07 October 2008

She's dressed in yellow, she says hello, come sit next to me you fine fellow.

The food situation is getting dire, I'm afraid. The nausea has lifted a little bit thanks to some morning sickness vitamins I bought (I would have bought heroin if they told me it cured the nausea, let's be honest) but the thought of food still makes me heave, which is a delightful quality in a lady. I can handle exactly one food item at a time if I do decide I can eat. I got the thought of cottage cheese in my head this afternoon so the whole hour & 1/2 trip home on the train, I was thinking of cottage cheese and how that would be my evening meal. I was very excited to actually want something, but by the time I got off the train, I had made myself sick of cottage cheese. I'm having popcorn for supper instead. I do what I have to. I actually went out and bought frozen tater tots yesterday after I had a dream about them, which is incredibly pathetic. Again, I got so worked up over the fact that they actually sounded appetizing that by the time I got them home, they sounded gross again. I did manage Thai food for lunch today, which I thought would never be possible so that was a major victory in this battle between me and the busy little placenta-building, food-snubbing, raspberry-sized monster in my womb.

There were only two things I was positive about with pregnancy and only two - that my hunger would be unstoppable and that I would cry every 30 seconds. Instead, I have lost a few pounds (but not in my boobs - huzzah!) and I have not cried a single time. That's right, the girl who has wept during every major sitcom and can not even hear the music from Forrest Gump without sobbing ... I have not shed a tear. I am out of the daze so it's not that and I'm very happy, which usually causes me to cry more than sadness. The only times I have gotten teary-eyed is when a good song comes on but still no tears have fallen.

The music thing is just weird. I mentioned at the very beginning how I reverted back to my old music when the hormones kicked in. I still find myself very emotional over music. And it's not what you think - it's not the sappy ballads that are getting me, it's the good stuff. We have some very weird radio stations in our area - one of which was playing Tone Loc's Bust a Move tonight when I happened to stumble across it. Very few songs on earth make me as happy as this one - I become an unstoppable hip hop machine when this song comes on. So it came on the radio and I start smiling and rapping, then thinking to myself "Wow, I love this song. It really makes me happy. It's just such a good song ..." then I notice I have tears in my eyes. My unborn child can't inspire me to cry but Tone Loc can? WHY?? Then I turned the station to the world's single greatest radio station - 5-0 Plus. It's a community station for people who are over 50 and all the volunteer DJ's average about 75 or 80 and bring their own music from home. If I'm ever super rich, I will make sure 5-0 Plus lives forever. ANYWAY, I flip over to 5-0 hoping for a little Andrews Sisters or a Sousa march or something but instead I get the Beach Boys. Just like Tom Hanks, I can't think of the Beach Boys without thinking of my dad and that almost made me cry but it was Sloop John B and the rhyme scheme of "fits" and "grits" luckily put a stop to those tears. But then it ended and the slammed with Dolly Parton (I told you it's a fantastic station)! Luckily I was already pulling into the driveway or the Tennessee reminder who have sent me over the edge. Now I'm afraid of what the actual song will be that makes me boo-hoo. It's not going to be pretty.

What should be making me cry is the fact that the midwives group isn't calling me back. I've left them two messages on their booking line. I have this nagging feeling that I'll be giving birth on my balcony with those damn parrots squawking at me and Marcel cracking a lot of whale jokes at my expense.

Anyhoo, I'm 8 weeks along now and our little Buster Bluth is about the size of a raspberry and is kicking around its arms & legs with its little creepy webbed fingers and toes. I still feel like it's a bit of a non-exciting time because I'm not buying anything for it until I can start calling it a he or she and we make it past that 3-month hurdle safely. Until then, you can expect many more whiny blogs about what I can and cannot eat. The popcorn is going okay at the moment so we'll add that to the Yay for Me column and if any of you want to test customs by Fedexing me a Mexican pizza (minus the beef) from Taco Bell, I'll love you forever.

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