While I would love to write a post waxing poetic about my love for Fred, I have in-laws landing at the airport in less than 2 hours and my house looks like a landfill threw up. Sooooo, let me just say Happy Birthday to THE best husband and father in the world. Elise and I are blessed.
So here I am at 19 weeks, definitely sporting a belly. LBJ (little bundle of joy), as I've taken to calling her/him in my head packs quite a punch. And kick. And whatever else he/she is doing in there. I don't remember this kind of power from Elise until around the 25 week mark.
I'm feeling a lot better these days, and am happy to report that I'm eating everything and anything I can get my hands on. It feels good to like food again.
I had forgotten how tiring incubating a human can be... I don't remember being this exhausted with Elise. But then again I wasn't growing a baby, chasing a toddler, and acting as my daughter's pancreas 24/7 all at the same time either back then.
For simplicities sake, we'll call it "not-Walgreens". Maybe "sounds-like-CVS" would be better. Anyway, I truly HATE getting prescriptions filled there. I would much rather use Costco's pharmacy, because they have excellent prices and customer service. Unfortunately, their hours and parking suck, and they have no drive-thru.
Man I hate myself for the last part of that sentence.
The reason I dislike "not-Walgreens" so much is because of the staff who works there. Or as I like to call them, the 3 dwarfs of pharmacy; Dopey, Clueless, and Surly (the dwarf comment doesn't have anything to do with their height, although THAT would be funny). Dopey and Clueless are harmless in their own way, but Surly and I nearly come to blows every time I'm in there. I believe he has "I'm-not-a-doctor-but-I-play-one-in-my own-mind Syndrome". Because he gets to wear a white coat at work.
Our last "disagreement" came the other morning over the phone. Elise has been on Amoxicillin for strep throat. When I gave her her dose that morning, I noticed there was not enough left in the bottle for the last two doses. So I called up "sounds-like-CVS" to talk to a pharmacist, and of course Surly was the one to answer the phone.
His first mistake was to tell me that I had probably screwed up the dosing. I very politely informed him that I am very familiar with giving my child medication, as I have to measure out and give my daughter three shots a day, thankyouverymuch.
He then sighed and said it wasn't a big deal anyway, she's probably had enough of the antibiotic to kill off whatever she had. So everything I've heard about always taking the full 10 days worth of antibiotics is just crap? I guess so, according to Dr. Surly.
Perhaps he thought I was just trying to score some more drugs, so I could sell them on the street or something. I wonder what the going street price for Amoxicillin is anyway?
By the way, I did check with Elise's doc, and it turns out Dr. Surly was telling the truth.
Ever since Elise was about 9 months old, Fred has been speaking to her only in Portuguese. I love that she understands both languages fluently, and even mixes in Portuguese when she speaks. These days, I'd say it's about a 70 to 30 English to Portuguese ratio, but we managed to catch her in a "Portuguese moment" on tape.
Eddie Rabbit had something when he sang those lyrics.
I, too, love it when the rains start after darkness has fallen. It should really come as no surprise, being from the Pacific Northwet, as I am.
I remember when I was in high school, I wrote a poem about a guy I was in mutual like with. It was about how I loved to lie in bed at night and listen to the rain tapping away on my roof top. And how it gave me great comfort to know, that at that very moment, there was someone else in the world who was doing the exact same thing as I was.
These days when I hear the rhythm of rain on my roof, I no longer think of this boy, but I do think of the people in my life. Whether they're lying in bed right next to me (although seriously, he's asleep, not listening to rain... I guarantee), in a room down the hall (she'd better be asleep!), around the corner from my house, or even a few miles away.
I lie in bed and wonder if any of them are being gently lulled to sleep by nature, and it reminds me to pray for them. And as sleep slowly steals over me, I am once again comforted by the fact that someone, somewhere is listening to the raindrops dancing too.
You had to go and do it, didn't you? Give me yet another reason in the looooong list of reasons why I don't like you very much. I mean, there's already so much to choose from; the insufferably hellish summers, the insanity of the drivers, and the traffic that makes you want to saw off your arm and club yourself to death with it are just a few of the highlights. The fact that there's nothing really fun to do here and the closest thing worth driving to (Colorado) is about 15 hours away doesn't help any.
And of course, there's the absolutely stunning (insert sarcasm here) vistas. Come on Texas, when the only two other places you have lived in your life have been Vancouver, B.C., and San Fransisco, you've got to know that water towers painted with stupid hometown slogans just aren't going to do it for me.
Oh dear, I'm coming off sounding like a bit of a snob, aren't I?
No matter. This spring, you have managed to outdo yourself Texas, by simultaneously sprouting every noxious weed you have to offer, thereby making me seek refuge indoors during one of the two seasons that it is fit to venture outside. I don't get it... it's not like anything pretty is blooming these days. As I stare out my pollen-stained windows, everything still looks like death and dying outside. So where is all this allergy-causing crap coming from?
I will admit, that the Bradford Pears are quite beautiful when in bloom, but any beauty is immediately cancelled out by the smell those things give off. Seriously, it is enough to drive anyone to their knees, let alone a morning-sickness suffering pregnant woman. Who knew a tree could make someone vomit?
In closing Texas, your plants really aren't all that pretty, so you can stop trying now. Bring on the plant-killing heat of the summer!
(I am going to be sooooooo sorry I ever said that)
Oh dear Lord, if I never hear that word again, I will so be okay with it.
If you can't tell, Elise has reached a new, and incredibly annoying stage. Yes, it's the "Why?" stage. Every statement I make is answered with "Why?". I swear the next time she starts it up I'm going to duct tape a sock in her mouth.
(really I'm not, it's just one of my bouts of hyperbole brought on my extreme annoyance. Now stop calling CPS and put down that phone.)
These days, here is how a typical conversation with Elise goes:
Me: Okay Elise, let's get in the car!
Me: We're going to Target
Me: Because Momma needs to buy something
Me: Because your Momma is a product of a consumer-driven society that feels that the more stuff they have, the happier they will be.
Me: Let's play a game... no talking for ten minutes!
You get the point. Everything... EVERYTHING I say, is met with a "Why?". I actually banned her from saying the word earlier today, and when I told her to do something, she responded, "wh... oh, I'm not allowed to say that."
It only worked for about 20 minutes.
Why did we think it was cute when she learned to talk?