Step one: Do all things normally associated with getting pregnant.
Step two: Commit to a year-long insane plan of eating all whole foods.
Step three: Nope, there is no step 3. That's it.
It happened. I knew it would. I knew that the second I committed to this cockamamie plan that I'd instantly get pregnant. It's how things work with me. Life changes only come when I don't allow time for them. I wasn't too worried, I've been pregnant before and I didn't forsee any problems doing both at the same time. Boy, was I wrong.
Morning sickness hits me almost instantly. I'm not one of those people who gets a few weeks to digest and then has the sickness hit at about 6 weeks (normal). I usually have a pretty good idea that I'm pregnant when it's still too early to test. Unfortunately, at 6 weeks... the REAL morning sickness hit. Suddenly I was sick all the time. I couldn't stand to see food, eat food, think about food, cook food. I was completely useless (still am actually).
I force myself to eat because I know it will only get substantially worse otherwise. It's better to eat breakfast twice than to not eat breakfast at all, and unlike the stomach flu, you can't avoid puking by not eating. You can however, sometimes avoid puking if you DO eat.
Interestingly, I developed a food aversion to, well, everything homemade. Which gave me a difficult choice. Well, it wasn't that difficult. The baby needed food and if the only food I could keep down was pre-processed, I would eat it. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not actually crazy. I have been surviving on Cheerios, Saltines, fruit and granola bars. I can usually fit in other foods too... sometimes, but please don't ask me to cook it. Interestingly, I have discovered that I can eat a bowl of Cheerios right after throwing one up. Who knew!?
So, if you think that means I failed my Real Food Experiment, oh well. I suppose technically I did... but I'm hoping I'm just taking a brief hiatus and this gets better so I can continue on.
However, the true, secret, motive for my plan has been accomplished, so even if I can't do it anymore... I'm still pregnant.
BOOYAH!
Friday, October 22, 2010
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
eek.
I'd like to start a support group for those of us with over-active imaginations.
There is some marginal benefit to having a good imagination, especially if you can figure out a way to make money with it, but there is a dark downside.
Nothing is safe.
As soon as I had Girl into her own bed in her own room (a week or two after I had her) and starting using the baby monitor... my imagination reared it's ugly head. I would have these recurrin episodes of "It would be SO SCARY IF..." and then visions of watching the baby monitor as a calm, rough voice crackled through the speaker, alerting me that he "has my baby", and I can come up and get her if I want.
*SHUDDER*
I don't know why I do it to myself. Can't I just be like the rest of the world, to whom a baby monitor is nothing more than surveillance?
The scary thing is that this isn't even all. Perhaps I enjoy being scared and freaking myself out. I do really enjoy Criminal Minds after all. There is a fairly remote chance that the way I go out will be linked to a serial killer, but... you never know. I hope I'm not that person in the movie who runs from the house when everyone in the theatre is screaming not to, but rather the one who somehow, through sheer resiliancy, makes it out alive, scarred for life.
I need a support group.
There is some marginal benefit to having a good imagination, especially if you can figure out a way to make money with it, but there is a dark downside.
Nothing is safe.
As soon as I had Girl into her own bed in her own room (a week or two after I had her) and starting using the baby monitor... my imagination reared it's ugly head. I would have these recurrin episodes of "It would be SO SCARY IF..." and then visions of watching the baby monitor as a calm, rough voice crackled through the speaker, alerting me that he "has my baby", and I can come up and get her if I want.
*SHUDDER*
I don't know why I do it to myself. Can't I just be like the rest of the world, to whom a baby monitor is nothing more than surveillance?
The scary thing is that this isn't even all. Perhaps I enjoy being scared and freaking myself out. I do really enjoy Criminal Minds after all. There is a fairly remote chance that the way I go out will be linked to a serial killer, but... you never know. I hope I'm not that person in the movie who runs from the house when everyone in the theatre is screaming not to, but rather the one who somehow, through sheer resiliancy, makes it out alive, scarred for life.
I need a support group.
Monday, October 18, 2010
A Blind Eye.
I watched The Blind Side yesterday. I know it's been out for a good long while, but hey, I don't get to see many movies these days. It was quite enjoyable and I can understand why it got good reviews. I, however took something very different from the movie. I was able, in a few small places to see a glimpse of my Oma. Sandra Bullock's character reminded me so much of her. Not in the bleached and coiffed southern black walnut kind of way (tough nut to crack), but in the no-nonsense version of compassion. It's what I saw when I grew up. Whether it was the family of my Opa's health care worker who was stuggling and she went out and bought a pile of groceries, or the numerous "strays" that graced our family dinner tables over the years... there was always room.
Along the same lines, I saw an episode of Oprah recently that reminded me of the same thing. There was a women, a US veteran who had served in the Pentagon as well as in Iraq and Afghanistan, and now, for the last year, has lived in a car. Her pension pays the $10 a day car rental with about $3 a day to live on. It made me sad, not because she was homeless and it was a shame, but because I couldn't imagine letting anyone I knew live in a car. Does she have no family? No friends? She had housing, but she gave it up voluntarily to another female vet because that woman had children. Could they not have shared? It was just so far beyond my understanding that the people around her would let that happen.
I've been blessed, I have a house with room to spare. I have money to buy groceries and cook what I need and want. There is no reason at all that I can't share that. It might be uncomfortable, it might be difficult, but it's the right thing to do, and I hope that if given the opportunity, I will have the strength to do it.
Along the same lines, I saw an episode of Oprah recently that reminded me of the same thing. There was a women, a US veteran who had served in the Pentagon as well as in Iraq and Afghanistan, and now, for the last year, has lived in a car. Her pension pays the $10 a day car rental with about $3 a day to live on. It made me sad, not because she was homeless and it was a shame, but because I couldn't imagine letting anyone I knew live in a car. Does she have no family? No friends? She had housing, but she gave it up voluntarily to another female vet because that woman had children. Could they not have shared? It was just so far beyond my understanding that the people around her would let that happen.
I've been blessed, I have a house with room to spare. I have money to buy groceries and cook what I need and want. There is no reason at all that I can't share that. It might be uncomfortable, it might be difficult, but it's the right thing to do, and I hope that if given the opportunity, I will have the strength to do it.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
What's in a name?
I was talking to my pregnant cousin recently, and the topic of choosing baby names came up, as it invariably does when talking to pregnant people (they have such one-track minds).
To be completely honest and opinionated, I think this recent trend of annoyingly unique baby names has got to stop. As a mother, my job in life is to give my child a good start, and not cripple them for life. Girl has a name that is not really common (really, who names their child "Girl"?) but it's phonetic, and common enough that people will know how to spell it and pronounce it. We don't have an easy last name to start out with, but I have a lot of trouble with the fact that no matter what your name is these days, you HAVE to spell it outloud for everyone who needs it. There are too many variations of the exact same name that we might as well wear nametags to make life easier (with a phonetic spelling underneath of course)
I feel sorry for teachers. With a class list of Aymeighs and Maiyas and Khrises, how they struggle through roll call the first day is beyond me. They must get phonetic spellings. This doesn't even mention the names that aren't really names... like Pinstripe and Telephone and Orange. Are those boys or girls? I have no idea.
Remember in the 60's (heh, because you know I remember so well), there was a contingent of people who believed that naming their children Wind and Rain and Sunshine was a good idea. Why? No one knows, but those people have grown up now and are in their 40s, and stuck with a name that immediately dates them (and for some, may possibly embarass them).
I think the madness will stop someday. We will go back to more traditional names, (goodness, are there really not enough of them? The poor people writing baby-name books in the next 5 years...) if only because we run out of silent letters to add.
To be completely honest and opinionated, I think this recent trend of annoyingly unique baby names has got to stop. As a mother, my job in life is to give my child a good start, and not cripple them for life. Girl has a name that is not really common (really, who names their child "Girl"?) but it's phonetic, and common enough that people will know how to spell it and pronounce it. We don't have an easy last name to start out with, but I have a lot of trouble with the fact that no matter what your name is these days, you HAVE to spell it outloud for everyone who needs it. There are too many variations of the exact same name that we might as well wear nametags to make life easier (with a phonetic spelling underneath of course)
I feel sorry for teachers. With a class list of Aymeighs and Maiyas and Khrises, how they struggle through roll call the first day is beyond me. They must get phonetic spellings. This doesn't even mention the names that aren't really names... like Pinstripe and Telephone and Orange. Are those boys or girls? I have no idea.
Remember in the 60's (heh, because you know I remember so well), there was a contingent of people who believed that naming their children Wind and Rain and Sunshine was a good idea. Why? No one knows, but those people have grown up now and are in their 40s, and stuck with a name that immediately dates them (and for some, may possibly embarass them).
I think the madness will stop someday. We will go back to more traditional names, (goodness, are there really not enough of them? The poor people writing baby-name books in the next 5 years...) if only because we run out of silent letters to add.
Running
I hate running. Let's just get that out there. I know it's SUPPOSEDLY good for you (though I can recite a loing list of people for whom running has destroyed their joints... my joints in contrast are perfectly fine), but I can't really bring myself to do it.
Husband loves to run. He is weird. I'm proud of him though. Today, he finished his first half-marathon, beating his goal by 24 seconds. His time was 1:44:36. I was sleeping through most of it. It was also in a time zone an hour ahead of us, so don't be too appalled.
I just have trouble with running. I blame it on boobs mostly. That way Husband can't complain. You really gotta tie those babies down or you got serious problems. I have an expensive sports bra (stupid thing cost me $120 and looks like it's made out of a bad bridesmaid dress) which works pretty well, but really... some people are built to run, and I am not one of them. I also have short legs, so I can take the same number of steps as Husband and his natural stilts, and go half the distance. No thanks.
Part of me feels like I should run... because it's good for you, and all the really skinny people do it. I think it's easier for skinny people. Less wind resistance. That, and skinny people don't usually have big boobs.
See, I can come up with justification for anything.
Husband loves to run. He is weird. I'm proud of him though. Today, he finished his first half-marathon, beating his goal by 24 seconds. His time was 1:44:36. I was sleeping through most of it. It was also in a time zone an hour ahead of us, so don't be too appalled.
I just have trouble with running. I blame it on boobs mostly. That way Husband can't complain. You really gotta tie those babies down or you got serious problems. I have an expensive sports bra (stupid thing cost me $120 and looks like it's made out of a bad bridesmaid dress) which works pretty well, but really... some people are built to run, and I am not one of them. I also have short legs, so I can take the same number of steps as Husband and his natural stilts, and go half the distance. No thanks.
Part of me feels like I should run... because it's good for you, and all the really skinny people do it. I think it's easier for skinny people. Less wind resistance. That, and skinny people don't usually have big boobs.
See, I can come up with justification for anything.
Update
I was told today that I have to put up new blog entries otherwise people may believe I have spiralled into a deep depression. No depression thus far... just the plain old crazy life. I've been checking things of the list/pile that seems to be devouring me, and still so many of my dreams and goals are being left until I have more time. Good luck with that. I haven't written in months, though my book still swirls in my head at inopportune times (like when I should be sleeping). I really need to write it down.
The Real Food Experiment is really difficult in some ways. I find grocery shopping really hard. I think that's mainly because I am so used to buying what I see... being inspired by the store for what to make for dinner. I need to actually plan ahead now. It saves me money because ther is virtually no impulse purchasing, but it takes a bit more brain power (of which I am lacking these days). Lunches for Husband are especially hard. When deli meats are out (a staple of his former lunch), and anything other than homemade mayo, it takes a lot of advance planning to figure something out. Husband has gone to work with a container of hard-boiled eggs and fruit. Sorry hon.
There are definitely times when I feel like giving up. Times like now especially when I can't even find the time in life to blog about how I feel. What is the point of doing it if no one else can learn anything from the experiment?
Speaking of how I feel... not that different. I had thought (especially with all the talk of toxins and free-radicals and the evils of preservatives) that there would be some measurable change in our health. Not really, at least for me. Husband has lost weight (grumble), but that likely has more to do with the inability to snack on doughnuts at coffee break. I have lost about 10 pounds in the last while, but that's a story for another day.
We'll keep going. Maybe someday I'll feel different. I don't though. I think just getting on my elliptical would make more of a difference to my health than this diet is doing, but time will tell.
The Real Food Experiment is really difficult in some ways. I find grocery shopping really hard. I think that's mainly because I am so used to buying what I see... being inspired by the store for what to make for dinner. I need to actually plan ahead now. It saves me money because ther is virtually no impulse purchasing, but it takes a bit more brain power (of which I am lacking these days). Lunches for Husband are especially hard. When deli meats are out (a staple of his former lunch), and anything other than homemade mayo, it takes a lot of advance planning to figure something out. Husband has gone to work with a container of hard-boiled eggs and fruit. Sorry hon.
There are definitely times when I feel like giving up. Times like now especially when I can't even find the time in life to blog about how I feel. What is the point of doing it if no one else can learn anything from the experiment?
Speaking of how I feel... not that different. I had thought (especially with all the talk of toxins and free-radicals and the evils of preservatives) that there would be some measurable change in our health. Not really, at least for me. Husband has lost weight (grumble), but that likely has more to do with the inability to snack on doughnuts at coffee break. I have lost about 10 pounds in the last while, but that's a story for another day.
We'll keep going. Maybe someday I'll feel different. I don't though. I think just getting on my elliptical would make more of a difference to my health than this diet is doing, but time will tell.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Missing Pieces.
This weekend, while away with my mom, we ran into some friends... more hers than ours, but we grew up with their kids too, so close enough. They have no grandkids yet, and although Girl doesn't have an Opa of her own, she seems very familiar with the concept. She latched onto the man (who isn't much older than my dad would have been) and within minutes was calling him Opa and letting him tickle and play and roll in the grass with her.
For the briefest of moments, he was my dad.
There are times when I really miss him... less for me than for Girl. They never met, but I know they would have had a relationship that beat all. Dad loved kids... he would have been teaching her insanely big words and rolling around on the floor with her. He would have been an open lap, and open ear and always good for a laugh. It makes me really sad sometimes that he wasn't around to see his grandkids, and that Girl doesn't have a grandfather at all (they both went to meet their maker). No matter how I want it for Girl, I do also wish it for me. It would have been a relationship that made me smile... seeing my little girl and my dad share secrets and blanket forts.
It is not to be.
For the briefest of moments, he was my dad.
There are times when I really miss him... less for me than for Girl. They never met, but I know they would have had a relationship that beat all. Dad loved kids... he would have been teaching her insanely big words and rolling around on the floor with her. He would have been an open lap, and open ear and always good for a laugh. It makes me really sad sometimes that he wasn't around to see his grandkids, and that Girl doesn't have a grandfather at all (they both went to meet their maker). No matter how I want it for Girl, I do also wish it for me. It would have been a relationship that made me smile... seeing my little girl and my dad share secrets and blanket forts.
It is not to be.
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