Cakes and Cookies and Pie - Oh, My!

The bump has finally appeared, although in some clothes I still look like a heavy beer drinker. My soon-to-be favorite summer outfit? The mumu. Typically, these come in bold, bright colors or with some enlarged, Disney character on the front, but I will do my best to find it in black so I don't embarrass you. I can't promise I'll wear any underwear with it, though. The ribbing on the edge of my current undies are starting to cut into my skin like the string on a Christmas ham.

Speaking of ham, my recent cravings include baby back ribs and anything with mayo on it. Last night, I convinced Kevin that since we were low on butter, I might as well take one for the team and roll my corn on the cob in mayo (sprinkled with cayenne pepper and parmesan cheese, of course). He saw right through that and suggested I also top my ice cream with a dollup of Hellman's. Hmmm...don't tempt me.

20 Week Update - Halfway there!

It's a boy, and he is now the size of a cantaloupe! :) Very exciting, except for the fact that it was the one sex that I did not have a name for. I could really use some suggestions, but know that I prefer classic (but not overused) baby names - none of those weird, nouveau names like Sebastian, Brayden, or Mason.

I'm feeling pretty good, but my appetite is increasing, and I am now well over 12 lbs heavier than I was last Christmas. Yikes! The baby bump is not very noticeable because of the frumpy clothes I now wear, but if you are unlucky enough to catch me in a camisole, it's a pretty good size lump although it seems higher up than it should be (I must be carrying high?). I have occasional leg cramps, but it gives me a good excuse to sit on my ass and do nothing - which I have gotten REALLY good at doing.

17 Weeks and Well Read

Now that I am feeling more myself (despite frequent trips to the ladies and a grueling case of muffintop-itis), I have taken to educating myself on all things baby. Here are a couple of my favorites:

• Secrets of the Baby Whisperer
• Your Pregnancy Week by Week
• What to Expect When You're Expecting

I've also read a couple of fun novels about pregnant women who cope with the symptoms and say good-bye to the party-going/socialite self they once knew.

• Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth about Pregnancy and Childbirth by Jenny McCarthy
• Knocked Up: Confessions of a Hip Mother-to-be by Rebecca Eckler
  

Needless to say, my sisters will have a whole library of books to choose from when I'm done.

Cletus the Fetus

As I become more and more demanding and hormonal, I have an increasingly overwhelming desire to blame my disposition on the baby growing inside me. The ever so common "the devil made me do it" blame-game has morphed into "It wasn't me, it was Cletus-the-fetus", or "Pat wanted it". Because in truth, it is Pat (my currently androgynous, unborn child) who is dictating my every move. If I crave cottage cheese, snap at you without cause, or hog all the blankets and pillows, you can bet your ass Pat is behind it. So stay out of the way, and you can be sure that no harm shall come to you. Eat the last of my Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie ice cream, and it's open season, bitches.

A Womb with a View (not really relevent to my post but isn't it a cute title?)

At the suggestion of my sister, I am determined to make this latest post a sunnier, more positive (less-whiny) one.

Besides, now that the nausea and exhaustion has subsided, there is not much else to complain about - unless of course you count the relentless, two-week long migraine that it has been replaced with. But I digress... Positive, positive. OK, here's one: I am learning to accept my changing body. I've stopped complaining about feeling bloated and chubby mainly because I bought myself a pair of black stretch pants (sans stirrups) further affirming the fact that I have officially "let myself go". While I realize that these bottoms are currently and lovingly being referred to in the fashion world as "must have" leggings, come on, people. Let's just call a spade a spade... I wore these when I was 6 and accessorized them with a scrunchy and high-tops. Now I wear them so my continually expanding body can breathe (and so that when I get home from work, I no longer have to change into sweats). Yes, these little beauties double as both business and pleasure. The physical effort it took to change after work has been cut out and replaced with more couch time. Ahhhh, it's the little things...

I call bullshit

OK, I call serious bullshit. Whoever said pregnancy was bliss was lying through their teeth. Why? I don't know. Maybe they felt the need to encourage procreation so the world doesn't end up like that film, "Children of Men". Or maybe because the joy of childbirth was so overwhelming, they completely forgot about the previous 9 months. I don't know why, alright? But I'm here to set the record straight.

At every minute of the day, I am either gassy, bloated, nauseous, tired, cranky, weepy, or hungry. Right now, I am all of the above. While I sit here at my desk, I can't decide if I should bed down underneath it with an alarm clock (ala George Costanza) or haul ass to the nearest Chili's for a double order of baby back ribs. And last night, I failed to fight back the tears after watching a U.S. Senate campaign ad. A. Campaign. Ad. For some reason, it just tugged at the heart strings... I'm getting emotional just rehashing the memory (excuse me for a moment).

Ladies, do yourself a favor and become a lesbian. Save yourself!!

Shakin' it up!

Now that my mother has returned from snow-birding, she has begun rigorously preparing my nutrition and health regimen (aka: stuffing horse-pill sized vitamins down my gullet and banishing my recent fast food tendencies). Good bye, Five Guys Burgers and Fries. Hasta luego big macs and quarter-pounders. Au revoir Friendly's double-thick chocolate milkshake. My efforts to squeeze you in throughout the day as much as possible have been thwarted. There is a new milkshake in town. And there's only room for one of us (said with the voice of Wyatt Erp).

Thanks to my mother, my NEW milkshake is no longer a rich, creamy, chocolately-delicious piece of heaven. It now contains equal parts dry, crusted scoops of whey protein, Metamucil, and wheat grass. It is blended with fortified non-fat powdered milk and topped with a raw egg. A. Raw. Egg. It's time to plug my nose and toss 'er down the hatch. This baby better freaking love me.