Unbelievable!

So last night, I finally was able to feel my child for the first time!

We were in our normal positions on the couch, me on the left, Subby to my right laying on her back with her head on pillows and her legs stretched out over my lap. West Wing was on and we were a few episodes behind so we were in some catch up mode to get to the latest episode, which we never made it to anyway. When Subby hit pause and said baby is really moving right now, so she placed my hand on her belly in the best place to feel it and applied pressure with her hand.

After about 15 seconds I felt a bump on the palm of hand. I looked shocked, dumbfounded, curious and unfulfilled all at the same time. When Subby asked me if I felt that I said, "yes, was that you or the baby?" Well I don't know how she would be able to make that kind of movement, so it must have been the baby. I don't think I gave the reaction I was expecting to give or that Subby was expecting to get, but I wanted more.

So after the baby slept for a little (how do I know this, well that is Subby said nonchalantly), maybe an hour or so, she grabbed my hand again and this time it was definite! I felt a thud on my ring finger and Subby said the is exactly where I felt it. Then another one right after that on the palm of my hand again.

It was a great moment for the both of us and I don't know if I was dreaming it last night or if I felt the baby again while I slept with my hand on Subby's belly, but now I feel really connected to our baby.

It is a wonderful feeling...And now today I get to take it in and be happy knowing that I finally got to feel my child!

Sick day

I pride myself on being tough. Granted, I might scream like a little girl when a stinging insect flies around my head, but when it comes to being sick, I'm a Man, and Mike is the little girl. (And he knows it. I would worry about offending him, but, uh, I'm just not worried about it. I love him despite his totally infantile behavior when he has a cold.)

But I'm not going to be tough today, and I'm going to whine until my heart's content.

I'm sick. And it sucks. And I'm sick of being sick. And my head aches, and my throat aches, and I sound like a frog, and there is shit seeping from every orafice in my skull. And I wanna go home!!!

I did my first telephone interview of the day from 8:30-9:30 this morning, and I have another scheduled for 10:00, but I just might call it quits and reschedule her. I don't think I can take it.

Bah. I'm going to do it because I'm a sucker. Then maybe I'll leave.

When will it be my turn...

Over the last 4 1/2 months the pregnancy has all been about Subby, how she feels, how she is reacting to certain foods, environment, etc...not to take anything away from her, since she is the one who is enduring a body transformation for the betterment of our family, but when will it by my turn to hear or feel the baby?

We were laying on the couch last night with my head on her big preggy belly, straining to hear a heartbeat or movement or trying to feel something that (according to the books, we should be able to hear the heartbeat whenever we want and I should be able to feel kicks) just still isn't there. This instinctive reaction on my part was not supposed to be said out loud because, like a wedding the day is all about the bride, this pregnancy is all about my wife! I am completely and totally exicted for this opportunity, but in the end this is all about Subby.

By my big mouth blabbing this to Subby was just my way of showing some love and attachment to the baby and that I really do want to feel it or hear it. I guess I will just be in a waiting mode until that time comes.

Half way!

I have very little to say about baby, and that's all that's really interesting in my life right now.

(I go to work, I sit at my desk; sometimes I have work to do, usually I do not. Mike and I make dinner every night, and then do some dishes, and then I eat brownies or cake. Then we go to bed and I struggle to stay sleeping on my side with a body pillow jammed between my legs. It's a nice, happy, peaceful life. But it doesn't make for good blogging.)

But, this weekend, we hit the half way mark! The baby has been growing for as many days as it has left. It seems agonizing to wait as long as it's already taken, but I know it will go quickly, as I have the holidays to breeze through.

Oh, and Happy Halloween!

Everybody's a critic

The internet is cool. I got a comment from someone (I have no idea who) suggesting that it's ironic that I pander for comments but then don't respond. Now, I've only ever gotten one comment from someone I didn't know the identity of, and it's true, I never responded. I didn't really understand what (s)he was trying to say. But the cool part is that while the person wasn't rude in this comment, (s)he did insert some sarcasm about my 'words of wisdom,' which I can only assume means that the commenter thinks that I think that everyone should want to read what I have to say, er, write, and then participate in a discussion.

But, really, all I was trying to do was to get my mother-in-law to have some fun, since she's the only person who ever reads this. So come on, I dare you!! Click that Comments link! It's fun. It's free!

Back to strangers commenting: no matter how hard I try, I can't get any results for my blog when I google phrases I've used on here. I don't know why, but I also don't really care. But I'm very curious how people got here in the first place. I guess you can just scroll through blogs. I should really figure out how to work that stat counter stuff. Eh, whatever.

Politics

Cool.

But why couldn't it have been Rove?

A comment on commenting

Commenting is appreciated. It's very easy. See the '0 Comments' in green type below each entry? (If I'm really, really lucky, it says '1 Comments.') It's a link to a page in which you can type anything your heart desires in response to the post. It doesn't even have to be related to the post. You could comment that "Cheez-its are delicious," or "I heard that the gene that allows one to roll his or her tongue is recessive. Why can so many people roll their tongues then?!"

So, once you read the post, click on the word Comments, and then type something clever into the big box. Then click on the dot by Other, not Blogger. You also supposed to put in a name, but that's entirely optional. You can of course just call yourself "Anonymous," or "Superman," or even "studluvr," and I won't mind! Now, there are probably really smart people who could figure out who commented by finding an IP address or some other technical stamp that people leave all over the web. I am not one of those people. If you want to be anonymous, don't worry. I won't snoop. I swear. I couldn't even if I wanted to. (And if you have no reason to be anonymous, you could even go so far as to call yourself "Mom.")

Oh, and there is also a place to put in your email address or a webpage or something. You don't have to do that. Just leave it blank. You can leave them all blank. It really doesn't matter.

But when you get to the end, there is a funky-looking string of letters that you have to type in. So here's the deal: if you don't make a real, live human being type the letters in that image, computers elsewhere can automatically create and post "comments" about buying a nice, new ocmputer from them, or seeing Kandy Kane's special holiday between-the-legs treat. Some blogs don't use this 'verification' system for posting. I have no idea how they stop spam. But I see the verification system as "Who cares?" so I use it. So you just have to type in the letters you see. That's all. Then you click Publish your comment, or Preview if you want to look at it before posting it, and viola! You have commented on my post. And this makes me very happy.

(It is worth noting that Mike and I argued over who would tell you how to do this.)

On blogging

I feel like I should write every day. But then I feel like I don't have anything interesting to say everyday. And I think I shouldn't just write garbage just to post something. But it's the only way to stay in the habit, right?

Sigh. We'll see.

On office politics

You know how when someone leaves a box of food in the office kitchen, it's pretty much for the taking? Sometimes it's leftover pizza from a meeting, sometimes it's a box of cookies their kid was selling. And then sometimes, albeit rarely, it is a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts with pristine chocolate goo spread just so.

Background: I have never eaten a Krispy Kreme doughnut. I gave up doughnuts years ago when I was a teenager and discovered nutrition labels, but I'm woman enough to admit that I've had a couple of them over the years. But the times when I've been desperate enough to have a doughnut (I was truly hungry for breakfast and it was the only thing available), it's never been a Krispy Kreme doughnut. And I've been offered a Krispy Kreme doughnut before, but if I'm not hungry, and I don't need it, I politely (and probably stupidly) decline. I've been mildly curious about trying one, since some people swear it really is that big a deal. But I've never really wanted one. But I've never been pregnant before, either.

More background: There are two kitchens on our floor of this office building. Our group's kitchen is more of a kitchenette with a mini-fridge, crappy microwave, and 12" sink. Way on the other side is a more reasonably sized kitchen with a real fridge, two microwaves, and even a table and chairs. Crazy! I don't usually venture to the big kitchen, because it's a long walk, and I just feel a little bit out of my element. It's still there for our department, but not really our group.

Last background: The polar jug in our kitchenette was broken. I don't know what happened to it, as there was a nice, full jug of water on the base, and the hot water was working, but no cold water would come out. I had to trek all the way down to the big kitchen to fill up my water bottle. I did this several times through the day.

Finally, the stupid story: At around 2:30 or 3:00, I stumbled into the big kitchen to find, gasp, above-mentioned box of 6 chocolate iced doughnuts. They were lined-up, untouched, ready to be evoured. There was a post-it on the box that simply said, "PAID." I figured there must be some mistake! No one would leave these out for the taking. I felt it would be rude to just take one without asking someone first, but I don't really know anyone from that side of the building to ask. And if I just took one, and got busted in the hallway running off with someone else's doughnut, I'd be very embarassed. (I'd probably just point to my enlarged belly and bat my eyelashes, but I don't want it to come to that. Yet.) So I decided that the more polite thing to do would be wait until 4:30 or 5:00 when most people were gone for the day and if there were any left then, steal one and devour it without an iota of guilt.

I went back to my desk and could think of nothing but a perfectly chocolate iced Krispy Kreme doughnut. I think I drooled. I made it to about 4:15, and then casually cruised back to the big kitchen. And the box was in the trash. Right on top. And I peeked inside in case some insane person was cleaning the kitchen and trashed everything, but alas, it was empty. I blew it. And I wanted to cry. But I held it together. I stumbled back to my desk, numb and defeated.

I had never wanted a baked good so badly. What's wrong with me?! The good news is that I ended up buying a teensy bag of Chex Mix (for 85 cents, the theiving bastards) from the vending machine and eating that and my yogurt for an early-evening snack. I was impressed with myself.

Then I went home and ate lots of pizza and brownies.

But my question is this: should I have just taken the doughnut in the first place? Wouldn't anyone else assume that a box of Krispy Kreme doughnuts just isn't the same as cold, gross, obviously left-over pizza? Mike said he would have taken a doughnut in a second. Was I wrong? Am I too virtuous? Too considerate? Too dumb?

Baby Sugar Ray

Imagine my surprise to be beat awake this morning. And it didn't hurt! There were pops and kicks and thuds all over inside me. I didn't know the baby had the reach to hit both sides of my abdomen, practically at the same time. It was exactly what I've been waiting for.