Mr. and Mrs. Sicky McFeverpants

Saturday night I was sleeping in the spare bedroom, trying to avoid laying awake entertaining ideas of how I could get the husband to stop snoring and getting myself arrested in the process.
I got up to pee just after 3am, and noticed that I didn't hear any snores...hmm, very very odd. I went into the spare room, grabbed my pillows, and padded to our master bedroom.
I opened the door and whispered "Can I come sleep with you?" The husband whispered yes and then I noticed from the hall light that he was wearing a sweatshirt. Hmm, very odd indeed. I asked him what was wrong and he told me that he was freezing. I crawled in bed, scooted over to him and Yikes! He was on fire!
I laid there for about 30 seconds, then got up, got him a glass of water, some tylenol and the thermometer - and yes, he definitely had a fever. I got back into bed, piled my pillows on the opposite side of me, then pushed myself up against him so he could get extra heat.
Sunday morning I got up and started to get ready for my lunch date with Princess. As I stepped out of the shower I knew that going out would be a bad idea, so I dried off, took my temperature and yes, I had a fever too. After a few texts and a phone call, my lunch date was off and I plopped onto the couch.
The rest of the day passed slowly with the husband and I going from the couch to the recliner to the bedroom and back again. Blech.
We both called in sick today and have done the exact same thing as yesterday. We only left the house long enough to go to our chiropractor this afternoon, in the hopes that she could make us both feel better, especially after laying around for so long. And just an fyi, for anyone that doesn't already know - daytime tv sucks!
So now the husband is laying on the couch, curled up in a blanket and I'm here at the computer in my pj's typing this. I've been sitting up for about 10 minutes, so it's definitely time to get horizontal again.
Fingers crossed that we both feel better in the morning!

My Brain is A Flurry of Activity...For Once

Ugh. It seems like in recent months my brain likes to go on these extended vacations, leaving me to do a lot of vacant blinking and blank stares. But today? Today my mind is moving so fast that I can barely complete one thought before it's moving on to another.

My dad is going in to the hospital today to get knocked out and have a scope put down his throat and into his belly. His voice has been going through these weird changes and they're trying to figure out what's causing them. This might not sound like a huge deal, but if you knew our family history, you would understand where my mind is going right now. I couldn't hug him tight enough when we went for dinner last night.

My eyes look very blue today. Doesn't happen all that often since they are more like a grey/slate colour, but I think it has to do with the colour of my sweater. It makes me want to wear this colour more.

I was telling myself that we weren't going to have to buy that many things before Butterbean was here. But each day I think of a couple more things...the list is getting pretty long.

On days when the husband works I hate to see him come home at the end of the day. Because his back is causing him so much pain, he comes in kind of hunkered over and limping. It takes about an hour to get him to crack a smile, and even then it's kind of forced. Half the time lately I end of crying because I feel so helpless to do anything for him, then he ends of consoling me, telling me not to worry about him, just to concentrate on my health. That is so ass backwards.

I need to buy a new laundry hamper - stat! I have one that's divided up into three sections to sort everything before I go to wash it. There are two problems with that: 1. Three years after buying it, the husband STILL doesn't know what constitutes what is colour and what is white, sheesh! and 2. The stupid thing refuses to stay together - I have tried glue, rope, yelling, swearing, threatening physical harm to it - nothing works. It will give me great pleasure to throw that thing in the garbage.

I'm starting to worry a little about when I'm gone on maternity leave. I keep thinking stupid things like "Who will they hire to replace me? Will my office still be mine when I get back? What if everyone likes the new person better? What if they don't want me back?" Dumb things like that.

I'm done with winter. I am ready for skyrocketing temperatures and being drenched with sweat 10 minutes after leaving the house. This cold sucks my big toe.

That's it for now...I can't pin anything else down in my messy brain at the moment.

Que Sera, Sera

Remember months ago when I had a "falling out" with my dad? We'd been alright since, but had kind of been pussy-footing around each other.

This past weekend we really had it out. Had it out like there were tears from both sides and some things were laid down that should have been years ago.

It was rough.

But I do believe that our relationship will only get stronger from it, and it had to happen.

Anyways, once we were both done, he reached over, patted my belly, and said "All right - this shit's done now right? We never discuss it again. Now it's just about this baby."

To which I agreed, we hugged, and everything was right with the universe again.

As I mentioned earlier this week, we threw an impromptu brunch for some of my mom's family on Sunday. We went to church Saturday, so we decided that since Sunday morning was free, we would spend that morning cooking up a storm for the rest of the family that would get there around lunch time.

The storm turned into more of a typhoon, with so much food being prepared that my mom and I actually started the afternoon of the day before. We had pancakes, sausage, quiche, breakfast cake, biscuits, fruit, mini cheesecakes, eggs, hashbrown casserole (which is to die for - mmmmm), orange juice, coffee, you name it, we made it.

Everything turned out awesome, and the meal was a success. Yay!

One of the best parts about the day? My dad showing his excitement about Butterbean by making me an entire plate of baby pancakes for "his grandbaby". He even went so far as to reprimand everyone who stole one, and then updated me on who the culprits were.

It was the cutest thing and I laughed for ages.

Ladylike? Um...Not So Much

I have a big, bad habit.

As far as women go, most would probably be ashamed to admit I was part of their gender party.

As far as men go, I've actually made jaws drop.

As far as sailors go, I do believe I could make one blush.

I have one bad ass potty mouth.

I have been swearing since the first week I started riding the bus to go to the Catholic school (aka - the "good" school) as opposed to the public school (aka - the "bad" school).

I'll tell you right now, Catholic kids have foul language habits. That's where I learned every single curse word in the book - not "the book" - but, you know.

Anyways, I do realize that to many a person, the way I toss around swears makes me sound uneducated and simple.

I also realize that a properly placed swear word can make quite an impact in a sentence.

The odd thing is that I can turn it on and off like a faucet. I would get off the bus leaving behind a trail of swear words that would make my mother cry, then stroll in the house, never to utter another curse until my foot hit the bus steps in the morning.

Even now, I do mumble "shit" at their house once in a while, and I may have dropped the occasional f-bomb when I've stubbed my toe, or dropped a crystal platter on the floor and busted it into 10 thousand pieces - but really and truly, I barely swear at home.

And if I really, really tried, I might be able to incorporate less swearing into my daily life.

But you know what? I really, really like to swear.

And from under the mountain of paperwork, we hear a little voice...

Sorry for not posting the last few days - life has been chaotic.
Friday I was sick, then we went home to Ontario that afternoon for the weekend, got some bank stuff figured out, visited, made an enormous brunch on Sunday, back to work yesterday, 2 hour doctor appointment yesterday as well (Butterbean is growing right on schedule and my due date is definitely May 13th - yay!), and I'm still trying to catch up.
Barely have time to eat, let alone blog!
I'm trying to read your posts throughout the day, and make comments if my brain function is up to par (which it really isn't), amidst piles of work and an overflowing email inbox.
Hope you are all wonderful - and fingers crossed I'll be able to post properly tonight or tomorrow!

xo

Come On Get Happeeeeeeeeeeee

I've decided that enough is enough, and that the pity party has to end - at least for the rest of this week. After all, I have so many things to be happy about and thankful for.

I've got a wonderful husband, a great job, some of the best friends a girl could ask for, I'm healthy even though I feel like crap, I have a place to live, food to eat, and I can dance...BOY can I dance - basically, I've got it good. So enough with the complaining already.

Oh, and I'm totally joking about the dancing - I have this feeling that I'm one of those people that thinks they know how to dance, only to find out later by watching a video or something how atrocious they really are. But at least I have fun!

Anyways, if all else fails, I can always think about the fact that I have a life growing inside of me. An actual life! And if that isn't something to be happy about, I don't know what is.

Here is the damage thus far - a few days over 6 months pregnant. Just in this past week or so have you been able to possibly notice when my shirt is on properly - and even then I don't think anyone really notices.

And then, to top it all off, if I'm feeling crazy low I can just put on my Princess crown at the office - who wouldn't feel better after walking around all day in a crown?

Plus, it goes so well with my hoodie sweatshirt :)

Happy day to everyone!

Ugly Duckling

Lately I have been feeling like the most un-sexy woman ever to walk the streets of Winnipeg, maybe even Manitoba.

Like every woman I occasionally wake up feeling I look like the dog's breakfast, and nothing I do seems to make it better. Those are the days I'm usually moody and teary all day. The poor boys in my life seem to get the brunt of it too - I take it out on them worst of all.

And, though they are rare, I sometimes have a day when everything just seems to work, and I leave the house with a smile on my face and an attitude to my walk. I love having those kinds of days. Sadly, they seem to be becoming near extinct.

The worst part is that the uglier I feel on the outside - the uglier I become on the inside. I find myself lashing out more about silly things, getting very easily offended to something I would normally laugh about and have a comeback for, and just generally feeling like the world is out to get me. I've been spending more and more time with my office door closed at work, simply because I don't feel right subjecting everyone to my moods any more than is necessary.

I absolutely loathe feeling like this, but I don't seem to be able to stop myself.

It's too bad that I don't feel like I have the pregnancy "glow" people talk about. I could seriously use a bit of glow right now.



*I promise that this will be my last poopy post for a while - Happy Ali must return!

Night Terrors...But From What?

For the most part I seem to have gotten over my nightly wake-fests, though they seem to have been replaced with something worse.

The past week or two I've been waking up in complete terror - so much so that I have to scramble out of bed and turn on the light to ensure that there is nothing harmful in the room with me. It's been happening every night at about 3am, and I sit straight up, and though I don't scream, I am completely breathless, heart pounding and in a state of panic.
Of what I have no idea. I can never remember what it it that has me so terrified.

I don't know if this has anything to do with it, but for about the same time period the husband and I haven't slept an entire night in the same bed. We've both been sick with mild chest infections, so are phlegmy and hacking when we lay down. This makes his snoring unbearable. So, though we start out in the same bed, eventually one of us will plod into the spare bedroom to sleep the rest of the night in solitude.

Usually it takes me about a half hour to calm myself down with the light on, and then I can turn it back off and go back to sleep. Knowing what a suck I am, I actually find it kind of weird that I can turn the light back off and fall back asleep - normally I would have to sleep with it on after waking up so scared.

I have not been eating or drinking anything out of the ordinary, and spicy foods haven't crossed my lips in ages. Besides, usually it's greek food that gives me nightmares, and I haven't had that in months.

I would really, really love to be able to sleep well over the next few months, since I know that uninterrupted nights will soon be a distant memory.

Ho Hum

This weekend was pretty un-eventful.

Essentially I did a lot of laying around in my pj's and going for naps. Poor husband was getting a bit stir crazy towards the end of Sunday though - he volunteered to go out in the freezing cold to pick up milk - very odd.

We did manage to squeeze in a matinee of the movie "Hitman" on Saturday, so we did leave the house at least once. It wasn't too bad, but I'm all about violence and ridiculous gun fights, the more people one guy kills, and the more unbelievable rounds that are fired off, the better.

I was being so lazy that I even laid on the couch and watched part of the Giants/Cowboys game late Sunday afternoon.

I had a pretty severe meltdown yesterday afternoon too...poor, poor husband. I was in the bedroom yelling at him and he was in the living room yelling back (and we were joking around) and he said two words - something along the lines of "sweet jesus" in an exasperated tone to me and I lost it. I was engulfed in uncontrollable, earth shattering cries, tears pouring down my face, unable to believe he had been so mean to me.

Believe me, in my mind I was yelling at myself to get a grip.

By the time he realized I was actually crying and not just goofing off, I was a pile of tears and snotty kleenex, sobbing on our bed. I felt so bad for him, and was screaming at myself to shut up, but through my tears still managed to blame him by sobbing "my ears are full of tears now!" (I was lying on my back) and then busting into fresh sobs.

God bless that man, he knows if he just hugs me and waits it out I'll eventually calm down, and I did. Then we laughed about the whole thing. Damned hormones.

This morning we woke up to temps along the lines of minus 31 degrees. Holy frozen shitballs! That's about -23 Fahrenheit for all my American buddies....that kind of cold that sucks the air right out of your lungs. Not fun.

Otherwise...um...I have lots of work to do...and am procrastinating. Surprise!

Happy Monday everyone!

Duh, Duh, Duuuuuuuhhhhh

And no, that's not Duh like I'm being slow in the head - it's duh like the sound effect for a perilous situation. Because today...is the day I break it to my work that I'm pregnant...and that hell yes I'm taking my whole year off.

I thought I would be more worried about telling - and maybe I will be a little later in the day, closer to "the time" - but for now I'm feeling pretty lax about the whole thing. Maybe because work has been so busy lately, and such a pain in the ass, that I'm not feeling quite so bad about being gone.

It's silly really, to feel guilty about taking time off for something like having a baby, but I guess it just shows that I have a conscience (Ha! See Mom? I DO have a conscience!).

One of my friends and I were talking about it, and she pointed out how happy everyone at work was when Zig told everyone Alyssa was pregnant. Well of course they were happy! And they will be happy for me too - most of them anyways. But Zig was gone for three weeks - I will be gone for 12 months.
There is a wee bit of difference in those numbers.

I know, most people are probably thinking "they'll just hire someone else for the year - why are you thinking it will be such a problem?" It's not that I don't think there is someone else out there capable of my job - because of course there is. However, it takes some time to get used to this job; each magazine is laid out a little different, each client has their idiosyncrasies, and I worked very hard to develop the rapport I have with each and every one of my contacts. I even have different ways of speaking with each of these guys, because they all like to be handled in their own way (and I can hear you snickering, all you little dirties, because you took that last line completely out of context - shame, shame).

And quite honestly, if we can find a way to swing it, after 6 months I'd like to be able to start working again. But it would be from home, and I wouldn't take all my mag titles with me; but I could at least help out with some of the ones that I know inside and out, and that I really enjoy doing. I wouldn't even mind making an appearance at the office once a week or so, because I love these people, I love my job, and really, I don't like the idea of being completely cut off from my job for an entire year.

Zig and Krista asked me when I'm going to break the news to our boss - I said I think after lunch, unless she does something to piss me off before that...because then I'll just spit it out.

I plan on updating this after I break the news, so stay tuned...


Update:
My boss took it rather well - but I think she may have been in a bit of shock. She kept saying "Awww, you're going to be a mommy!", which was good, and I appreciated it. But then she asked me how far along I was and I told her 5.5 months and she just looked at me. Then she got up from her desk and gave me the stare down and kept saying "There is no way you're 5.5 months! You can't even tell you're pregnant!"
Yeah...I know...people keep telling me that. Maybe I just notice it because I see myself without clothes? I don't know.
So, even though I know part of her reaction was forced, partly because she was shocked, partly because in the back of her mind she was going "oh shit!" - I think that because she knows what we've been through, it did a lot to soften to blow. A little piece of her was genuinely happy.
It's funny how after I went back into the production office and was telling Krista and Zig what she said it sort of hit me as reality that I was pregnant. I think because work was the only place that didn't know...and now they do...it's a weird feeling.

Anyways, I'm glad everyone knows now, and little Butterbean is a secret no more!

Some Favourites

Perfectly baked peanut butter cookies. I'm not really much of a cookie monster, but soft and chewy peanut butter cookies and a glass of ice cold milk are one treat that I love...and that I had yesterday...yum.

The idea of being a rocker chick. I've had a relapse in my guitar playing phobia, and haven't been to a lesson in ages, but have been assured by my teacher that when I'm ready, he's ready. Picking up Ramona makes me giddy with happiness, so somehow, I will prevail over my nervousness.

Having someone say my name. At work, and with some of my friends I go by Ali. The husband and I almost always use pet names for each other. My dad calls me babe, my brother and I don't bother with names, and my mom...just barely ever says it. It's a rarity to hear - so whether it's a parent or a friend, or said in a way that causes me excited shivers down my spine - I love when someone says "Alison".

Feeling kicks from within. Nothing compares to that feeling. Nothing.

Afternoon naps. The husband and I used to have them all the time, then I somehow went on a two year hiatus. No idea why, just always felt like there was too much to do. But now, I guess I feel like I'm allowed again somehow, and they are absolute bliss.

Being able to find socks in the morning - preferably in my drawer. Socks seems to go missing in my house - they are abducted at a rate of about a pair a week. Someone needs to open an investigation on the dryer...I think he might be some sort of predator.

Visits with the Bahama Mama. She was just here over Christmas and now I won't see her again until June or so, which sucks royally. She may be the only person in the entire world that knows me for how I really am, no holds barred, and still wants to hang out with me at the end of the day...and into the wee hours of the morning.

I Am Bored

I'm at work. I am bored as shit. Well, as bored as I imagine shit would be if it had feelings. I have one monstrous pile of work on my desk. I'm ignoring it. I just ate a Ferrero Rocher. It made me happy. I've decided that next week is the absolute latest I can tell my boss I'm pregnant. Even though I've gained only 3.5 pounds, somehow a little belly has sprung from nowhere. It's becoming increasingly difficult to find a shirt that doesn't show the belly. I'm hungry. Don't know what I'm gonna eat for lunch. I imagine it won't be long before the boys are hounding me to eat something. I have a new Nightmare Before Christmas calendar in my office. It makes me happy too. I wore my glasses upstairs to the office with me today. That was dumb. I'll probably be halfway home before I realize I can't see because I left my glasses on my desk. I need to water my office plants. They're looking a little rough. Damn I'm bored. Something smells funny. Someone must be heating up some funky leftovers. Great. Now my stomach is rumbling. Hey there is a staple just laying on my desk. I wonder where it came from. If you made it through this you must be as bored as I am. Peace out.

My Mind Works In Mysterious...No, Scratch That...IDIOTIC Ways

You know what sucks?

Rolling into a new tax year having not paid your dues from the previous year yet...when you owe a thousand dollars.

You know what sucks more?

When your husband gets a love letter from the government saying that they've re-assessed his income tax for last year and he owes 800 bucks on top of the grand you owe.

You know what's weird?

Realizing that you just don't care...and that you'll eventually get around to paying it...at a rate of about 17 dollars a month...over the next 126 years...and that you're not fazed about it at all.

Sometimes Kids Know Best

My dad has had asthma since he was a little boy, and while I was growing up I don't remember a day going by when he was not sucking on his inhaler 3 or 4 times a day.

I remember running to the door when he would be leaving for work - asking him if he had his inhaler and his "emergency medicine" which to this day I don't know really exists or not. It may have been something he told me he had to stop me from worrying - but I vaguely remember him saying it was a pill of some sort.

I remember the nights when I would hear his feet hit the floor in their bedroom, then haggard and raspy breathing in the hallway. I would always run to the door to find him struggling into his shoes in the dark, suffering from an asthma attack, but driving himself to the hospital. Don't even ask me why he drove himself, my mom always said he wouldn't let her - at least the hospital was only about a minute from our house.
I would always ask if he was alright, scared out of my mind, and he would just hold my face and smile because he couldn't talk, then run out to his truck.

I always asked my mom if there was something else he could take or do so that his asthma wasn't so bad - she said that every time she talked to him about it he would just get mad, so she quit talking about it.

In 1999 I was home from college for the holidays, and my dad had 3 asthma attacks on Christmas day. I guess with all the running around and company he had worn himself down. When he came home from the hospital the last time I told him that enough was enough, and that something had to change.

The next day we sat down at the table, me with a little checklist for asthma that I had pulled out of a magazine. He was mad right away, telling me he wasn't filling out a checklist. We had a 5 minute screaming match, while my mom stood with her mouth hanging open staring at us. When I finally lowered my voice and snarled that I didn't want to be 19 years old without a dad, he stared at me, sat down, took the checklist, and filled it out.

At the bottom it said if you checked even 1 of the 5 off then your asthma was out of control - he checked 4.

I told him that he had to go to the doctor the next week, tell them how bad his asthma was, then ask for this new medication, and if it would work for him. He was pouting because it said you had to take it twice a day, every day, and that it should be at the same time each day - he said he couldn't possibly do that. I told him that if a woman could remember to take a birth control pill every day at the same time so she wouldn't get pregnant, then didn't he think he could take a medication every day at the same time that would save his life?

That's when he grinned because he knew there was no sense fighting with me anymore.

He went to the doctor the next week, they gave him the medication, and I have never witnessed an asthma attack since. A few weeks ago when I was home he grabbed me and whispered that he was glad I had been such a "pain in the ass" about his asthma - he said he loved me and that I had changed his life, and apologized that it had taken him so long to thank me.

See? Sometimes adults really don't know better.

An Update on the Bean

Now that I'm past the 5 month mark, I'm breathing a little easier and have managed to start taking a little more joy in being pregnant.
Except for the fact that the few hours of sleep I get each night are fitful, everything seems to be going smoothly (touch wood). Does anyone have any tips on that by the way? I mean, I don't have much of a belly, but already I am extremely uncomfortable any way I lay down. Even surrounded by pillows to support everything, I now dread bedtime...as must be a little obvious, since I'm sitting at the computer at 1:30am, having been wide awake for nearly an hour and sick of thrashing, I finally just got up.

The husband and I are a bit sporadic, but have been reading Butterbean a story at bedtime when we remember. The book is a Dr. Seuss book called Oh Baby, The Places You'll Go, and was written to be read while the baby is in utero. Supposedly if you consistently read it to them at bedtime while they're "on the inside", once they're out they should know that the reading of that book signals bedtime.
That sounds wonderful, but we'll see. I can already sense that this baby will be a bit rebellious...wonder where they got that from?

We've also been working on creating Butterbean's first cd, and tonight we decided on the playlist. The list is a combo of things we each want the baby to be familiar with, and once I burn it tomorrow, we'll begin playing that to my tummy (with the huge headphones I just bought) on a somewhat regular basis too.

Butterbean's Playlist

Dean Martin - Kiss
The Tragically Hip - Long Time Running
Neil Young - Harvest Moon
Rheostatics - Take Me In Your Hand
Dixie Chicks - Lullaby
Marty Robbins - El Paso
The Tragically Hip - Fiddler's Green
Lauren Hill - Can't Take My Eyes Off of You
The Tragically Hip - Every Irrelevance
Lifehouse - You Belong To Me
Rheostatics - Baby, I Love You

We've slowly been wading through the baby name book...in the appropriate sex section. We finished on Tuesday, and had the list narrowed down to 9 names - it was actually a little eerie on how we agreed on every single name.
We would both read a page in silence, and I would pick out the name that I liked and keep it to myself, and when Chris would read it and find one he liked he would say "Hey, how about Kelly?" or whatever the name was...it was spooky that every name he picked out was one I liked too.
We slowly narrowed down our list of 9 to three, and then picked the one we both loved. So this will be Butterbean's name, unless they come out and just absolutely do not look right with that name - then our second option will come into play.

In other news...while the husband was reading the bedtime story while we lay in bed December 23rd, I felt a very definite hoof to my gut. I told him to be quiet so I could concentrate on it, and sure enough, there was a series of successive kicks.
The husband put his hand on my stomach and just when I was going to tell him that it was too early for him to feel it on the outside, he said "Right there!" just when the Bean would kick. I would keep totally quiet and expressionless and he knew every time they kicked!
That was the first time I felt the baby move at all - who says there is supposed to be "fluttering"? I think the wild child skipped that stage.
Since that day I have been getting kicked with more and more frequency, and definitely with more force. Sometimes I find myself going "Yi! Butterbean!" when I get a good wallop. How am I going to manage when this kid weighs more than, oh I don't know, a pound?!?

Other than all this I don't have too much to report. Our world sort of seems to revolve around going to work, and thinking about the baby lately...sorry to bore anyone :)

2007, I Bid You Adieu

So...long time no post. Hehe. I decided what better way to get back on the blogging bandwagon than to start up again on the first day of 2008 with a reflection on the past year?

2007 was such an odd year for me. Often times it felt so uneventful - as though nothing significant was happening - kind of lackadaisical and monotone. Not the way I like my life to be.

Then other times it felt like if was moving so quickly and with such force that all I wanted was for it to slow down and let me off.

I've had the past few days to ponder and reflect on 2007, and decided that it was a contradiction of one of the best and worst of my life.

I spent the first part of it with a broken heart and a battered body, then got to experience some of the most amazing and wonderful love of my lifetime from friends and strangers alike.

I found out I was pregnant again, and have spent the past 5 months in awe and disbelief that the body I thought would continue to betray me, in fact allowed me to conceive.

I realized that I often take my husband for granted, something I never thought I would do. It is only recently, watching him again suffer from the pain in his back, but come home after a day on his feet to greet me, make me dinner while my tired, pregnant butt lay on the couch, then crawl into bed with me to listen about my day, read my tummy a bedtime story, then whisper that he loves Butterbean and I before falling asleep and waking up to do it all again the next day.

I've come to appreciate my friends more, both the flesh ones and the internet ones. I have some amazing people in my life, that's for certain.

I've tried very hard to remember that a messy house is not something to stress about. What my mom says is true - people don't come to visit to see how messy your house is, they come to see you. Sadly, I may have learned this lesson a little too well as I survey the mess around me.

And one of the greatest things I've learned it that no matter how hard I may try, and how much I might resist or long for something, I just can't control everything. Oh sure, I can decide to wear these jeans over those ones, I can chop my hair all off any time I want, I can choose to work hard at my job or to slack and get myself fired, but for the really important things, I just have to take them as they come.

That was proven to me once again yesterday, when the husband and I got to watch our healthy baby stretch out and do some acrobatics at my 21 week ultrasound.

What's meant to be will be.

So goodbye 2007 and hello 2008! It's going to be a wonderful year.