Property Owners

Holy shit.

We bought a condo. A three bedroom/three bathroom condo.

In southern California.

For what we paid for this place, I shudder to think what we could have gotten in another state. But ya know what? We actually can afford it. Even with me out on maternity leave.

It's funny how folks automatically assume I'm all stressed out about moving so close to my due date. It's actually quite the opposite. I feel so settled and secure in the fact that we're not "transients" any more as renters. We can settle down and plant some roots. We can poke holes in walls and paint until we can't paint anymore. We can live without Godzilla and Mothra stomping about above us.

The place is beautiful. All new construction. We have an end unit with windows on three sides and they're huge! We have a great view too. It's at the end of a quiet cul-de-sac and it's all ours. We even get to pick out the flooring and the window blinds as a "builder incentive" credit. Our appointment is at 5:00 tonight. We're both very excited.

This is cool too... the price we're paying is $8,000.00 less than it should be because of a typo on the spreadsheet. That's just fine by me!

I have a friend who lives at the other end of our street and her baby is due in December. What a blessing to have somebody close who is going through the same things I am.

I'm not too worried about packing because my mother and my friends won't let me do it. Rick will be out of town from August 19th until September 9th and we're moving the 10th or the 11th of September. It's cutting it very close, but everything that needs to get done will get done. We have somebody to move us and I have people to help me get organized after the move. I won't have to lift a finger. I'm so blown away at all the help that is being offered to me. Wow. I love my friends and my family.

The Nerve

Wow.

The Chocolate-Hating Leach in my office is at it again.

She came after me with a tape measure. You have got to be kidding me.

I said "No." She persisted. I said "No." She whipped it around my belly.

She came up with her measurement. "Oh my God! You are already the size I was when I delivered and you still have 10 weeks to go! You're going to be huge!"

I said, "Bullshit." I measured myself. 4" smaller. Ha. Kiss my ass you nosey b*tch.

Ya know what? The next time I'm not going to be so nice.

This woman just slays me. Last week in a meeting she was going on and on how she inventoried over 100 workstations of furniture when she was 8-1/2 months pregnant. In either July or August heat. Hmmmm... Her kids were born in April and May.

Like I said. Next time I will not be so nice. Done.

New Developments

Where has Krista been?? What has she been up to this week??

Monday:
Busy. Stressful. Hot outside. We finally turned the A/C on for the 1st time this summer. Thanks, Emily.

Tuesday:
I didn't drink enough water on Monday. I got dehydrated. Lots of folks decided to come to work with the flu this past week. I get sick and that's when the contractions start. I get to go to Triage at the hospital to have them hook me up to all kinds of monitors just to make sure all is well. I got force-fed water and got to take a short nap. The nurses were very nice and I was told that I had a "happy baby". That alone was worth the trip. I pretty much fixed myself after an hour - except for the fever - so I went home and straight to bed. I asked Rick to pick up dinner. Mr. Creative came up with Taco Bell. At least it was grilled chicken tacos. Good gravy.

Tuesday Night:
I woke up at 1:30 in the morning and didn't sleep again.

Wednesday:
I was completely useless at work. I left early and went to bed. I stopped at the grocery store on the way home so I wouldn't have to eat Taco Bell again.

Thursday:
Feeling better. Nearly back to normal. I get the phone call... "I just got approved for a home loan at a great rate. We're going house shopping this weekend!" Gulp. Holy shit. This is great and all, but Rick will be out of town for 20 days when we could potentially be moving. And... if not then... ummmm... the first two weeks of October. There is something that is happening in those first two weeks of October... Ummmm... LIKE A BABY BEING BORN????? I'm sure all will work out, though. I have somebody to pack me up and move me for a low price and a couple of cases of beer. Then I have another somebody to unpack me. Could life be any sweeter?? Well... that's debatable, but hey... you gotta take 'em as the come.

Friday:
Feeling well. I actually negotiated my maternity leave with the Bossman. I got what I wanted. Whew.

Leach

I love it how people who have no idea who you really are feel that they can tell you how your life really is. That they know better. That they know how you think and feel and dream. That they could live your life better than you.

I feel sorry for her. She is too busy trying to analyze mine and is missing the blur of hers.

She is like a leach on my energy. Every little piece is scrutinized and turned into something that it is not. She puts it in her own terms and assumes they are mine. She picks and belittles and is quick to judge.

She is spending far too much energy trying to make me look like a fool when all she is doing is digging her own hole deeper. Everyone sees it. People have commented. All I can do is laugh it off and let it fall away, but in the dark of the night it comes crawling under my skin: nagging, clawing, biting at me. I don't want to let it, but it sucks at my soul.

Why does she feel the need to do this? Do I look like a schoolgirl in need of her guidance? Do I look much younger than my nearly 33 years? Do I seem that vulnerable and helpless that she feels the need to deconstruct me further?

Actually I think it may be just the opposite. I am a confident woman. I know what I want, and more importantly what I do not want. I'm a powerful, threatening force to her security and she wants a piece of it. I am favored by more than she is. People gravitate to me and have strayed from her. In fact, they avoid her. She senses this.

She wants what I have.

She cannot have it.

This makes her even more infuriated with the mere presence of me. She has been there nearly 20 years. I've been there 5. I am 12 years her junior and I have her title and nearly all her qualifications and more respect that she could ever dream of. Already I have passed her. She's stuck. She does everything she can to get me stuck too. It's not working.

This is not to say that I have no respect for her. In fact, I respect her greatly. For what she has accomplished, for her knowledge, for her loyalty, for her professionalism. The disconnect is, she chooses to hold on tight to what she has. I choose to share and to help others grow. Not tear them down.

Now that I'm thinking about it, she's doing this to more than one person right now. And she's done it in the past. She'll do it again and again. It is a pattern of her own insecurity.

Do I talk to her? I really don't think I will. It will let her know that she has succeeded in her task. I won't give her the satisfaction of that. I'll let her dig her own hole. I can even hand her the shovel.

Time to let this go. I have more important things to concentrate on.

It Happened Again!

As I'm sure it will again and again and again.

I hear that unsolicited advice about parenting is worse than the "advice" you get while pregnant.

This time it was chocolate. Is nothing sacred??? Sorry, but this will NOT be cut from my diet.

The scenario: Our CFO's birthday lunch. We were all eating lunch in our boardroom here in the office. Mexican. We have several Mexican folks on our staff and one gal brought in a Tres Leche cake. This is not my thing. It's white cake that has been soaked in three different kinds of milk with whipped cream frosting on it and fruit. Anyway, the subject of discussion moved to cakes and what kinds of cake people like the best. My turn... CHOCOLATE!!! The darker the better. Yum. Chocolate buttercream, chocolate ganache, chocolate shavings. I want it all. I can easily be bribed with chocolate cake.

The know-it-all mom in our office proceeds to ask, "You're not eating chocolate while you are pregnant, are you?" I say, "Why... yes I am!" Her response (read: in complete horror) "Chocolate has so much caffeine in it! WAY more than coffee! I can't believe you are eating chocolate!"

I laughed at her. I had to put the filter on my mouth because our CFO (who happens to be the CEO's wife) is sitting right next to her.

Now I know this lady is full of it. A full-on chocolate bar has about 31 mg of caffeine. A shot of espresso has between 80 and 100 mg. A cup of coffee is slightly higher than that.

My doctor says I can have up to two cups of coffee a day if I need it. For headaches, to keep me regular (and that's a whole other story *shudder*).

The March of Dimes has done research on caffeine. Only at doses over 300-500 mg caffeine (2-3 cups coffee) have there been ANY adverse effects noted in pregnancy; see the march of dimes website). And these levels would have to be maintained over a long period of time. So... this would mean I would need to consume about 16 chocolate bars a day every day - all at once - for them to cause a problem from the caffeine. At that point, I would be more worried about the fat grams than anything else!

So... what I wish I could have said, but I'm too classy to say it: "Ya know what? You have no idea how good chocolate cake is after smoking a joint!"

Good gravy. I maybe have a piece of chocolate cake once a week, a DECAF mocha about two days a week and chocolate pudding on the occasion when I remember to buy it.

I think I have figured out my biggest pet peeve about being pregnant. Touch my belly all you want if you think it will give you good luck, tell me my boobs are huge, that I will be hot in the summer... but DON'T tell me what I can and cannot put in my mouth!

Militant Prego Ladies

I ran into one of these this weekend. Lord help me. I couldn't get away.

Characteristics of the "Militant Prego Lady": One of my glowing comrades in baby-making who does EVERYTHING by the book. And when I say that, I mean the strictest book in the store. There is no room for any error, the diets are counted out to the calorie and each and every carb, fat gram and sugar molecule is accounted for. NO caffeine ever (even from chocolate), NO sugar, NO preservatives. You get the idea. The birth plans are written out to a fault. NO drugs, NO C-Section, there must be this kind of music playing; there must be this color of flowers and so on. This kind of mom aces her Lamaze classes as she hangs on every word of the crunchy granola instructor. She will cloth diaper. She will breast feed until her child is 5 years of age. She will make her own baby food. Period.

Well...

Apparently I am already a bad mother according to this gal I met on Monday. I have caused irreparable damage to my child with the consumption of a single hot dog. She nearly ripped the damn thing out of my mouth. She was horrified that I was planning on getting an epidural. Absolutely horrified. I think she would have had an absolute fit if I told her that I drink a cup of coffee about three mornings a week. And I eat deli turkey. I'm such a tyrant.

Here's my philosophy on the whole prego thing. Everything in moderation. I don't want to have a strict set of rules for myself because I know I would just be setting myself up to fail. If I denied myself of ice-cream when I wanted just a little bit, I know I would binge and eat the whole carton later that week. If I didn't have a few sips of coffee now and then I would go insane. Let's not even start on the chocolate. Same goes for wine and sushi - even though I have not consumed either of those yet, does not meant I won't if presented with the chance.

This philosophy goes for the birth too. Birth is something that you cannot plan. You can create basic guidelines, but not a tight structure. Just like the pregnancy itself, there are so many variables that are out of your control. To assume things will go one way is a sure-fire way to have them go the other. All you end up with is disappointment. That's the last thing I need when I first embark on my journey of motherhood.

I will not feel like less of a woman if I need to get an epidural.

I will not feel like less of a woman if I need to have a C-Section.

I will not feel like less of a woman if the breast-feeding thing is not successful.

I found out later that this particular Militant Prego Lady's crunchy granola Lamaze teacher even told her that she needed to back off the absolutes that she was demanding. She was setting herself up for a huge disappointment. Wow.

I must say that I do admire these ladies to a point. I admire their passion about their plans and lists. I admire them because they are able to stick to them. I admire that they are happy with their choices. I will feel for them when they don't get what they want and are crushed and I will be thrilled for them if everything does go as planned. However, I cannot be so stringent. It's just my personality.

So - I am not a Militant Prego Lady. And that's just fine by me.




BTW - I did find out that the Militant Prego Lady eats McDonalds Chicken McNuggets nearly every day. Hmmmm... I'll take a spicy tuna handroll over a box of those any day.