New template

As promised, I've changed my background. Citrus is considered summery, but where I live it tastes the best in the winter.

I still like it though.

It Starts

Throughout this first real two week wait I've been trying to decide what kind of things in my life I will change when I am pregnant. Of course I'll stay away from the obvious things: alcohol, cat litter (I consider this a major SCORE), raw fish, cocaine...

(Just kidding)

(Not kidding that I'll stay away from cocaine, kidding that I'd do it at all)

Anyway. There are other things in pregnancy where the jury is still out: they may be bad, they may only be bad in excess, or they could be just fine. Take caffeine. While I don't usually drink a ton of caffeine, I'm addicted to what I do drink. Victor weaned us both down to drinking half-caf in the morning and then I have some chai tea in the afternoon. Most of the literature says that it's okay to have less than 200-300 mg each day, so reasonably I know I should be fine.

But...

What if something did happen? If something happened to my baby and I had done anything at all that could be considered somewhat risky I know I would blame myself. And I'm not sure I can handle that kind of guilt.

Obviously every day will be a risk. Driving with a seat belt, breathing in inescapable fumes, for me even walking down the stairs could present a risk. I can't avoid those things.

I'm beginning to think that pregnancy will only be the start of the worry. SIDS, choking, falling, contagious diseases, car crashes... I can just imagine how these things will make me crazy when I have a real live kid.

Loretta, meet motherhood. Oh dear.

Klassy with a K

Neglecting to send a thank-you note OR an invitation to your wedding to the person who throws you a shower.

The First Two Week Wait

So here we go friends. Settle in for two weeks (okay face it, I'm going to test at 10 days past ovulation) of being hyper aware of everything in my body. Even though Fertility Friend hasn't given me crosshairs yet, I'm fairly certain that I ovulated on Sunday. So I should know for sure if this cycle was successful by Father's Day weekend and I can't think of any better way to celebrate than to shove a urine-soaked pee stick in Victor's face.

Of course, if I'm not pregnant I'll celebrate by having debilitating cramps and then drinking heavily.

Sounds fun, no?

Victor is leaving for a work trip to Italy today, so I'll be a single gal until Sunday. I hate when we leaves, but I try to make the best of it by indulging in my single gal behaviors like eating mushrooms, dancing to loud Madonna music, and busting out the old guitar and singing.

I suck at the guitar. SUCK.

In other news, my prospects for being a sane older woman are looking dim. At the beach I played (and kicked ass at) Upwords with my parents one night. While my mama was thinking of her next play she says "that's okay honey". Huh? I asked who she meant. "Oh, I was just talking to myself."

My mama calls herself honey, Internet.

She verified it as my dad shook his head grimly.

Here's hoping I inherited my mental health from my dad.

Maybe I Did Marry a Woman?

On Sunday Victor suggested we go for a walk on the beach. He's ready.

We decided to ease into the "trying" process. I've heard plenty of stories of guys feeling the pressure when it comes to trying to conceive and it affecting their...

Well, you know.

I can see it now.

Victor comes home from work. I'm naked from the waist down. "Oh hubby," I call in a frantic voice. "My cervix is super-high and the stuff in there is really stretchy! Wanna see?!"

"Errr...no?" Victor offers.

"Oh, come on, don't you want to see what your boys will be swimming in soon?"

(Victor runs out the door. I chase him screaming "but I need your SPERM NOOOOWWWW!!")

Ahem.

So for now I'm just going to make sure the baby dancing (a phrase I will never use again because it is stupid) occurs at the right time. If we don't see the correct amount of pink lines in a few months we'll think about changing some things to increase our odds.

Like Victor's underwear.

Not that he doesn't change his underwear, I just mean the style.

Wow, I just told the Internet that my husband wears tighty whities. I'm sure he'll be in the mood now.

Let the insanity begin. And pass the pineapple.

I am not very funny at 7am

I am currently at my favorite place in the whole wide world. This week will entail sleeping, reading, walking outside and laying on a towel to read and sleep some more, and eating. And playing with a really freaking cute baby. Who likes me. I'm hoping that all the cute baby time will make Victor crazy and say "baby, let's go make our own!"

But, I married a man, not a hormonal woman.

So that probably won't happen.

We're here with my parents, my brother and his girlfriend, the people who would be my godparents if I had any, their son, his wife, and their 364 day old baby. My blogging will probably be limited but I will try my best to entertain you with stories of my insane family and the orange tan, pink blush, peroxide blond, permed hair types we're sure to encounter.

And, a reference to a dead German composer in the women's bathroom at a barbecue joint we hit on the way here. I have a picture.

Have a good week, y'all.

Klassy with a K

Getting drunk from gin and tropical punch Crystal Light that you drink out of a wine glass.