to the chiropractor for the last two weeks and wow, what a difference!  I was having the worst sharp pains in my glutes and low back.  My doctor thinks it's probably because I have a naturally swayed back, meaning my low back curves in a little more than most.  Aaaaaaand, I have a badonkadonk for a rear and I also have degenerative disk disease, so - swayed back and pain is the norm for me.  The weight of my growing belly is putting pressure on my backside and causing more pain.  I have done stretches and bought a pillow specially made for pregnant women and I just couldn't get any relief.  I couldn't lay on one side of my body for more than about half an hour before I would have searing pain and have to move.  Plus, I've always been a tummy sleeper - I'll fall asleep in seconds if I lay on my tummy - and now I can't do that.  So, the only thing my body wants to do to get relief is to lay on my back, which is now a no-no.  I don't want to crush the vena cava and hurt me or the baby, so I was just suffering through.

Until last week and I just couldn't take it anymore.  I could barely walk and forget about bending over.  What a difference a few treatments has made!  I feel like a normal person!  The electronic muscle stimulation has really helped and today's treatment involved a 1 hour massage - yippee!  As the therapist set up the bed to accommodate me, I oohed and ahhed over her pillow.  Check this puppy out!

It's huge and awesome and I want one!  I've seen this kind of pillow online, but they cost more than I wanted to pay and I really didn't think I would like it.  So, I bought one of these:

Excuse my wrinkled sheets.

 

After using the massage therapist's pillow today, I either need another one of these small pillows or I need one of those mack daddy pillows.  Having the support on the front and the back when I lay on my side was wonderful!  I didn't think I would like it, but it was unbelievable.  I was also afraid that if I didn't sleep on my contoured pillow, I wouldn't have enough support and would end up with a crick in my neck.  I was wrong.  That mack daddy pillow was like Walmart - it had everything I needed.  However, I will say that if you have to move the pillow while you're under the covers, it's a little cumbersome and hard to do.  If you're in the market for one of these pillows, I suggest spending the extra dough and getting the mack daddy.  Or if you can't find one, get two of the smaller pillows and adjust them around your body.  And if you're pregnant and your back hurts and you can't get any relief, get yourself to the chiropractor - I feel so much better!

Near-death experience

This morning I had a near-death experience.

I suddenly began choking - no, I mean like REALLY choking.

I began coughing violently and I literally could not breathe.  I was gasping and gasping for air in between coughs and it felt like there was no air coming in.  I could feel my face turning red and getting hot and with each cough getting more violent than the last, I thought I might hurl.  I grabbed a towel and stepped over to the trash can, continuing to cough and wheeze and pray that this wasn't how I would leave this world.  How embarrassing.  The headline would say, "Woman dies after coughing to death."  I have never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever been at such a loss for air.  My chest was heaving and I knew that I must be coughing loud enough to wake the devil.  My eyes were watering and every millimeter of my body began to hurt and I thought for sure my body was shutting down.

About that time, I hurled a little into the towel, just as D walked into the room.  I know all of you boys must be jealous of the sexy wife this man has.  He's so lucky.  He asked me what was going on and if I was okay.  I coughed a few more times and managed to shake my head, "Yes", then as I continued to cough a little less violently, I told him how horrific the experience had been.

Then he said, "What did you choke on?"

"Icing," I said as I smiled just a little and he started laughing.

That's the last time I make him cinnamon rolls and lick the icing off the knife!

Hoping for a no-peat

I have had the worst luck with my car over the last year.

In the first few months of the year my windshield got hit by flying gravel on my way to work.  It was a small chip and, thankfully, it was repairable without having the windshield replaced.

At the beginning of last summer we were on our way home from Tulsa when a bobtail dump truck in front of us unleashed a barrage of gravel on our car.  The bottom of his gate had a four inch gap because it was either not securely closed or it did not function properly, and all of the leftover gravel from his last dump came out and pelted our car.  I had almost 100 chips in my windshield and just as many on my hood.  After he flipped us off several times, we finally managed to get the driver to pull over and he cussed at us, yelled at us and after looking at the damage said, "I don't see anything!"  Then he said, "I didn't do that!"  Didn't do what?  I thought you said you didn't see anything?  *SMH*  Then he stormed off back to his truck.  Little did he know we were already on the phone with his boss, who heard every word of his juvenile tirade.  Thankfully, the company was in a nearby town and we just went to their office.  Had I not quickly whipped out my cell phone and videoed the truck pelting us with rock, the company would not have paid for the damage.  We had to get a new windshield and hood repair, but it was paid for by the truck company.

In late summer I needed new tires.  For convenience, I decided to buy tires at a one-stop-shop super store.  Bad idea.  When I picked up my car and headed home, it was obvious that the tires were out of balance.  I took my car back and they rebalanced the wheels, but the head tech on duty told me that the reason they were having trouble balancing the wheels was because their equipment was almost 25 years old and they had to "force" it to fit my rims - which are stock and not fancy.  So, you mean to tell me that you have this problem with every single tire that you work on that is being mounted on a late model vehicle?  And I'm the first one to complain?  This cannot be!  I thought the story was malarkey.  They also said that the tech who worked on my car the first time had been in a hurry to leave because he had a date later in the evening and when he balanced the tires, he did so with sticky weights on the rims.  Now, I'm not a car rim aficionado, so that didn't mean much to me, but apparently, it's quite a no-no.  Once again, when I headed home, the car began shaking violently from the wheels being out of balance.  I called the store again and spoke to a manager who told me to take the car to their sister store in another town that had newer equipment and have them balance the wheels and now it was also out of alignment.  Once again, it didn't work.  Another call to the manager and after I talked to his boss and told him I wanted my money back and they could have those defective tires back and that I was taking my business elsewhere, he paid me for my time and inconvenience, gave me four new tires that were better than the ones I had bought, paid for another tire shop to install them and paid for an alignment.  It was a week long ordeal and I never, ever, ever, ever, ever want to buy tires again.

In mid fall my windshield got hit by another rock!  And it immediately splintered all across the windshield, so we had to have another windshield put in.  We used the same company that had put in the windshield at the beginning of summer and found out that because the truck company paid for it, they got a corporate discount and paid about $100 less than we did for the windshield.  What a crock.

Yesterday, on my way to work, I got hit by another rock!  Dude, for real?!  It was dark and foggy and as I met a car going the other way, THUNK!  I hoped against hope that my windshield wasn't cracked or chipped, but I knew the odds weren't good, just based on the sound that the rock made.  If you've ever heard a flying rock break glass, you know what I'm talking about.  Sure enough, there are two chips in my windshield.  :(  :(  :(  :(  :(  I think it's repairable and I don't think we'll have to replace the whole windshield again, but still, what a pain in the patootie!  So, I'm starting off 2013 the same way as 2012.  Let's hope that the rest of the year is a no-peat of last year!

23 weeks

As of yesterday, I am officially 23 weeks into this pregnancy.  Yippee!  For many, and I mean MANY, years I didn't think I'd ever have children.  And, to be honest, parenthood wasn't really something that I was interested in.  I was never one of those girls that felt the NEED to be a parent.  I had friends in high school who couldn't wait to get married and have kids and I just never felt that way.  Yes, I got married 3 months after I graduated (it didn't last, FYI), but I never felt that innate need to have kids that so many women have told me about.  On a side note, I also never thought I'd get married again - another subject where I was thankfully wrong.  Having children was about as far from my mind as Pluto is from Earth.  I loved children, I just wasn't interested in having my own.  And the whole birth process grossed me out.  Like, puke city, gross me out.  My Mom would say, "No, it's a miracle."  Yes, yes it is, but it's a gross miracle.  I've seen animals give birth ...... still gross.  I also watched a natural birth video ..... still gross.  It was like a train wreck.

I.

Just.

Couldn't.

Look.

Away.

Don't worry, I'm sure that when the time comes, I won't care how gross it is.  As a twenty-something, seeing a pregnant belly move also grossed me out.  When my cousin, Jennifer, was pregnant she grabbed my hand one day and put it on her belly as her baby moved and I almost puked on her shoes.  I liked my life the way that it was and I also didn't want to be a resentful parent who said things like, "If I hadn't had children I could have _____."  I told everyone that I was never going to have children and I truly believed it.

And now, here I am, with a growing baby bump that moves and pushes and presses and makes me smile and pee about 119 times each day.  On Monday morning, while I was putting on my makeup, he karate chopped me about an inch below my belly button and about a hand's length to the left.  It was the hardest kick I've felt and it was so sudden and sharp that I jumped, kicked my left leg like a mule and let out an "Oh!"  If D had been up, he'd have laughed his a** off.  It was like our little man had a nap jerk.  I hate those.  However, I'm still hoping that, like a child's fairy tale, the stork will bring me a beautiful baby wrapped in a white blanket and I can skip the whole birth process.

I'm not sure when my feelings about being a parent changed or if it was just a gradual progression as I aged.  I confess, it seems very strange and bizarre to have a growing human inside me and even stranger to feel him move - which doesn't gross me out the way that it used to.  I guess it's just different when it's your own body.  The first movement I felt was just a flutter and I was 20 weeks and 4 days, which according to an old wives tale marks the halfway point, meaning that my due date would be postponed about 8 days.  Time will tell.  And I never thought I would be okay with other people touching my belly, but it doesn't bother me at all and I've caught myself even asking a couple of people if they wanted to feel.  ???  When did I become so ...... um, so ...... um, I don't know, not myself? 

In the meantime, people keep telling me that I am small for being 23 weeks along.  ???  Really?  My waist is more than 9 inches larger than it was pre-prego and I've gained more than 20 pounds - surpassing my heaviest pre-prego weight.  So, if everyone thinks my belly is small, does that mean that all of my extra weight is in my butt and boobs?

Here kitty kitty

Here's a story
About our kitty kitty
Who showed up at our door the other day

His hair is black and white
And quite furry
He loves to run and play

He's quite wild
Completely feral
And he runs when we open up the door

He sleeps on the porch
On old dog beds
We bought him food at the store

He's so lucky
That we didn't run him off
And our girls can only bark at him through glass

If he didn't eat the mice
And earn his keep
Then we'd just have to boot his little a**


If you sing that like The Brady Bunch, it flows a lot better :)

So, kitty kitty showed up a few weeks ago and he won't let us get anywhere near him. But, we like cats and needed an outdoor cat, so we put out some water and cat food once D figured out that kitty kitty was sleeping on our back porch at night. When I bought new dog beds a couple of months ago, I tossed the old ones onto the back porch so I could take them to the burn barrel and then I forgot that they were there. So, they never made it to the burn barrel, which is good news for kitty kitty because the beds keep him warm at night.

We've managed to have him around for about a month and the girls have only seen him once, which turned into a hair-raised bark-a-thon. We usually put out food during the day while he's off chasing mice or whatever it is he does to keep himself busy. But, once or twice I've gone out to give him food and I've caught him still in bed. He immediately runs away and hides in the shed. I told him that I was a nice person and that I wouldn't hurt him and that I was bringing him food, but he didn't listen. I was shunned.

Today, D said kitty kitty walked right up to the door and was peering inside, like he was yelling, "Hey!!! You there! Fine fellow, hows about you bring me some food? My tummy is screaming at me!" So, D got some food and as soon as he opened the door, kitty kitty ran away, but not as far into hiding as he normally does. He came back to the porch to eat as soon as D went back inside. The little guy is learning :)

And just so you know that I'm not making it all up, here's a couple of pictures to prove that we do indeed have a kitty kitty among us :)

Baby registry

On Saturday, D and I had dinner plans in OKC with friends that we don't see very often.  But, before the chow fest could begin, we went to Babies'R'Us to start our baby registry.

Holy crap, someone shoot me!  (That's a joke, people.  Nobody go crazy on me and think I'd actually ask for that.)  There is waaaaaaaay too much stuff!  We thought we'd spend an hour scanning items and maybe buy a few and then head over to the gun store and then to dinner.  THREE HOURS LATER we left Babies'R'Us.  And don't think that it was all me, because my Dude went crazy, crazy I tell you, with that scanner.  We didn't even argue over stuff, we were in agreement on everything, it just took F-O-R-E-V-E-R to scan everything.

Here he is in action.  This picture makes me smile - my Dude all happy about becoming a dad and excited to start getting baby stuff.  Initially we were having fun and thought we were progressing quickly.  Then about an hour in, it just became overwhelming.  By the end of hour two we were both sweating and stripping off coats and layers of clothing and we both had a headache.  If I could have gotten away with stripping down naked, I might have.  I was so hot that my fingers puffed up and I had to take my rings off - and I almost wasn't able to get them off!  Someone needed to turn on the air in that store.  And some cold water at the bathroom sink would have been awesome.  I sent him to the car for some Excedrin and I toughed it out because I didn't have any Tylenol with me and I can't take Excedrin.  I think I went to the bathroom fourteen times while we were there.  It may have been more like two or three, but it felt like fourteen.  And we saw one couple that was really on the ball; they were only a couple of months into their pregnancy (she didn't even have a pooch!) and already starting their registry.  I'm not on the ball like that.  It's only recently that I really started to get in gear about looking for baby stuff.  I'm dreaming of a day when all of the baby stuff I need just magically appears - washed, folded, assembled, etc. - and I never have to spend three hours in the baby store again.  We saw several couples shopping with their newborn twins and I said a quick thank-you-prayer because that wasn't us - one child at a time is plenty.

We also finally got one of these pregnant lady body pillows.  I'm too big to lay on my tummy anymore (waaaah! sniff, sniff) and sleeping on my side is difficult for me to do.  And I'd love to lay on my back, but that's a no-no, too.  Last night was my first night with the Preggle Pillow and while it helped, it's going to take some getting used to.  I tried all of the positions shown on the package and decided the one shown above was probably best for me.  I think I'll try another position tonight.

Also, in case you were wondering, we never made it to the gun store.

More toilet paper issues

I have officially crossed the 20 pound mark and my inner thighs officially touch - which grosses me out. Just so you know.

We were out of toilet paper again today and this time it was my turn to put out a new roll. I decided to be a rebel and do what my husband does and not put the roll on the holder/dispenser (I think what you call it it depends on what part of the country you're from). Soooooooooo, I set the new roll on top of the holder and called it good and in completely uncharacteristic and rare fashion, I did not put down the lid of the toilet. I have issues with a toilet lid that's left up. It's gross and when you look at the toilet you see the bowl and that makes me think of pee, which makes me think if poo, which makes me think of puke and then I want to puke. Like I said, I have issues. Don't judge. Anyhoo, I didn't put the lid down and I didn't put the new roll on the holder.

A few minutes later, I was putting on my shoes so we could go to the basketball game and, in case you've forgotten - I'm 5 1/2 months pregnant, I realized I needed to sit down to tie them. As I leaned over to put my hand on the toilet lid so I could sit without plopping, I realized too late that the lid was still up. I lost my balance and began to fall, hit the roll of toilet paper that was sitting on top of the holder and knocked it into the gaping open toilet bowl, splashing water everywhere. Lets all take a moment to clear the puke from our throat. The toilet paper roll immediately swelled to about five times it's normal size and then I had to pick the dripping wet mess up out of the bowl. If you need to puke again, I completely understand.

Once I got all of the splashed out toilet water cleaned up and choked back puke and said a few choice words, I put the lid down, had a seat, tied my shoes and away we went. Another lesson learned the hard way. :)

Funerals and dog food

Yesterday was a day full of tears, laughter and fellowship as we laid my Grandma to rest.  She was a very kind, loving woman who made the best fried chicken EVER!  I've never had fried chicken that tastes like hers; she told me many times that the key was to have the grease really, really hot.  She would make gravy out of the chicken drippings and we would serve it over torn bread - so incredibly yummy with little bits of fried chicken skin in it.  My mouth is watering right now.  For years we had Sunday dinner at Grandma and Grandpa's every week, a meal for 12-17 people, with lots of food and love.  The adults sat at the kitchen table and all of the kids sat at a table in the living room.  When I was about 7 or 8 years old I decided one Sunday that I was big enough to sit with the adults, I was the oldest grandchild present, after all.  I sat down where Mom usually sat and she told me to get up and go sit with the kids, to which I promptly refused to do.  She told me again to go sit with the kids and again I said, "No."  Then it happened.  Grandma thumped me right behind my left ear and said, "Don't you sass your Mama!"  Needless to say, I moved to the kids' table.  Grandma didn't have a dishwasher, so we all pitched in to clean everything up.  I asked her once why she didn't buy a dishwasher and she said, "Well, I used to have four."  Amazed, I said, "You had four dishwashers?!  Why did you get rid of them?"  She said, "Well, they all grew up and moved away."  Obviously, she meant her four kids and I told her that didn't count.  On a side note, I have a dishwasher, but I never use it.  I try to use it once a month to keep it in working order, but we do all of our dishes by hand to conserve water.

Grandma taught me how to sew Barbie doll clothes out of scraps when I was little - my first sewing lesson - on a VERY old sewing machine.  She always wore SAS shoes - I never saw her in anything else until the last few years - whether she was wearing a dress or slacks.  When it was time to head out to work cattle or work on the truck she wore a dark blue cap with a mesh back and a large brooch on the front.  I asked her one time why she had a pin on her hat and she said it was so the guys would know that it wasn't theirs, it distinguished the hat as a girl's.  I cleaned her house every week using windex and her old Kirby vacuum and she'd always say, "Oh, Honey, that looks so much better!"  Then she'd try to give me twenty bucks.

When I was 14 or 15 I had to spend my entire spring break at Grandma and Grandpa's cutting down cedar trees because Mom caught me and my friend, Mignon, sneaking out of the house to go to a party.  It was the first and last time I ever tried to sneak out.  Mignon was banned from the house for a while and I was grounded and punished with semi-hard labor.  My poor brother had to work with me because Mom didn't want him at home alone for the whole week; he still holds it against me.  It's been over 20 years, RJ, let it go, man.  Grandma and Grandpa wore my rear out that week!  They drove the four-wheeler or the truck and RJ and I had to get out and cut down cedars in the fence row or in the middle of the pasture.  I can tell you that to this day, I have a severe hatred for cedars.  They are an invasive, fast-spreading menace of a tree.  You'll probably hear me rant about how horrible they are later.  That spring break is the one time that I can remember Grandma and Grandpa being hard on me, but they did it with love.  They didn't lecture me or yell at me, we all knew why I was there - punishment.  And they intended to get all of the work out of me that they could.  I would have gladly cut down the cedars for them if they'd asked, but the fact that I was being forced to do it for punishment just gave me a bad attitude.  I'm pretty sure that I was quite sour all week.

She was ready to leave this life and her body was worn out.  The last month of her life had really been hard on her - and on Mom, who for the last several years has spent her free time at the assisted living center where Grandma lived, providing additional care for Grandma to try to keep her costs to a minimum.  I will miss her for forever, but I know she is in a better place (which sounds very cliche' when I say it, even though it's the truth).  We knew her death was coming and I had made my peace with it, knowing that she was saved and would go to Heaven, but I still cried more than I thought I would.  I'd blame my pregnant hormones, but I think I'd still have been this upset if I weren't pregnant.

Grandma Lois

After Grandma's funeral, Mom and I were going to go look at a pond, but, she had on her nice clothes and shoes and wanted to borrow a pair of boots.  I hooked her up with my ugly steel-toed boots and I donned my pretty pink and grey plaid rubber boots.  Hey, my boots, my decision.  She should have brought her own if she wanted to be picky.  Both pair are kept on a shoe rack in our utility room and because they're tall, I have to lay them on their side.  She put one boot on and as she slipped her foot into the second one, she said, "What is in this boot?!"  As she peered inside, she screamed, "Oh my gosh!!!!"  I was expecting her to say there was a huge clod of dirt or a rock or something NORMAL inside the boot.  Then she said, "There's dog food in this boot!"  As she handed me the boot and I took a gander inside, I started laughing hysterically because I knew immediately what had stashed all of that dog food in there - a mouse!  When you live in the middle of a pasture, mice happen, no matter how much poison you put out.  But, this is the first time I've seen one stash food in a boot.  A couple of years ago I found a stash of dog food in the back corner of a closet and it was a HUGE pile; that mouse had been busy.  Apparently, this mouse has been just as busy.  It's only about 5 feet from the dog bowl to the boot, but I hope he wore his rear out running back and forth a hundred times to build up his stash.

In other news, I've added mouse poison to my Walmart list.

My baby girl has a hard life

Marilyn has many positions:

Hey, Mom.

Stretching her hips.

Curling up.

Stretching her neck.

Squishing down the soft bed.

Snuggling with Mom's blanket in Mom's chair.

Snuggling with Daddy before he gets out of bed.

Sniffing the carpet.

Pouting that leads to sleeping.

More napping.

Drooling on Mom's chair.

Warming up the sofa.

Thinking about getting off of the sofa.

Deciding to just snuggle the pillow.

Making herself into a ball.

And just so you know she can share "her" spaces, she snuggles with Daddy.

Then hogs the sofa from Daddy.

And she can share the bed with Diamond.

And keep Diamond's butt from getting cold.

Meanwhile, Diamond only has two positions - filling up the little bed.....

And upside down.  :)

The lady is armed

On Saturday I took a class so that I can get a permit to legally carry a pistol in my car or in my purse, etc.  The class was all women, with the exception of one man, and we are all trooper's wives or are otherwise associated with law enforcement - I fall into both categories.  I was the only pregnant lady in the gang, but there was one woman who'd just given birth a few weeks ago.

Before we headed to the range the instructor asked if everyone was wearing a belt, only about half of the class raised their hand.  Then he asked how many of the rest of us had on pants that would accommodate a belt.  Again, about half raised their hand.  I, of course, had on maternity pants and there is NO WAY that a belt is going around this belly.  Thankfully, my holster didn't require a belt and it just slips onto my waistband.  However, we had to put an empty magazine in our left front pocket and 50 loose bullets in our right back pocket and then put on the holster with the gun in it.  Mix all of that with elastic pants and you can imagine that I might have a little trouble keeping my pants up.  Before we went to the firing line I said a little prayer that my pants wouldn't fall down and give everyone a pregnant peep show.  Needless to say, after we loaded, chambered and holstered our weapon each time, I had to pull up my pants.  After we fired each set of five rounds and held position, I prayed that my pants would stay up.  After we had to bend over and pick up our empty magazines, I had to pull up my pants.  After we holstered our weapon again, I had to pull up my pants.  As we stood ready at the line with our hands behind our backs, I had to pull up my pants.  But, I managed to not moon any of the instructors.  Happy day!

And through all of that, I managed to only have one bullet that didn't hit my bad guy.  But, he still died.  :)

The bottom group is from a defensive stance; a one-handed shot from the waist.  The head group is from an isosceles stance with a two-handed grip.  I haven't fired a pistol since last summer, so even though this isn't the best groupings I've ever had, I'll take them.  The bad guy died and that's all that matters.  :)

Toilet paper

We are out of toilet paper.

This is how we refill it.

At least this is how we refill it if you're a dude.  :)