The Drink Pouch Debacle And Other Observations

ON PREGNANCY

Other than having emotional oubursts from time to time (the drink pouch debacle-see below), I'm feeling pretty good. 

I still run most days and although I've reduced my weekly mileage by a lot, I'm still proud to say that I can run eight miles on any given Sunday.  'Runs' have been reduced to something akin to a slow crawl and my routes are planned carefully around restroom stops, but as long as the doctor says it's okay, I have resolved to pull the belly band over my spandex, put on a baggy shirt and be that weird pregnant lady that runs/waddles around the neighborhood every afternoon.

Cravings?  I eat Ramen noodle soup like it's going out of style and at least a pint of strawberries every day.  Sometimes I like to change it up with pear flavored gourmet jelly beans and something doused in soy sauce, but Ramen noodles seem to do me just fine.  Cheap too.

Having enjoyed my morning coffee and my evening aloholic beverages, I have been pleasantly surprised that abstaining has not been at all painful.  I can no longer stand the smell of coffee or alcohol.  All alcohol smells like rubbing alcohol to me now-whether it's wine, beer, liquor, or mouthwash.  The smell of peppermint is pretty bad too.  I now brush my teeth with baking soda.


EMOTIONALLY CHARGED

I'm sure everyone has had their own version of the the drink pouch debacle.  I've heard different stories from a couple of friends-the tater tot incident, the which-way-the-toilet-paper-roll-should-be-installed (over or under?) argument-in other words, an overreaction to something that looks insignificant to almost everyone else.  But criminy, when the 'lunch helper' informs Boy O that his capri-sun is too hard to open and to please tell his mother not to pack them in his lunch anymore, it irked me.  Yes, I understand that the organic brand is harder to open, but isn't the lunch helper supposed to...ahem...help?  Infuriated, I quickly scribbled a scathing note to the so-called helper (attached to his drink pouch) and stomped around the house until it was time to leave for school.  Daddy O attempted to gently express that I might be overreacting a tad  as well as remove the note from Boy O's lunch box.  This of course only made me more resolute in my mission to march on over to the school and make sure lunch helpers everywhere were set straight on their duties.  Luckily for everyone involved, the intensity of emotion subsided by the time I dropped Boy O off and I just casually mentioned it to the teacher.  Then I went home, cried and ate some ramen noodles.

WHY AM I STILL CALLING IT, IT?

Newbie O is doing just fine.  Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary and every appointment has gone well so far.  I do spend a lot of time worrying about whether the baby is still there or not.  My first request upon entering the doctor's office is to make sure the little heart is still beating.  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I'm afraid they are going to say that it was never there in the first place.  And why am I still calling it, it?  I honestly don't know...last week we found out that Newbie O is not an it, but a she.  And I'm excited.  She doesn't have a name yet, but I have to admit that it is just so fun to look at all the dresses and accessories for little girls.  And on that note, I'll end with one of her first pictures...