The unthinkable!

Thank you, OldNavy, for horrendously forcing me, blindsided, into the world of the dreaded MOM BUTT way before I was ready. Which would have been never.

Now I understand how Mom Butt happens in the first place; asshole companies like OldNavy are getting a kick out of it. They must be eating that crud up! There just isn't any other explanation for why they would place itty-bitty pockets high up on jean backs. No way.

I can't even show you what I'm talking about because I'm so horrified, but y'all know what I'm talking about: the gross butt that moms get when they wear mom jeans--usually high-waisted, tapered leg jeans in a light wash. Momma Carole has quite the collection.
I'm sure it is quite comical to anyone else (as it once was to me), but to me now--traumatic.

My butt is NOT supposed to look like that. As if dealing with my ever-changing, hormonal body wasn't hard enough. My flat, undefined, WIIIIIIDDDDDEEE ass is getting wider and flabbier by the second. I can't even look at my own back side in the mirror; I prefer to pretend that it doesn't even exist. So why add insult to injury?

Needless to say, the assholes at OldNavy got an e-mail from me:
Pregnant women have enough issues with their butts getting bigger--don't make it worse by have teeny-tiny butt pockets! Small butt pockets only make your butt look bigger. Pass that on to your cruel designers.

It took all of my strength to be that nice about it.

After they were done laughing and hi-fiving themselves, OldNavy issued me this response:
Dear oldnavy.com Customer,
Thank you for your e-mail and for your suggestion regarding our Maternity Jean pockets. We appreciate the time you have taken to contact us to share your thoughts. At Old Navy, bringing irresistible fashion at an amazing price to our customers is important, so we will pass your message along to our merchandising team. Please be assured that customer feedback is the most important consideration when planning what our future products will look like.
Thanks again for writing, you sill fool.

Okay, so I may have added a little blurb there at the end, but you totally know that's what they meant. They better darn well pass that info along to their evil, crap of a "merchandising team."

The ultra-sad part is that the jeans are deceptively okay-looking from the front. I would have never guessed from the picture online that they were like this. The full maternity panel doesn't even drive me bonkers. The length is acceptable, as long as I never ever wash them--but that's something I have just had to come to terms with. Mom Butt? At the ripe age of 20? Totally not anywhere close to acceptable. This is far more heinous than wearing shoes with socks, and if you know me--that's a really big deal.

So what is a girl supposed to do? I'm exchanging this pair for a bigger size in hopes that the pockets will also increase in size, proportionately plus some. I'm on a college budget, so deviating from OldNavy maternity would most likely be a splurge. But then again, what if all maternity jeans are like this?

I'm sticking to dresses and going shoe shopping instead. Thank goodness my prenatal workout DVD should be arriving any day now; I'm going to have to add a trillion sets of prenatal Buns of Steel to get rid of this complex.

Passing time I kinda still have

It feels like an eternity since I last posted, probably because I've been so stinkin' busy and stressed out that blogging isn't quite as high on the priority list. The reason I'm blogging tonight is because my dear, beloved Treo smartphone is sick, maybe terminally so. Please pray or do whatever religious rituals you do regarding its well being. It's time is even off. Thank heaven the calendar part is still working (for now), it's the only thing that keeps my world rotating.
I'm also blogging now because I am trapped in this building for the entirety of the weekend, stuck on duty, without text messaging to complain to people who pretend to care.

Don't worry baby boy, you have nothing to do with it.

Well, maybe the insane scatterbrained-ness and intense forgetfulness. And gas, but that is just providing me with comic relief when I'm all by my lonesome--which is pretty much all the time I'm not in class lately.

So far in the last week I:

• Misplaced my precious box of Triscuits. Actually, I can't even remember if I ate them all or put them somewhere. My room really isn't that big, AND it's even pretty stinkin' tidy (for me)...but there's just NO WAY I ate all those Triscuits. I simply didn't have enough cheese to top them all.
• Got a phone call to let a resident in their room (lockout). After hanging up the phone with the OA (office assistant), I promptly forgot that said conversation ever transpired. Ten minutes later, the OA called back asking if everything was okay. No, it's not--I'm like a whole five shades mentally blonder now.
• Fell out of bed (completely)--twice--while trying to grab something off the floor. This new belly really isn't doing anything for my already non-existent balance. I'm just going to up and fall off the face of the earth someday. Wait for it.
• Have been needing to get out of bed in the wee morning hours (that I haven't seen since those very long-ago days being out with friends) to not only pee, but to replenish those lost body fluids by getting a drink. Hardly ever do I remember having to get up and out of bed in the middle of a sound slumber to quench insatiable thirst. It is especially unpleasant because of housing's inability to keep my room above a temperature of 62 degrees.
• Ventured out into the cold. Reluctantly. A freaking lot. Look at my self-discipline/control! I started a rant on my Treo about why winter sucks the big time, but I decided against being a downer and posting it. That, and I'm letting the poor thing rest for a while.
• Broke down and purchased my first pair of maternity jeans. After a huge ordeal with OldNavy and their inability to update their website (those $9 jeans weren't really available), I had to settle for a pair of on-sale, full panel jeans. I'm completely bypassing stylish maternity wear and going straight for the fugly. The low-rise bootcut weren't available in my size at that time (who knows if they are now, OldNavy doesn't believe in updating), and I like a darker wash.
• Did a bunch of other stuff, probably just as (un)important, but for the sake of readability I won't ramble on about. Finito.

Yyys, because they're not quite the same Zzzs

Whoever thought up this pregnancy and childbirth thing did a pretty good job of gradually building up the lack of sleep factor. It has been harder and harder to get a good night's rest as this pregnancy has gone along--"training," I assume, for when he finally comes along and allows me practically no sleep.

First, after you find out you're preggo, you're so bewildered at the news that falling asleep without a racing mind becomes difficult.

Then you can't sleep because your new-found hormones are making you so nauseous that you can't get in any sort of horizontal position.

Then, next thing you know, you've gone from being able to have a refreshing morning pee to having a good THREE not-so-refreshing, middle-of-the-night trips to the bathroom.

After that, your growing belly starts to become an annoying new accessory that makes getting into a comfortable position with your sore, achy boobs pretty much impossible.

I envision that here, as the months tick away, I will begin to get anxious about the whole "birthing process" and will find myself getting the same number of hours of sleep as what I used to consider a decent nap.
I'm just waiting for the day now when I'm brave/lazy/groggy enough to allow my robe out of the building and into class. Someone please stage an intervention if that ever happens.

Dear Menstrual Period:

I don't miss you at all. I'm going to breastfeed for as long as I can in hopes that you'll stay away. Take that!

How I "Knew"

Reasons I "Knew" You Are a Boy:
{according to Old Wives' Tales and the like}

• I could barely stand to eat sweet foods (still that way). I much prefer savory or salty things lately
• My feet are freezing
• I'm carrying low
• The Chinese Gender Predictor said so

Okay, so I qualified for a few girl indicators too (like fetal heartbeat above 140 and growing-at-the-speed-of-light-hair-and-nails)...but these are the ones that held true.

No matter--you're a boy! Unless that thingy really is just your foot. Hope you like blue!

Picking names, not my nose

How on Earth do people ever decide on a name for their child? It's like...their identity for crying out loud. Can't rhyme with this, can't mean that, can't have the same name as an infamous person, can't be too common, can't be too weird, not too old-fashioned, not too new agey--the list goes on and on. As does the list of names I've come up with.
See, if you were a girl, I had a pretty solid name in mind. But nooo, "easy" is not the name of this game at all.
I hate telling people some of the names off my list. Granted, you find out the ones they like, but they also have no problem telling you the ones they dislike. Usually it's one you were leaning toward.
I'm just not going to pick one. So far, kid, you're having 31 names. Let's shoot for 50 by the time you arrive. Eventually, you can just pick your favorite on your own.

Boy Oh Boy!

Oh baby, you're a boy!!

You were pretty shy at first, all snuggled up in a comfortable spot where the ultrasound technician couldn't get a good look at you. You were just bargaining after all: you wouldn't move and show your tallywhacker (my chosen term) 'til after Mom got to go pee. Thanks, kid.

Your father was definitely excited about you being a he. He shouted some nonsense about future MVP and major leaguer then did a little spin in the chair he was sitting in. He commented that you guys had nearly the same tallywhacker size. Take that how you want...

Weight update: My total gain? 2.8 lbs, bringing me to 126.8--apparently 10ish pounds behind where the midwife said I could/should be at. How do people do this? I've been eating all I want, when I want.

They stole some more blood for a quad screen or something cruel like that. They only got one vial out of two--apparently I have non-existent blood pressure and itty bitty veins. My bad.

In other news, I've been learning sign language to teach you. You're gonna love the sign for milk. The CA staff caught on pretty quickly, so surely you won't have any problems. They were signing "milk" and "cookies" at our RHD (Residence Hall Director) while he was trying to do a presentation to the rest of the campus staff. Yeah, we're kind of an obnoxious bunch.

Ohhh my bags are packed, I'm NOT ready to go...

I don't wanna go back to real life tomorrow. Don't make me. Peeeez!!
Yep, tomorrow is the big return to a normal life. One that doesn't involve eons of sleep, watching TV, eating whatever whenever, ma and pa cleaning up after me, and only leaving the comforts of pajamas and my awesome robe to pee and for the occasional shower.

Instead, it is a "real life" consumed with hours and hours of college classes + homework, workin' for a living, being social, moving my body (including time outdoors--in the cold), forcing myself to ingest disgusting cafeteria food, and living in my disgusting cell--I mean dorm room. I sound pretty happy about this, right? Wrong. The transition from blob to productive member of society will be a tough one. Pity me.
The funny thing is, I really wasn't looking forward to going home for break in the first place. I'm like a kid at bedtime. Don't wanna get in, then don't wanna get out.

I've had a gradual buildup back to reality--yes, for the past week (as in seven whole, straight days in a row) I've had one date per day/night. With different people. Don't hate me cuz I'm awesome.
Other good news: T minus TWO days until we can hopefully see what species you are. As in male/female, ya know. It will be much appreciated if you throw all modesty out the window (like your mama) and fully cooperate by flashing us your genitals. Thanks.

Grandma told me that people used to tell her she was having a girl because her belly was beautiful. People have been telling me that I'm going to have a boy. Assholes. I'm writing down your names.

Making sure 2009 starts with a fresh dose of guilt...

...by making resolutions in 2008!
Pretty sure I didn't make any last year, and that worked out quite well for me. Thanks. This year, I think I'll make a few--but maybe not so lofty and impossible that it becomes another unchecked box on my list of life-wants. Sooo here goes:

1. Eat a couple (or 8) freshly baked cookies. Wellll lookie there--it just so happens that a whole dozen+ just came out of the oven. Who knew?!
2. Go to the Salvation Army and thrift shop it up. Hmm...since I'll be in the Big Town today, might as well get it over with. How convenient!
3. Take a trip across state borders. Well, I just might be planning a trip to Nebraska tomorrow and I happen to go to college in a different state. Look at me go!!

Maybe this resolution thing isn't so bad after all--you just gotta know how to do it. In fact, I completed No. 1 in the process of writing the other two! Okay but really. I did type down some general ideas in my Treo. That crazy list follows, but they don't get numbered.

• Stop crossing my legs. It's totally bad for them. Do I reeeallly want varicose (verygross, I pronounce that word)/spider veins? I'm not going to take the leap into resolving my whole posture, so this is a good start at the very least.
• Answer phone calls. Sometimes I'm just too depressed and lazy to push the answer button on my phone. Or return those calls in a timely manner. People actually like me enough to call me...or they just want me to do something. Either way, who am I to deny them the awesomeness of my phone presence?
• Keep my room clean. So the door can be open. This means no crap thrown on the floor or any other flat surface. This will definitely be my biggest challenge. That whole first trimester thing really sucked the life out of me and in turn, made my room a disaster area. Hopefully my plan to deep-clean it when I return becomes a reality that transcends the test of time. And maybe my residents actually do like me enough to stop by...or tell me that their toilet is overflowing.
• Have a baby. So I'll be like, creating life and stuff this year. What are YOU planning on doing? I could totally wipe out the above stuff and just stick with this one, but really? How much self-discipline and willpower does this take? This baby's coming out whether I like it or not. I mean, being a good parent for the remaining seven months of 2008 will be quite a different story, but I'm not setting any standards for that just yet.
• Have a fun 21st birthday party. Whenever that will be. Baby is due June 5. My birthday? June 4. It may be a while 'til I get the motivation to 1.) have the desire to go out, 2.) look nice, 3.) want to ingest alcohol with a non-existent tolerance, 4.) pump enough breastmilk so the baby doesn't have to get drunk and sloppy too, and 5.) be willing to hand my child over for the night to someone who didn't birth it.

There you have it. I might still be bloggin' this time next year, so we'll see just how much guilt I've racked up. Oh joy.