Lucy Lime

Feeling gross today. Thought I would take a few minutes to purge the body of toxins before lying on the couch to watch a Netflix. Little man is asleep and hubby had poker tonight so I am on my own.

So, I have Shrek feet again. My ankles are swollen like a freak show. Hubs cracked up today when he saw them. The swelling will go down, always does, but in the meantime my toes, which remain quite lean, stick out from these bulbous foot/ankle glop combo. It is silly. I've just been doing way too much and not taking care of myself the way I need to. When will I learn that pregnant gals should not do cartwheels? Bottom line: I need to relax and get my feet up.

My stomach was totally doing weird things today. Namely, expanding. I tried to lay down but my comfort and potential nap was thwarted by this incredible stretching sensation and hardening of my stomach. Baby is a growin'!

I haven't been eating much lately. Hubs wonders why I haven't been eating chocolate or any sweets lately and I can only guess its because it is too much effort. I only crave fresh, whole foods. Seriously healthy stuff. A fresh peach is pure heaven to me. Real meat and salad and asparagus. Wondrous! Unfortunately, I really do not feel like preparing anything. Or, the thought of the clean-up puts me off. I can do one thing, but not the other. I need help but don't want to ask the hubby for it because he is busy all the time, too. Even though I go to be hungry, when I wake up I am fine.

I am more exhausted than I let on because then I will have to sit through another one of hubby's "you're doing too much, march your water-logged body into the bedroom right now and take a fucking nap" lectures. Then, he will take our son somewhere to play and I miss out. I hate missing out on family fun.

Little man has been especially trying lately. He wants to exert his authority big time. Unfortunately he is still too little to do the high-flying acrobatics he thinks he can do. We constantly have to play bad cop and tell him no and all the poor fella wants to do is climb on top of the entertainment center and jump off. We are sooooo unreasonable. Can you imagine the injuries we will have to deal with because our son is an extreme sports junkie? I freak when he gets a bug bite, how will I ever survive?

Oh, and baby #2 still has no name in sight. He will forever be called "the fetus." Or, "Yentl." (He was conceived during our Hanukkah celebration. Who am I kidding? We were all sicker than sick during Hanukkah so he is the result of and only celebration we did during Hanukkah 2007.)

Well, the lesbians are getting restless. They are moving furniture or humping or something exceptionally loud upstairs so I think it is time to retire to the couch and fall asleep in the middle of my show.

Labels: baby, Lesbians, pregnancy, Shrek feet

You might have heard me say many times over that my mother is a liar. A mean, nasty liar. But, do not let me get started on the whole "Mom's famous, totally invented, best peanut butter fudge recipe in the whole wide world" fiasco. It is too painful a lie to relive at the moment. Let's just leave it at her being a known liar.

So isn't my dead grandma. Yeah, I know that sounds mean, but god knows I loved that woman. This woman made the most delicious biscuits in the WORLD. They have only been duplicated on a few occasions, namely, immediately after she taught me how to make them. During the move from New Mexico to Ohio, the most regrettable experience in so many ways, the recipe got lost. I have tried and tried to recreate it over the last few years and even begged her to share it again. She would have loved to but her memory started to fail her and thus, the recipe, unless I can find it in the chaos of my cooking records, is lost to the culinary world forever. And ever.

So, back to her being a liar. I had a kick ass visit with good old Maw back in November of 2007. Such a wonderful visit that I am blessed that it is my last memory of hanging out with her. We discussed the biscuits and my sorrow and she asked me why I just didn't get the recipe off of the back of the bag of Gold Medal, self-rising flour.

Yeah. She asked that.

Well, gee, granny. I guess I would do that but this was supposed to be your recipe. You know, the recipe that I grew up watching you make? Watching you measure ingredients out merely by eying them? You know, the biscuit you learned how to make as a young woman?

How in the hell was I supposed to know that Gold Medal flour has been around as long as dirt and your mom got the recipe off of the back of the bag?

Of course, over the years it has been tweaked here and there, kind of like an old story that gains and loses some of the original details. Still, I had no idea and I am left remembering my lovely dead grandma as the lying, recipe switcher that she really was.

Hmmm.....maybe I should forgive my mom for the Peanut Butter Fudge lie. I mean, she comes by this honestly.

Anyway, all this was brought on by a discussion me and a professor about the Pillsbury Bake-Off Winner. Apparently you can submit recipes to their contest every year for a chance to win a million dollar prize. And, of course, the opportunity to be a known ass-kicking baker.

Peanut butter cookies won out this year. I got the recipe and plan to make them this weekend. My men love peanut butter cookies and I'd like to be able to take some in to work and see if they really are worth on million dollars.

Stay tuned for my results.

Labels: cookies, grandma, liars, mom, peanut butter, Pillsbury, recipes

Hubs says it is time to potty train the kiddo. I agree. We should have done it sooner but had no clue how to do it. I am still amazed that someone in this world thought it was a sound idea to let us have a kid without a manual.

Anyway, hubs was showing son how to use the potty. I overheard him say something like, "Good job. I think we just had a teachable moment."

I replied that I was glad they were able to bond so well and what does the turd say back to me?????

"You wouldn't understand, you're just a bitch."

My vagina has excluded me from the club, once again.

Labels: husband, son

The husband and I are in the process of buying a home. Our first home together. It is quite exciting and disturbing all at once. We love the thrill of knowing we will be able to paint our walls whatever we want (a horrid hindrance of renting) and can hang up pictures and make the place our own.
The house we found has three bedrooms, hardwood floors, 1.5 bathrooms, a complete loft upstairs, built in oak shelves and desks, claw-footed bathtub, fireplace, privacy-fenced backyard, fig and orange trees, finished back yard entertaining area, a carved spiral staircase....the list goes on. It is totally in our budget but needs a few repairs that we are unsure about how to do. Now, we know we need to get inspections and estimates but how do you know your specialist is truly honest? Our Realtor, a very nice lady, offers to help us with references but we must keep in mind that no matter how lovely she is (feeds the poor, means a lot to us; is very religious, means nothing whatsoever in terms of credit) she is still a Realtor who makes money off of the sale and is also the owner of the home in question. We want independent people.
Anyway, it is a kick ass house and I would love to get it, not just because we love it, but also because it would get the Realtor and lending agents to stop calling me ten times a day. Once they know you're on the market, they are on the prowl.

The charger to my camera is MIA. It is somewhere in this office. It wouldn't be such a tragedy, and isn't really, but we would like to take some pics of the house and the totally awesome things our son does.

We are having a boy. And, I can't think of a single name. Whenever I try, I go blank. I still have a few months but brainstorming is useless. Oh, and I can't tell you how many people seem genuinely disappointed that he will be our second son. So many people were rooting for a girl. Imagine the reactions I got from people when I told them the gender!!! Friends, grandparents, teachers at our son's school...... You would think I told them I had some disease the way they pitied me and said that I really needed a girl. Personally, I am thrilled.

The second season of Rome has been ordered. Can't wait to get it! We watched the entire series last year and got season one for a Christmas gift. We broke down and ordered season two ourselves. So excited!

My son likes hempmilk! A friend recommended it to me since I am concerned about dairy. It is my opinion, no matter how much it may disagree with yours, that kids drink entirely way too much cow's milk. Even if it is organic, people overdo it. To me, overindulgence on it is almost as bad as giving a young child soda. Cow's milk has been linked to excessive weight gain in childhood and obesity, not to mention skin, gastrointestinal, and allergy issues. Bad freaking news. Anyway, I found it, bought it, and tried it. HE LOVES IT! Way better than soy because it is void of that weird aftertaste. I cannot do soy. Well, Soy Slender rocks because it is mild, but regular soy sucks. Rice milk isn't too bad, but this hempmilk is great. A bit pricey, but it's my kid we're talking about it. Your health is something you should invest in.

I got rid of my Martha Stewart Living Magazines! I've been a member of Freecycle since 2004 and I have to say that this was my best offer to date. I have had a subscription since 2006 and it had accumulated to the point of no return. I felt overwhelmed by the huge stack of mags on my homekeeping shelf in the kitchen. Too many. I offered my collection, save for a few of my faves, and within an hour I had emails. We're talking a few dozen magazines in excellent condition.

The gal came round today and picked up the box from my porch. I feel a bit freer today. Even if I am in my second trimester and exhausted from yesterday's activities.

Speaking of yesterday... and this weekend in general.

We went to the Port A Sandfest thing yesterday. It is an annual event and it is a pretty cool competition. We walked the beach for miles, literally. We got to see a ton of really cool sand sculptures and we partied in the water like there was no tomorrow. Ok, so we party every damn day at the beach.

Got a pain in the ass sunburn as I was too busy making sure son and husband had sunscreen reapplied to remember my own skin. I am royally red. So much so that we didn't go to the beach today. Oh, and a bra was out of the question. Straps hurt like hell.

In lieu of the beach, we went to the Windfest today. This is also an annual event, not anywhere near being impressive. Even on a small scale. But we went and ate a funnel cake. Haven't had one of those since I was a preteen. Little man went nuts over it and it truly was delicious. The highlight of my day since my husband is a total pussy and would not do this bungee bounce thing. Something about feeling bad since there were tons of kids in the line and he hated to take a turn away from them. Little shits would get their turn, I promise. I wanted to see some husband flying through the air, a la Matrix, extreme bouncing! Pussy.

Labels: baby, camera, Freecycle, hempmilk, house, Rome, sandfest, windfest

that I am knocked-up? We have our ultrasound tomorrow. Hopefully we will get a solid idea of a due date and perhaps a gender. I am also being checked for multiples (as in two) because I popped out real quick.

So, we obviously hope for a healthy baby. That is obvious and only really said when you are pregnant. Beforehand, people wish for all sorts of crap. When the deed is done, it is then you think "Oh shit. Hope all is well. Don't care what gender, just as long as it is healthy."

But do I wish for anyone in particular? A boy would be nice so that little man can have a brother. I remember growing up wishing I had a sister. Someone to commiserate with. I had an older brother (6 years older) but we never got along and he had no interest in having a sibling. For years I thought it had something to do with the age gap, then I realized he was just spoiled. My hubby is his age and I have close friends (some of them used to be his) that are his age. They all say he's just an ass, so not to take it personally. I now haven't spoken to him in two years, so maybe that is for the best. I have a one year old brother who is a sweetheart, but no sister. Only surrogate sisters.

So having another son would be great.

But, we can only come up with girl names. We've already decided on one (and it is a secret). Try as we may, boy names are just not there. This makes me think this is a girl. Went through the same thing first time around.

I guess we'll find out tomorrow afternoon. Or, sometime in the late summer/early fall.

Labels: baby, gender, names

I love living in a duplex. I love the giant lesbians we have living above us. They are my favorite!

A while back, got in a fight with gal #1 over not cleaning up her dog's shit from our yard. Oh, and they were not allowed dogs. It all escalated with her yelling obscenities at me and proving herself to fit into many different stereotypes of many different types of losers/dickwads/all-around asses.

Anyway, there is a ton of attitude up there. Mainly by the one girl. I feel bad for her partner and my friend up there. How they live with her is beyond me. She yells and berates them. And, they are very large women, easily 3oo pounds each (taking an upstairs unit was not a smart move) and they stomp like you would not believe. Immediately after the altercation, husband had a talk with them and they were on their best behavior. You could hear them walk, but they did not stomp. Now they stomp. Well, one of them does.

So yesterday, hubby and I got home from the store. We were in the driveway unloading the groceries when they pull up behind us. Normally, we move out of the way but today we only had a few bags left to get out. Hubby waved to them and we finished quickly. Not even a full minute. Just long enough to move three bags and a watermelon about 15 feet.

Apparently not quick enough for fat ass whore face. Once hubby got in the door, we heard all this yelling outside. "Fucking this, fucking that. Can't get into my fucking house when I want. Fuckers. Fuck. Fuck."

You know, we have yet to approach them when they drive 30mph down the driveway. Or to ask them not to smoke (many things, btw) because the smoke enters in our bedroom and laundry room. Or to be a little quieter when they have sex and masturbate. And let me tell you, I have never heard someone carry on so much with a vibrator. Moaning. Loud. I have also never heard such a loud vibrator, either. I have had tons of them and....well, nevermind. Did I yell at them this weekend when I was trying to sleep but had to listen to their television? Did I complain that they watched The First Wives's Club twice????

Anyway, hubby and I are going out with the Realtor this evening to look at houses. Hopefull something will pan out in the next couple of months.

I would hate to have this baby at this house.

PS to Veronica: I promise only happy thoughts now. I had to get it off my chest. But I am well now.

Labels: bitches

This week I have worked myself to death. I have truly overdone it. I think all of my accomplishments would have been difficult for a non-knocked-up gal!

Anyway, lots of crap going on at work. We had a book sale that I donated tons of time to, a teacher appreciation event I helped decorate for, tons of grading and class preparation, the kid, the hubby and no time por moi.

Yesterday, I left my home at 6:45am and got back around 8:30pm. Not normally considered excessive but when you consider I was on my feet all day and my ankles looked like Shrek's by the time I got home, then yeah, it was excessive. My midwife would be so on me if she knew.

Couldn't sleep last night. Little one had a tummy ache from 2am-4am and hubby was snoring like the devil, all night. I finally got out of the bed and rolled my ass to the couch only to be greeted with the beautiful howls of two felines making love, sweet love, outside the window. Oh, and it lasted 45 minutes. I was actually praying that they would die. Cold, I know, but I was so tired. Got to sleep around 5 and up at 6:35. I taught today at 8am for an hour and have to loiter around until our 2:30pm meeting. I am desperate for a pillow so I can curl up on the cold tiles of my office and sleep.

Oh, and ankles are still huge. It is embarrassing.

Why did I ever think I could commit myself to all of this crapola this week?

If you want something done, give it to a busy person. How can I be less busy?

Labels: busy, couch, sleep or lack thereof

The mother and a few of the friends have asked about a baby registry. I have to say that I am less than thrilled at the thought of looking through baby items. Most expectant mothers are elated for that sort of task but not I. I find shopping utterly boring and when I look around my home and see a billion things cluttering each room, the thought of registering for more things, no matter how needed or mighty useful they would be, overwhelms me.

I am hoping against hope that the nesting thing will kick in during this pregnancy. It didn't the first time around. But this time I am uber sensitive to gore (murdering cockroaches, cat vomit, the litterbox), sad movie previews (I cried at The Pursuit of Happyness preview), inspiring moments in sports history (don't ask!) and Air Supply.

Yeah, bad news.

So perhaps this time I will actually get that nesting thing, clean out my house and be eager to accept new clutter in my home. Ah, I think I will list more items on Freecycle so that I feel good about sharing my clutter with someone else.

I'll get on that after I take a nap.

Labels: baby, cleaning, Freecycle, pregnancy, shopping

Ok, I know that at some point in time, people who I do not want to hear/read how foul my mouth/keyboard really is, will. It is inevitable. So I apologize for the following although I whole-heartedly mean it:

Fuck subrogation. In the ass. Hard.

I just finished reading about a new development in a story I have followed for the last few days. I have been crying my eyes out with joy. I want to make love to Wal-Mart right at this very moment.

They finally got it right. Too bad it took some major backlash to do it, but I even believe my dear friend Shauna will think about smiling in Wal-Mart's direction for this move. Note: I said think about. She doesn't smile.

This pregnant crying crap has got to stop. I hate behaving like such a sissy girl. Hmmmm... I must be having a girl since this did not happen the first time around.

Labels: Shauna, subrogation, Wal-Mart