Son of a...

I have a post ready to go. Actually I have five posts ready to go.

The only problem is that I don't have pictures for any of them, and I've been feeling a little picture deficient.

I actually took some pictures today for one of the posts, but they ended up looking pornographic, so those were out. They caused Krista and I a big laugh, but were in no way, shape or form acceptable for my blog.

So, in saying all that, I'll leave you today with a couple jokes...terrible ones, but jokes just the same:

What do John the Baptist and Winnie the Pooh have in common?

Their middle name.


What's brown and sticky?

A stick.


Why do seagulls fly over the sea?

Because if they flew over the bay they would be bagels.

So How Old Is Too Old?

Last night I stopped at McDonald's on my way home from work. Not something I love to do, and not something I even really wanted to eat, but the husband is working nights and slept all day, plus we have no groceries, so it was either that or cereal. And I ate cereal for supper the night before.

Anyways - so I pulled up to the window to order and there was the standard 16 year old kid working. He wasn't particularly cute or anything, but I noticed that his name tag had both his first and last name, which I thought was weird, so I asked him about it. His face went 10 shades of scarlet in about as many seconds, and I laughed.

And then I flirted with him!

With this little, grade 10 boy, about the same age as my baby brother! And the funny part was, he flirted right back! Once his face returned to normal pallor that is.

When I drove away I started laughing to myself going "You are 27 years old! Twenty-seven! What were you doing flirting with that little teeny bopper!?!?"'

I came home and told the husband and he just went "Oh yeah...", kind of like, eh, whatever. I guess what was he really going to say? He knows I'm a flirt, and he's probably not too concerned about a window kid at McDonalds - but really? I thought he would give me more of a reaction, or a scolding or something.

Still, I feel just a teeny bit dirty...

Back to Basics

For the past few months I've been feeling quite unlike myself. So thrilled about the pregnancy, but also sad, although about what I'm not entirely sure. I have been feeling myself slip away, and I know I'm not the only one who has noticed it. It's a very odd feeling to have. Losing yourself within yourself - what a concept.

I know that part of what was bothering me was that I was homesick for my family. So this past Friday, the husband and I packed up and headed out of the city and made our way to our hometown. I promised myself that all I was going to do was hang out with my parents, and relax. I pretty much did just that, but squeezed in a quick visit with one of my girlfriends, the Bahama Mama's mom, my in-laws, and my grandparents.

When I got home from dinner at the in-laws Saturday night, my dad was sitting on the couch waiting for me (he had been at work until then) and gave me one of the best hugs I've ever had. Now that we've worked out those couple issues, he's back to being his usual awesome dad self and he and I were all giddy to see each other. I'm sure it's nauseating to everyone around us, but we genuinely get really excited to hang out together.

Sunday afternoon we dragged everything out from under one of the sets of stairs to find the crib - which of course was packed at the very back. I guess that's what happens to something that hasn't been used in 15 years. It's as beautiful as I remember, and he has promised to bring it into the city sometime in March so that we can set it up in Butterbean's room.

So the weekend in itself was an awesome pick me up - I had been really, really homesick.

Then yesterday, I went to work, made myself as much of an orderly to-do list as anyone could manage in the publishing industry, and got to work. I made a wonderful little dent in the shitload of stuff I have to do, so I left work feeling not too bad.

Plus, I've decided that if I want to get back to being myself, some things have to change. I have to see some of my friends that I've been neglecting due to being "too busy", I have to do some of the things I love to do - go for coffee, go out and take pictures, blog about things other than being pregnant (I know I've gotten really boring with that), play Ramona, go on dates - all that great stuff that makes me happy.

I decided last night too, that there was no point in waiting to put my plan into action, so after the husband left for his night shift I was sitting on the couch thinking "Now what would old Ali have done in this situation?"

It hit me like a bolt of lightning!

So I got up (already in my undies, so half way there) grabbed Ramona, rocked out really badly (basically I was just making crap up since I'm so rusty), then ran over to the computer, cranked some Joan Jett and Michael Jackson as loud as I figured my neighbours would tolerate, and danced like a crazy person in my living room until I collapsed exhausted on the couch.

Then I laughed for 10 minutes because it felt so good to just let loose.

I feel like that was a huge step in getting back to being me, and I feel great this morning because of it. Of course, Butterbean is still very much on my mind (and makes me happy too), so since today marks 29 weeks, I'll leave you with a couple photos showing how my little tiny bump has morphed into my huge baby bump...honestly, by 9 months I'm going to be as big as a house. For now though I seem to be about the size of a condo.

Actually, the husband and I were snapping pictures and we decided to do one of the two of us - can you guess who is who? One of us is sporting a pillow...hmm, can you guess who?

You're right! The one in the Freddy Krueger sweater is me! With a gigantic belly!

117 Emails!?! Piss Off!!!

Yeah - I'm still home, still sick - but I'm going to work tomorrow anyways. I've been checking my emails from home (yay for remote connections!), plus I had a stack of ads to proof already with me, and work was kind enough to courier me a blueline of a directory today.

(insert sarcastic voice here)

Are they sweet or what?

Honestly I don't mind doing some work from home - I feel kind of lost without it, and it's not so bad when you can sit around in your skivies doing your job, you know?
But hot damn! I can't keep up with the emails! Over the last 2.5 days I've received 117 emails (I counted) and not one of those was junk or spam related. And these people all know that I'm out sick! Sheesh!
I'm actually feeling a little overwhelmed about work right now. It seems like I just can't get ahead for some reason, and surprisingly I've been working harder than usual. Now how does that work?
It's weird - on the one hand I am terrified to leave work in May. Terrified to be replaced, terrified to not have my place at my company, terrified that the "newbie" will totally take over my roll and do a better job.
But I have to say - more and more often I'm just a little relieved that I'll be away from all the drama, away from all the problem clients, and away from all the little gossipy-backstabbers that every company comes equipped with.
I go back and forth - bawling because I have to go, then bawling because I can't leave soon enough. I'm like one giant tear.
But it's after 117 emails that I'm on my "leaving for a bit to catch a work breather might not be so bad" kick.

Tomorrow is gonna blow.

But at least I have this uber-sexy, pack a day since I was 6, bar-hopping, 65 year old cougar in tight leather pants and a zip-up, satin shirt voice to sex myself up with. I'm hoping to distract everyone from all the work I have waiting for me with all that and a pregnant belly.

Ooooh yeah.

It's Official...cough, hack, wheeze...I'm Sick

Remember how I told you that last Thursday I woke up with a wicked cough...one that was sounding a little like pneumonia? Well I have coughed and hacked, barely slept - because when I lay down I wheeze - blew my nose, taken Tylenol and felt sorry for myself every day since then. That's day 6 now. Ewww.

On Sunday I wasn't feeling too bad, because up until then it had sort of been a cough and runny nose, with a side of chest pain from coughing so hard. I decided I could totally subject the rest of the world to that, and I kept my lunch and shopping plans with Princess. Especially since when she called me to solid up the plans, she was sniffley and coughing too - so we figured, we're both already sick, what harm can we do to each other? Famous last words. She's nice and gross sick now too!

That night I went to bed feeling a tiny bit worse, and woke up Monday feeling like total and complete crap. I don't think it helped that I got up at midnight and stayed up till 4 am - but when you can't breathe, what are you supposed to do? At least Monday was a holiday - oh yay!

One wall of our living room - a bassinet, a stroller, change pad...my blanket, pillow, and a mountain of kleenex. Gross.

Fast forward to today - I had taken the day off because I was having a day of doctor's appointments, even before I was sick. I had my regular doctor's appointment, an injection of Win-Ro at another clinic for my RH negative blood to protect Butterbean and I from each other, then they were testing my blood sugars to make sure I don't have gestational diabetes. The blood sugar test alone took 2 hours and 3 trips to the lab for blood draws and peeing into itty bitty cups.

So, in the middle of all that I had my regular appointment to check on the Bean and I, and the second my doctor walked in the room I busted into a coughing fit of epic proportions. It was horrendous. Her eyes saucered open, she listened to my chest, asked how long I'd been sick, asked how much the Bean had been kicking (which wasn't as much as normal) and said, "You have an infection and I'm writing you a note to stay home from work for at least 3 days."

She told me that to stand a chance of getting better I need to stay warm and cozy, and that other people's germs won't do me any favours, plus I'm supposed to be monitoring baby kicks to make sure they get back to normal, so that home is the best place for me.

But a note? I've never had a sick note before - I feel so...I don't know...Grade 2, I guess.

I guess this is payback for me joking several months ago that I should just start randomly calling in sick for days I want off, since I never take sick days. Karma got me I guess, I've never been so sick in my entire life as I have been since Christmas.

Ah well, I guess my little 2 pound roommate is sucking all my health supply - but in that case, I'm happy to be miserable.

Have You Ever Wondered...

What it's like to be a fire alarm?

Occasionally you might get to be a hero, saving an entire family from harm in the dark of the night, only to melt to your own fiery death as your world is engulfed in flames?
Plus, anytime that you go off when someone bakes a cake and scorches it, someone just stands in front of you, angrily waving a towel in your face and yelling at you to "shut up" - sometimes even standing on a chair and yanking you apart, only to rip out your insides and stomp away?

What it's like to be a toothbrush?

Ewww. This must be one of the grossest professions. Imagine first thing in the morning, getting shoved into an orifice of all things offensive, expected to maintain your cheerful colour and use your face to clear away every foul smelling particle? Gag me.

What it's like to be a garbage can?

Everything that stinks goes into you. Sometimes people miss the bag and revolting stuff slips into your nether-regions. Gross.
Enough said.

What it's like to be a doorknob?

Do you really think they're the sluts of the in-animate world? If it really does feel good for them to be turned so much, they must not have too bad of a life. I mean, people slip their keys in, you get turned a couple times, doesn't sound too shabby...unless you live in Canada where your ass would be mighty chapped right about now.

What it's like to be a chimney?

You are pretty much ignored during summer months, except for a seasonal cleaning if you're properly cared for. And in the winter? You've got to have emphysema - how could you not?

What it's like to be a cell phone?

You would get to hear the best gossip, the most intimate secrets, all the other in-animates would come to you for the latest. But then too, you would get dropped, or potentially lost, and sometimes when people were fighting there would be some screaming...

What it's like to be a cutting board?

You might be one of the best fed, non-living items in a kitchen. Provided you aren't plastic, you get to be somewhat of a super-hero - getting attacked with various knives and chopping utensils, and unless you're holding something gross like raw meat - life is pretty great. Plus, the salt and pepper shakers think you're hot.

What it's like to be sheets? On a grown ups bed?

You are the dirty pervert of the in-animates. You pretty much have to be if there is any sort of sex going on in between the sheets...which is technically, inside you. Hmmm, yeah, fight as you may, you have nowhere to hide, and so you probably become somewhat of a sex-a-holic. And you like it - dirty sheets.

Crazy I Tell Ya!

Life is crazy. Work is crazy. Baby is crazy. I am crazy.

Everything is crazy.

My free time lately is basically equal to zero. And the half hour I have to sit on the couch in the evening is usually cut in half by me dozing until the husband finally asks if we should just go to bed.

Over Wednesday night I seem to have developed a horrendous hacking cough - which is suspiciously starting to sound like the cough I had when I had pnemonia. My chest is hurting from coughing so hard, and poor Butterbean must be terrified with all the crazy shaking of their "apartment".

Tip: The husband and I have started referring to Butterbean as my roommate since we share an "apartment" - a.k.a., my bod.

Anyhoosers - since my brain is sleepy, and it's hard to keep my hands on the keyboard for all the coughing, I will leave you with the masterpiece below, which portrays The Bottomless Pit of Committment, attacking poor little defenseless Free Time. I call it "The Death of Free Time".

Have a great weekend everyone! Mwah!

Happy Valentine's Day!

So...here is a disgusting picture of my teeth just this morning, covered in coconut and chocolate after I dove into the box of Russel Stover candies sitting on my desk.

This picture is gross, makes me gag, and I laughed my head off while Zig was taking it and looking at me with an incredibly disgusted look on his face.

Here's the thing, my last post was already pretty mushy, I love Valentine's Day, I love chocolate, I love my teeth - and you already know that I love all of you, so why not?

Snuggle, hug, kiss, caress, have relations, eat chocolate, dine - do all those good things, either with your significant other, with a bunch of girlfriends, or most of it you can even do yourself - but bottom line is, have a wonderful Valentine's Day!

Dear Butterbean,

Today marks 7 months and the beginning of my third trimester in carrying you. The emotions running through my body are so intense that they overwhelm me on a daily basis.

We have chosen a name which your dad I started out saying once in a while, just to see how it feels, and have now fallen into using continually when we are alone together. It seems the perfect name for you, chosen out of love and adoration, even before you are born.

You love loud, bass heavy music. You seem to delight in hearing rap and hip-hop, because of their steady beats, and I can feel you pumping your fists and feet in excitement whenever I crank it up.

You seem to have developed a radar for when your dad is watching my belly for signs of your kicks, or when he's resting his hand in an attempt to feel you moving. You instantly still yourself, resulting in his disappointment nearly every time. I've told him that this is just you ensuring he is wrapped around your tiny, pink, pruny finger so that he doesn't stand a chance when you are born. Right out of the blue he will often ask "Did you know we're having a baby?" as though he still can't believe it, even with my protruding belly.

But each night when we crawl into bed, he scooches right down next to you to read you your bedtime story, and after hearing his voice steadily for about 30 seconds you begin to squirm and kick, and do so through the entire book. I know now that you've begun to recognize him, and wait to hear his voice speaking only to you each night.

We have begun getting things ready for your arrival, moving our own things and clearing space out for you to fit into our lives. Last night we put together your stroller, and your dad pranced around the apartment pushing it, trying to get a feel for what it will be like when you are here. Your bassinet has been put together, and sits waiting for you in the living room, filled with soothers and face cloths, a tiny little brush for your gums (which your dad and I think is so funny), and other little things we've picked up for you.

Soon we'll have grandpa bring your crib in to the city, and we've already been scouting out dressers and rocking chairs and change tables for you. There are so many things to do, and such a short time until you get here, but we both know that once you do, nothing else will matter. We've waited for you a long time.

I'm counting the days till I can hold you close to me.

Dumb Da Dumb Dumb

So - Friday was spent in the longest 5 hour car ride of my life - uncomfortable, in pain, and cursing all the semi trucks that have to slow down to a snail's pace to make it up the forty seven thousand mini mountains along our journey. I did not make for a good travelling companion but poor husband was cheery and lovely the whole way, letting me grumble, stopping to let me pee, and singing away to whatever music we happened to be playing.

I started getting pains in my abdomen part way to our destination, but chalked it up to being cramped up in the car on a shitty road, and having a baby using my bladder as a trampoline.

So no worries, we get to our destination, unload into our hotel room, the husband leaves with the groom to do "bachelor stuff" and some last minute prep while I sprawl out on the bed, trying to relieve some of the pressure in my abdomen.

That evening we go to the rehearsal, then the rehearsal dinner, then back to the hotel to decorate for the reception, and then crawl into bed around midnight. After a fitful night of dozing, it becomes apparent that my stomach pain is not going away - but I can feel Butterbean moving, so I'm not too worried. After breakfast with the groom, he and the husband drop me back at the hotel and I attempt to sit at the desk in our room and do some of the work I brought with me. A half hour later I realize I'm not paying attention anyways, because my stomach hurts so much.

I strip down (you know, I thought I liked being naked before I was pregnant, but now it is pure bliss to take off all my restrictive clothing and crawl under the blankets - heavenly even) and get back into bed for the 3.5 hours until I have to get ready for the wedding. I get through the wedding - which was beautiful and moving and a tear-jerker - but nearly double over every time I stand up because of the stabbing pains when I stretch out.

After the wedding I head back to the hotel to lay down again, waiting for the reception to start at 6pm. If I lay completely still I don't seem to notice the pain as much, but being almost 7 months pregnant I need to move every few minutes for fear of one of my extremities falling asleep and being unable to move permanently.

The reception isn't too bad, as I'm mostly sitting in one place, and the husband is getting up from the head table to bring me water and sprite and dessert. But around 10:30 I'm noticing a tightness in my stomach again and he walks me back down the hall to our room.

That night I have another fitful sleep, and am awakened around 5am to stabbing pains on the left side of my stomach. I cover my mouth so as not to wake the husband, and when it goes away a minute later I fall back to sleep. Twice more I wake up like this before he wakes up. Then he goes out to plug in our car before we leave (it is bloody cold around here right now!) and comes back to the room to find me sitting up in a chair, holding my stomach and crying uncontrollably. He goes white and is in front of me in two seconds, asking what's wrong and I'm saying maybe we should go to the ER.

Then the pain lets up a bit and I decide to call my mom and ask her what she thinks. I wake her up, and she keeps telling me that because of where the pain is she's thinking it might have to do with all the scar tissue from my ectopic, and Butterbean stretching everything out - but tells me I should go to the ER anyways, all they can do is reassure me.

However, all I had heard about since getting to this town was the scary hospitals, making me a little scared to go. I decided that we should get on the road, to the next town which is quite a bit bigger and only an hour away, and go to the hospital there.

The husband is freaked, obviously, and now I'm trying to calm him down and tell myself that everything is fine. We get on the road, and besides the occasional stab when we hit a bump or something, the pain isn't too bad. We decide that we'll just keep stopping and stretching at every town all the way back to Winnipeg, and if I have any more major pain, we'll just head into whichever hospital we're close to.

So...now here I sit at work, I've spoken to my doctor's office (she's not in today) and have an appointment tomorrow afternoon. The receptionist made me swear up and down that I'd go straight to the ER should I have any more stabbing pains before my appointment tomorrow. My stomach is generally sore all over, and I'm still having the occasional stab on the left side of my belly, but I'm in my total dumb mode now - I keep thinking that I'm just being silly, the pain isn't really that bad, and that I'm overeacting, and I'm sure everything is fine, especially because Butterbean is moving around like a wild child - but for my own piece of mind, and the husband's (and my mom's) I know I should have just went to the ER yesterday.

Jeez! People go to emerg for papercuts, why can't I make myself go for something like this?

Hello Boys and Girls!

Whew! What a crazy week so far!

Work has been so nuts that I haven't even had time to check my email, let alone blog at all. Though it bothers me a bit I don't feel too bad because it seems like many of us are in that same funk right now - just too much to do and not enough time to do it!

Anyways, I'm anticipating that the next couple weeks will be the same for me, lots of running around - sans head, but I'm going to try really hard to blog. The husband and I are leaving in the morning to head to our friend's wedding, so I'll be gone till Sunday night, but I should have pictures and stuff from the weekend so I'll try to post on Monday.

Besides work I have been busy every night as well, and there is lots to share with you all! Fingers crossed for a little slow down in the near future.

Hope you're all doing wonderful, love and hugs to you all, especially those of you dealing with health issues, or moving to a new house!

Have a great weekend and I'll catch you next week!

Ali Saves the World!

Last Friday I received an email from one of my favourite people - the Rock Chef. He told me that he had had a dream about me the night before, and it was so funny that I had to share it with you all, so here you go...

Hi Ali.

I had an odd dream last night. You were the star of a mega block-buster movie - Ali Saves the World!

You were a dead cool, female version of Jackie Chan, beating up bad guys, getting in car chases and kicking down walls (!) You saved the world from an evil plot to make everyone wash their hair in shampoo that was made from bird poop.

John

Now I have to say, after my initial reaction of incredulous laughter, I thought about the dream, and it does sound a lot like me. Maybe not the bird poop shampoo part - but definitely the ass-kicking portion.

Being feisty I tend to like the idea of being able to beat people up, and who doesn't like the idea of being "dead-cool"? Car chases? Just ask the husband about my driving style (there is a reason he always says my true calling was as a cabbie or ambulance driver). And kicking-down walls? Well who wouldn't like that kind of power?

The picture above is by James, one of the designers at work. He drew it for me last year because I so pride myself on the idea that I could be a sexy superhero (or villain if the mood strikes me) and it's hanging framed on my wall at home, as well as in my office at work. Krista has one too - of her kicking the "head villain's" ass, while I take care of all the henchmen.

So thank you Rock Chef, for a wonderful laugh, a blush, a loud whoop! when I thought about myself in that situation, and a great way to end my week.

And Now I'm Back...From Outer Space...

Well, more like back from the flu infested apartment I call home, but I'm back nontheless.

The husband and I are both feeling much better, and except for feeling a bit achy, I'd say I'm feeling pretty great. Thanks for everyone's concern!

I have noticed in the past week or so that I seem to have developed a new laugh. It's not cute and girly, or loud and boisterous as my laughs tend to be, but rather that of a life-long chain smoker, one puff away from keeling over. And the stupid part is that the more I hear myself laugh like that, the funnier it becomes, then the harder I laugh, then the wheezier I get...you see where I'm going. It's ridiculous.

Oh, and for everyone that ever said to me "Oh just wait till you have your baby, you'll be running for the bathroom everytime you have a good laugh or sneeze." Yeah - could one of you tell that to my bladder? Already it feels like Butterbean is just waiting for me to snicker, then pouncing on my bladder with all their 1.5 pound glory, laughing like a little baby maniac. And I'm getting up like 2 and 3 times a night to pee already - oh the joy.

In other news, my dad is apparently healthier than I had dared hope. The problems with his voice? Turns out he has thrush, which made me go "What?! Um, isn't that like..." and my mom to yell at me and go "NO! Not that kind of thrush!" Apparently it's from his inhaler, and it's built up in his throat. So now he is on another medication to clear up the thrush, and was also diagnosed with Acid Reflux. Really, I could have diagnosed him with that - he's been popping Rolaids on such a regular basis for my entire life, that I was starting to wonder if they were some sort of oxygen pill and he needed them to stay alive. So yay! Healthy Daddy-o makes me a happy girl!

Hmmm, what else? Oh yeah, I bought a little black dress to wear to my Christmas party way back in December. It was so cute, and went over well with my knee high black boots. Fast forward to last weekend, when the husband and I were at Zig and Alyssa's - I was asking Alyssa if she thought I could get away with wearing that outfit to a wedding the husband is in two weekends from now. I was only asking, because, well, when the whole get-up is on, is doesn't really scream church or wedding appropriate, if you get my drift.

However, I put in on yesterday morning to see if it even still fit - and woohoo! It looks super cute with Butterbean pushing out the front! So now I'll just add some black tights, and voila! Outfit I actually love (even though it's all black) to wear to a wedding, with a (FINALLY) unmistakable bump on the front!

I'm getting a little jealous of Reggie and Gigi and Judy and the rest going on their vacation to St. Croix so soon. I would love, love, love to be able to go snorkelling with them all! Reggie, I hope you take lots of pictures so I can revel in all that underwater beauty will I'm freezing my ass off in the North Pole!

Otherwise, that's about it - hope you all had a great week, and that your weekends will be footloose and fancy-free!