tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-67713855842390326922024-02-20T09:25:32.173-08:00Skipping Into The UnknownGinnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.comBlogger12125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-24399213761223463822015-01-17T22:41:00.002-08:002015-01-17T22:41:28.622-08:00Bead you to the punchline! I signed up for a bead swap. I'm not entirely sure what that entails, but I'm super excited to stretch out my creative beady muscles. I will definitely keep you posted once I'm given a partner and something new and random to play with! Rock on!Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-67372129915044089832013-10-26T19:47:00.000-07:002013-10-26T19:47:33.921-07:00Beware Of ParrotToday I discovered yet another humbling aspect of children. Toddlers, specifically. They repeat EVERYTHING they hear that sounds "fun" to them. Fun to them apparently means anything said with emotion and emphasized. <u>No</u>!, Stop <u>chasing</u> the dog!, <u>Don't wipe</u> that on your sister!, I'm not your <u>napkin</u>!, <u>Ewww</u>! and so on. Also, toddlers are gross. Moving on. They struggle with sh, ch, st, ck, etc. type sounds as they just got their teeth and haven't quite figured out how they work in speech and where the tongue comes in. It's fun. Especially with words like stick...where the st becomes sh and the ck becomes t...and we all giggle under our breath trying not to make a big deal out of it and praying there are no sticks to be found at church...<br />
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They also repeat things you didn't realize were said and/or heard. Today was one such instance. I have a big dog (Pyrenees) who laments being apart from me from time to time (daily). If I put him in the field to play with his brother and mom he has fun for a bit then howls endlessly wanting to be reunited with his human family. Once he gets started all the others join in. It's kinda funny and kinda sad. I admit, I have a little less time for him than I did pre-kids, but I do try to make my time with him count. I miss my time with him, too. He has a very soothing, calming, nature to him. Anyway...He started up this morning with the others joining in. All of the sudden my 21 month old, golden curled, blue eyed blessing of a child (you know... as much as a two year old wannabe can be. HA!) said "SHUT UP!" Three times. I've been adamant about others not saying that around her, to her, to her sister, etc. knowing that wasn't how I wished to raise my girls. Hush would suffice. Nope. Apparently she heard it from someone. Who knows, in my sleep deprived state one morning it could have been me. It got me thinking. Hard.<br />
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How many things do you say out loud that you shouldn't? Even if no one is around to hear them...or you think no one is. It doesn't have to be cursing. It can just be something judgmental, some prejudice, anything negative, sarcastic (I do love my sarcasm...), apathetic, etc. Now, I don't believe we live in a world full of sunshine and rainbows, but I do wish to create a safe space at home for my girls, my husband and myself to come and semi-escape the anger, bitterness, negativity, etc. of the outside world for a while. I'm even trying to come up with a code word for when my girls are feeling down/attacked/weary from all things around them that they can say and it automatically shifts our gears into a different mindset to give them that peace for a moment. Be it a hug, prayer, some alone time, music, art, etc. Whatever it takes to bring us back to each other in a loving way. If it is an argument, misunderstanding, etc. we can come back to it after we've taken a "moment" so we can approach it in a rational, loving way. Do I think I will always be successful? No way, but with prayer, God's help, teaching them this from the start and knowing my husband has my back I think we'll have a pretty decent shot at it.<br />
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So be thinking about what comes out of your mouth and how you say it. There are always ears close enough to hear you and hearts that are being affected by your attitude. That's frighteningly sobering for me. How about you?Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-80180105817147924952013-08-30T20:14:00.001-07:002013-08-30T20:14:22.903-07:00They done me wrong! One of the very best smells in all the world? Cookies baking in the oven. With a 19 month old and a 2 month old, homemade just ain't happening. I chose to bake the "break and bake" kind as I had a hankering for cookies and milk this afternoon. <div>
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My 19 month old always gets "SNACK!!!" (she cannot say it without screaming it, as food is one of her very favorite things). Usually it's crackers, fruit or a combination of the two. Today, after her fruit cup I thought perhaps today was the day to share my love of cookies and milk. I presented her with a sippy cup of cold milk and two tiny, yet glorious, chocolate chip cookies. Oh her eyes lit up after the first bite. It was love. Big love. Her eyes shone as she grinned through her chocolaty smeared face. I know that look all too well. I get that way over certain things, too. Usually food. That's my girl. </div>
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Then the unthinkable happened. My sweet, blue eyed, golden curled child became something else. Something non-human. A monster unlike any other. She was horrible for the rest of the day. She was into EVERYTHING. Wrecking what little calm I still had after the 2 month old's nightly escapades. I was getting used to being tag-teamed by the two of them. I was getting used to the older one knowing only how to run from the time she woke until bedtime. I was getting used to her being smart enough to get out of any baby gate she encountered. I was used to the extra energy fruit gave her. </div>
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I was not, however, prepared for the cookie high. I had never been so wronged by a baked good. I felt so betrayed. How?! How could something so delightful become so venomous?! I knew sugar rushes. Or so I thought. I had never before factored in the toddler coefficient. That's a monumental game changer, folks. If I were a drinker, I would be schnockered tonight just trying to recover from my nightmare. Alas, I'm not - so instead, you get blogged. Pray for me people. Pray that she will awaken tomorrow as her delightful self. Pray that I will awaken less zombie-esque. Pray that I NEVER forget this moment. </div>
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One last thing, my peoples. If anyone offers my beloved children sugared candy, cookies, etc.,...we may no longer be friends. I may even go so far as to collect a gaggle of toddlers, sugar them up hard and lock you in a minivan with them... </div>
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I'm not even playing.</div>
Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-38264255877832023642012-11-23T21:21:00.000-08:002012-11-23T21:21:14.316-08:00Can you smell that?! Did you know that scent is one of the most powerful forces to the human mind? It is. Think of your childhood. Ever caught a scent on the breeze that reminded you of home? A special meal? A season? Scent memory is so powerful. As are pregnancy hormones. Crazy combo, let me assure you. I have the nose of a bloodhound right now. NOTHING escapes my notice...which is not always a good thing.<br />
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Anyway, Christmas is coming and I NEED the smell of Christmas. I need my daughter to know the smell of Christmas. She won't possibly be able to remember the toys she gets (aside from the 12,000 pictures of them), the songs sung or even the decor - but she will remember the smell of Christmas...IF, that is, we provide it for her. That means a REAL Christmas tree. Yes! Now, I dearly love my mom and dad. I love the memories I have of Christmases past, but I find an increasing hatred of their beloved fake tree. I've put this tree together, from it's home crammed in a box in the attic soooo many times. I cannot do it this year. I cannot abide the sad, pokey tree - all plastic, fake and shameful in it's attempt at the grandeur of a God-made tree. I just can't do it. I cannot move past it's musty, plasticy smell. I just cant. This year, there must be a real tree. It doesn't have to be big, just real and smell divine.<br />
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I must say, I cannot remember being this excited about Christmas since I was a kid. My daughter's first Christmas. I don't care if I ever get another gift again in my life - I just want to live through her Christmases, her excitement and her wonder of it all for as long as I can.<br />
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Bring on Christmas, music and live trees. We have the wonder of a child to watch.<br />
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Yes, please!Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-23739462409905839852012-10-24T19:29:00.000-07:002012-10-24T19:29:53.548-07:00It's the end of the world as we know it...and I feel fine!Okay, perhaps it's not the end of the world. It is, however, the beginning of some heavy duty stress. With my beloved baby girl, Moira, reaching 9 months of age - I now have another one on the way. We're super happy about that, by the way. I have yet to figure out how to factor in another child. Moira is quite the handful and takes up the majority of my day. Add in the "sleeping sickness" (as my mom calls it) of the first trimester fatigue and I am one tired camper. Still, we're so happy to be blessed so extravagantly by God. <div>
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I am trying to walk a little more each day, stretch a bit more each day and eat good things. For those of you who don't know me, I have some food allergies. Okay, a lot of food allergies. Pregnancy requires a restrictive diet, too. I'm also still nursing my daughter and have to avoid certain things for her until I stop nursing. All of that equals a very difficult time trying to figure out how and what to eat. <div>
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Current favs include: avocado tomato and Italian dressing together, popcorn, sweet potatoes and...heaven help me, I could kill for Captain D's. I bought a box of battered cod to bake in the oven thinking it was the same. I gagged on the first bite. This baby SPECIFICALLY requested Captain D's... I hope this baby likes disappointment... </div>
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On a fun note, we went to the zoo today. For free! Had so much fun. My man and I decided we needed more family outings. We have some great parks nearby. Picnics are great, so we'll definitely be doing that again soon. Even if it's not the zoo - it's still family and being outside. </div>
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Sorry for the randomness and the serious lack of updates for 9 months. As I've said before, Moira is a handful. Not an excuse - just a reason. Have a great week folks! </div>
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Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-11916082597139770812012-01-12T09:18:00.000-08:002012-01-12T09:18:20.690-08:00When are you due?!Sure, I've been MIA for a while, but I'll address that later. Today I want to discuss due dates. What exactly IS a due date? What does it all mean? I will answer that in 3 time frames. Shall we? Yes! Let's...<br />
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Newly knocked up:<br />
Oh my goodness, how exciting?! You find out you're pregnant!!! Doctors confirm and calculate your due date. In my case, they had to calculate 2x. They first thought I was further along than I was, so the first was Dec 7th... You know, the day that will live in infamy? Pearl Harbor Day. Incidentally, my grandfather was AT Pearl Harbor that day. Clearly he made it out, thus my ability to blog. ;) The second due date, after my first ultrasound, became January 13th, which is indeed tomorrow - and a friday the 13th. Why not?! You don't really "FEEL" pregnant, so the due date is sort of a badge of "proof" that you are, indeed, knocked up. A date that seems forever away and almost unattainable, but something to provide hope and a finish line.<br />
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Mid to late knocked up:<br />
Are we there yet? It's taking FOREVER!!! Of course, there are still a zillion things to do and finally you have some energy to do them...kinda... The due date becomes a deadline. As the months count down and your girth ramps up, you realize how very real it all is. By now you feel the little bugger kicking the crap out of you and putting demands on your food intake, bathroom needs and nearly ever other facet of your life and she isn't even OUT yet. Though there is so much excitement as you look ahead, there's also a bit of fear. If she controls so much now, what is she going to be like once she's here?! Doesn't matter now, does it?! It's done and it's ON! And so you sail ever closer to that iceberg hoping you stay afloat and you've got enough time to get all that you need to do, done. Deeeeep breath. Take a lot of them. You're going to need them.<br />
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Game time:<br />
You're going to the doctor ALL the time now, it seems. You have never been so excited to see a pee cup in your life until this stage when you show up for your appointment. Your only fear is overflowing it. That's not fun for anyone involved... Fetal monitors, ultrasounds, personal violations to check for possible dilation, attempts to speed the process along, etc... Week after week, something invasive and sometimes unwelcome. I'm thankful that my folks know to do first, explain later and apologize during. Especially the super unpleasant things. Due date? Tomorrow. What does that mean? Freakin' nothing. At all. Its at this stage you realize that the "due date" is a rough generalization, an average, that really has very little bearing. What you saw as a finish line, was merely a "good luck, you'll probably go later...sorry". Seems first births take a bit longer. The 40 weeks that you're told are how long a pregnancy takes...it's an average between the shortest average and the longest average. What you thought was a finish line...it's not. I'm constantly being told that I can't be pregnant forever, but I'm not sure Moira accepts that information. She is a touch on the stubborn side... I'm blaming her father for that. HA!!!<br />
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Well, if nothing happens between now and my appointment on Monday, I believe we'll be inducing. So FINALLY an end in sight. Watch her wait til the last possible moment to start something... Precious little heifer of mine.Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-79172547393540424842011-09-07T07:43:00.000-07:002011-09-07T07:43:26.627-07:00Everybody was Kung Fu fighting......or at least Moira has been the last day or so. We switched from flutter to kung fu in a matter of moments. If I press in, she kicks back in defiance of the invasion of <i>her</i> space. Granted, she doesn't have a lot of space to do much and it's certainly going to decrease as she increases. What started my beloved Jackie Chan wannabe off right? Jubala's hot chocolate. She was already stretching and such, but it took some of the best hot chocolate around to get her going. Truly a girl after my own heart. Chocolate saves lives....other people's lives. :)<br />
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I have definitely begun to experience the "you should expect this" shortness of breath recently. You can just do a normal walk around a grocery store then all of the sudden you have to stop because you're having issues breathing and your heart is racing. Super fun...or not. A friend at work keeps reminding me that I'm running a marathon on the inside to grow my little, picky girl. Having experienced Asthma for many years, it feels somewhat like that minus the panic involved in closing airways. I think it's probably a good thing that I can recognize the difference or the ER folks would be mighty sick of me by now. HA! I just stop, slow my breathing and wait. It all settles down in a few minutes.<br />
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On the upside, Moira is a little less demanding on food right now. That's a huge relief. I know she'll pick back up and it's not like I still can't dismember half a chicken in a few short moments - still, a tiny reprieve is a welcome change. Even if only for a few days. I'll take it. Who knows...maybe I'll only need one breakfast today... ;)Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-18468175581005803852011-08-31T07:38:00.000-07:002011-08-31T07:38:49.502-07:00It's a girl!!! ....and i'm in trouble.So yes, we've found out that our baby is a little girl. Her name is Moira Carolyn. So 2 things:<br />
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1. We've received a lot of flack about the first name. My man and I are undaunted. We've both loved the name since each of us, independently, were little so there's no chance in changing it. What amuses me, yes I'm genuinely amused, is that people somehow think that their opinion will change the decision of the people who are actually having the child. That somehow they are intimately involved in the intimate... My husband and I struggled on boy names but the girl name we both KNEW immediately. Much prayer and time went into the name, but still we knew from the beginning (at least from the time that plus sign showed up on the little stick) that if it was a girl, her name would be Moira. With my man being so vehemently against nicknames or shortening her name somehow, we've been helping some family and friends learn how to say it. In case you wondered, it's pronounced like Moy-Rah. 2 syllables. Easy-peasy. Think Irish while pronouncing it and you're all good. :) My main question is, "Why does it matter what someone else names their child?" It may not be common but it doesn't fall into the list of absurd made up names or re-pronunciations of brand names... I genuinely don't understand. Anyone have insight? Bring it!<br />
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2. I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO not ready for this baby. I have quietly passed my halfway mark. For those of you who don't know what the heck that means, I'll break it down. It takes 40 weeks from the time of conception to the time of birth...roughly. Obviously few babies are right on that 40 week mark, but that's the average. I passed my 20 week mark last Friday. The closer I get, the more not ready I become. Even though I'm sure, at some point, that I will reach a place where I just want this pushy, hungry little girl out - I still won't be ready. Even when I have her in my arms, I'm still sure I won't be ready. I'm not looking for encouragement, or the "You'll be okay". I know all of that, but the thought that somehow God felt that I could not only be trusted to HAVE a child, but then raise it to be a functioning part of society is terrifying. I know He knows me...but for real?! He doesn't make mistakes, yet somehow I still need to question Him. Then there's the whole "Paying for my raising" part that just scares the crap out of me. I already know she's stubborn. Will I have it in me to out-stubborn her or will they have to invent a new word to properly embody that level of stubbornness. I don't even know what to do with a baby. The last baby I took care of was my cousin's who is now in his 20s... I so wish I were kidding. Granted, I'm married to a man who was born to be a daddy and all these things are just naturally there for him - but he won't be there the whole time and I may just have to cry with the baby at times. How often will this baby look at me and think...."did I roll snake eyes on the parent pick or what?!"? I suppose we're stuck with each other... Perhaps I'm thinking too far ahead for the moment. Maybe I should just enjoy being woken up by a dancing baby girl (that tickles like crazy at this stage) who just needs to get her breakfasts (yes, plural) on and just take it as it comes...<br />
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Okay... I need chocolate milk STAT! Let's do this thing...<br />
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Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-85299308571608130452011-08-14T11:10:00.000-07:002011-08-14T11:10:41.141-07:00This baby hates me and it has taken over my mind...Apparently, just screwing with my food isn't enough. I can't just have strange cravings, weird combinations and constant eating habits...nooooooooooooooo, now the baby has extended it's tiny little grasp to my brain. Out of nowhere come random songs that get stuck in my head, most of which I haven't heard in decades. We're not going to discuss how many decades have passed, etc. - In case you were hoping...Not gonna happen. <div><br />
</div><div>The first offense was a few weeks ago when the original Winnie the Pooh theme song got stuck in my head. I didn't even know I knew it! It was in there ALLLLLLLLLL day!!! Nothing helped. I had to sleep that one off. Then, yesterday I had the song Baby Baby by Amy Grant trapped in there....Oh sweet Jesus make it stop!!! I was getting desperate while extensive pleas and prayers went unanswered. As though that were not a great enough offense (people, I even tried to get It's a Small World stuck in my head to relieve the horror that was the prior song...no joke) today we have the Cabbage Patch commercial jingle stuck. What the crap?! </div><div><br />
</div><div>Why does this baby hate me?! I feed it (constantly!), give it vitamins, protect it from harmful chemicals and people...and THIS is the thanks I get in return - rapidly approaching insanity on a whole new level. I've been a little crazy (keep your comments to yourself - you know who you are), but this overshadows that on a scale I've never seen before.</div><div><br />
</div><div>January can't get here fast enough... Ugh...</div>Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-3104582650005058222011-08-02T18:27:00.000-07:002011-08-02T18:27:49.395-07:00I used to love to eat...Oh I remember the days when I'd work long hours on just what I had for breakfast then meet friends out for an amazing dinner of flavor-filled wonders. How I miss those days... Now, my days involve 2 breakfasts, 2 lunches, 2 dinners and a few snacks thrown in for good measure...only because it shuts the baby up. I think I'm reaching a point where Hobbits would be disgusted with me. If I haven't yet, I'm certain it's coming quickly.<br />
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My day began with a protein shake, followed by muffins with milk an hour or so later. It's tough for me to eat when I first get up...apparently the baby doesn't get that. Nor does it understand that I actually do have to work, run errands, etc...which means that sometimes food gets delayed. After the muffins, came soup (tomato with ritz crackers filling the bowl til soggy). Then another bowl of soup right before filling in at work for 3 hours this afternoon. I was forced to break into my freeze dried asian pears whilst at work. Once I got home, I downed a V8 and began making dinner. Chickeny, noodley goodness in vast proportions. I'm sitting here knowing that in another hour or so, I will be forced to eat again, then more milk before bed (maybe chocolate) just so I can start again in the morning. Granted, I can't eat a lot at a time, but I find myself making extra so that I don't have to cook so much the next day. It's pitiful and I know it's going to get worse. Instead of eating because I loved to eat and enjoy flavors, textures, and the whole dining experience I find myself consuming whatever will quiet the beast.<br />
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This is nuts...Mmmmm...too bad I can't have those. Stupid food allergies and my apparent need to try and keep the baby from having them.<br />
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I think that's why you begin to feel the baby move around this time (which I did a few days ago and it was AMAZING!!!!)(once I realized what it was. HA!) so that women are more likely to keep foraging at regular intervals without giving up all hope of a future waistline. Somehow God decides we should be reminded why our waistline is disappearing into that huge "b" shape we'll be sporting for months to come. I figure I'll get kicked in the ribs about the time I think I am "done" with this whole eating 24/7 thing. Yet another reminder that the Mad Scientist owns me, controls me and mocks me. Just wait til you get out... lolGinnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-81779969269683128002011-06-17T06:33:00.000-07:002011-06-17T06:33:09.878-07:00PaybackMy mom and dad-in law visited this week and it was awesome. I really do love spending time with them and it's so easy to see how they could produce such an amazing fella as my beloved. Being...well, mega poor makes their (or my parent's visits) quite a treat because then we get to actually eat out...like REAL food I didn't cook. As MS (Mad Scientist, chilling in my abdomen) not so gently sucks the energy out of me, I have come to better appreciate not cooking. :D Now, I love to cook. I really, really do. It's one of my favorite things, however, when you've woken up from your afternoon nap after work...you just don't wanna. Most of what we get when we go to eat out are things I don't normally cook anyway. The un-fun part is when everyone looks at you like, "What's the baby want?". I don't know. It doesn't know. MS is pretty clear on what it does NOT want, but the other is a little sketchy. Now, there are times when MS knows EXACTLY what it wants...like YESTERDAY so get on it, woman! Most of the time it's more a process of elimination.<br />
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One of my favorite parts of being knocked up is when I eat, every flavor is so new. It's either the best thing EVER or must exit my mouth immediately. I think it might be a bit of a bummer post knockedupedness (it<i> is</i> a word...for me. Let it go, grammar police peoples. I love it and will keep it) when I go back to the usual...eh of flavor. I have thoroughly enjoyed rediscovering food. Relax, people...I am still fitting through standard doorways and after the dr visit yesterday I'm actually down some weight since i last convinced myself to locate and exercise a scale (I refuse to have them in my house...they're evil and make people do/say/eat stupid things).<br />
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Okay, Dr. visit. First, they were super nice folks. Second, they DID warn us it would be a LOOOONG visit. The visit was said to take 3-5 hours. What they should have said was it'll probably be longer...pack food. So we arrive a few minutes early for our 815 am appt. The lobby was packed full of what I love to call "fat with baby" people. It is fascinating to see all the different sizes and shapes of those protruding baby bellies. Like God was just having a blast when He worked all of that out. First, He makes us look freakish (sorry people - nothing normal about the shape of us pregnant women. Sure it's beautiful with the new life making and all that junk, but really - it's a touch on the creepy side as my mirror daily reminds me), but then He also made us hormonal so if anyone DARES say something they will be obliterated and no one will speak up to save them. Too funny. I'm thinking if pregnant women were put into battle...the planet would both be lost and repopulated in a short time. lol. There is some crazy, dangerous stuff about the workings of a knocked up mind. Emotional control? Psh...haven't seen that in months. I think it was lost with my filter.<br />
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Sorry, back to the Dr appt... So, 5 hours and 37 minutes later we left having been instructed on proper nutrition (which is kind of a no-brainer, I would think), i was properly violated, my medical history and that of my man were documented and we got to hear the MS's heartbeat. They only looked for one. Apparently it took a 2nd try as the MS was uncooperative (am I surprise?! nope). They said if there were more swimming around in there, we'd find them at the ultrasound in July. Yikes... <br />
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So MS prefers sustenance on a bi -hourly basis. After 5 and a half hours, MS was more than a little mad. By the time we got out of there, we grabbed food and came home for a loooong nap. Then we were thinking dinner. We <i>were</i> thinking brick oven pizza from this gourmet market down the street. MS had revenge in mind... After replacing the phone charger cord with a non-chewed in half version (thanks to the puppy who is becoming immune to Bitter Apple spray...), we were set to go for pizza. All of the sudden I looked at my man and said - MS says no pizza. The thought of it made me ill. Instead...I wanted...(holding back tears)...SALAD. Salad is the food that food eats. It's not food. It might be a side dish, but it ain't food (sorry - had to go southern there for a moment). We went to whole foods for their salad bar (because I RARELY have salad fixings at home). Oh MS was mad and payback was to be HUGE. The little bugger even refused to allow MEAT on the salad. Oh it was personal... I knew it the moment I saw the glorious grilled chicken and realized it wasn't going to happen that it was personal. So my salad had greens, carrots, olives, tomatoes, cheese (because MS is a slut for the cheese) and dressing. I was mortified. Sure i had a little fruit on the side, but MS had certainly made it's point...loud and clear. MORE snacks, less hunger....BRAT...<br />
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Though I'm not sure what I expected. It is MY spawn....Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6771385584239032692.post-58719299708957789052011-06-12T20:20:00.000-07:002011-06-12T20:20:50.261-07:00Knocked Up : The conception...of food has altered. Significantly.Well... It's been since May that my man and I knew we were knocked up. I'm currently about 14 weeks along. I am of the few blessed women not to have had morning (noon or night) sickness. I cheerfully accept. I imagine it being a trade off for being so..not young and having my first. I know lots of women have babies in their mid to late thirties. We never expected it to be possible and well, we've only been married for 5 months. lol.<br />
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I've always been a foodie, but wow. The little Mad Scientist within me has had plenty of fun pushing buttons and spinning dials. I'm pretty much hungry ALL the time and have random cravings depending on where I am, what I see or even things people post on Facebook. It's ridiculous.<br />
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It all started before I knew I was pregnant. My first clue was my constant cravings for hot wings and fries. I've always loved them. I'd be happy to eat them weekly...but daily?! Then one day, as the temperatures got warmer all I could think about was a tomato sandwich. I HAD to have one. I got a tomato, bread, ranch dressing (I use that instead of mayo - awesome flavor combo!). I took it to work, put it all together, took that first glorious bite and... gagged. It was offensive. The taste hadn't changed. Instantly I thought - Oh crap...I'm knocked up. Pleeeeeeeeeeeease let it be a stomach virus. A test the next morning revealed that indeed, it was not a stomach virus. Rather...the proof positive (ha! ) of the Mad Scientist (we shall shorten this to M.S for the remainder of this blog).<br />
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That is where the food adventure really began, though only slight cravings at first. Lentil soup here, Gyro there...easy stuff...until that fateful day at IHOP. I wanted IHOP for breakfast. I needed the strawberry, banana, nutella crepes something fierce. I also knew that I couldn't just have crepes, that I needed real protein. I asked the waitress what sort of meat sides I could get. She rattled off the usual, bacon, sausage, ham...each time the M.S. said EW!...until she said pork chops. YES, PLEASE!!!! My man informed her of our impending spawn, to which her look of bewilderment changed to a look of uneasy understanding. That's right...be afraid. I am. She finally arrived with our food and I dove in with abandon. I began eating the pork chops seperately from the crepes until M.S. took over my arm...I found myself sopping up the nutella/strawberry syrup with the pork chop. I knew it was wrong. SO VERY WRONG!! Yet, it was EXACTLY what I wanted. I felt betrayed by my spawn, already. Wasn't this supposed to happen in the preteens or something instead of in utero??! Horrified, I decided to save one of the pork chops for later (which I gnawed on like a ravenous dog later that evening).<br />
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From that point on the cravings have been bizarre and constant. They're not the easy going ones I had early on. Nope, I would almost kill for these...which unnerves my beloved more than a little. They range from chocolate milkshakes, simply orange orange juice (no other brand is sufficient for my little M.S.'s refined palate), animal crackers, pizza, anything cheesy (I swear i'm going to birth a teenager), coke floats (caff free coke, of course), and now we've devolved to suggestive cravings.<br />
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Yes, suggestive cravings. A friend mentioned cheetoes on facebook a few days ago and I literally said, "mmmmm....cheetoes" out loud. My beloved was kind enough to provide a bag the following day on his way to work. That man is a trooper and I adore him. Today a friend mentioned refried beans. M.S. was all over that. Then I thought, hey a nice bean salad sounds good, so I began looking up recipes for bean salad. That led me to pasta salads and before I knew it I had eaten 8 pickles. I don't even KNOW what happened there.<br />
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I must say that knockedupedness has been a wild ride. Lets see where the next craving takes us.<br />
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If you're knocked up or have been, what kinds of cravings have y'all had? Or feel free to comment on my grossness. I can take it. :D<br />
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Thanks for reading!Ginnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12792319311474364466noreply@blogger.com2