Lemon Squeezy

We've had an eventful-ish week. Not really all *good* events, but if life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Although sometimes you have enough to make lemonade and every other lemon-flavored recipe you have in your books. Woof.

So. Saturday I had my baby shower! It was fun to see and hang out with peeps, especially ones I haven't seen in a while (which, let's be honest, is everyone, because I get out of the house all of never). The food was supah tasty (thank you Megan!) and I was given enough baby shampoo to keep the baby clean til she's in high school. Anyway, I'm so grateful to my family for taking care of putting it on for me. Yay!

Sadly this is the only picture I took at the shower...not even related, but I find it hilarious.

That night I slept basically not at all because I was so worried about being able to afford the baby (sometimes I wonder why these things strike me in the middle of the night...unfair), so Sunday was a very tiring day. We went up to Midway that evening to have dinner with Sam's parents, which was tasty and fun. We watched "His Girl Friday," which I love, and had homemade apple pie. Sam also had a large glass of eggnog (this is relevant). Then we went home and went to bed.

Somewhere between 12:30 and 1am of "Monday" I woke up to Sam being extremely sick to his stomach. Ordinarily, whatever, except that I have never known Sam to be sicker with anything than a cold. We brushed it off for the time being, until it happened again...and again, and again, and again. Etc. Food poisoning, likely from that dang eggnog. I made him call into work when he hit 13 times by 6:45 in the morning. Seriously, stop being tough and just take a sick day. Although I'm glad he's so...dedicated? Anyway, the day proceeded on with Sam throwing up every 10-30 minutes all friggin day. We were able to get him to the doctor in the afternoon and they gave him a shot, which did nothing. Things progressed from bad to worse to worst, and by 12:30am Tuesday he told me he was done and wanted to give up, something that I never want to hear him say again, lemme tell you. It was really hard to see him like that. He literally looked like a carcass, and was having issues every 5-15 minutes. I told him to hang in there and went back to bed. About 30 seconds later some voice or something popped into my head and said very firmly: "Take him to the hospital right now." It was weird. So I got up and we left. Who knows what would've happened if I'd ignored that. Probably nothing. But we are both glad that I didn't. We got to the ER and didn't have to wait at all. They immediately got an IV into him and more nausea meds, and he fell asleep at last. We were there for a few hours while I took care of his insurance stuff and he got a few liters of fluids and some much-needed rest. The doctor told us he had probably ingested staphylococcus bacteria in the eggnog. Then we went home.

The next day was better in that he was no longer throwing up, but he couldn't stay awake long enough to answer a yes-or-no question, let alone drink anything, so it was another (though not nearly as) difficult day. In fact, the whole experience was a little traumatizing for me (see above about him never ever being sick). 

At this point, the dryer broke while I was doing laundry in an attempt to clean up. It just stopped working in the middle of a cycle. Fortunately, Sam's mom was super charitable and came by to take our wet clothes to the laundromat so I didn't have to. She even helped make the bed, which is a challenge when your bed is low and your stomach is huge.

Wednesday Sam had the day off at Vivint, and Dominos told him to go home because he looked "like crap, why did you even come in?" So we went down to the doctor to get an excuse note for Vivint in case there was a problem with his absence, then went to drop it off at the call center.

When we got there, we found out he'd been fired. That's right. Why? Because he didn't show up or call in on Tuesday, and he had called in on Monday. It's a process I could explain, but it's stupid, so I won't. After several minutes of negotiating and waving the hospital discharge papers and the doctor's note in their face, they finally hired him back, with the caveat that if ANYTHING at all happens again in the next three months, he's gone for good. Nice. Especially since I'm having a baby in a month or two. He can't call in, he can't be late for work, he can't be late coming back from a break (we're talking seconds or minutes here), he can't leave early without prior approval, etc etc. It's pretty lame.

So...we are adding job hunting to the to-do list again. Le sigh.

Anyway, on a happier note, Sam is extremely chipper and bouncy now that he's feeling all better, and we are going to be able to go see Catching Fire tonight for free because Vivint gave out tickets to their employees (or rather, one ticket, but Sam's coworker just had a baby so he gave him his unused one). If only they'd be more generous or understanding in dealing with their employees, instead of offering these "perks" to keep them content...

I'm kind of excited for the movie, even though it's really difficult to sit in a chair like that for so long with a melon-sized squirmy alien entity inside me. Ugh.

But! I'm super excited and feeling quite ready for the baby to come. We have basically finished the nursery prep (although she won't be in there for a couple months after she's born, it's something to DO). And I'm collecting the last bits of things that I'll need. I have like 50 lists. I told Sam I need to hurry up and get everything ready so I can sleep since these things keep me up at night. He just raised an eyebrow and said something about "nesting." Pshaw.

There. Proof I have actually been hard at work...sort of.

Anyway, so that about covers what's been happening around here lately. Next week is Thanksgiving, but Sam has to work in the hopes that he will get to have Christmas off. Boo.

And! We are down to a  3-to-9-week-away window for the "safe zone" of the baby being born! Eep!

News: Colonel Meow is very sick! What will the world do if he dies? ]:<

Boo-Radley and the Dreamweaver

I'm now 30.3 weeks. About 3/4 of the way done, or, between 6-12 weeks left! And ready to be done. But I'm also willing to put up with the last of it because I have to and because, as Sam likes to say, "if you take a pizza out of the oven before it's done, you get a gooey pizza, and no one likes a gooey pizza!" (his pizza analogies have increased since he started working at Domino's after work). And I really do hate gooey pizza. So disappointing.

But I take comfort in the fact that we *are* almost done, and that this part of being pregnant has the potential to be the most exciting part, what with the baby room prep, baby shower coming up, birth class in full swing, etc etc.

What birth class you say? Well how kind of you to ask! Sam and I are taking a Bradley Method class that finishes right before Christmas. We are almost halfway through the series, which feels like the apocalypse is right around the corner when I think about it. It's a super interesting class though. We spend most of the time talking about physiological changes, what happens in the different stages of labor, and what we can do with nutrition and "exercise" to make the pregnancies healthy and reduce our need for medically-necessary interventions (ooh yeah, I'm using the jargon)!

We also spend a good portion practicing relaxation techniques (my favorite part, obv). We also occasionally watch birth or birth-related videos. Not the gnarly kind though. Just enough gnarl to be real, but not like quease-inducing.

It's a pretty fun class, and there are a few other couples in it who are also in our prenatal class at the Birth Center, so that's kind of fun (plus our Bradley teacher is also our prenatal class teacher). My only complaint is that while it feels good to tailor-sit (sitting in chairs is so totally taboo in the birthing world), doing it for 2.5 hours with a basketball taped to your front is a wee bit uncomfortable after a while. But apparently so is labor, so I'll pretend it's like practice.

So, besides feeling like I'm channeling a pinniped, I still feel pretty good. Well, ok, I'm tired all the time (sleep for longer than 3-4 hours at a time is almost impossible) and I still have bad pelvic pain, especially after the 5k I walked last weekend...that'll probably be the last 3+ miles I walk this year (time to see the chiropractor I suppose). But overall, I'm not feeling too shabby. 

My dreams have been getting a little freakier and more baby-related too. I've dreamed a couple of times that I looked down and the baby was pressing her face through my skin, à la this poor fellow...

The other night I dreamed I gave birth to a kitten, and I picked it up and snuggled it (and thankfully didn't nurse...what is it with my family and dreaming while pregnant about nursing cats?). Another night I dreamed the baby was kicking so much (and pushing her face through my skin again) that I decided to "take her out" for a while. So I walked around holding her and she got comfortable. I remember she was very pink (but not freaky pink), completely bald, and had a face like an alien. But somehow it was still cute. Then I decided I needed to carry some stuff I was thinking of buying (did I mention this was at a store? Yeah), so I put her back in, by stuffing her under my shirt, after which she dissolved back into the uterus. It was really, really weird. I was relieved to wake up and find it was fake, let me tell you.

Supposedly pregnancy-induced dreams are supposed to be über vivid and realistic. While I've definitely found that to be true, I think I've been getting cheated a little bit. Aside from the freaky baby dreams I mentioned above, I've been having awesomely detailed dreams featuring such mundane topics as shopping at Costco (after which I woke up and wondered why we didn't actually have any food yet), explaining Sam's bizarre pajama-storage habits to my mom, and other scintillating topics. Give me a break. I had more exciting dreams before I was pregnant.

Well, there's not much else to update on, baby-related or not. Nothing interesting ever happens around here, I can tell you that. I'll let you know when it does.

Oh, and in case you never see me in person or have a generally morbid curiosity (or if you're eager to determine for yourself if it really *does* look like I've swallowed a watermelon), here's a picture of me in all my olive-on-a-toothpick glory

(featuring the clown shirt that thankfully I've now outgrown and won't feel obligated to wear for at least 2 months):