Author Archives: Cindy

how we found out

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Flashback to three weeks ago.

Thursday, June 1st: I was supposed to start my period. Or so I thought. I was confused (and this will make sense to those of you who chart your cycles) because I knew exactly when I ovulated, but my morning body temperature didn’t go up until four days later. I started counting from the day my temperature went up, not from the day I ovulated. I thought it was strange when I didn’t start my period on Thursday, and referenced my little book for some guidance.

It turns out, I was supposed to count those four days when my temperature was still low. So I realized on that particular Thursday that I actually should’ve started my period on Sunday, May 28th. (Did you catch that I realized this on June 1st? Four days after I should have started my period?)

“Huh,” I thought, “Then that means that I’m most likely…. Noooo, surely not!”

I was sure that I had just miscalculated or misunderstood something in the book, mostly because I didn’t want to be disappointed again. I decided that I would wait until Friday morning before I took a home pregnancy test.

I didn’t even really tell Dave what was going on. Or rather, I kinda-sorta gave him the “I think I might be late” hint, but he ignored it because he thought I was over-reacting (as I tend to do with a lot of things in life).

Friday, June 2nd: My alarm went off at 6 a.m. Normally I hit snooze for at least a half-hour, but there was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep. I rocketed out of bed and did the whole peeing-upon-the-stick thing. And even though my cat followed me into the bathroom, like she always does, I managed to avoid hitting her in the face this time.

The instructions say that it takes three minutes for the results to show up. Mine showed up in a few seconds.

When I saw the word “Pregnant” in the little digital read-out screen, my hands started to shake and I started to cry. I didn’t know what to do because Dave doesn’t usually wake up until after 8:00, and it wasn’t even 6:05 yet. I paced back and forth around the bathroom for a couple of minutes trying to decide what to do. (And even though our bathroom might be bigger than some, pacing is still awfully silly in that small a space.)

“If I wake him up now, he’ll just be grumpy, and he might not be as excited about it as I want him to be,” I thought, “and that might set a whole negative precedent for the rest of this pregnancy, and then our child’s entire life, and I don’t want something this important to start off on a bad note. Maybe I should let him sleep. But then if I do, he might wonder why I didn’t wake him up for something this big.”

Finally, I decided to hell with it. I ran into the bedroom and jumped on the bed.

Me: (poke) Honeyhoneyhoneyhoney??? (pokepokepoke) Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup!!! (pokepoke)
Dave: (snoring…) Mmmph?
Me: I know it’s really early but you have to WAKE UP right now!!!
Dave: (much unhappy groaning)… why?
Me: I have a late anniversary gift for you, but you have to open your eyes.

[Aside: the anniversary comment seemed appropriate, since it’s most likely that we made this baby on the night we celebrated our anniversary.]

We went back and forth like that for a bit, then finally Dave woke up and opened his eyes. I showed him the home pregnancy test. His eyes were all blurry and he was completely confused at first, wondering what this little stick thing was that I had shoved into his hand. Finally, he was like, “Wait, does that say… PREGNANT??” Yeah, it sure does! He did the happy dance – while still lying in bed, which was pretty hilarious. I cried some more.

[Second aside: when I was trying to wake Dave up and having such a hard time with it? He told me later that he thought I was just waking him up to remind him that it was trash day. Ha!]

That was one of the hardest days ever to prepare for work, because I was so distracted all morning. And when I finally got to work (late, of course), I had to fight the urge to scream, “I’m pregnant!” down the halls like some sort of modern day town crier. (I managed. Barely.)

We told our immediate families that day. I called my sister first, because she’s three hours ahead and I knew she’d be awake and already at work. I didn’t get to talk to my dad until that afternoon, because he had been at the golf course all day and he doesn’t have a cell phone. That was kind of fun:

Me: Hey Dad, what are you doing next February?
Him: Um… No idea. Why?
Me: Because that’s when you’re gonna be a grandpa!

He was completely shocked. I found that hilarious, because he knew we were trying, so I don’t know why it surprised him as much as it did. I suppose he hadn’t considered it because he didn’t want to think about his precious little daughter having sex. And now he has to acknowledge that I’m really not a virgin anymore. Poor guy.

So, that’s how this whole little journey got its start. Next: how my entire freakin’ extended family found out even though I had insisted that I wasn’t going to tell anyone until my second trimester. (HA!)

the biggest news

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So, there’s this thing. Which I haven’t written about, and which I’m dying to write about, because it’s pretty much all that’s on my mind these days. And I’ve been all, “Noooo, no one can know about it, because if we speak of it out loud, then that makes it real, and then the Jinx Fairy will rain sorrow and misfortune down upon our heads. And lo, the many tears we will shed.”

Instead, I’ve been writing about nothing – like a trip to Target or working in the yard – just to fill in the space so that no one would think that I fell off the planet.

Then it occurred to me that the people who read this blog, who also know me in real life? I think nearly all of them already know about this. So really, when I say that I can’t talk about it, I’m totally full of crap.

So in light of this whole “ah hell, even my dad’s golf buddies know about it now” development, I’ve decided that I might as well go ahead and make the official announcement.

Here it is.

The big announcement.

I was going to suggest that you sit down first, but if you’re reading this online, I think the odds are pretty high that you’re already seated.

But seriously, if you’re standing, find a soft place to land just in case this bit of news shocks the knees right out from under you.

It’s ok. I’ll wait.

You ready?
Continue reading →

weekend of sloth

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You know how when you have a weekend trip, and then you go back to work on Monday, it feels like you didn’t get a weekend at all? So then the following weekend, you take full advantage of the whole “sleeping late and doing nothing” thing? I think that’s the only way to explain how lazy we were this weekend. To recap:

a) Friday night, I went to dinner (Thai food) and Target with Kris. She bought detergent and dog food. I got a new laundry basket because ours broke. I was home before 10:00 p.m.

b) Saturday, Kris moved the stuff she borrowed back to our house, because her furniture from Memphis finally showed up. (Aside: I think she hired the slowest movers in history, because it took them 4 weeks and 1 day to get her stuff from Memphis to Seattle. Seriously, 29 days to go 2400 miles? The hell?) So, we have a non-empty guest room now. Hooray. Helping her unload the van took all of about 10 minutes. That night, we got take-‘n-bake pizza and watched “Kiss Kiss Bang Bang.” It was good.

c) Sunday, I mowed part of the lawn. I just did the little side areas where the riding mower can’t go because it’s too bumpy and/or close to the edges of the lawn. I did that for about an hour, until the mower ran out of gas. Rather than refill it, I just decided it was a sign that I had done enough, so I stopped. (I kind of like thinking of yardwork that way: God doesn’t want me to mow anymore.) Dave didn’t do anything in the yard because he was having some kind of weird hay fever flare-up, so he took a couple of Sudafed, which knocked him right the hell out for a few hours. Later in the afternoon, I went to the grocery store. And that’s all.

I’m attributing all of this laziness to the fact that we were still recovering from last weekend’s trip to New Orleans. Because there is seriously no other justifiable reason as to why we were so damn lazy. But man, it was really nice.

because it's Friday and I'm lazy

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You Were a Koala


You value living life at a slow, peaceful, meditative pace.
You give insightful advice, helping others to overcome obstacles.


Gummy Bears


You may be smooshie and taste unnatural, but you’re so darn cute.


Your Blogging Type is Kind and Harmonious


You’re an approachable blogger who tends to have many online friends.
People new to your blogging circle know they can count on you for support.
You tend to mediate fighting and drama. You set a cooperative tone.
You have a great eye for design – and your blog tends to be the best looking on the block!

Thanks for the inspiration, Cat.

New Orleans recap

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First order of business: the photos from the trip are here.

Friday, we flew most of the day. It sucked, because I hate to fly and I developed a bad case of motion sickness. Yuck. That night, we went to a family gathering at my aunt and uncle’s hotel suite. This particular aunt and uncle (Pam and Mark) are the parents of the groom (Kevin) whose wedding we were all there to attend. It was nice and low-key, just family, lots of catching up and all that good stuff.

Saturday, we got up relatively early and went out sightseeing with a different aunt and uncle (Susie & Stanton, my cousin Cat’s parents) (aside: Hi, Susie!). We drove around to some of the more devastated areas – the lower 9th ward, St. Bernard parish, etc. We saw Mark and Pam’s house in St. Bernard parish, totally destroyed. We went in and took pictures, and it didn’t occur to me until later that it might not have been the best idea for someone who’s allergic to mold (such as myself) to go in there.


We drove around a bit longer after that, and I was ok with seeing all of this devastation until we passed City Park, and I saw that the little toy train ride was gone. I know they’ll rebuild it, I just had this idea in my head of someday taking my kids on the little train ride that I had ridden when I was a kid, and I started to cry.

Right after that, we went to my grandmother’s old house, and I lost it. That house wasn’t even the one that I generally associate with my grandparents, because my grandmother moved there when I was probably about 10 or 12 years old (after my grandfather was already in a nursing home), and it’s not the one that I associate with my childhood as much. But something about it got to me – it was such a cute little neighborhood, and it was just completely in ruins. I couldn’t even get out of the car for a good 5 minutes because I was crying too hard.


Everyone else went inside to see it – seems weird, sort of like trespassing, but the house was totally abandoned, so I guess there’s no harm in looking around. Dave sat with me in the car while I cried. It occurred to me that although it was probably fine if I didn’t want to go in, this was almost definitely my last chance to ever see the inside of my grandmother’s house. So we went in. The people who bought it after her had remodeled it, and you could tell that it was beautiful. They had added a den and bathroom onto her kitchen, where she used to just have a little carport. And… it’s all gone. I mean, it’s there, but destroyed. My sister took photos, but I couldn’t.

Also, I don’t know if everyone has seen pictures of the post-Katrina houses with big X’s spray-painted on them? In the top part of the X is the date that the house was inspected, to the left is the code of the crew who inspected it, something else on the right (can’t remember what) and underneath the X is the number of bodies found in the house. Most of the houses that we saw were zero’s, but we saw the occasional 1 and 2 here and there. The one that would have killed me if I hadn’t already cried my eyes out was one of the last houses we saw, which had a “1 dog DOA” spray-painted on it.

Is it weird that I’m more affected by the animals than the humans? I guess I just tend to think that the humans have more options for escape available to them. They can open doors that allow them to run away, that kind of thing. That’s not always the case, of course, like with the nursing home in St. Bernard that wasn’t evacuated. But for the most part, I tend to cry more for the cats and dogs who were trapped in their houses than the owners who were too stubborn to leave. (Yes, I know a lot of them were poor and didn’t have options. I’m just talking in generalizations.) And this was in a relatively nice neighborhood, so my assumption is that the owners evacuated and left the dog alone in the house, figuring they’d be back in a day or two and the dog would be fine. If something like that ever happened to one of our cats, I’m not sure I’d ever forgive myself.

After emotionally exhausting ourselves, we had lunch and went back to the hotel to take naps and get all fancied up for the big wedding. The ceremony was absolutely beautiful, in this really huge old church that somehow survived the hurricane. My mom didn’t bother to mention until after the wedding that it was the same church where my grandparents got married. I wish I had known that in advance, because it’s a pretty cool part of my history. I also wish that I had taken pictures of the church, but sadly, I had left my camera in the car.

The reception was a lot of fun too. Very loud and boisterous. And man, if you get either my father or Dave around an open bar, you are in for one hell of an entertaining night. I don’t think I’ve ever seen either one of them dance as much as they did that night. It was a riot.


Sunday, my folks and my brother dropped Dave and I off at the airport along with my sister (who was flying out around 10 minutes before us). We ate brunch there and headed in our different directions. I had motion sickness again, all the way home, which sucked. But when we landed in Seattle and it was only 70 degrees? Both Dave and I nearly kissed the ground the minute we stepped outside. Seriously, this trip was emotional and wonderful and a lot of other things, but it was also a great reminder of why I try to avoid the south during the summer months.

Confidential to American Airlines

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First of all, you guys really need to work on improving your in-flight movie selection. The Pink Panther? Really? Have you watched that movie? Because I watched the first 15 minutes, and trust me, it sucked. I never laughed once. And I’m pretty sure that I was supposed to. A few times.

And on the return flight, Aquamarine? What the hell is that, a movie about 14 year-old girls befriending a mermaid? I’ve never even heard of this movie, how on earth did you people track it down and decide that it was worthy of adding to your in-flight movie repertoire? My poor husband accidentally left his iPod and Gameboy in my parents’ mini-van, so he watched the movie out of desparation for something to do to pass the time. I can’t believe you subjected the poor man to such utter drivel.

Second, there is a flight attendant on the Dallas-Forth Worth to New Orleans route who is quite possibly one of the scariest women I have ever seen. I wish I had a photo to show you, but listen to this description: orangey fake-tanned, iridescent bright pink lipstick (all the better to accentuate her smokers’ teeth), and the hair. Dear god, the hair. Peroxided to within an inch of its life, with inches-thick crispy bangs, and which is being held in sort of a makeshift ponytail with not one but TWO giant clippies. One on the top and one on the bottom. And the clips aren’t even the same color, one is bright purple and the other is tortoiseshell-brown. But they have the effect of a semi-ponytail, in the sense that her hair is gathered up and pulled back off of her face. Unfortunately, her “faux-nytail” doesn’t hang down the way a normal ponytail would, since her hair has the consistency of straw. Instead, it sticks straight out from the back of her head, so she looks sort of like one of those pointer dogs whose found a dead bird or something. And American Airlines, you people hired this woman. I beg you, please give her a raise and the name of a good stylist.

Third, could you please explain to me why some of your flights have significantly more leg-room than others? Our hour-long connection from Dallas to New Orleans was nice and relatively roomy (for an airplane seat, anyway), but on the flight from Seattle to Dallas (and vice-versa)? We were so cramped that I was sweating in places where one should never sweat. And if I wanted to cross my legs, I had to do some elaborate yoga-like pose where I pull my knee up to my face before sliding it down on the other side of my leg. No room to just swing it over. I know you guys aren’t doing too well financially, so you want to fit as many passengers onto each flight as possible, but damn. At 5’5″, I’m relatively short, so imagine the discomfort that some of your taller passengers must experience. I’m not asking for much, just a little consistency among your fleet of fine aircrafts. And breathing room.

Also, your four-dollar snack box leaves a lot to be desired. The granola was ok, but the crackers were stale, and that cheese spread you give us to put on the crackers? Don’t even try to tell me that garbage is actual cheese. It’s faux cheese. Hell, let’s just call it feese. And it’s disgusting. Give a girl some real cheddar, why don’t you.

Just some suggestions to consider before my next flight with your airline – which, after this latest fiasco, will hopefully not be anytime in the foreseeable future.

Hugs and kisses,
Cindy

I’ll post the recap of the New Orleans trip tomorrow. I’m just too exhausted to think straight today.

sweaty family weekend

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Tomorrow, Dave and I are flying to New Orleans for my cousin’s wedding. I’m a big ol’ mix of emotions about the whole thing: happy to see my family, some of whom I haven’t seen in a very long time; sad that some family members won’t be there (for example, a certain cousin of mine who is hugely pregnant right now); and dread over the fact that we’re going to be flying for eight hours on both Friday and Sunday. Yuck.

And one more thing to dread: my dad told me that the forecast for Saturday (the day of the wedding) is “sunny and 95 degrees.” Doesn’t that sound like fun? Aren’t you jealous of me, getting to wear pantyhose in that climate? Especially knowing that I tend to get migraines in extremely hot weather? I know you’re all just pea-green with envy.

Oh well, I’m not planning on spending too much time outside or anywhere that isn’t air-conditioned. (Speaking of which, the installation of our central a/c was finished yesterday. It’s so quiet sleeping in our bedroom without the big ol’ window unit running all night. And so chilly! I had to pull the covers up under my chin. It was awesome.)

We’re staying close to downtown, which was relatively unharmed by Hurricane Katrina last year. However, my mom wants to drive around to some other parts of the city to check out the damage first-hand. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m sure some of it will be interesting, but I worry that if I see my grandmother’s old house (even though she sold it way back in the 80’s), and it turns out to be damaged or gone or something, I just may burst into tears. I’m bringing my camera, but I don’t know if I’ll actually take any pictures or not. It may just be too weird and surreal to photograph.

So, this trip is happy and stressful all at the same time. Like so many things in life, I suppose.

Oh, and you know how I wrote a couple of months ago about how I was all stressed out about finding something to wear? Well, I bought a dress for our anniversary last month, so you’ll probably soon see many more photos of me wearing the exact same damn dress. Because it’s pretty, and I don’t feel fat in it.