Starting the Day With an Orange Soda

As much as I like my sugary snacks and drinks, chugging a nauseating orange-colored flat-tasting beverage at 7 am just ain’t cool. The first few sips yesterday morning, when I was thirsty from peeing SIX times in the middle of the night (god bless poor Quiet who tries to sleep in the room below), were ok. The rest was just, well, if I hadn’t been so worried about ruining the test by barfing I probably would have.

So I waited on pins and needles to call the Nurse’s line this morning for the results, and it was GOOD!!!!! The magic Wilford-Brimley number to beat is 140, and my results were 114. Again, this is me, thanking whoever that everything has gone so well with this pregnancy. And this was the last milestone test, I believe, unless they do an ultrasound at 32 weeks. I let the Doc know that my next visit would likely be my last due to the move, and he was very nice about it – he said to let the receptionist know and they would copy all my paperwork for me so I could carry it with me, which is awesome (although I’m pretty sure they’ll charge me a zillion dollars to do it). I thought I would have to have another appointment in two weeks, but he said a month was good. My blood pressure is terrific, and Junior is currently head-down, which means that the pain under my ribs may very well be a little foot kicking the crap out my gall bladder or whatever the heck is under my right breastbone. I told the Doc about the horrible tearing pain when I roll over in bed (or stretch out my legs, or thrash my arms around), and he didn’t seem too concerned so I’m not worried.

There’s definitely a lot more noticeable movement. Noticeable as in, visible to the naked eye-on-the-outside. There have been some bumps and ripples that have jolted my laptop, and I’ve had to order a more comfy padded lap pad since the current one, while doing a great job of keeping the heat off, is sharp and pokey. Yes, I wouldn’t have this problem if I sat at a desk, but I also wouldn’t be able to have my feet up, would I? (that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it). I made the visit-to-the-doctor-visit-to-the-dentist on the same day mistake again, and Junior did NOT like the sound of that drill starting up. I got the Invisaligns re-attached, and man, are they TIGHT. I guess the company is serious about moving my teeth.

In house news, I officially have until this Sunday to find a place. Seriously. After that it will be too late for financing approval. Plus I am already finding an issue getting people to close on the 26th when/if I find a house that is occupied. THIS SUNDAY. FREAKING OUT. It looks like the guys are planning to move on the 10th, which is good because there won’t be any chaos with all of us trying to move at the same time, but bad because I will likely lose a washer/dryer and be smelly or homeless at a Laundromat or begging at friends’ doors for the rest of the month.

I broke down and made an appointment to interview another Nanny Saturday morning. I realized that a part of me has not yet accepted the fact that at some point in the next few months there WILL be a baby and it WILL require care, and ignoring these facts is not helping any. I will not magically win a zillion dollars so that I can just be home with Junior, nor will a Nanny magically appear on my doorstep. Um, I mean at the door of my van down by the river, since I'll be homeless.

The Nanny Diary

This is a hard post for me to write, because as you all know, I don’t like to admit failure. Much like the first 8 months of trying to get pregnant, it’s frustrating for me to have a task set that I can’t deliver on. Right now I am falling down on at least two things; finding a house, and finding a nanny.

I went out again yesterday with my agent, and saw a lot of ‘definite no’s’. There was one ‘maybe’, but I’m not 100% sold on it. But is that because of real barriers to what I want, or just because I can’t let go of the other house I lost? What happens when I finally do make a decision, and the house has another offer, or I’ve run out of time? The house itself is ok – not that pretty on the outside, but a nice layout; lousy location, but reasonably convenient; priced ok, but full of the current owner’s stuff, so they’d have to have time to get packed and get out. The kitchen is on the small side, but the master is nice and the office is fantastic. I JUST DON’T KNOW (this is me, now breathing into a small paper bag).

On Saturday I interviewed my first potential nanny. On paper she’s great – good experience, a mother of a 17-month old, able to come to my home, literate and friendly. It was really tough to talk to her once it hit me that this was the person who might be responsible for Junior’s safety and well-being. It didn’t help that I had watched a local nanny cam expose on the news the night before, so I was all freaked out about that. In person Nanny X was very nice, and friendly. She was also 10 minutes late, which set me off right out of the gate (I’m a punctuality freak, in addition to all of my other Type-A charms), had her car seat in the FRONT SEAT of her car (she said it was because they had picked up some furniture or something, which is valid but wouldn’t you have moved it back for an interview like this?), talked non-stop about random things (didn’t directly answer some of my questions), and most of her answers about her experience were stories about her daughter. It’s nice that she’s a dedicated mother, but it certainly didn’t reassure me any that Junior would be her priority.

Now, I know that the person I hire isn’t going to be me, or do things the way I do them. And I know the nanny isn’t going to be perfect, and isn’t going to have every single quality I am looking for. I am having to work with so many different factors (location, availability, salary/benefits requirements, experience etc.) that it’s going to be tough to satisfy the list. But how can I trust my instincts and judgment if NO ONE will ever measure up? Am I being too tough? (the answer is ‘yes’, I know, but what is ‘too tough’ and what is ‘giving up and settling for someone who is going to pinch the baby when you’re not looking’?).

My sister has found the perfect nanny, which is awesome for her but just makes me think that Nanny X isn’t the right one, since I wasn’t leaping out of my seat to get her to sign a contract. I just worry that I won’t have that reaction to anyone, and I’ll miss out on a truly decent person in my quest for Junior’s Perfect Caregiver, who doesn’t even exist. And I really wasn’t expecting how emotionally tough it would be. Someone else. Who will take care of Junior. A stranger in my house.

To cheer myself up I went to a kid’s consignment sale at a local church, which was AWESOME. I got approximately one gazillion outfits for like 12 cents. And the stuff was nice, great quality, very fetching, and the people were really nice (I love church volunteers, I can’t help it, I could’ve stood and talked to them all afternoon). I am now really, seriously, officially cut off from buying any more clothes for Junior. I picked up a little pair of black patent shoes, which was the only ‘must-have’ wardrobe item remaining, and I now have enough stuff for an hourly outfit change the first six months of her fashionable life. So I’m done. Cut off. Nothing else!

Also, start the judging because I ate a Fish Filet sandwich from McDonald’s yesterday. I was horrified. I ate it in like 15 seconds, barely breathing between bites. I think it was gone before I pulled all the way out of the drive-through. I haven’t had a Fish Filet since I was 85 years old and needed some fish and Sanka after Bingo. No, seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever ordered one in my whole life (who the heck would order fish at McDonald’s? My grandmother and pregnant women, apparently, are enough to keep it on the menu). I guess it gave me what I needed, though, and it was probably slightly better than a rack of ribs or a whistle dog*. I also invented a terrific spring cupcake – Angel food with lemon buttercream frosting. If I hadn’t been lacking in eggs I would have also made some lemon curd to fill them, but as it was they are light and delicious and hit the spot. I think I shall go have one now.

*Whistle Dog – A delicacy served in my high-school cafeteria, I was unable to find the origin of the name but it is definitely a Canada-ism. A hot dog is cooked, split down the middle, and a cheese slice is melted into the split with a piece of cooked bacon. It’s the most delicious thing in the whole world, and possibly the LAST thing I should be eating while pregnant other than a raw shark sandwich with brie and tequila.

Trying to Think Positive Thoughts

I got the call last night that the sellers of my potential new pretty house accepted the other offer, one that wasn’t contingent on the sale of a burden of a house. I can understand that. I don’t have to be happy about it, but such is life in the real estate fast lane. F***ers.

So with one month til closing I am back to square one. I spent a few hours last night perusing listings for something new and wonderful and perfect until my head split open and I crawled into bed to hide at 10 pm. I found a lot of ‘maybes’. I know that everything happens for a reason, what was meant to be, blah blah blah. But I really, really liked that house and I’m too disappointed to even really fully cope with it. I’ll just push on. Keep your fingers crossed for me.

I don’t know if it was because of that or the migraine I ended up with, but I had all kinds of horrible nightmares last night. The first few were all about looking for houses, but it was like taking an exam or something in the dream. After those, I had monster dreams. You know the kind – something unseen and horrible is chasing you. It was really graphic though. It started out I was swimming in a lake, and there were little nasty bite-y things in the murky weedy water. Then I was in a pool in a hotel, and there was some huge creature plucking people out and eating them – I kept trying to stay submerged so it wouldn’t see me, and at one point I had to shake someone off me to save myself and he got taken. It was awful. Then the dream shifted and I climbed out of the pool and ran down a hallway, and when I turned around I could see through the huge window at the end of the hall an enormous reptilian eye watching me, and then a massive arm crashed through the side windows and started sweeping around grabbing people, Godzilla-style. It was terrifying. The dream shifted again, and the arm turned into a dozen or so barely smaller reptiles, a cross between huge crocodiles and velociraptors, which were unbelievably fast and started snapping up everyone. I ran for a bank of elevators and pushed all the buttons, but I could hear the creatures coming and knew I couldn’t wait. I started running again, and was desperately looking for somewhere I could hide that they couldn’t get at me, but I was hugely pregnant and was slowed down, and didn’t stand a chance. I got so scared I woke myself up in a cold sweat. So, uh, that sucked.

Today I’m doing my best to crawl back from the edge, despite the gloom and the headaches and the rain and the bad things pressing around me in my head. All the repair estimates are in, and are reasonable, so we’re moving forward with getting everything fixed and everything should still be good with the sale. Junior was CRAZY last night – here I’d been a little worried because I hadn’t felt much movement lately. Apparently it’s all been happening while I’ve been asleep. Last night she took my keys, went and picked up some friends, and they all came back and made popcorn and had some sort of rave in my uterus. I couldn’t believe the hijinks. But believe me, I was reassured. The guys finally got their loan. I haven't been fired yet for my lack of work focus.

Hopefully things will go well with the potential Nanny tomorrow, which would be one more thing I could check off my list. And maybe I’ll end up finding the next perfect house. And hey, it’s the weekend, right? The nice cleaning people are here mucking out my tub, which I’ve been pretty much living in, and the window repair guy said he’d be by shortly, so there’s a hubbub of activity that is pleasantly distracting. I’m going to shotgun a Pepsi and some Tylenol and see if I can’t get a little burst of energy and go to the grocery store, my favorite Friday afternoon activity. I hear there are Cadbury’s Easter Crème Eggs there. I have no problem being the kind of person who solves the issues of the world with a little chocolate right now.

Debbie Just Hit the Wall

I had a little mini-breakdown yesterday and was looking at why I hit the wall, and came up with this list. It's stuff I did yesterday. It makes me feel a little better. JUST BREATHE.

1. Made appointment for Saturday morning to interview potential Nanny. Draft interview questions.
2. Follow up on house offer (there's another offer on the table, the sellers are out of town, argh)
3. Get estimates for painting Nursery and Master in new house before I move in
4. Follow up with Loud and Quiet on contractor status for their stuff
5. Follow up with contractors for my stuff
6. Make appointment for Rex hospital tour Monday, March 10 at 12:30
7. Do job (a million conference calls, finish report)
8. Cry from stress then give up and take short nap to try to shake headache
9. Attempt to schedule birthing class around coach’s packed schedule; frustrate coach, frustrate self, frustrate class instructors
10. Update packing list with completed items, new to-do items, and revised dates
11. Calls with agent (5)
12. Reschedule hair appointment due to conflict with March birthing class
13. Cancel shopping expedition with friend due to Nanny interview conflict
14. Confirm cleaning crew for 12-2 Friday
15. Post Conference cancellation due to move
16. Call new potential OB/GYN to see what I needed to do to become a patient. Call UNC to get medical records released to new OB/GYN for their review and consideration. Fax completed paperwork for release. Schedule follow-up to verify records were sent/received and make first appointment. Start to research pediatricians local to (potential) new house.

I have about 4-6 documents I'm updating daily to try to keep on top of everything, plus my Outlook calendar. I've got a packing list, a repairs list, a Word calendar, a work Open Items list, and a Junior document. It's making me crazy. There is still no word on the offer I put in on the other house. I spent 20 minutes today apologizing to our agent, who had to spend an hour with Loud and was ready to drop us as customers.

On an 'awwww!' side note, I had my first holding-Junior-in-my-arms dream last night. It was VERY cool. I was at the hospital, and all my friends and family were there, and she was very cute (although I still called her ‘Junior’, which was funny). I remember how I felt in the dream – filled with love, and thrilled she was finally here, and protective, and proud… it was awesome. I woke up and was like, 'Ok, bring it!' *sigh* Still so long to go.

House Inspection #2

I remember now why selling a house is one of the top five biggest life stressors. This has been a brutal past few days. On a positive note, after six exhausting hours on Sunday I found a new place that I’m pretty happy with, so I’ll be making an offer on that (keep your fingers crossed for me and Junior!). On the other side is the strain of trying to work with the guys on the inspection repairs. If I manage not to stab Loud in the next hour or so then I just might make it through the process.

So far most of the estimates are pretty reasonable, it’ll just be the bathroom exhaust fan that kills us if we have to do it. We’ll meet with our agent again tonight to review our response back to the buyers. I have talked to her 6 times today alone, and if the phone rings again I’ll scream. It will be interesting to see what the guys actually think, since I can’t get a handle on how they feel we should react, and trying to pin Loud down on any of the list items is impossible. Much like trying to get him to take ownership of two simple little things. Yet he wanted to come and tell me everything I was doing wrong with the window repair estimates I was getting, so that was fun and made me happy.

Our agent is finally emailing the buyers to see about a rent-back through the weekend so that I’m not paying to move twice and store my stuff somewhere for a few days, or get a pod, or something else nightmarishly expensive and stressful, and so that I’m not trying to move in the middle of the week when no one will be available to help. The timing is so terrible – looks like due to Easter weekend I’ll probably miss CarolinaCon, which was going to be my final event appearance, and something I didn’t realize I was looking forward to so much until I figured out I’d have to give it up. It’s so frustrating that the guys don’t have the same problem – they can move out anytime to an apartment. I have to wait for the close of our current place to close on my new place, plus work out the timing of the carpet cleaning and the walk-through. It makes me nuts because, uh, people do this all the time, why is it so damn hard? I got a lot of packing done this weekend and am caught back up to my timeline of when I want to get things done, so that made me feel slightly better. I think I got a burst of energy as I’m finally almost totally recovered, and Junior has been pretty quiet and I’m (knock on wood) pain and nausea-free.

The next few days will be a flurry of getting repairs done and the negotiations on the new house purchase. I basically just keep repeating to myself, ‘Don’t freak out’. It’s not helping. I assume I’ll be the one to deal with the carpets and the move-out clean so I need to call people about that stuff, and as soon as I hear about the rent-back and the new house offer acceptance I’ll be able to get the movers scheduled and start calling utilities for set up. I’m just so terrified of something really super important falling through the cracks because of my current pregnancy brain, I’m even more tense than usual about how everything is playing out. The guys haven’t mentioned anything further about their loan process and it’s out of my control, so I’ll just have to hope they are taking care of it and I’ll focus on the stuff I can do something about.

House Inspection #1

You know what I hate? House inspections. You know what I love? I love when something is really, really super important, and Loud can’t stop being a jackass for five seconds.

Yes, today was the ever-important home inspection. I had a critical conference call at the precise moment the team was scheduled to arrive (inspector, buyer, buyer’s agent), so had asked that Loud listen for them and let them into the house. Let’s all take a guess at how it went down. The doorbell rang. The doorbell rang again. From way up on the second floor with my doors closed I asked everyone on my call to reschedule, and went downstairs to let them all into the house. Loud then burst out of the open door to his room, 3 feet from the front door, in sunglasses, and started waving his arms around and loudly apologizing. This show was only his opening act. It was followed by his ‘Look at How Helpful I Can Be!’ routine, where, AGAINST MY SPECIFIC INSTRUCTIONS which were delivered as nicely as I could last night, he followed them around and gave out bits of useless advice and information. Did I mention he was carrying around a bottle of wine as he did this, still in his sunglasses, at 10:30 am? Act III, a familiar one, ‘Listen to How Smart I Am!’, featured Loud’s booming projection of his 11:00 conference call and constant forced laughter. I’m sure the visitors were impressed, but probably not as much as when he started to talk to them about his band and incredible musical talents. I just keep telling myself, he can’t screw this up too badly, and in another month or so it won’t be my problem any more. And at least he didn’t play them anything. Although he did say, 'So, find anything that's going to burn me alive in my sleep?' to the inspector, which was awesome.

Of course they tested every single appliance, so we’ll fail on the ice maker, but I had said my two cents on that and was shot down, so we’ll take care of it later and no big deal. They also weren’t happy with the ½ bath toilet downstairs, which was no surprise. And I was irritated that for once it had actually rained, so the backyard was our usual moat (please don’t make us re-grade the yard!). But otherwise, I think everything went well. Since Loud wouldn’t shut up the entire time I couldn’t hear the side conversations. The buyer, Doug, seemed REALLY nice – apparently they have a living room set AND a master bedroom suite that is in the same design as my dining room set, hence the immediate love and instantaneous bond.

So now I’ve been desperately ill since Friday night and am tired and grumpy about it. I used a precious sick day yesterday to get a bit caught up on my sleep, which I think helped, plus I ate some real food last night so probably got a bit of energy back. Doesn’t my body know I NEED TO PACK??!!! I’m sure the stress about that isn’t helping. I’ve stopped using the inhaler because I’m worried about the effects on Junior. And I didn’t feel like the Robitussin was doing much so I dropped that. So basically I’m relying on orange juice and my good looks to cure myself, which means I’m screwed. My boss is being awesome about it though, which is nice, and Junior still doesn’t seem too affected, which is all I care about, so I’ll just try to be patient and wait it out. Just like everything else.

Mostly Good News

Well, last week’s Boston trip ended with a sold house and a souvenir viral infection/potential for pneumonia that kept me pretty much in bed most of the weekend and ended with me having to use an inhaler for the next week or so. Coach took me cruising neighborhoods yesterday afternoon when I had to be out of the house for the Open House (hey, might as well try for a back-up offer, right?), and was very patient with my pregnant/sick/backseat driver craziness. I was relieved to find some decent enough stuff in my price range that were in decent enough neighborhoods, so I’m hoping my agent and I will be able to nail down some dates to go look SINCE I ONLY HAVE A MONTH.

In other moving-and-Junior related news, I’ve decided to go ahead and transfer hospitals, which is nerve-wracking but I think will be good for the following reasons;

Rex was my first choice ever since they did such an awesome job sewing my head back together 12 years ago, plus most of my friends delivered there. I would’ve gone with them in the first place if I hadn’t been living in stupid Durham and was so worried about the distance.

Free parking. Hey, you laugh, but the parking at UNC is not only not free, it’s a nightmare. If a parking garage has to offer a sketchy unreliable shuttle service, it’s too damn far away from where you’re trying to get to. And since I’ll start going to appointments every 10 seconds as of the end of the month, the tragic inconvenience of UNC was weighing more and more heavily on me.

I’m not tied to any of the UNC docs other than Dr. Thorp, who likely wouldn’t deliver me anyhow, so who cares?

Rex is approximately one million times more convenient for all my visitors.

Uh, I just like it more and you’re not the boss of me.

The only downside I can see is that Rex doesn’t have the doula service that UNC offers, but I’ve got Coach and lots o’ other friends, so I’m not as worried about that. I’ll pay for one if I decide I just can’t cope. I probably need to find a different pediatrician as well, but I’m going to put that off because I really just adore my doctor. She rushed me in this morning when I showed up all pitiful on the doorstep without an appointment or a shower. Hey, at least I was wearing pants.

THIS WEEK’S STATUS:
House: SOLD! (supposedly); under contract pending the inspection Wednesday, still doing showings which is irritating but makes good business sense
Junior: Doing ok despite the barrage of drugs and oxygen starvation
Mental state: Weird. Tentatively relieved about the house sale but afraid to get excited; sad that Junior will never be in the pretty nursery and sad to have to leave, despite everything; scared of getting rushed into buying the wrong house, nervous about the move and the logistics of the closing and getting three of us out without too much chaos; panic-stricken about Loud not coming up with his share of the closing money and having to deal with that; stressed about packing; conflicted about the guys becoming my distant past in the near future
Physical state: Pneumonia! As if! I’ve got a humidifier on, I’ve gone through 836 tissues in the last hour, the weird wheezing gasping exhale noises I make wake me up in the middle of the night because they sound like conversations, my body can’t make up its mind if it wants to have a fever or chills so just alternates between the two randomly, and I’m just really, really grateful it’s not the f-l-u.

I Never Realized How Much I Picked My Nose

Working from home lulls you into a sense of security where, hidden from the prying eyes of managers and officemates, you are free to cultivate all kinds of awful habits and traits. It’s no secret that I don’t exactly shower every single day, or that sometimes I might shrug and put on a stained, err, 'recycled' shirt. Coming into the office is a rude awakening. I have to bathe, daily, and at the ungodly hour of 7:15 am. My clothes have to be non-yoga-wear, wrinkle-free, tomato-soup free, and fully cover any potentially offensive body parts. I have to blow-dry my hair, style it without use of a scrunchy, apply make-up, look alert, and, as difficult as it may be, resist the urge to dig around in my snout with a tissue, mining for nose trophies.

On the plus side for Junior, I realized that contrary to how it use to be or how it normally is for other business travelers, I am much healthier away from home. I move around during the day a lot more (the cubicle chair is no chaise, that’s for certain). I drink more water (the water cooler is like 10 feet from where I sit), eat better (they have an excellent salad bar in the cafeteria), sit up straighter (uncomfortable chair, again), and go to bed earlier (I don’t feel as much pressure to cram in after-hours fun when I’m experiencing the thrill that is hotel living, I guess). It use to be that when I’d travel for business my alcohol and red meat intake would quadruple, or that I’d slack off from my workout routine, or that I’d be the office vending machine’s best customer. Since I’m too tired and depressed to exercise any at home, commuting provides me a little extra movement I normally don’t get (it’s not that far from my bed to that chaise), we all know how I feel about red meat while preggers, the vending machine pissed me off last time I was here by eating my $5 bill and I still haven’t forgiven it, and, well, as much as I’d love to unwind with a chilled glass of Pinot Grigio or some fancy schmancy fruity martini, that gets even more disappointing frowns than cracking open an ice-cold Pepsi. Good thing I’ll be back in six weeks.

On a side note, although I vowed I would absolutely positively not write anything else about my eating habits this week, I had to mention that Stupid Baby Loves Ribs. That’s right; she doesn’t like nice lean red meat, or any healthy poultry products, or precious lamb, or even a lovely grilled low-fat pork chop. She likes greasy, barbecue-sauce-slathered, fatty, boney ribs. RIBS!! There’s just no need for that.

Ooh, and there’s a weekday house showing today! That’s a happy thing. Dear Jesus, please let the house sell. I promise I'll be less of a sinner. And my fingers are crossed. Amen. I woke up in the middle of the night last night all confused, wondering how Loud could possibly be upstairs above me slamming doors, when I groggily realized I was in a hotel. Poor Loud, getting blamed even when I'm a zillion miles away.

Me: A New Definition

I was thinking about how people in the office have reacted when they’ve seen me (look from my belly, to my face, back to my belly), and how I’ve changed in how I view myself and how I function on a day-to-day basis (compulsive lotion-rubbing, frantic maternity-wear shopping, critical menu-reviewing), and I realized that I am now defined by Junior. Not only that, but after she’s born, I will be a Mommy Person. Not that this is a good or bad thing, but it’s like I’m suddenly gay or black or handicapped or Canadian. This child inside me makes people treat me differently. They tell different stories and jokes, and react strangely to how I do things that use to be considered very ‘normal’ (like, drink one, ONE, freaking Pepsi).

It always nagged at me a teensy bit that I would run to Quiet with bits of gay news that I thought he especially would find interesting. Or if people who didn’t know the guys would assume certain stereotypes (no, they are not tidy and blessed with excellent design sense). I hated that once you knew someone was gay, that was who they were – a Gay Person. I haven’t talked to any of my African-American pals about this, but I would guess that it’s probably similar, especially since it’s much more visible. And I’ve certainly had people impose their Canadian assumptions on me in the past, but not to this extent.

I just don’t like the idea that this is first and foremost who I am seen as now. I’m a lot of other things, too; single, and a woman, and a working professional. Not that I want to be defined by any one of those things, but can’t they all get along? I don’t want to be the person who only talks about her pregnancy, and then is consumed by her child. I want people to ask me about my day, and my job, and my fashionable bag rather than my protruding stomach or screaming toddler. Yes, Junior is extremely important and secretly all-consuming, but for the first time I’m getting a glimpse of what it means to lose myself. And I don’t think I’d like that very much.

So far the trip to Boston has been nothing but exhausting. I fell asleep on the plane like a total dork. I’m just excited I didn’t drool on the shoulder of my work blouse. Oh, and I left my laptop at security. Yeah, that was a first – luckily I realized my bag wasn’t as heavy as it should be. Last night I went to bed at 8:00, which would’ve been nice if I hadn’t slept in 1-2 hour shifts all night. My body sure is preparing me for the excitement to come. And I’m CRAZY sensitive to smells again – the hotel shampoo reeks of artificial cherry and the room smells overpoweringly of lotion, the rental car gags me with cheap air freshener, and I took one bite of a delicious-seeming Thanksgiving Sub (you can rightly assume just how great it looked, and it even came with gravy for dipping!), and the smell of the turkey forced me to drop it into the trash and instead eat a miniature box of Conversation Hearts. For dinner. Seriously. That’s what I ate, a handful of Valentine’s Day-themed candy. No fresh vegetables or grains or protein or, uh, real food. Just a little bit of sugar and 'House' and then lights out.

I tried to do better for breakfast this morning, as I had grocery shopped last night (I love the little kitchen in the room suite I have), and decided to try the new All-Bran Strawberry Medley. It was a medley of disgusting. I don’t understand how anything that can turn the milk such a pretty color can be so bland and nasty. Fortunately, in addition to being foul-tasting and visually unappealing, it also sat in my stomach like lead and made me bloaty, so that was nice. I also got to try the YoMommy yogurt, which I have been looking for everywhere (‘everywhere’ being ‘my local Kroger dairy case’). It wasn’t as bad as the cereal, but not as good as the Activia stuff I’ve been chugging. Plus I made the mistake of reading the label while I was eating it, and when yogurt includes anchovy oil, sardine oil, and tilapia fish gelatin, it’s a bit off-putting. But an excellent source of DHA, I guess. Grow, baby brain, grow!

THIS WEEK’S STATUS:
House: 2 showings – “Too much house”, interest level zero, depression plummeting as a result of lack of weekday showings
Junior: Hated the flight, hates it when I try to sleep, obviously already despises me
Mental state: Struggling to look like I’m doing real work in my depressing cubicle
Physical state: Tired, sore in weird places, unable to turn over in my sleep without painful tearing feeling, stomach now size of one small order of McDonald’s fries