Monday, June 25, 2007

and the envelope please….

I got a call on my cell phone that came up as Mass General… I very sadly answered the phone knowing my fate held in it’s future 3 days of scheduled feedings and then a stretch off fasting.

I answer with a solemn “hello” to be greeted by yet another chipper nurse. She was calling me to confirm our scheduled birthing class! HORRAY Much to the surprise of all- including me and my potato salad eating, ice cream craving arse- I PASS TIS TEST!!!!!!!! The nurse confirmed the date (a one day course – one day only, Saturday gone, information session details to come in July) and of course just had one more question for me.

Would I be breastfeeding?

(yup, not kidding here)


Thursday, June 21, 2007

Passing Tis Test

I have been trying for 5 months now to get my doctor to smile. She is perfectly lovely, but doesn't really find me that funny. Today, however, I cracked myself and C up- along with her. Finally.

To start off with -I had a doctors appointment yesterday. I needed to take a glucose test. For those of you that have no idea what this is- it's a drink that tastes like flat extra sweet, almost thickish coca cola. After an hour, I have to get blood drawn, which is probably my least favorite thing in the world to do. Shocking, I know another thing to add to "the list." This checks for glucose load in my system- basically screening for diabetes in pregnancy.

Knowing this- you would have thought I would have steered clear from the lbs. of potato salad I ate in the afternoon. I didn't. So after chugging this nastiness, this Haitian nurse just kept repeating, "You betta pass tis test." as if at this point I have a choice. Turns out if I do not pass this test, I have to come back for a 3-hour glucose tolerance test that includes needing to eat certain foods for 3 days, ending the joy with a fast. You know I'm going to have to do this, don't you? I do.

Anyway, after several warnings from that nurse, another nurse comes in to lecture us about the fact we haven't signed up for a birthing class then continues to push her position on breast feeding and dispense the propaganda. It's amazing. Anyway, this continues on rinse and repeat with other warnings about how I "better pass the test" and she's off where we wait once again for the doctor. WARNING FOR THOSE READING THIS who have not have children yet: make the decision on what to do formula vs. breastfeeding, make yourself a t-shirt to notify people passing by as well as all those that might as you, save yourself sometime. That's what I'm going to do. If you're interested. Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

$25.00 for one, get two for $35.00- this is going to send our kid to college, I'm telling you.

The doctor comes in goes through her questions- she comments that the swelling in the ankles, still going strong- but not as humid out = not as grotesque showing of the cankles as last time. (not on those words, she's a little too bland for that) She too asks the question on everyone's mind... "Will you be breastfeeding?" I assure her - yes yes yes- I will I will, sign me up- check off the box. She doesn't seem as passionate about the subject, so I'm falling in love with her a little bit. Sure, I can't make her laugh- but she's not pushing let pamphlets and the benefits down my throat- so I'll take it.

Next she asks, "Now, have you thought about this? What do you want to do about birth control?"

Immediately with out hesitation I practically scream, "GET ON IT!" And then the most amazing thing, she laughed! She really laughed! C laughed too- it was happy moment. Until I said, "well, actually - I don't even think we'll need it for while..." C stopped laughing, and the doctor laughed harder.


Tuesday, June 19, 2007

My First

Does fruit flavored ice cream really count? Well sad but true I have downed my first pint of ice cream. Ah "Banana Split" how you make me happy. "Jummy jummy!" as our new au pair, El Gato would say. More on that at a later date. After yet another fun, fab and sober night out I tested a new flavor.

My favorite part of the night was when drunk girl wouldn't let me go into the bathroom- she just kept slurring "There's a boy in there, there's a boy in there." (read everything that drunk girl says with a valley accent, super duper happy AND slurring. Basically the most aggravating thing possible to hear) I double and triple checked- the sign said W so I was not running into the wrong bathroom- which of course I have done. After several slurs and a SLIGHT nudge by me to get her out of the way- I go in and someone is cleaning the bathroom- the "boy" she spoke of. Had she just explained a little better I might not have been so aggravated- but it could have been anything in there. The last work party I went to there were girls, draws down passed out in the men’s bathroom. Stranger things have happened then a 'boy in the bathroom.' Anyway, as I push past her- get the okay from the 'boy in the bathroom' to proceed to the stall- I hear behind me from drunk girl "Oh wow, she is brave." And then I hear someone who I work with say, "No, she's pregnant." And drunk girl responds with a "Oh wow, good for her! She is sooo brave."

What does that even mean?

In other news, C has been away- he'll be back tomorrow night. I can't wait to tell him I've decided on names for the baby. Boy or girl, the choices are down to two. Ben or Jerry. I'm in love.

-Biggest Budda Belly.

Friday, June 15, 2007

The Power of the Belly

Dunkin Donuts is the place of many things- it is directly behind our apartment, the source of my coveted caffeinated drink, the place where I discovered that being knocked up isn't as bad as I thought. There is power in this belly.

As I pull into the parking lot- I have a lot planned, a lot going on - and while I practically stall pulling in I figure it's because I'm in 3rd- oops there goes the preggers brain again. I grab my coffee and a muffin, get back in my car, back up and take off. Or do I.

I putt back and there I am in the parking lot made for gold carts, conveniently stalling in a way that blocks in 2-3 cars, on EACH side of me while a truck and a car try to pull in. Exaggeration. It's not. I feel the need to get on my cell phone; because I don’t know what to do- and while I love my baby's daddy let's be honest the likely hood of him knowing what has happened to the car is slim to none. The man can cook, he makes me laugh- and he can iron a mean shirt. He is pretty and fun- the life of the party. A gear head- he is not.

As I dial- he doesn't answer. For some reason I dial again, now don't forget- there are cars trying to get out, and a truck and car trying to get in. The truck had a toothless man who looked like a special father time-type although not quite as friendly because I'm pretty sure he cursed me everything under the sun. Complete with giving me the finger and laying on his horn. People were screaming, they were cursing. It was madness. There was honking and hand gestures.

I was flustered; I was scared- I am on Mass Ave so chances of being shot up in the ruckus are a possibility. But then...

(IF I could add music, I would- and it would be "It's so Quiet" by Bjork)

I stepped out of the car and voilĂ . It got so quiet, so very quiet. Everyone stopped yelling, the honking stopped and all of a sudden from all directions men started running toward me. But not the kind of running you'd expect in the neighborhood- not running by to grab your purse or running from the police. This was running toward me, in a helping manner. 6 guys- even one riding with toothless father time came to help and push me back into a parking spot- offer to call someone for me- what could they do?

Ah the power of the belly.

I said I was fine- and off I went to call C, again. When we finally get in touch- just as I had feared was no help. Should he come - now what will that do? I ask him to find a tow company and a VW dealer I'm stuck at DD. What can I do? So I continued to eat my muffin - and called Carlita. Even though the usual suspects surrounded the Dunkin, including one guy who come through to the back of the parking lot as I am talking about my adventure to ask for 50 cents. I knew I'd be late, and bless her- she listens to the madness that happens in my life. I call and let her know I'm going to be late because something has happened to my car. As I explain the situation, the noises, the experience- she begins to run through some possibilities. While C may not be able to help, Carlita is apparently working at a garage on the side. One of the possibilities is running out of gas.

It isn't running out of gas. I would not do that. I did not do that.

Or did I? I do vaguely remember seeing a gaslight a bit ago, but I got gas, didn't I?

I don't want to be that girl that spent $200 on a tow truck (right, I know, I need to get triple A but let's faced it are you surprised I don't have it?) Off I walk to the gas station, to buy my gas can and gas.

The gas can, that only fit $2 of gas, cost $8 dollars.

I get the gas in the car- which literally takes 15-20 minutes, so you can imagine how frustrating that might be. $2 of gas is as minuscule as it sounds. The nozzle of the $8 rip off was too big - gas was spilling all over the car, all over me- it was a mess. I get in the car start it... and nothing. I try again, nothing.

I call C- it's time to throw it into plan B. We've got to call a tow truck. For some reason I don't know why - on the verge of tears and crazy woman laughing- all at the same time I get back in the car and try again. And for some reason I have no idea- maybe it was an angel, maybe it was prayer answered- maybe it was the gas finally getting through the gas lines (apparently that is what it was, I heard at a later date from someone at work but I'd like to think a spiritual intervention) my car started. Off I went to work.

How could this have happened? Am I that dense? I blame my dry skin. How is that?

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-Buddha Belly

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

Travel Advisory

I want to know when it will be that I can travel with out incident. See ‘may day may day’ for details to my work related last trip to NY. This time- the flight on the way to NY took off early- I was traveling with a colleague – and the skies were blue and the day was perfect. The reporter did show up this time, and while my shoes at one point almost exploded due to the swelling, everything went off with out a hitch.

I planned my evening perfectly. I didn’t eat my dinner completely on purpose, the plan was to go to the airport a bit early- get a larger than life ice cream cone sit in the Jet Blue terminal and wait for my flight. They have wireless Internet there- so why not.

My phone rang with an 808 number… I let it go to voicemail I didn’t recognize the number or area code. Now keep in mind, it is not unlike me to not check my voicemail for a day or two. So it is possible that the voicemail would have gone unheard. I had about 1 hour until the car was scheduled to pick me up to go the airport, to get me to my flight and my planned ice cream.

I decided while I wait I’ll check my email and grab the phone number of a potential au pair candidate I am emailing- I will try to get connected to her on my way to the airport. Did that happen? No, of course not. When I logged into my email account there it was, not one but two emails from Jet Blue. Foolish me I thought they were just wishing me well for my upcoming flight. No, no well wishes awaited me instead cancellation notifications. “Due to increment weather up and down the North East… “

Increment weather? By the size of my tree trunks I can tell you for certain that the weather was warm and humid. Not a cloud in the sky, however apparently Jet Blue felt differently. I immediately sprung into action trying to figure out anyway possible to get off the dang island. Another flight? NOPE. Perhaps a train? No dice. It was inevitable- short of renting a car; I was going to be stuck on Long Island. Again.

In calling Jet Blue and promptly being told it would “just another minute while the next representative would be happy to speak to me” I waiting just another 18 minutes until Sally Sunshine came on the line- of course she would like to help me- sure I can get a flight home tomorrow- not a problem. 7 am or 5 pm. These are my choices- and a flight leaving at 7 am means that I get picked up at 5 AM- oh the joy. Up before 5 am two days in a row. Sure, why not. I laugh like a crazy person and I’m sure if Sally Sunshine wasn’t so hopped up on annoying positive pills she would have been scared.

In the end, I didn't sleep an hour straight afraid I would sleep through my alarm, miss my ride and miss my flight. While in the end I did get my ice cream it wasn't nearly as large as I had hoped and once again my travel plans did not go smooth.

Good news here... it's soon going to be the time where I shouldn't be traveling so I'll get to avoid the inevitable.

-"Valued" but irritated frequent flyer, Mrs. G

Monday, June 11, 2007


We made a trip to Connecticut to visit with the MOST amazing little boy I've ever seen up close! ColeBG was born Friday with a FULL head of black hair. He is 7lb. 15 oz. & of course beautiful! The story of his arrival had me crying and holding back vomit all at the same time. (thanks for the honest truth... although sometimes lying isn't that bad of a habit to have.)

Back to the happy place ...

Liza & BoBo are doing great! They are naturals. Not only do they have a beautiful baby, but of course they are a gorgeous family. It was crazy to be sitting there- holding ColeBG, while my own baby kicks talking to Liza about how some people can get scary with the breastfeed or not to breastfeed debate. Forget the way, politics, the subject of same sex marriage or even Donald vs. Rosie... don't cross a women who will die on the hill fighting for the breastfed babies all around the world. Mention formula, and you might as well have spit in her face. I'm surprised there isn't more attention paid to the Enthusiasts out there that push the boob harder than the crack heads on my block push the white horse to the school kids. Anyway- back to the picture... there I am talking about it to Liza holding ColeBG as our own baby kicks- talking about subjects that have to do with our CHILDREN... this is a far far cry from our 3101 days.

Ah back in the day, as we would sit on the hand me down couch that just a few weeks or months previously had been stuffed with dead fish heads as a retaliation of a frat/sorority prank. Our wall decor included poster board we used behind some spray painted project and we hid a cat in the closet so our RA wouldn't find him. We broke in through the window on the daily- sometimes we had to and sometimes just on habit. It wouldn't be weird to see someone painted orange run by or have a boyfriend come to the door with a bloody nose and Public Safety right behind him. Ah Public Safety- with Officer Lovely - a personal favorite of mine. Mac and cheese heating up in the kitchen or the PB&J sandwiches being cut- we'd talk about anything but diaper changes. We'd hatch plans to purchase vans that we'd see in someone's yard, "You know what happens when 3 people hang out!" (... more subjects to come. Due to swiss cheese preggers brain, I had to email Shaniqua & Leona for some more topics...)

And so I digress... C practiced a bit.... what was probably not reassuring for the new parents was to hear C announcing that he was afraid he was going to break ColeBG's neck. That would explain the shell-shocked look he has in the picture below. We both fell in love though- and even though we heard the delivery story on repeat in horrific detail too many times to recall and too many to block out, we were also told repeatedly that it was all worth it.

I'll believe it when I see it for myself, however for now I will be happy to get my 'fixes' as often as I can this summer. I'll be a fixture in the Geer household, because that little boy totally made the backaches, fat feet, growing arse seem to disappear.
- Ant Coleman

Friday, June 8, 2007

Swear Jar

This just got forwarded to us... it's a commercial for Bud light. It's hysterical!!!

Monday, June 4, 2007

Better In Than Out

Lately, every time we make a trip to NY I learn something new. Sometimes it's wildly inappropriate, sometimes it's unexpected, sometimes it's just plain unbelievable. Like this weekend's advice from a stranger.

I digress.

This weekend once again, we learned a lot. We drove to NY, again, for different reasons. We had a wedding- that was the main purpose. While we were there we did baby shower research, family time, and a graduation party.

1. I learned that weddings are not as much fun sober.

I have more fun at events with a beer in my hand. Maybe I have a problem, say what you will- but I stand by this.

2. I learned that people should watch what they say.

SO we have no idea what the baby is- although word on the street is that it is a "she." This weekend there was a resounding "it's a girl" vibe from all those that I met- mostly the older crew with their old wives tales.

Basically- a girl takes away the beauty of the mom... so EITHER it's a girl OR I'm just plain ugly knocked up. Also, I'm carrying "everywhere" which just means I'm fat as hell.

It'll be a kick to the ego when a boy pops out.

Obviously either way a healthy babe is really all I'm hoping for. Scratch that- what I am REALLY hoping for is there is more than one in here- so that I can cut down on the number of times I am going to do this. I'm hoping someone is hiding behind someone else in there.

3. I learned that it is possible to fall in love with inanimate objects.

We went to "Buy Buy Baby" which is the baby supply mecca - and if I do say so myself Babies R us better watch out. The choices were endless. Anyway, it's there I fell in love. I've been fighting this love for weeks now- but I can't deny it anymore.

The bugaboo, in my opinion, is the Ferrari of strollers. It transforms into so many things, it practically transforms into the baby's first bicycle. It is expensive enough - it should drive itself. But it's the most beautiful thing I've seen on 4 wheels. The options are endless. Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket

The "good" news is that I think the woman at the store convinced me it is worth the cost based on how many extras you have to buy with other strollers. The bad news is, it is still ridiculous in cost.

4. I learned that mom's are convinced it's better in than out, I maintain that I am convinced otherwise.

Yesterday we were at my cousin's high school graduation party and there was this woman running around after a 2 year old as she heard me with my count down. In my opinion, it's celebration time. I am nearing the under 100 days left mark, I'm almost at 6 months- it's go time people. It's going to be a LONG HOTT summer, but when someone asks how I'm doing, I'm going to be honest. I'm swollen, but there are X amount of days left. That's what's on my mind- my thought is if you don't want to know "how I am" and in return hear the countdown, because that frankly gages how I am- don't ask. Anyway- yesterday we were 15 more weeks away OR 103 more days OR 3 months and 11 days.

As I'm running down the stats she runs by informing me me "it's better in than out."

I find that hard to believe. Honestly I am sure that it is going to be crazy, and MAYBE there will be moments that I want to take this back- but I feel like having someone to see and spend time with and get to know has to be better than the incubation period. The back aches, the sober days and nights, the swelling, the growing rotund arse, the inability to move, the list goes on.

Thanks anyway.

I'll take the crying and screaming kid with the dirty diapers and temper tantrums. Because at some point, it's gotta settle down. A walk will be had (hopefully with my phat new ride of a stroller) and I will have my ankles back again. I will be able to move with out looking and feeling like a weeble wobble. Maybe even bend over to pick something up that I dropped with out a grown. And I'm told pretty soon I won't even be able to do that. At night I can have a cold freaking beer on my porch rather than my seltzer with lime. Ah the possibilities are endless.
-j Gu

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Dear Friends & Family of New York,

Although we love and enjoy seeing all of you, if I have to drive to NY one more f’ing time I am going to jab my eyeballs out and put them in Nanny’s lasagna. If we were keeping score, it would J & C 5000, everyone else none. If that was the Red Sox record we would be sitting on our free couch. So we have decided that in order for us to continue the treks, and the many many bathroom breaks that the trek comes with, you need to visit us in Boston at least two times. If you are refrain you will not see us or our new bundle of joy. Please save my eyeballs.

(notes taken on trip 5000 to NY by J)
(c) 2007 all rights reserved. aka don't be a D and swipe any content, photos, etc - sucka. Should you be tempted, let me know so I can be flattered and then give me something write about.