playing catch up

I didn't hear from my husband for probably almost a week.  I mean, we sent quick emails, but we didn't get to talk on the phone or chat online.  Now I know that compared to Vietnam or the World Wars spouses/girlfriends/families, we are very spoiled.  My husband's great aunt remembers when her husband was at war and she was getting letters from him after he came back home.  So yes, technology has spoiled us, but it still doesn't compare to having your loved one within a phone call's reach.

But these last three days have been awesome!  I've had the chance to TALK to him each day.  It's amazing that eight years into our marriage I still just giggle at the thought of being able to talk to him on the phone.  Even if it isn't about anything important, talking to him just makes me centered and calm.

I miss him.  Seven more months to go.

oh E! channel

While sick this weekend, I passed in and out of consciousness while channel surfing.  Falling asleep to the e! channel had to create some of the most random dreams for me.   (but then again, maybe it's pregnancy!)

The dream started with me visiting my parents in Tennessee.  In the dream there were mountains involved, but they live in the western half...no mountains.  And we were walking to find these Amish people who make heaters.  (I credit this to the full page ads our paper has had lately).  My mom and I got bored, and decided to go shopping.  We're shopping, and the center reminds me of the little (key word: little) center that existed when my husband was stationed at Schofield Barracks, Hawaii.  Though the center in my dream was at least nicer.

As my mom and I shop, I walk by a movie ticket counter.  She doesn't want to go, but I happen to know the counter person (Solange Knowles--I only know her because of e!), and it turns out Rihanna and Chris Brown are going, too.

My mom leaves (what am I, 16 again?) and I go to the movies with my friends...  turns out Rihanna and Chris Brown were laying low, waiting for the dramz to blow over.

I woke up, and turned off the tv.  I don't have time for this.

What a Weekend

Saturday night I thought I had food poisoning. Seriously. Nothing stayed down after 5:30pm (I even opted for a salad instead of pizza...silly me). Nothing is worse than puking water and chicken all over your car interior, and then cleaning it up on the side of the road as it snows. 

Oh wait...it does: Dyl is brushing his teeth, and I am puking in the toilet. He walks over next to me and says "oh mommy. That's 'isgusting! Stop doing that...it's 'isgusting" We have a talk about me eating bad chicken, and your digestive system not always letting things down through your stomach, etc etc etc. Those are the normal lessons for a 3 year old watching someone puke, right?
Thankfully at about 1:30am my friends Jeanyne and Katie stopped over to watch Dylan and take me to the hospital. (apparently dyl woke up at around 3:30 and asked katie if the doctor was getting the bad chicken out of me. cracked her up)
The nurses at the hospital were great. Luckily the protocol for women past 20weeks of pregnancy is to go up to the maternity ward before the emergency room. So I got an awesome bed to lay in, Nyne got a super comfy chair, and they loaded me up with some anti-nausea meds and 2 bags of juice. (The ER would've been horrendous...I've been forgotten about there...)
At about 5:30am I thought I was okay. I had some crackers and ginger ale and made my way home. Then puked. and puked. and puked.
So I call the on-call OB at my actual practice (in Kingston) and am lectured for jumping the gun, for wasting her time and long distance, that I should know that it's 3 days of vomiting before I have to worry about dehydration. And a lecture for not having a pharmacy number on hand before calling her. Because I keep that on me while puking upstairs at 5am. Silly me.
I also notice that there is dog puke in my dining room. My nephew didn't let Jackson out Saturday, and Jackson's response to loneliness is to eat socks/napkins/whatevers and puke them in hiding spots. He is now going to live with my sister-in-law until Tommy returns fro Iraq.
I moved into my in-laws' home for bedrest Sunday and Monday. I'm actually just now getting to my house since it was kind of weird to be there while everyone was gone and I'm not physically ill right now. 
I'm keeping myself on bedrest before work tomorrow.
Bedrest sucks. Thankfully there is an Ace of Cakes marathon on to pass the time.
No big life lessons this blog folks- just an update on how much it sucks to puke.
All the girls at work are afraid of pregnancy. I try to assure them this isn't pregnancy but a combination of bad food/stomach flu...their parents can thank me though, if it keeps them baby-free.

The funniest thing about pregnancy is that you forget what the other one was like. Apparently I didn't like being pregnant last time, and had sinus problems and a cough the whole time. It takes everyone else reminding me. 
Well at least this is the last time. So when I forget all this drama, at least I won't have to deal with it ever again! I'll just remember suddenly having a baby and not minding the 9 months of ridiculousness.

Not welcome...

So my son throws a few tantrums.  Not horrifying, like many I've witnessed working at Old Navy, but horrifying to me in that I can't handle it.  (He's usually pretty fun to deal with).  According to my friends and family (but keep in mind, they are my friends and family) he isn't awful.  And he isn't, but he does like to get his own way.  He's 3, spoiled rotten, an only child, and best friends with a bunch of 28 year old males.

Anyhow, after I picked him up from daycare, I decided to run a few errands.  (my first bad decision).  The errands involved a stop at Old Navy (I get a discount, therefore I shop) followed by a stop at Kmart (it's next door).  I then realized I needed to stop at the grocery store, too.  Things went well until the grocery store.  (I should know better than to take him...)

We get there and he even gets the fun cart (you know, the one with the truck on the front half.  Great for a kid, awful to drive as the parent).  We're trucking through, grabbing a thing or two, and we stop in the cereal aisle.  I get Lucky Charms and Frosted MiniWheat, the ones we decided on prior to walking into the aisle.  We're about to leave and he spies the Cocoa Puffs.  With a damn toy on the box.  (Genius, these marketers).  Suddenly he is CRYING for Cocoa Puffs.  (He doesn't like them.  He's suckered me before).  CRYING.  Red, blotchy face.  Tears streaming down and off of his face.  He's awful to look at and listen to.  I calmly remind him he DOESN'T like them, so no, I'm not buying them.

An older woman walks by, looks at him, smiles, looks at me, and says, "Really, I think you should buy them.  I think he'll eat them."

Really?  Because I'm his mom, and have been with him for three years, and KNOW he won't.  I look at her, smile, and say "well, he won't.  Have a nice day".

I don't know if it's because I look twelve, because he is such a cute kid and a sad crier, or what...but seriously, her input...  NOT WELCOME.

Beta

So I'll give this a try.  I'm being inspired by a friend who has begun blogging.  I was first inspired to "blog" more on myspace as a way to catch up friends and family without the big, long form email.  It turns out to be a very therapeutic outlet for me.

So if you happen across my page, who knows what you'll find:  rants, raves, recipes, Dylan stories (3 yr old love of my life), Tom stories (love of my life), etc. etc. etc.  I happen to love run-on sentences and horrible grammar, so please don't complain.  

I used to be what I considered a Domestic Goddess...and now...I'm happy with the (Not S0) part of the title.  :)