What do you do with three pillows under your hips, a full bladder, a cramped neck, your knees in your ears, and a husband telling you "the instructions say you gotta stay like that for at least an hour"??
You blog...
You blog about how awful it is...
And, you frown at how awful your feet look because you haven't gotten them done since September (don't judge me), and you swear that you'll be the first one in the nail salon on Saturday morning.
Then... You realize (again) how badly you have to pee and know that in two days, when you have to do this again, you won't drink anything after 4pm.
You ask yourself (and God) why your husband wasn't made a woman and you a man so that you could be the one walking around, using the bathroom, and watching a movie while his bladder explodes and he stares at his knees and (jacked up) feet.
You constantly inquire about the time and wonder how an hour can last SO long and then you think of all the good sleep you're missing and how tired you'll be in the morning.
Then finally... You make the executive decision that you will defy the instructions and got to use the bathroom because (doggon' it) you've got three more fertile days and an ovulation day left!
-getting up to use the bathroom-
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Conception Instructions
My cousin, who has two of the cutest girls ever, forwarded me conception instructions. It seems like every time Z and I get instructions on conception, those instructions get more and more technical. It is seriously like running a company that has set extremely specific financial goals. Thank goodness we both have a few business classes under our belts from changing our majors and minors in college so many times.
These new instructions not only tell us on which days we should get grooving... but they also tell us the time of day (yes, because on day 15 you should have sex in the morning instead of the night like you were supposed to do on the 13th).
I am in the process of using a calculator to determine which day and what time... yes! a freakin' CALCULATOR!!!
Sooo... these are the short of the instructions...
1. engage in love making the way you normally would
2. fold a pillow in half and prop it under the woman's butt
3. engage in intercourse
4. Man... before you release, get as close to the cervix as you can and hold there
5. Man... once you release (staying close to the cervix), withdraw immediately
6. Woman... immediately pull your knees to your chest and lay on your back for an hour
Yes, an hour... on my back... I'll have a hard time laying there 20 minutes because I'll either have to use the bathroom or get a snack. We practically have to build a "conception" conception board for this! This is freakin' baby making acrobatics! But you know what??? We're all about it.
With all the gadgets and things we got going on this time around, somethings gotta happen... if not conception, maybe a broken hip? We'll see!
These new instructions not only tell us on which days we should get grooving... but they also tell us the time of day (yes, because on day 15 you should have sex in the morning instead of the night like you were supposed to do on the 13th).
I am in the process of using a calculator to determine which day and what time... yes! a freakin' CALCULATOR!!!
Sooo... these are the short of the instructions...
1. engage in love making the way you normally would
2. fold a pillow in half and prop it under the woman's butt
3. engage in intercourse
4. Man... before you release, get as close to the cervix as you can and hold there
5. Man... once you release (staying close to the cervix), withdraw immediately
6. Woman... immediately pull your knees to your chest and lay on your back for an hour
Yes, an hour... on my back... I'll have a hard time laying there 20 minutes because I'll either have to use the bathroom or get a snack. We practically have to build a "conception" conception board for this! This is freakin' baby making acrobatics! But you know what??? We're all about it.
With all the gadgets and things we got going on this time around, somethings gotta happen... if not conception, maybe a broken hip? We'll see!
Monday, March 8, 2010
Playing Games
This past cycle, we made sure to follow whatever baby making methods we learned from reading books and articles and other miscellaneous pregnancy tricks. And for whatever reason, Zack was focused on tracking and making notes about my cycle almost every single day... Well, maybe not everyday but it sure felt that way.
Anyway, around the third of the month, he calls me at work to ask if my period had started. I say that it hadn't and I could feel his excitement through his text message.
I come home, and because of our cable being out, we actually sat in the bed and read books. Yes, it was slightly torturous. Just kidding! It was actually really nice with him reading the Bible and me browsing info in a book about getting pregnant. I actually learned some neat info... None of which I can remember now.
While lying on the bed, Zack reaches over and starts talking to my stomach and telling me that I need to start eating right because I'm carrying our child (he also says something about vitamins but I tuned that out). He put his hand on my stomach and projected his regular positivity. He's like "I can feel it! We're pregnant."
I don't get my hopes up. Why? Because it is much easier to expect the worst and get the best than the other way around... That's just me.
Well, eventually (around 8:30) we go to sleep.
The next morning, I find myself reaching for the tampons because my egg has somehow found a way to escape my uterus. These eggs have literally got to be dodging a fleet of sperm! It's like my eggs and his spem are playing hide and seek... and my eggs are winning. I've always been super competitive, so why shouldn't my eggs be the same?
Anyway, around the third of the month, he calls me at work to ask if my period had started. I say that it hadn't and I could feel his excitement through his text message.
I come home, and because of our cable being out, we actually sat in the bed and read books. Yes, it was slightly torturous. Just kidding! It was actually really nice with him reading the Bible and me browsing info in a book about getting pregnant. I actually learned some neat info... None of which I can remember now.
While lying on the bed, Zack reaches over and starts talking to my stomach and telling me that I need to start eating right because I'm carrying our child (he also says something about vitamins but I tuned that out). He put his hand on my stomach and projected his regular positivity. He's like "I can feel it! We're pregnant."
I don't get my hopes up. Why? Because it is much easier to expect the worst and get the best than the other way around... That's just me.
Well, eventually (around 8:30) we go to sleep.
The next morning, I find myself reaching for the tampons because my egg has somehow found a way to escape my uterus. These eggs have literally got to be dodging a fleet of sperm! It's like my eggs and his spem are playing hide and seek... and my eggs are winning. I've always been super competitive, so why shouldn't my eggs be the same?
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Riding Shotgun with the Devil
I joined the Biggest Loser competition at my school a few weeks ago, and the plan is to lose 20 pounds even if I don't win the big ole' pot-o-money.
My goal is to get down to the size I was when Zack and I first began dating- the pre-baby weight I should be for someone my height. That magic number is 125.
Now, I know that this number and my current weight (which you have probably calculated) is something that wouldn't concern a lot of people, but my growing "out" is a potential problem.
The way the Biggest Loser game works is that we do the best we can with eating right and working out to lose weight, and then we weigh in with the school nurse every first day of the week.
I had been consistently losing the weight (a whopping 2 pounds), but this Monday, my had work had been derailed due to me backsliding. I ate all kids of crap over the weekend... cake, Moe's, hamburgers, hot wings... all kinds of garbage (but yummy garbage).
Well, after weighing in and finding out that I'd gained my 2 pounds back and while walking back to my classroom, I bumped into a co-worker. She stopped me and said that she'd been looking for me. I instantly know why...
She had been trying to give me the Girl Scout cookies I'd ordered almost two months earlier.
I had ordered a diabetic coma...
Five... FIVE.... boxes of cookies.
I smiled and wrote a check for the cookies and thought about how I'd manage to eat them all without gaining a pound... I'd give them all to Zack and maybe take a few for myself.
This all happened on the day that I had to drive to Smyrna for class which is supposed to let out at 10pm. Well, on the way to class, I get stuck in traffic behind a six car pile-up that derails my plans to get a healthy dinner at Subway.
While sitting in the traffic, I hear my name being called.
"Steph!!!"
I turned up the volume on my ipod.
"Hey! Steph!!! I know you hear me!"
I cut my eyes to the passenger seat.
"Steph, I just wanted you to know that I'm here if you're hungry."
Those darned Samoas were talking to me- trying to work themselves into my renewed (since right before I wrote the check for them) diet.
They kept right on yelling in my ear, and it only took the cookies calling my name once more for me to rip open the box, tear through the plastic wrapping, pull out two cookies, and stuff them in my mouth.
I was instantly satisfied by those 150 empty calories. I actually salivate just thinking about them right now.
I'm going to hide them deep... really deep in the back of the freezer. They'll be a treat when I find them in the summer time!
My goal is to get down to the size I was when Zack and I first began dating- the pre-baby weight I should be for someone my height. That magic number is 125.
Now, I know that this number and my current weight (which you have probably calculated) is something that wouldn't concern a lot of people, but my growing "out" is a potential problem.
The way the Biggest Loser game works is that we do the best we can with eating right and working out to lose weight, and then we weigh in with the school nurse every first day of the week.
I had been consistently losing the weight (a whopping 2 pounds), but this Monday, my had work had been derailed due to me backsliding. I ate all kids of crap over the weekend... cake, Moe's, hamburgers, hot wings... all kinds of garbage (but yummy garbage).
Well, after weighing in and finding out that I'd gained my 2 pounds back and while walking back to my classroom, I bumped into a co-worker. She stopped me and said that she'd been looking for me. I instantly know why...
She had been trying to give me the Girl Scout cookies I'd ordered almost two months earlier.
I had ordered a diabetic coma...
Five... FIVE.... boxes of cookies.
I smiled and wrote a check for the cookies and thought about how I'd manage to eat them all without gaining a pound... I'd give them all to Zack and maybe take a few for myself.
This all happened on the day that I had to drive to Smyrna for class which is supposed to let out at 10pm. Well, on the way to class, I get stuck in traffic behind a six car pile-up that derails my plans to get a healthy dinner at Subway.
While sitting in the traffic, I hear my name being called.
"Steph!!!"I turned up the volume on my ipod.
"Hey! Steph!!! I know you hear me!"
I cut my eyes to the passenger seat.
"Steph, I just wanted you to know that I'm here if you're hungry."
Those darned Samoas were talking to me- trying to work themselves into my renewed (since right before I wrote the check for them) diet.
They kept right on yelling in my ear, and it only took the cookies calling my name once more for me to rip open the box, tear through the plastic wrapping, pull out two cookies, and stuff them in my mouth.
I was instantly satisfied by those 150 empty calories. I actually salivate just thinking about them right now.
I'm going to hide them deep... really deep in the back of the freezer. They'll be a treat when I find them in the summer time!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Watch What You Eat (in)
I'll tell you what sucks... The job blocking the blog webpages so I can't blog from work. I had really gotten into a grove by getting my blogging done right before the kids came to class. It helped me clear my mind and calm down before my day. I have now filled those 15 minted of planning time with absolutely nothing- or maybe running to the copier to make last minute prints. But anywho...
Since my last post, Zack has found out about BPA. The acronym stands for some super long scientific name for harmful chemicals found in plastic ware. We always knew that those little plastic containers that hold our leftovers were bad for us, but The Doctors confirmed that knowledge for us last week.
The informed us that not only does BPA contribute to some cancers, it also increases sterility or kills eggs or something like that. Zack demanded that we no longer use our plastic bowls in the microwave. So... I had to go to the store to purchase glass storage containers for our food.
On Saturday, I went through of cabinet of a million plastic bowls and tops to throw away the extremely useless ones... You know, the ones with spaghetti sauce stains that you are embassased to pull out and let other people see. I also stacked my mom's Tupperware in a neat pile so that I can return them to her (or not because i'm sure I'll forget).
Silly things is that I already had corningware and pyrex from the wedding, and I only use it when we have company. The corningware is especially for special occasions because I don't want to get the pieces dingy. I'll just use the Pyrex for regular leftovers.
How lame must I be to blog about kitchen stuff? I'm blogging about freaking Pyrex! Who would've ever thought?!
Since my last post, Zack has found out about BPA. The acronym stands for some super long scientific name for harmful chemicals found in plastic ware. We always knew that those little plastic containers that hold our leftovers were bad for us, but The Doctors confirmed that knowledge for us last week.
The informed us that not only does BPA contribute to some cancers, it also increases sterility or kills eggs or something like that. Zack demanded that we no longer use our plastic bowls in the microwave. So... I had to go to the store to purchase glass storage containers for our food.
On Saturday, I went through of cabinet of a million plastic bowls and tops to throw away the extremely useless ones... You know, the ones with spaghetti sauce stains that you are embassased to pull out and let other people see. I also stacked my mom's Tupperware in a neat pile so that I can return them to her (or not because i'm sure I'll forget).
Silly things is that I already had corningware and pyrex from the wedding, and I only use it when we have company. The corningware is especially for special occasions because I don't want to get the pieces dingy. I'll just use the Pyrex for regular leftovers.
How lame must I be to blog about kitchen stuff? I'm blogging about freaking Pyrex! Who would've ever thought?!
Monday, February 8, 2010
Bad Dreams
The other night I had the craziest dream... well, it wasn't any crazier than all the other dreams I have, but it was one of those that stood out. I usually have vivid dreams and/or nightmares, and I always remember them. I think it might be genetic because my mother also has cinema type dreams. It was a regular thing in my home growing up that we'd wake up and tell stories of what we dreamt that night.
Well, Friday night I dreamed that I went to the doctor after trying for so long to get pregnant. The doctor ran tests and told me that the fluid in my ovaries was nonexistant and that my eggs were deteriating because of it. I remembered being like, "What the heck are you talking about 'fluid in my ovaries'"?!?!?
The doctor was adamant that I would never be able to conceive because my eggs had shriveled up and were rotting. Graphic, hunh?
In the dream, I drove home to tell Zack and his response was one of optimism.
"Steph, don't worry what that doctor says. God can make anything happen! There were women in the Bible having children when they were elderly."
I met his response with anger. "OBVIOUSLY you didn't hear what I just said! Doctors take tests. Those tests yield results. And the results suggest that my eggs are dead! I can't have children!!!"
I can't remember much of the dream after that. I'm sure it just transitioned into something totally random like me vacuuming a hardwood floor or sitting on top of a power line.
It was definitely one of those dream moments like in "Devil's Advocate" where Charlize Theron dreams that the baby is playing with her uterus and ovaries in the spare bedroom. She believes that the devil has taken her reproductive organs and that should wouldn't be able to conceive. She wakes up screaming and tells her husband who says that nothing was wrong and that he was sure her ovaries and uterus were fine.
Ever since I had this dream, I've been googling "ovaries" to see if there is actually some sort of fluid in them that protects the eggs... no luck yet, so I'll assume that a dream is just a dream.
I'm planning to set up a doctor's appointment for this month just for general purpose.
And I also plan on getting my eyes checked because I can't see squat!!!!
Well, Friday night I dreamed that I went to the doctor after trying for so long to get pregnant. The doctor ran tests and told me that the fluid in my ovaries was nonexistant and that my eggs were deteriating because of it. I remembered being like, "What the heck are you talking about 'fluid in my ovaries'"?!?!?
The doctor was adamant that I would never be able to conceive because my eggs had shriveled up and were rotting. Graphic, hunh?
In the dream, I drove home to tell Zack and his response was one of optimism.
"Steph, don't worry what that doctor says. God can make anything happen! There were women in the Bible having children when they were elderly."
I met his response with anger. "OBVIOUSLY you didn't hear what I just said! Doctors take tests. Those tests yield results. And the results suggest that my eggs are dead! I can't have children!!!"
I can't remember much of the dream after that. I'm sure it just transitioned into something totally random like me vacuuming a hardwood floor or sitting on top of a power line.
It was definitely one of those dream moments like in "Devil's Advocate" where Charlize Theron dreams that the baby is playing with her uterus and ovaries in the spare bedroom. She believes that the devil has taken her reproductive organs and that should wouldn't be able to conceive. She wakes up screaming and tells her husband who says that nothing was wrong and that he was sure her ovaries and uterus were fine.
Ever since I had this dream, I've been googling "ovaries" to see if there is actually some sort of fluid in them that protects the eggs... no luck yet, so I'll assume that a dream is just a dream.
I'm planning to set up a doctor's appointment for this month just for general purpose.
And I also plan on getting my eyes checked because I can't see squat!!!!
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Rumbly in my Tumbly
*My parents house in 2006; Bathroom; Early morning.*
Me: (in the bathroom, yelling) Daddy! Come here!
Daddy: (in his room) What is it?
Me: Daddy! Come here now! There's something in the vent!
Daddy: Wait a minute. Here I come. (Sloshes in his houseshoes to the bathroom)
Me: (Ear to vent) Do you hear that?!
Daddy: (trying to wake up) I don't hear nothing!
Me: Lean closer to the vent! I think its a frog!!! You can't hear that?!?!
Daddy: (leaning closer to vent) Well... (obviously hearing something)
Me: See! You heard it!
Daddy: Yeah... but its not coming from the vent. (standing straight and looks at me)
Me: It is!!!
Daddy: No. Its coming from your stomach. (smirks and sloshes back out the bathroom)
Me: Wha...??? (listening)
(background: Daddy talking junk about me to mama)
My stomach is the LOUDEST mofo around. It literally screamed out in the middle of a Chemistry test (with 100 students) when I was a sophmore in college. When everyone looked around at me, I asked the girl sitting two seats away if she'd heard it. She started laughing. I wrote my name on my test, walked down the stairs of the lecture hall, turned in my test, and went back to my dorm room. Shortly after that, I dropped the the class and my major and never became a pediatrician... but thats another story.
I can't even say its because I'm hungry because I can be a number of reasons why my stomach speaks. It can be hungry; It can be full.
It can be the dairy, the iceberg lettuce, the red tomato sauce, the ground turkey, or anything in between.
It speaks now... What does it say???
"gabbeubuelnebbles!!!!!"
I think my stomach chants! or maybe not.
I wonder how my stomach will react when there's a baby chilling a few doors down in Mrs. Uterus. Will it calm down? or will it be jealous and act up?
Me: (in the bathroom, yelling) Daddy! Come here!
Daddy: (in his room) What is it?
Me: Daddy! Come here now! There's something in the vent!
Daddy: Wait a minute. Here I come. (Sloshes in his houseshoes to the bathroom)
Me: (Ear to vent) Do you hear that?!
Daddy: (trying to wake up) I don't hear nothing!
Me: Lean closer to the vent! I think its a frog!!! You can't hear that?!?!
Daddy: (leaning closer to vent) Well... (obviously hearing something)
Me: See! You heard it!
Daddy: Yeah... but its not coming from the vent. (standing straight and looks at me)
Me: It is!!!
Daddy: No. Its coming from your stomach. (smirks and sloshes back out the bathroom)
Me: Wha...??? (listening)
(background: Daddy talking junk about me to mama)
My stomach is the LOUDEST mofo around. It literally screamed out in the middle of a Chemistry test (with 100 students) when I was a sophmore in college. When everyone looked around at me, I asked the girl sitting two seats away if she'd heard it. She started laughing. I wrote my name on my test, walked down the stairs of the lecture hall, turned in my test, and went back to my dorm room. Shortly after that, I dropped the the class and my major and never became a pediatrician... but thats another story.
I can't even say its because I'm hungry because I can be a number of reasons why my stomach speaks. It can be hungry; It can be full.
It can be the dairy, the iceberg lettuce, the red tomato sauce, the ground turkey, or anything in between.
It speaks now... What does it say???
"gabbeubuelnebbles!!!!!"
I think my stomach chants! or maybe not.
I wonder how my stomach will react when there's a baby chilling a few doors down in Mrs. Uterus. Will it calm down? or will it be jealous and act up?
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