Booyah!

I have good days. And I have bad days.

On my good days, I do other things than blog.

On my bad days, I definitely don't blog.

Today, come hell or high water, I was going to have a good day. Make costumes AND blog about it.

There was a reputation to uphold.

And we did it.

She tied for first for Cutest Costume.

For Real

It's not you. It's me. Your nasty, infected, and draining butt wound has nothing to do with my dry heaving, I swear. I'd be doing this if I was at home watching Gilmore Girls and eating chocolate chip cookies.

"Hi, this is the on-call nurse. Did you call the answering service?"
"Um, yes. My incision is open. Lots more open than yesterday. My sister thinks she can see my guts."
After a series of questions from myself, "You need to go to the emergency room."
"Do I have to?"
Oy.

My day was awesome. How was yours?

Clearing things up.

Do me a favor, would ya?

The next time you hear of a couple that is in the process/or has adopted a baby (or any child) please do not use my family as an example of "this couple I knew that adopted and then she found out she was pregnant." It is a horribly insensitive comment to make and I as well as every other mom I know that has adopted has been on the receiving end of it. Not to mention- with all due respect, you are wrong. Statistically, less than ten percent of adoptive couples ever have bioligical or natural children. Not only that, but think of the connotation that it puts on adoption....

Oh how nice! That will do in the mean time. Till what you really want comes along.

That's just stupid.

Now, you may be a little puzzled as to why I am so flippin irritated by this this morning. I've heard it from waaaay too many people who have found out that I am pregnant. And you wanna know why it pisses me off? Because I have a daughter and she was adopted. She is becoming increasingly aware of what is said around her. I have had to learn to watch my mouth. You should too. You say something that makes her feel like less or not quite enough, and I will rip your arms off and beat you with them.

I did not get pregnant because we finally relaxed. I did not get pregnant because we adopted. We did not adopt until something else came along. You adopt to build a family. There is no doubt in my mind that Scrunch is meant to be part of this family. She, with all her traits (including curls) and special personality, could not have come through any other way but through adoption.

Someone near and dear to me gave the best response to finding out I was pregnant I've had when she said, "I've got so many goosebumps they're fighting for a place to land. Both your babies are miracles."

Thank you. That's exactly what we think.

And for the record, women (who themselves have never adopted) have often commented that adoption is "the easy way". Another not very nice thing to say. Got to tell ya. You're wrong there too. For as sick as I've been, I'd take puking any day of the week over a homestudy.

Oh, how far I have fallen!

Down the blog reader, I mean.

It's been a week since I post last.

I have cut my hair. I spoke in church. I had the flu. I spread the flu around to everyone who had immediate contact with me the preceding 48 hours. I drove to and from Southern California so I could be sufficiently spoiled. I watched my dad bake me bread. I listened to two books.

I haven't blogged about any of it.

And my favorite moment all week?

Sitting on my parent's kitchen floor sipping apple juice when Scrunch climbed in my lap, grabbed my face in both hands, kissed my cheek and then asked, "you happy now?"

Pumpkin Patch

You might have seen a bajillion pictures of all of your friend's, neighbor's, aunt's, hairdresser's, dog groomer's kids at the pumpkin patch- but did they include this awesome poem?

When all the cows were sleeping
And the sun had gone to bed,
Up jumped the pumpkin,
And this is what he said:

I'm a dingle dangle pumpkin
With a flippy floppy hat.
I can shake my stem like this,
And shake my vine like that.
-Author Unknown

We go to the pumpkin patch not for pumpkins, but for the petting zoo. The best part was that she was talking to it like that was his head.

But she caught on quick.

No, really. We go to the pumpkin patch because Mom loves petting zoos.

Well, maybe for a few pumpkins. Who knew two year-olds had such opinions on pumpkin picking?

And to make straw bales. Trust me. It's straw. There was a great debate over straw vs. hay.

They drag each other around like this all the time.

But we all know who she's really smitten with.

Joyce made us do it. That's our story and we're sticking to it.

Remember kids. Joyce made you do it.

I'm not really that tall. And I'm chopping my hair off.

The classic arms-length family photo.

How can I work in a joke about pumpkins as related to melons?...you get the idea.

We'll be back next year. And the year after that. and after that. and after that. Until Scrunch outgrows the goat measuring stick. She can't wait, just look at her.

Puke

So, I only puked once today. That. was. awesome. I feel like I need to do exactly what I did today tomorrow, except that means three hours of church. Ummm.. I'll just chew the ginger caps and take my chances.

Don't worry. Not every post is going to be about puking. But it totally could be. In December I'll have been a nurse for five years. I've got lots and lots and lots of puking stories. Ask Holly what cooking scones reminds me of. Just kidding. Don't. YU-cky.

Speaking of Holly... I'm seconds away from booking my ticket to a weekend get away. Actually an FSA Conference, but it's in Portland and there are no kids or boys allowed. I was totally excited about booking our hotel but then she reminded me I'm not allowed to sit in the hot tub. No 'Girls Gone Wild' this trip. But then I reminded her that I don't do hot tubs, so it wouldn't matter anyway. Not kidding. I don't. I have something against marinating in your own juices.

And on another fine note, it has been so long since I've had a pedicure that I actually shaved my toes this morning. Can I just tell you how NOT OKAY that is? Most people would never publicly admit to something like that, but I need to know I'm not the only one. Right? Pu-lease tell me I'm not the only one whose ever done that. And don't lie just to make me feel better.

I can't think of any other gross (but true) things about my day to tell you. If you've puked (which I kind of hope you did) then we're tied, and I can't tell you how happy that makes me.


Scrunch giving Mom "knuckles" with her matching anti-nausea bands. Hers are actually just one of mom's hair bands, but don't tell her. She's even hauling her own Gatorade.

Timing has so much to do with perspective.

I'd be lying if I told you I was loving being (now six seconds) pregnant.

In my mind I am hopeful and excited and still trying to figure out how our 2% chance manifested itself in a positive pregnancy test. My body, on the other hand, is reacting to the rise in hormones. While completely normal, it is totally abnormal for me to hate eating and sleeping. Two activities which have been dumped on their heads.

At first, it was a comforting novelty to be sick. After a day of cramping, some spotting, and nightly dreams about bleeding, every day that I puke is another day I'm still pregnant. I told my husband I would be sick every day until the baby gets here, so long as the baby gets here. Yeah, that lasted all of two weeks. I'm a wuss. What do you want? Not like you're sympathetic.

Are you sick?

Mmmhmmm.

That's wonderful.

Bite me.

It looks like an alien. It feels like an alien. So I have lovingly dubbed my belly creature Wall-e. My mom is horrified that the nickname might stick. I can tell you it probably will.

I don't want to be a whiny, pregnant chick. Really. I can't be. I hate whiny and pregnant, remember? 2% Mayor. 2%. That's not even a snowball's chance in hell, so shut up and be grateful. I prayed for this. I watched my daughter pray for this. But jeez puking wears you down!

Sick of being sick I left work early yesterday and on the way home made a phone call and left a message. "Can I be bitchy and grateful at the same time?"

The answer was...

Um. No.

She didn't pick up, but ten minutes later I got a phone call from my maternal nursing mentor and good friend. Her DIL and my due dates were a week or so apart.

"We lost the baby yesterday. She'll go in today.... You take care of yourself... I'm still praying for you.... We've got to get one of these babies here."

Oy. How did I forget why I hate whiny and pregnant?

Wall-e is alive and well and I am back to being grateful to dry-heave while driving.

Recipe Review

Mrs. R does not need my publicity, but I thought you should know that I give her Scones and Clam Chowder a total thumbs up. It is not Rachel Ray's 30 min meal, and I made a huge mess in the kitchen before we even ate off any dishes, but how do you say 'no' to honey butter?

Sunday Night at Our House

Scrunch went to bed (and has stayed there) since 5:45 pm. I never would have guessed that four hours of coloring and Tinker Toys worked better than Benadryl. We should have Conference every weekend. We are putting our newly discovered free time to good use by watching Titanic. As if I wasn't nauseous already.

When I read this first paragraph to my husband he was a little disappointed and noted that perhaps I had left several activities out. And I did. Including his making lunch, dinner, vacuuming, folding the laundry, cleaning the kitchen, picking up the Tinker Toys, crayons, playing cards, and dolls, and putting said child to bed. Duh, I left that out. It's my blog. I avoid blogging anything that portrays me as being a lazy, slave driving, did I mention lazy non-housewifing wife. Were I a clever, mushy, lovey-dovey wife I would just blog about how my husband rocks and how grateful I am to have him.

Yes, that's what I should do.

Husband- you rock and I'm really grateful to have you.