Amnesia, anyone?

Here is a more lighthearted post than the last one. I didn't mean to bum everyone out, and I really appreciate the outpouring of support. You guys make my life a happy place to be. Now, onward!

The last time I was pregnant I vaguely remember swearing that under no circumstances would I ever get pregnant again. As two years ticked by, all of the discomfort and (let's be honest) agony of pregnancy were slowly erased by the trials, tribulations, and joys of parenting. And now that I have made it through the first 11 weeks I am here to report to you things that ought not to have been forgotten:

unbelievably sore breasts As in, don't breathe too close to me because I find the air currents you are creating to be nearly unbearable in their force. And then take that level of sensitivity and pair it with a two year old who really enjoys employing a full body tackle whenever he can slide one in.
the gas And I'm not sure how I forgot this one, but I did. Everything gives you gas. And not just mild intestinal discomfort (no, no that would be too easy), but you fart like a middle aged man after nacho-and-beer night. I have discovered that Adrian thinks farts are at the height of humor, making me a one-woman comedy show. And when you happen to pass one in public, you get horrified looks from passers-by because they don't know that you're pregnant. They just think that you need to lay off the beans and learn some manners....mmmm...I could go for a taco bell bean burrito about now.
the cravings Sandwiches. And more sandwiches. I feel like I could live off of sandwiches. I go though a one pound loaf of sandwich bread in about 6 days. And it's always the same sandwich: miracle whip, meat, lettuce, tomato, cheese, mustard. Also, I've really taken a shining to grits. Made with milk (not water) with a little cheese swirled in. Although if you're really looking to get in good with me, pick me up a veggie roll from your nearest sushi stand.
the nausea And I've talked about it with people, so I know that I had it with Adrian--all day every day for four months-- but it still managed to come a a surprise when I woke up one afternoon and said: ugh. the idea of food makes me want to puke. This time around I only suffer nausea in the evenings, which isn't so bad except that it squishes any desire I have to actually cook dinner.
the irritability I don't think I'm as bad as I was last time but Aaron says that it's just because I have more people to be cranky at. Which I don't think is true, because Iwas pretty damn cranky at Jim last time. It's just--do what I ask you to do THE FIRST TIME. That's all I want. Adrian can't seem to comply because he has the attention span of a gnat. Aaron can't seem to comply because half the time he "can't hear me" (call me Mumbles!) and the other half the time he has the attention span of a gnat. A word of advice: don't criticize a pregnant lady. It doesn't matter if she was in the wrong. It's not going to end pretty.

Irritable? Me? No!
Okay, more often than not, but I try to keep a lid on it. I'm surging with hormones, people. There's only so much I can deal with on a daily basis.

Distracted

I was going to be funny and witty, but I am distracted because my little brother is really sick--like in the hospital really sick and I hate that I'm so far away and pretty much useless. Since I haven't talked to him I'm going to assume that he'd want me to keep the details of his illness off of the internet so I'll leave you with this thought:
Illness sucks. It's arbitrary and unfair and it sucks. And while I am aware that this world wasn't designed with fairness as it's main objective, it just seems wrong that good people can get sick and people who really deserve a kick in the ass can walk around healthy-as-you-please until their timely demise.
So that's what's got my knickers in a twist these days.

5 things about Me.

As per Sarah's request, here are 5 things that the readership general may not know about me.

1. I am a Francophile. I love nearly all things French. I love French food--although it would have to be a frosty day in Hades before you'd catch me eating tete de veau. I have studied the French language off and on since I was 7...and I speak it like an eight year old with a mild stutter. I have been to Paris only once, but rank it among my top 5 favorite places. My favorite book? Paris to the Moon by Adam Gopnik.

2. I enjoy bad jokes. Not bad as in in poor taste, bad as in: What do you get when you cross an elephant with a rhino? Elephino! (pronunciaton guide: Hell if I know!) The worse they are, the more they amuse me.

3. My dream is to travel to India, preferably on one of those Smithsonian journeys. Of course they cost around $6,000 USD, so it'll be a while before I've saved enough to do it. But one day!

4. If I won the lottery, I'd use the winnings to set up an arts center for underpriviledged kids. Art is one of the things that has been a mainstay in my life and a key element to coping with some really awful events. I believe in the theraputic effects of art and I think that every child should have the opportunity to express themselves, regardless of how much their school board budgets towards the art program.

5. I'm pregnant. And due in June. Surprise!

so, this is what 2 is like...

Terrible, indeed.

Example one:
Adrian: Dada, A.D. needs crackers.

Aaron: it's too close to dinner.

Adrian: Dadaaaa, A.D. neeeeds tasty wheat thins!

Aaron: no.

Adrian: (bangs head on floor)

Example two:
Adrian: Mama, go outside.

Me: Not right now.

Adrian: Go! Outside!

Me: It's 6:30 in the morning. How about we eat breakfast and wait for the sun to come up?

Adrian: GO! OUTSIDE!

Me: No.

Adrian: (bangs head on floor)


delightful.

Adrian's anatomy

Toddlers are supremely curious about the world around them and their place in it; Adrian has started to notice that there are in fact two genders*.
He explained it to me thusly:

Dada has penis.
Mama has sunglasses.

Your guess is as good as mine on that one, as I wear my sunglasses on my face like everybody else.

* Well, mostly two genders. We don't happen to hang out with Adrian in places where a third gender is readily presentable as a lifestyle option.

Halloween and the morning after

I made the executive decision not to take Adrian out trick-or-treating, as most of the stuff he would receive he wouldn't be able to eat (choking hazards and all that). Instead he helped me hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters, an activity he declared "exciting!" at one point in the evening. I was dissapointed in the lack of costumed youth, however. I expect it from high schoolers--a group of which told me there were dressed up as high school students, but when a gaggle of elementary school kids shows up at your door wearing the same clothes they wore home from school it's a little disheartening. I love Halloween--when I was little I wore my costumes for months of dress-up, when I was in highschool I used to spend weeks planning and making my own elaborate costumes. Now that I have no where to wear a costume, I throw on some bunny ears and call it a night. I can't wait until Adrian is old enough to get into the spirit of costumes and candy.

This morning, I was on the couch reading and Adrian was enjoying a snack of raisins--or so I thought. I looked up when he declared"uh-oh".
"What? Uh-oh what, A.D.?"
He looks at me with a perplexed face and sticks his finger into his right nostril, "raisin" he tells me.
"Raisin? Are you telling me you have a raisin in your nose?"
Finger still inserted in nostril, "Yes. Raisin nose"
(Gah! Panic! No, no. Wait, remain calm.)
"How about we take that finger out of your nose, then?" I grab a flashlight, convince him to tilt his head back, and sure enough, there in the mucusy confines of his nose a raisin waves back at me. "Blow", I tell him.
He does, nothing happens.
I press the empty nostril closed.
"Blow"
He does, and again, nothing.
"Blow hard"
And voila--a snot covered raisin rocket lands in my lap.

Than he wants me to clean it off so he can eat it.
I don't think so, pal.