Wrap your head with this material...

I'm reading all these books on pregnancy and babies and I have to say the writing is just awful. Half of them spend so much time telling you what they're going to tell you and why they're going to tell you that I'm ready to shake them by the throat and say "Spit that shit out, already!!!" So my skimming skills are in use to say the least. This morning I read a couple hundred pages (see skimming) of a book on the Bradley method, a natural childbirth method. I might add, that I have not found the Bradley method yet. So far its just info on getting pregnant and the structure of the body. Which is where I get into the terms they use. They call it the "vaginal barrel." They have a diagram of 2 different "vaginal barrels." One is engorged (excited about welcoming a certain type of guest.) The other is regular styles. I think the engorged one should be referred to as a "vaginal barrel of monkeys." It also mentions that if there...

My mom got in a motorcycle accident. She was driving. Taking lessons. My mom married this really awesome man. She talked him into doing all kinds of things for himself that he never would have before knowing her. When they met, for example, he drove an old sedan and started it with a wrench and because he's that mechanical type, he could've kept it running forever. And he would have. Even if he had the money. I'm not sure he believed he deserved nice things. But she talked him into buying himself a really nice truck. She also talked him into buying himself a really nice Harley. He'd always wanted one. And they went for rides quite a bit. They loved it. But then this awesome man died. And every time my mom thought about selling the Harley, she cried. Finally she sold the truck instead. And with the money, she bought a sidecar for the Harley in order to be able to drive it herself. So she was taking lessons. But she's over 60. Learning the balance, and ha...

""I told Hannah that she could watch a movie after I stopped being deranged and she started crying because that was going to take too long and the movie is only a one week rental" "Daddy, why is there a hippie van at Starbucks?" "I guess some hippies want coffee." She laughs, "Hippies don't drink coffee!" ""Mutha Earth is sick of my sass" reads "motherfucker sucks my ass" if you squint your eyes and know you're on Karin's Facebook page." "Sorry, I won't interrupt you while you're talking to yourself again." "Thank you." "I don't think you should be traveling cross country when you are 9 months pregnant (and your vagina is large enough for a minivan to drive through without even touching the sides)"

I'm mildly freaking out. I'm not really the call-the-police-on-people type. But my neighbors just keep having these awful fights. I hear them yelling, well mostly her yelling. Then there are these awful banging noises. And I don't know if they're throwing shit against the walls or each other around or what. I just get so anxious every time they do it. My hear trate skyrockets every time. It makes me shake a little. I can't sleep for worrying. The last time was very early in the morning. Maybe around 5 am. From my bedroom (which shares no walls with their home, I might add,) I heard what I would swear was a person falling down a flight of stairs. I went next door and knocked on their door. No answer. But I could hear voices. So I left. They were clearly both ok. The problem is I work for social services. And exposure to DV is child abuse in this state. And they have 2 little kids. And I just think, if I'm shaking because you're banging somet...

My husband has taken to calling me DJ Pregnant-C. I think it is perfectly reasonable for me to respond by calling him V.I. Penis. P.S. I'm pregnant (for anyone who didn't already know.) 13 weeks that is. Which should explain why the blog's been a little quieter and more seriouser lately. I was kind scared about the whole thing and well, just not ready to tell. But now we're all clear. So there's good things and bad things: My boobs are HUGE! Like 2 sizes bigger. They bounce now. And touch. Its wild. I don't appreciate it when I'm skiing. But the rest of the time I like it. I spent about 8 weeks sick to my stomach almost constantly. That is fucking clown shoes . I saw the baby's heartbeat. Its amazing. It didn't even look like a baby the first time I saw its little heart blurp on the monitor. Now it looks like a baby. A fuzzy, gray, TV baby, but a baby. I thought I lost an ultrasound picture for a while there, (which in all honesty c...