home invasion

So, my mom got in late last night, as I mentioned. Catie was totally psyched to see her Mimi, and instead of being tired (as she should have been at 10 p.m.), instead she was totally wired and hyper.

Rockin' some serious fashion at the airport.

So, we got home and didn’t get Catie in bed until sometime around 11:15. My mom and I sat at the kitchen table talking for a little while after that, and I collapsed in bed a little after midnight.

I had an OB appointment at 10 a.m. today, so I got up, got dressed, and got ready to leave while my mom and Catie settled in on the couch to watch a movie together. Only when I was ready to walk out the door… I couldn’t find my purse. Which was weird, because I always leave it in the kitchen – usually on the table or a chair.

My mom and Catie helped me look (Catie likes to use her “I’m a good finder!” street cred; she has found Dave’s lost glasses and keys more times than I can count), but we couldn’t find my purse anywhere. My mom said she remembered seeing it in the kitchen right next to hers, because we both have black purses.

I went outside to double-check that I hadn’t left it in the car, and that’s when I noticed that the garage door was open and the door from the garage to the house was unlocked. Apparently the previous night, I’d been so tired that I hadn’t thought to double-check all the locks like I usually do. (Dave usually checks them when he’s home, but since he’s been gone, I’ve been extra vigilant about it. Or at least I had been, until the exhaustion kicked in on Tuesday night.)

Then we realized that my mom’s purse was gone too.

I called the local police department. They sent an officer over. He said he was surprised that someone would come in the house, because in this area, typically most crime is just teenagers looking for cash, so they’ll check cars to see if they can find any unlocked doors and then grab what they can. Coming into somebody’s house definitely kicks it up a notch, because how do the thieves know if we have an alarm system, or a dog, or maybe just a pissed-off homeowner with a gun? He also said that usually with purses, they shake them out to grab what they want (the wallet or the cash inside it), then ditch the purse because they don’t want to get caught with it later. He walked around outside and checked our neighbors’ yards and and trash cans to look for any discarded purses. No luck there.

The big issue? My keys were in the purse. And Dave’s keys are with him in England. So I was essentially stranded. And there are thieves out there now, who have keys to my house and both of our cars.

OH! And! When the cop and I went out into the driveway together, I noticed that the driver’s door on Dave’s car was ajar, and I know for a fact that it was locked. So apparently they used my keys to open his car and check to see if there was anything worth stealing in there. (There wasn’t, thankfully.)

The Subaru dealership brought me a replacement key for my car for a whopping $10 (they took checks without photo ID, bless them), and my mom and I disconnected the battery leads on Dave’s car, so if the thieves come back and try to steal it, it won’t start. (Dave’s car is parked in the driveway, mine is inside the garage, and therefore a little safer.) I considered putting a note on the steering wheel, like, “Hahaha! Good luck, mother f*ckers!”, just in case they come back and try to steal the car. But my mom suggested that maybe it’s not a good idea to antagonize the bad guys. She’s probably right.

Anyway, with my new car key in hand, I got my birth certificate and social security card from the “Important Documents DO NOT LOSE!” envelope upstairs, and I set off for the DMV. I got a replacement driver’s license, and that plus my PIN number allowed me get some cash out of our bank account.

I had a locksmith come out and replace all the locks on all the doors of the house. He also took checks without a photo ID, so God bless him too.

My mom and I basically spent the rest of the day calling credit card companies, health insurance companies, AAA, and everything else imaginable to get all of our cards replaced. Between the two of us, we had about $500 in cash (I had just gotten $200 from the ATM that day, my mom had $300 for travel stuff). So that’s a total loss.

Oh, and since my mom’s wallet was taken? She has no photo ID to get on a plane to go home next week. We haven’t quite figured out what to do about that yet. I once had my wallet stolen and used a copy of the police report to board a plane, but that was pre-9/11, so I have no idea if that would work now. We’re going to call the TSA tomorrow to find out what she needs to do.

I had to call Dave in the UK to tell him what was going on, since I was going to have to cancel some credit cards and most of ours are on joint accounts (luckily we still have different card numbers, so the credit card companies were able to just cancel mine and leave his alone). I think I probably scared the crap out of him when he answered the phone and I was crying. He was so freaked out that something was wrong with me or the baby, I think he was relieved to find out that it was just money.

And in the end, it IS just money. A huge inconvenience, to be sure, but it’s not the end of the world. We’re all ok. The main thing is that I am totally freaked out that people were inside my house while we were asleep upstairs. It’s basically my worst fear come true. What if they hadn’t been only looking for a quick cash grab? What could have happened to us? Even with all new locks (and the fact that I’ve checked each of them at least 5 times tonight), I’m still totally wigged out. I took a whole Unisom tonight (instead of my usual half) in the hopes of knocking myself out.

And before anyone asks, my Next Major Purchase? Will most definitely be a home alarm system.

I’m also now considering getting a very large dog. Or maybe a pet puma. Something mean and scary.

The solo parenting gig, thus far

Dave left for England on Tuesday night, which means I’ve been doing the solo-parent thing for the past three days. So far, it’s going ok. Catie and I kind of have our weektime routine down: we get up, she goes to daycare and I go to work, we come home, have dinner, and do the whole bedtime routine. It’s been pretty easy to just coast on auto-pilot, honestly.

I told her I'd turn on cartoons if she smiled.
“I’m just taking it easy on her for now. Next week I unleash hell.”

A few things I’ve noticed, though:
1. I don’t sleep well when I’m the only adult in the house. Now, look, I didn’t meet Dave until I was 28 years old, so it’s not like I’d never lived alone before. But I was always in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. In our current house, I lie in bed and think things like, “Hmm, if someone broke in through the garage door, would I even hear it upstairs?” And I worry about things like what would I do if a fire broke out, things like that. Not exactly conducive to a good night’s sleep, obviously.

Oh, and related: I get very jumpy about unexplained noises in the middle of the night. Which is why I’m just about ready to throw Beaumont outside for good. Seriously, cat, it’s 2 a.m. Do you have to jump up on the kitchen counter and knock over a whole bunch of stuff now? (To be fair, he is totally thrown off by Dave’s absence. The past two nights, he’s been asleep in the hall when I got up in the morning. It’s like he’s trying to keep an eye on both Catie’s room and mine at the same time. “We lost one human, gotta keep a watch on the last two!”)

2. While the routine itself is pretty manageable, I forget how much Dave does in the evenings to help out. Because I’ve noticed that by the end of the day, my body just aches. I know it’s pregnancy-related (since it’s mostly my lower back and hips that hurt), but it’s like I hadn’t taken into account how little “sitting on my butt” time I would get while Dave was gone. I miss my sitting-down time. A lot.

3. I’m really lazy about meals when I’m the only one who eats “grown-up food.” Last night we had mac & cheese with a side of broccoli. Not exactly health food, but whatever, it was easy. (And I love that Catie will eat broccoli.) (Although we did have cupcakes for dessert. You can’t be good all the time.)

4. Trying to wash a four year-old’s hair in the bathtub when you’re 7 months pregnant. I have nothing else to add to that, except: good GOD. And, ouch.

7 months. Holy Moses.
This is not a shape that is meant leaning over the side of a bathtub.

5. As for housework: I give up. I’ve called in the housekeepers. I can’t do it all by myself, so I’m just going to throw some money at the problem and stop worrying about it.

—————————————–

My brother is on his way here from Charlotte to hang out with us this weekend, and Catie and I are both really excited. My brother is a great guy and Catie adores him, so it should be fun to have him around. No big weekend plans, just hanging out and enjoying some nice springtime weather. Should be fun.

Hope y’all have a nice weekend too, wherever you are.

and I don't think I'll ever drink fruit punch again

I know y’all are dying to know how that whole 3-hour gestational diabetes test went down, huh? Well, here’s the breakdown:

My appointment was at 7:30. I arrived at the hospital on time, took a number, and sat in the waiting room. The registration dude (his name was Carlos, he was very nice) called me back, asked for my ID & insurance card, and… he couldn’t find my information anywhere in the system. Apparently my OB’s office forgot to send over the actual order for my test. And my OB’s office doesn’t open until 8:30. And of course, the hospital can’t do jack squat without the correct paperwork.

Back to the waiting room. I sat. Some random lady asked if I had a picture ID so I could be a witness for her living will, since she was about to go in to have her gall bladder removed and wanted to make sure she had her affairs in order. Umm..? Ok, sure, why not.

Eventually, my OB’s office opened, Carlos the Registration Dude got them on the phone, and they faxed over the paperwork. Then I headed back to the lab.

Very Nice Lab Tech (I didn’t catch her name) checked my fasting blood sugar, and gave me that vile Glucola drink. It was fruit punch flavored, and tasted more or less like a melted popsicle. Only more syrup-y. It was gross.

I thought I was going to have to hang out in the waiting room in between blood draws, but Very Nice Lab Tech told me they had a recliner in the back where I could sit and hang out in private, if I wanted to. Yes please! She dimmed the lights and pulled the curtain so I could have some privacy and rest.

The first hour was pretty miserable. I felt like I was going to barf, and even though I was exhausted, I couldn’t sleep because Baby 2.0 was flipping out on some kind of crazed sugar bender from the Glucola. (She was doing freaking barrel rolls in there, y’all. Not conducive for napping at all.)

After the first blood draw, I pulled out Dave’s iPad and my headphones. He rented “The Kids Are All Right” for me to watch while I was waiting. (Very good movie, I highly recommend it.)

Somewhere between during the 2.5 to 3-hour point, I had the most epic blood sugar crash of my life. I basically spent the last half hour white-knuckling the recliner while I had chills and cold sweats, and I was reasonably certain that I was about to die, based on how I felt.

When Very Nice Lab Tech came to do the last blood draw, I told her that I felt really light-headed and awful. She gave me some graham crackers and apple juice as soon as she finished my blood draw. That helped a little bit, but I still felt like I was staggering as I went out to my car (imagine feeling drunk plus having the flu at the same time – NOT FUN). I immediately drove across the street to the nearest drive-thru (which happened to be Burger King) and wolfed down a burger, fries, and Diet Coke. Super healthy, I know, but I was desperate.

So, I guess overall, the test was sort of along the lines of what I expected. But the one thing I didn’t expect was that it would make me feel sick for the rest of the day. I went home and took a nap, and still felt awful afterward. So that sucked.

And the other annoying part? I still don’t know the results! Very Nice Lab Tech said that they’d have the results that afternoon, but when I called my OB’s office this morning to find out what’s up, I had a very bitchy receptionist tell me, “Well, as soon as the nurse has the results, she’ll call you.” She didn’t come right out and say, “Duh!” But it was definitely implied.

I’d better be fine. If they tell me that I can’t have anymore Easter candy, I will cry. A lot. (And probably stash some away to eat after the baby is born.)

Edited to add: The nurse finally called back (only 24 hours after the lab said my results would be ready), and I don’t have gestational diabetes. Yay! Celebratory Easter candy and king cake for everyone!

the three-hour tour

A couple of days ago when I wrote that post about anxiety (and y’all are awesome for the comments there, seriously, thank you), I was driving home from work and still feeling pretty jittery and stressed out.

Then my cell phone rang, and I saw that it was my OB’s office. That’s never a good sign, is it?

So I answered (yes, sometimes I talk on my cell phone while I’m driving, they haven’t passed a law here saying that I can’t yet, so shut it), and the nurse informed me that I failed my glucose test last week. Like, spectacularly. I believe she said that the typical blood sugar is supposed to be 65-80 and mine was like 145 or something. So, yeah, that’s pretty bad. Even though I’m mostly blaming it on the fact that they scheduled my test at 2 p.m., so it was right after lunch, and it just so happened that I’d gone to Waffle House for lunch that day. (I didn’t have anything with syrup on it – just eggs, bacon & toast – but it was probably still too carb-heavy.)

Anyway, the fact that I failed means that I need to go back for the 3-hour gestational diabetes test. Which, oh BTW, is a fasting test, which means you have to get there at 7:30 a.m.

And you know, in the grand scheme of things, this is not that big a deal, right? Obviously my health and Baby 2.0’s health trumps any minor inconvenience. I know that, I really do. But at that moment, when she told me that, I… god, let’s just say that I owe this nurse an apology at my next appointment, because I basically turned into a petulant child.

“But… but… I don’t wanna! No!”

And then I almost burst into tears. I had to work really hard to hold back the floodgates.

Now, leaving aside the fact that the test itself sounds like pure hell (and it does, the one-hour test was bad enough), there’s also the issue of scheduling. And the fact that Catie doesn’t even wake up until after 7:30. And did I mention that Dave is about to leave town for three weeks so I’ll be on solo parent duty?

Oh, right, I haven’t blogged about that yet: Dave is going to England for 3 weeks. And I am 100% supportive of this, because I know he’s been homesick for a while and I think it’ll be good for him to spend some time with his family and friends over there. And this is probably the last chance he’ll have to go before Baby 2.0 makes her arrival. So, it’s FINE that he’s going, it really is. It just throws a major wrench in the works, as far as things like scheduling early morning doctor’s appointments.

I told the nurse I’d have to call her back because I didn’t know what I was going to do. I’m sure she thought I was insane.

I got home, and I worried and fretted for hours. I talked to my mom, then I started to calm down a little. I looked at Dave’s itinerary: he’s leaving on a red-eye flight Tuesday night. (For some reason I thought he was leaving on Monday morning, hence my panic.) So the next morning, I called the nurse back and said that I could do the test on Monday or Tuesday morning if they could manage to squeeze me into the schedule, but after that? I’m screwed as far as childcare arrangements.

And God bless her, she found a way to get me in on Monday morning. The lab they normally use is booked, so she found somewhere else I could go instead. (It’ll be at the actual hospital where I’ll deliver Baby 2.0 someday.) I don’t care so much where it gets done as long as we get this over with as quickly as possible.

So, if anyone’s done this three-hour test and can tell me that it’s not all that bad? I’d really appreciate it. (Also, WTF am I supposed to do for 3 hours? I think I’m renting a movie online and borrowing Dave’s iPad to watch it while I sit & wait. But other ideas are certainly welcome.)

excuse me while I whine

You know what’s really, really no fun at all? Being sick when you’re pregnant.

The totally unfair part is that I was already sick back in December, and it took two rounds of antibiotics and a course of Prednisone to kill it off. I’m supposed to be done now, right? Isn’t my body supposed to ease up on my poor little gestating self?

Yeah, no, apparently not. So I’m miserable. I spent all day Saturday in bed, watching really awful movies on cable. Catie hung out with me in bed and played with Dave’s iPad so I wouldn’t be lonely.

Playing with Daddy's iPad

It was nice to have the company.

Yesterday, I was feeling slightly better, so I went to Target and folded some laundry – nothing super-exhausting, but you know, STUFF. Some basic life tasks that needed to be done. To give me some kid-free relaxation time, Dave took Catie to the park for a few hours and they had a great time (or at least, they did until some stupid thug tween boys hit her in the head with a basketball and I swear if I’d been there I probably would’ve lost it).

And then, even though I had been feeling better, I coughed all last night and woke up worse than ever. I have no voice left, it hurts to talk. And I’m trying to keep myself in that delicate zone of “medicated just enough to be pregnancy-safe, but also enough that I don’t cough constantly and annoy my co-workers.” It’s a tough balancing act, let me tell you.

I’m so ready for winter to be over. I’m also ready to not be pregnant anymore so I can enjoy some damn DayQuil again.

/end whinypants-ness

a little Monday whining

I feel really “off” lately. I can’t quite put my finger on it, it’s not quite a full-blown depression or anything that severe, but there are a lot of small things that are adding up to make me feel like I’m not myself. Like:

1. I’ve hit the point of pregnancy where I can no longer sleep comfortably for long periods (examples: I have to pee, the baby is kicking, my hip hurts, whatever), so I’m really freaking exhausted all the time.

2. Pregnancy hormones are making me a weepy and grouchy mess, which I hate. I spend way too much time either completely irritable, or on the verge of tears. I like to be in control of my feelings, so I’m not a fan of this.

3. Related to the hormone mess: I feel puffy and fat, and even my skin feels stretched tight, like it doesn’t know what to do with these changes. I don’t feel like a glowing pregnant Earth Mother type. I feel ugly, and I feel dry and itchy all over. I don’t feel like I “own” my body, if that makes sense. It’s like my body has been hijacked by some mysterious creature and I just have to put up with it for several more months while things get progressively more miserable.

4. I miss Dave. We live together and work at the same company, but it feels like we don’t see other very much. Weird, right? Well, case in point: he had a massive deadline that was due today, so he worked all weekend. And I mean, like, he worked: he drank coffee and didn’t sleep for 2 days. (He took a two-hour nap on Sunday afternoon. That was the only sleep he had between Saturday morning and Monday morning.) I know it was stuff that he needed to finish, but it makes me worry about his health when he pulls all-nighters like that. We basically barely spoke to each other all weekend because I wanted to leave him alone to get his work done, and I spent a lot of time corralling Catie to keep her quiet so she wouldn’t disturb him either. It sucked.

5. The anxiety of “holy crap, this 2nd baby is really on her way, and how on earth am I going to juggle two kids and a full-time job?” is starting to sink in. Plus all of the stereotypical stuff that goes with that – the fear that I’ll be “less” of a mom to Catie once the baby is here, that I’ve maxed out my capacity for love and won’t bond with this new baby, etc. Stupid stuff that I know – I KNOW – isn’t true. But that doesn’t stop me from worrying about it now.

I had an OB appointment this morning, and I talked about a lot of this stuff with my doctor. I told him that I think that the majority of my issues are environmental and not physiological. I’m pretty sure most of it can be filed under, “This too shall pass.” He said that it’s good that I’m aware of it and talking about it, and he wants me to let him know if it starts to feel like something we need to address more seriously.

I don’t want anybody reading this to worry about me. I’ll be ok, and if it feels like things aren’t getting better, then I absolutely will discuss it with my doctor and take it from there. I’m not naive, and I know enough about depression to know when to ask for help.

Today, though, I just needed to vent. Thanks for listening.

Elves on Shelves and other stuff

I don’t really want to write about how I’m siiiiick and I don’t feeeel good, but yeah, that’s basically what’s going on here. I went to the doctor on Wednesday and got some (pregnancy-safe) antibiotics, so I’m starting to feel a little better. Hooray for that.

I honestly would’ve gone to the office today, except I still have these frequent coughing fits (thank you, bronchitis!), and that just seems sort of rude when you sit in an open cubicle environment, no? I mean, the guy who trims his fingernails in his cubicle makes me want to claw my eyeballs out of my face, so I imagine that this whole lung-hacking noise that I make every few minutes would be, uh, somewhat distracting for my co-workers, to put it mildly. Anyway, I have a remote desktop connection to my office PC, so I’m still getting all of my work done, even though I’m not physically there. It’s fine.

So! Onto other stuff:
1.) Tomorrow we’re taking Catie to see “Toy Story 3 on Ice.” None of us have ever been to an ice show, so that should be exciting. I’m curious to see if the ice show makes me weep like the movie does. (And remembering how Catie tends to get anxious in crowded theaters, just like her dad, I bought nosebleed seats way in the back. Which is actually kind of lucky, since it’ll also ensure that I’ll be far enough away that I won’t distract any ice skaters with my hacking cough.)

2.) In the spirit of good-behavior motivation, my sister bought us The Elf on The Shelf. I know it’s really popular and a lot of parents say that their kids love it (and I appreciate the gift – THANK YOU, TRACY!), but… does anyone else find it creepy? The whole “there’s a dead-eyed elf doll watching everything you do & reporting it back to Santa while you’re asleep” thing? And then he’s in a different location every day? I admit that I have issues with dolls (that most recent episode of “Hoarders” where the woman had collected over 5,000 porcelain dolls? I’m going to have nightmares about that house for the rest of my life). And I tend to think elves are a little creepy too. So combine the two and make an elf doll? That’s basically a potential horror movie to me.

Catie likes the book a lot, but she seems a little bit scared of the elf himself. I’m going to see how it goes the next couple of days, but if she continues to be nervous about the elf, I think Santa Claus is going to be short-staffed and have to call some of the elves back to the North Pole to help make toys, and our elf is going to go away. Christmas is supposed to be all about fun and magic, not anxiety-provoking or scary.

And for the record, when I described it to my mom, she had the same “NO NO NO THAT IS CREEPY AS HELL” reaction that I did. So maybe there’s a genetic link there with the elf doll thing.

3.) It’s been really nice having my mother-in-law here this week, especially while I’ve been sick. Catie goes to climb in bed with Grandma first thing in the morning, rather than coming to see me or Dave, so it’s nice to have a little reprieve. Plus, my MIL has been making dinner every night, so that’s been fabulous, just to have one less thing to worry about.

4.) It’s freaking cold here this week, way colder than a typical North Carolina December (although, to be fair, it’s only our third winter in this state, and we spent most of last December in England). It kinda makes me wish I were in Las Vegas with some of my favorite people right now, but alas. Pregnant ladies with tight Christmas budgets don’t get weekends in Vegas. Oh well. Maybe next time.