Wednesday, June 19, 2013


...granted it was hot and sweaty (I wore ankle strap sandals probably for the last time this whole summer) and I my feet stayed stationary on my hour bus ride home, because of unforseen smelly man sitting waaay to close to me. I went to bed with high hopes of seeing my inside ankle bones again in the morning.

Alas, no such luck. The insides are still resembling a puffer fish and I'm pretty sure I have about 1 pair of shoes that fit my chubby stump feet right now. I'm only a tad bit worried because this technically isn't supposed to happen until my 3rd trimester. And I'm only a tad bit disappointed because I was hoping that by the time this happened I wouldn't be able to see my feet or ankles. I prefer to choose ignorance when it comes to the puffiness of any part of my body.

I was going to post a picture of said ankles, but I can't bring myself to do it. Not yet at least. I need to keep at least the majority of my dignity for another, let's say, 10 weeks, but probably only 6 for sure. So all of the pictures in this post will be of Maggie because I believe she is sorely under appreciated on this blog and the next story is about her.

In other exciting news, Sunday night Maggie blew chunks on our freshly cleaned sheets. J.rue told me he'd take care of (please remember this phrase) the sheets while I got our obnoxiously large and complicated mattress cover off. After about 10 minutes of battling with the cover I headed downstairs to stain spray and sanitize. I took care of the monster pad first and then got the sheets that j.rue had so lovingly crumpled up and thrown to the bottom of the stairs. 

As luck would have it, I put my hand right in the puppy barf. Of course it was silly to assume that the throw-up would actually be "taken care of". Lesson learned, when j.rue "takes care" of dirty sheets he contains the toxic substance and throws it down the stairs. It's fine, I just didn't know. Now I do. So I was loudly dry heaving, while I'm sure my eyeballs were protruding out of their sockets a little further than what is healthy or usual, and trying to get the stomach substances off of the sheets before washing. I knew I was going to loose it, my stomach is still kind of wussy, but I was desperate to not add to the chaos. I really didn't want J.rue to have to "take care" of that either. By the way, I love my husband, and was not upset by him at all during this process. Really, honestly, and truly.

All of a sudden my body kicked into some strange survival mode and I started singing "This Land is Your Land" at the top of my lungs, I even remembered all the words. While this was happening I was contemplating the ridiculousness of the situation but amazed at my subconscious's ability to act so quickly in such dire times. Then I was proud that I could think/sing so many thoughts at once. It's impressive, right? I won't question it. That song got me through the smells and stains, and I'm hoping through 2 am baby blow outs and bloody whatevers. I'll keep you updated.

However, when I was a baby I threw up in my dad's mouth once. Of course it was an accident, as far as I remember, but karma is consistent in catching up to me, so I'm sure there will be lots of barf in my future. Lots.

To round everything off, I've heard that having dogs while pregnant 1) reduces the child's allergies once out of the womb and 2) allows the child to get used to barking and loud noises. I'm praying for both, especially since I've wanted to put a puppy adoption add in the paper more than a few times in the past week. Just kidding, kind of, but not really. But really, I'm sure I'll feel the same way about my kids at some point or another, so the dogs are safe, because they were here first.

...and we love them.

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