Who me? Irrational? Not possible

I think there is this poster child pregnant woman that everyone has in their minds when the topic comes up.
Some rapidly ballooning, hormone laden, irrational, large ankled woman on the verge of losing it and only staying sane with a gallon of ice cream in one hand and a large vat of pickles in the other.
Clearly this is not the case.
I mean, I haven't craved pickles at all.

Seriously though -- it is true. Maybe not quite to that extreme, but everyone has this idea. Like I could go from 0-Bitch in 6.8 seconds.
Frankly, I could have done that prior to getting pregnant.
I guess what I am getting at, is at any given point, I have experienced one or more of the "typical" pregnant side effects if you will.
And some not so typical, but that is not the story today.
I had been warned by friends of the "irrational" bug. They claimed it was one of the most frustrating things about being pregnant. You KNOW you are being irrational, but you can't stop yourself from feeling, saying and doing X.
Up to this point, I have been just fine in that department thank you very much. I haven't overreacted to too much (at least I haven't been called on it yet) and like to think I have kept a decent sense of reality about this whole process.
Until the last two days.

-you had to know that was coming.

It all stems from the little leprechaun moving around. He is moving quite a bit these days. To be expected. And up to this point, he was most active in the morning and then about dinner time.
Well, over the last few days that pattern has changed. And of course, all the books are saying if anything changes, call your doctor or start charting the babies movement.
Yeah, like that will work -- middle of a meeting and I have to excuse myself to go count kicks.
Practical, really.
I swear these books are written for woman that just sit around rubbing their stomachs and thinking positive pregnant thoughts while only feeding themselves organic, whole foods that they grew in their own garden.
Moving on.

Now, keep in mind, he is still moving. Still feeling the nudges, bumps and kicks. But somewhere along the line I had convinced myself that something was up.
And then today, we had our doctors appt and it took the doctor a few minutes to find his heartbeat.
Total freak out.
I mean, I didn't lose it in the doctors office or anything, but my brain was on total overdrive for like, 3 minutes. It was not pretty. Had it gone a minute or two more, not sure I would have stayed calm. At least on the surface.
But, long and short... they found it. 140 BPM. Right where it is supposed to be. And as I type this he is pounding away on my insides.
Basically, it sucks. You know you are off your rocker and yet you can't stop yourself. Oh, and 12 more weeks of this.
Whee.

Now Listening: Gossip in the Grain by Ray LaMontagne

You did NOT just say that

Its been a week.
Just one thing after another.
So much so, that even my normal amount of bitching seems extreme to me.
Which is saying alot.
But I think the cherry on the sundae came yesterday.
I have sorta begun to insulate myself from the annoyance that comes with the following questions:
"How are you feeling?"
Now, I know people are asking because they care --at least I have deluded myself into thinking that. Its just after the 5,749th time you get asked that in a 48 hour span, you tend to get a little, what's the word.... oh yeah -- annoyed as hell.
However, when I tell them "Fine", I often get this disappointed look. Like somehow they were expecting a horror story of sorts. Sorry to disappoint.
Yesterday afternoon I was at work - where I spend the bulk of my hours these days. And a co-worker asked me the above loaded question, prefaced with my other new favorite....
"You are so cute pregnant"
Erm, nope.
I am learning to just smile, shut my mouth and say thank you. You cannot understand how hard even that is.
Back to the story at hand.
So I get the cute comment, then I get the million-dollar annoyance question.
I reply with my standard -- "Feeling really good. Getting bigger by the day, but good."
And she says - and this was roughly the time in which I wanted to take my shoe and beat her to a pulp --
"You know, it can't be that bad. I mean I have never been pregnant, but how bad can it get?"

Yes, that line you see in front of me. You just crossed it.
Now a little perspective here. I really have been pretty lucky with my pregnancy up to this point. But let me just shower you with a little bit of reality:
I haven't had a good nights sleep in like, a month. And don't expect this to change for well, the next 5 years.
Cherries give me heartburn. Yes - cherries. Not even eating a whole cherry. It was on a danish.
I can't climb a flight of stairs without getting winded.
Putting on shoes and socks has become a major effort
And god forbid I drop something -- which I do with alarming regularity as my joints loosen up -- because it takes 10 minutes to pick it up.

And these aren't major.
I have had friends on bed rest for 30 plus days.
Friends that were sick the entire time.
All kinds of issues.
And we haven't even TALKED about the whole getting the kid out of me process. And I can't even start on that topic as I haven't done it yet --- but you don't have to be a rocket scientist to know that labor and delivery can in fact, be "that bad"

So, Ms. It-can't-be-that-bad ......
Run.
Run as fast as you can.
And take heart in that even if you can't run fast, I probably wouldn't be able to catch up with you anyway.
Because, a beating is at hand.

Now Listening: Whitechocolatespaceegg by Liz Phair

Its the pedal on the right

I will readily admit that I am not the most patient person on the planet.
Or really at all.
But I am trying and that should count for something, right?
So its a Monday, I have slept like crap the night before. I know, I know
"Meghan" you are saying to yourself, "you got the ok to take a little something to help you sleep."
Well, yes I did. Except when you wake up at 1:30 AM and the alarm goes off at 6:45, its too late to take anything.
So -- starting a overcast Monday kinda crabby to start with.
And it would seem that today, I am doomed to drive behind and be trapped next to anyone who thinks that going 5 MPH UNDER the speed limit means the far left and center lanes are where they should drive.
It made me happy.
Really, really happy.
And of course, the slower that they drive, the 'happier' I get.
Lets just say, its a good thing that I didn't have any meetings this morning, otherwise I would have probably been asked to go home and change my crabby pants. Although, being sent home may not have been the worst thing. At least I could sleep.

In other news... we have entered double digits -- leaving the triples in our dust!
As in, I have less than 100 days of being pregnant left.
Woo hoo.
Officially, its 99, but whose counting?
Not this girl, who is getting larger by the second.
Alright, I should get back to work. For a large portion of the country, today is a day off. For me, it is not. However, our client has the day off -- as they are federal. Which means the bulk of my meetings have been canceled and I just **might** get some work done today.
Hold onto your hats, could get crazy up in here.

Now Listening: Trouble by Ray LaMontagne

Full, pink and pissed off

I know, I know. I have been a bad, bad blogger. My excuses for what they are worth, and in no particular order:

• Lack of sleep. I have been battling some serious insomnia the last few days.


• Work has been loco. Which at this point I am sure you are sick of hearing about, but the last week/week and a half has been off the charts.


• Slow build up of stories to share with you all.


• Motivation. Not gonna lie. Throw all the previous issues together and I just haven't even turned on the computer when I get home.

Feel free to let the ensuing judgement begin.
Done?
Good. Moving on.
We will start with a little leprechaun update.
Dr's appt on Tuesday. Had to take a glucose test. Which is a test for gestational diabetes. It consists of the pregnant woman drinking a glucose filled liquid and getting blood drawn at a certain time after you drink it.
Does everyone remember that scene in "Elf" when he chugs the bottle of maple syrup?
Yeah - this stuff is like that, except I don't love syrup the way Buddy the Elf does. But you have to chug it. The whole 20oz bottle has to be consumed in 5 minutes.
So, it was sorta like drinking orange flavored syrup.
Word. Oh, and I passed. So that is the good news.
On to the other pertinent details.
Little man is good. Heart rate came in at 140 BPM. I am measuring right at 26 weeks. And he is moving around just like he is supposed to.
I have gained a whooping 5 lbs this month. Eek. That puts my total weight gain at 12 lbs.
And as we have entered that mystical, magical time frame known as the "Last Trimester", we get to go from monthly appointments to appointments every 2-3 weeks.
And we get to do this for about the next 10 weeks and then we go to WEEKLY appointments.
The OBGYN is my new best friend.

In other munchkin news, the great music experiment isn't really getting me far. As was mentioned in an earlier post, he likes music. Specifically at this point, Radiohead. So I have been making a point of listening to all sorts of genres as loud as possible to see if they warrant a similar reaction.
More brit pop (Amy Winehouse) -- nothing.
Alt-Country (Bastard Sons of Johnny Cash) - nothing.
Rap (Missy Elliott) - nothing
Alternative (Peter, Bjorn & John) -- nothing.
Last night, got to go see The Kooks here in town - more Brit pop. First, totally stoked that we are getting good bands here. That is a great move forward for DSM.
The real test was, will little man react the same to loud music this time as he did before.
During the first set, the answer was no. During the second, he did get a movin'.
I will continue this experiment in the following weeks as we are going to see Ray LaMontagne in about 10 days and I just found out that Dropkick Murphy's are coming to town in November.
Figure I might as well get the shows in now, as post January, those will be a fleeting, distant memory.
Pleased to report that in a nice gender role switch, Joe's friends threw HIM a surprise baby shower on Sunday. And they made him play games. Which, I would have paid good money to see. Still waiting on the pictures. But we got some really nice stuff, and plenty of Bears gear to start down that path.
The only down side was HE got to have drinks at his shower. I will not.
Sucky.
But short lived, and dealing with it.

In the category of public affairs/political news:
Was watching the Presidential debates earlier this week. The outcome of the debates for me didn't really change anything. I do wish to hell that they would actually ANSWER THE QUESTION that is asked of them at the time. Drove me crazy. Or the answer was so buried (most of the time) in a bunch of rhetoric.
The thing that really got under my skin during the debate was a little segue they made prior to the debate starting. I was watching CNN and my buddy Wolfe Blitzer cuts to a picture of the White House bathed in pink lights.
For a reason.
October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.
Pink is the official color of the Awareness effort -- you all have seen the pink ribbons, even on NFL refs this month.
So, our President lights his "house" in pink for the night to show his commitment to curing breast cancer.
Here's an idea you backward man -- allow for stem cell research to continue. Don't set there and tell me that you are committed to a cure, make some hollow PR move like coloring the White House for the night and then cut the arms off the scientific community that is trying like hell to understand and cure this disease.
Can you tell it pissed me off?
**steps off soapbox**


And in my last rant for the day.
I am damned when it comes to Customer Service.
Which I find odd, as I did my time in Customer Service hell. My first "adult" job out of college was a customer service/sales position with the phone company. Yeah, the people you hate to call. I was called every name in the book, insulted in more ways than you can imagine and told more than I care to recall that I was just a "peon" and had no real ability to get anything done. Worked wonders for the self esteem. Suffice it to say, I think that I earned a cosmic get out of jail card with all subsequent customer service people.
Not so.
It has taken me 6 weeks to get our stinkin' HDTV/DVR box to the house. 6 weeks. 4 phone calls to the cable company and many, many minutes wasted away on hold. And so Joe went to get the box this week, got it plugged in and the HD channels didn't work. And they wouldn't talk to Joe because he was not authorized to do anything on the account. So I had to call. And yes -- another 20 minutes on hold and a tech that didn't know what he was doing. Only to have to schedule a tech to come out. With a four hour window of time.
So while I am waiting for the tech to call me, Homemakers -- one of the local furniture stores -- calls to tell me that the BOXSPRINGS I had ordered where going to be another week late.
Let's break this down.
We had an extra bed. We have room in the part of the attic that is finished off. So, make an extra room for guests. Well, since it is an attic, the queen sized box springs wouldn't fit up the stairwell. So, I had to go buy a split box springs. Nothing special, nothing high end. Just a wooden frame with some fabric around it.
But apparently, you need at least a month to get one ordered. It had better be here before the Race for the Cure, or we are gonna have people sleeping on the floor.
So then the tech called, went home, spent an hour working on the HD issue only to be told that basically with the type of TV we have --- its not going to work as is.
Good, good technology times.
And to think, I just wanted to watch some football with a really clear picture.

And to top it all off, we have reached a new milestone in the whole being pregnant thing.
As little leprechaun gets bigger, the stomach takes more room. Which means my insides, and more importantly, my assorted organs are getting all moved around. Including my stomach.
Yeah -- one regular sized meal is enough to send me into misery for a good hour or so.
Who ever got the whole "pregnant women eat all the time" rumor started, is full of it.
No way.
No room.
So working on the smaller, more frequent meals.

Now Watching: A non-HD version of Project Runway Part I of the finale.