Flip Flops and Maternity Pants

HEEBIE JEEBIES

2009-05-15T13:13:00.000-07:00

Last Friday was a day pretty much like any other day.

At 5:30am, my alarm went off for work. I snoozed for 20 minutes and then mustered the energy to haul my big baby belly out of bed to get moving for the day. I got dressed, poured a cup of OJ to go (AGH how I miss my coffee!!), grabbed a granola bar, and headed into work. Work was work. Nothing crazy. I left at 3 – my boss has gotten worried that I’ll either go into labor at the office or in rush hour traffic, so she sends me home early. Love it. Everything about that day was pretty much the norm until a few hours after I got home.

I got home from work, picked up around the house, Kevin and I went for a walk before dinner, and then I got on the computer to catch up on blog reading and Perez while Kevin got ready to go to the Rockets game. Kevin came into our study to kiss me bye and to ask me, for probably the 5th or 6th time since I’d been home, if I was SURE that baby wasn’t coming that night. And my answer was the same answer I’d given him the other 5 or 6 times - “Baby’s not coming. He’s staying in there forever. I’ve given up. Go to the game. Have fun. Just be sure to check your phone every now and then, in case baby decides to surprise us.” Sidenote: Everyone was on edge baby-wise that night. If there was ever a night for me to go into labor, that was the worst night for it to happen. So, of course, everyone just knew it would be that night. My parents and my hubby would be at the Rockets game. My bff and her family would be at the Astros game, just down the street from the Rockets game. 99% of my support system were going to be nearly an hour away from 38-week-pregnant Chandra. So all assumptions were that I would go into labor and send everyone into a tizzy trying to get back up to the north side of town.

But I digress… *Bet you thought I was about to start my labor and delivery story. Sorry. No such luck – baby’s still holding tight in my belly.

So Kevin kisses the top of my head. I tell him to have fun and kind of brush him off, very much in my Perez Hilton reading “zone”. He walks out the front door and before he can even get around the corner to our driveway, I hear him yell. It catches my attention for just a second – Kevin’s not usually one to let out random hollers. Still in my Perez “zone”, I just roll it off as either excitement about the Rockets playoff game or relief of temporarily escaping a house filled with pregnancy hormones. Regardless, he deserved a night free of pregnant Chandra so I let his yell of excitement go.

Until he walked through our garage door a minute later, breathless and white as a ghost. My heart sank – “What’s wrong?” He opened the study blinds that look out into our front yard – the window is right behind a flower bed outside our front door – and pointed down in the flower bed. And there lay a big, fat, brown and black snake. I’m talking BIG. A good 4 feet long, and easily as thick as my arm. I screamed. Are you KIDDING?! I started yelling at Kevin, asking him what we were supposed to do. There is this huge f-ing snake right outside our front door – what in God’s name were we going to do? He starts yelling at me to get my pistol. I don’t have it! My dad borrowed it the weekend before to teach my sister how to shoot. Okay… do we have a garden hoe? Nope. Okay, no problem. My hubby decides to get his machete – yes, MACHETE – to kill the snake. Why do we own a machete? Because in my husband’s opinion, it’s much more fun to clear overgrowth and trim trees with a machete. Whatever. So he starts off to find his machete. And all I can think of is this snake biting off his arm while he’s trying to kill it. No thanks, I’d like my husband and father of my child to have all of his limbs intact if at all possible. So I scream at him “NO MACHETE! NO MACHETE!” *Apparently, the formation of proper sentences was beyond my comprehension at this point. So he comes back at me with “Well, then what do YOU want to do?”. I’m already on it – googling animal control services in the Houston area. Apparently, getting a hold of ANYONE at 6:30 on a Friday evening is impossible. But really, shouldn’t animal control be a 24-hour kind of deal? What if you wake up in the middle of the night to a kangaroo breaking into your home? It’s happened. Not to me – to someone in Australia. But it’s a true story. Stop rolling your eyes.

So no gun, no hoe, no machete, and no animal control. We resigned to staring at the behemoth through the window and front door, pacing between the two as if that would make some kind of difference. And then, all of a sudden, the snake was on the move. I screamed again, like the pansy little girl that I am. It slithered out of the flower bed, across our front yard, and into the wooded lot next to our house (presumably where it came from in the first place).

There was nothing left to do, really. Just hope and pray that it wouldn’t come back. Kevin left for the game, and I set up post in the middle of my living room so that I could see him coming from any angle. Because I knew that this snake had it out for me. It was his mission in life to get me. Or at least that’s how I felt. I went through the house, putting toilet seat lids down and blocking all sink and drainage openings into the house. Paranoid, much? Yes. But tell me you wouldn’t have done differently if you were home alone with a snake right outside.

It’s been a week since the big debacle. And we haven’t seen that snake since. Kevin killed a smaller one a few days after the big incident, but not the giant. We look for him every time we’re outside. I scan the yard for “dark patches” before I let Baxter out to play. Before we walk out the front door, we both check the flowerbed through the window. I’ve had nightmares of him slithering up into bed with us. *Granted, my pregnancy dreams have been insanely vivid and “out there”. Just thinking about it makes every hair of mine stand on end.

And thus I have an addition to one of my many life lists –

Things I am deathly afraid of:

-Tornadoes

-Ghosts

-Flying roaches

-SNAKES

37 Weeks

2009-04-26T08:08:00.000-07:00

I am almost through my 37th week of pregnancy, and there are no words that can even come close to capturing the way I feel right now. The best thing I can come up with is a sound... a long, exasperated exhale.

WOOSAH.

At this point, I am fully aware that my body is no longer under my control (not that I've had much control over the last few months, but now it's completely 100% gone). I feel like a walking wrecking ball. Not even a walking wrecking ball - more like a waddling wrecking ball. My feet have swollen past the point of repair - no amount of soaking, lifting, or massaging helps anymore (and TRUST ME hubby and I have tried). You know when you gain a few pounds and get that unattractive little muffin top over the waist of your jeans? Yeah, I have that with my FEET. When I get home from work and take my shoes off, I have two muffin-topped behemoths that used to be my cute little feet. Yesterday I was staring at them in amazement, realizing that they looked like they belonged on someone who weighed about 500 pounds. It's past the point of uncomfortable. It's painful.

You think I'm exaggerating.

I'm totally not.

Moms warned me about the dreaded last month of pregnancy. And I just smiled, nodded, and thought to myself "I can totally handle it". I'm eating my words. Consider this my waving a white flag to the ninth month.

I really, honestly try not to complain. But sometimes you just gotta vent. I know it's temporary. And I know with all of my heart that when it's all said and done, it is going to be so worth the misery. Ask me in a month, when Luke is here, and I'll probably tell you that it really wasn't that bad. I've heard about mom-memory. Once the baby arrives safe and healthy, the bad memories of pregnancy and labor/delivery begin to fade away. I can't wait for that.

WOOSAH.

There is a silver lining, though. I went in for my now-weekly OB visit on Monday, where I was "checked" for the first time. I'll spare the graphic details, but I am SO EXTREMELY HAPPY to report that I've started to dilate. Not much. But to a pregnant woman, any dilation is good. It means the end of the tunnel is close. The end of pregnancy is within reach. The baby will be here soon. Unfortunately, there's no way of knowing yet how soon. We'll have a better idea after my visit next Monday, when we see if I've dilated further. Right now we're just sitting on a bunch of maybe's.

Dr. Wonderful said her guess was that I wouldn't make it to my due date. She even said he could possibly be here by the end of my 38th week. Which she then followed up with "Or you could be one of those who goes past her due date." Uhh, no thanks. I choose Plan A - let's get this show on the road. Pass me some Pitocin and a jar of jalapenos and we can take care of everything this weekend, if you're free!

Hiccups, Exhaustion, and a Preggo Funny

2009-04-08T17:30:00.000-07:00

My doctor appointment Monday went perfectly. Too perfectly. I was thinking to myself this morning “I have been so lucky that nothing has gone wrong.” My blood pressure has remained consistent, my peepee has remained protein-free, and I’ve managed to only gain about 5 lbs in 6 weeks. Knock on wood, I know. I’m still waiting for the fallout. And let me just say that the weight management has NOT been easy. There in the middle of my pregnancy, I took full advantage of the “I’m pregnant and therefore have every right to act like a Hoover” mentality. And my weight gain definitely reflected my “MUST. EAT. EVERYTHING” attitude. So now in the home stretch, I am trying to make up for it and be more careful.

Back to my appointment… see how I get sidetracked so easily?

My mom went with me – when hubby’s out of town on a job, my mom always jumps at the chance to go. The appointments aren’t extremely exciting. They check my weight and vitals, ask routine “how are you feeling?...how’s baby’s movement?...do you have any questions?” pregnancy questions, and use a Doppler machine to listen to the baby’s heart. At this appointment, baby Luke had the hiccups. He gets them often now, and I sometimes don’t even notice them because they just feel normal to me. I didn’t even think about them popping up on the Doppler as we listened to his heart. But sure enough, mixed in with the horse-galloping-sound of my little man’s heart, there they were. We could HEAR his hiccups, perfectly aligning with each twitch in my belly. The three of us – me, mama, and my doctor – all sat there smiling as we listened. For the first time since I first heard his heartbeat back around 10 weeks pregnant, I thought I was going to cry right there on the exam table. It sounds silly, right? They’re just hiccups – it’s not like little Luke is in there carrying on a conversation with himself. They were hiccups. But they were MY BABY’S hiccups. It was a sound that I could link to something that I feel every day. Something that until that moment had become routine, normal, and nearly forgettable. So today when he got the hiccupsas I sat at my desk working, my eyes welled up with tears. And I thought to myself “Dang… I’m going to be one of THOSE moms… I’m going to cry at everything, aren’t I?” And you know what? I probably will. And I’ll do it proudly. When I put his little tiny feet in my hands, I’ll probably cry thinking “These are the feet that jammed themselves into my lungs and stretched against the bottom of my ribcage.” Only instead of cursing those little feet like I often do lately, when I am actually HOLDING those feet in my hands, I’ll probably be crying remembering how sweet it felt. But not today. Today I lean more towards the cursing of the feet that are currently pushed halfway into my lungs.

Along with feet-in-ribs and an overall sense of “GOD I’m getting huge” discomfort, I’ve also returned to the first-trimester symptom of being tired. All the time. And I can’t use lack of sleep as an excuse. I’m in bed at 8 (laugh away, but it’s wonderful) so I can be up for work at 5:30am – typically giving me about 8 hours once I actually fall asleep *and accounting for the 2-3 bathroom trips each night, which I can proudly say I manage to do with only half-way opening one eye to check for critters in the toilet (call me crazy, but I get great comfort in knowing that some sewer snake isn’t waiting for me to blindly sit down). So my exhaustion definitely isn’t due to lack of sleep. People say “Oh honey, it’s just Mother Nature preparing you for once the baby gets here”. Well, the baby isn’t here. And I’m trying to stock up on my energy reserves now because – yes, I know – I will need the extra energy once the baby gets here. So this pre-baby exhaustion can suck it. *I know, I know. Telling the exhaustion to “suck it” does absolutely nothing to help. But it sure feels good to say.

And with hiccups and exhaustion, I will close with a little story. This past Sunday, the weather was GORGEOUS. It was just one of those days. Low 70s, a good breeze, and blue skies. I was home alone and, thanks to my neuro-nesting, my Sunday ritual of house cleaning and laundry was already done. So I decided to go lay outside in my hammock with a few magazines. My hammock has become one of my absolute favorite places – it’s one of the few places I can actually get comfortable anymore. So there I lay in my hammock, enjoying the weather, reading my magazines until the sun shifted just enough to make me have to change positions to get it out of my face. If you’ve ever laid in a hammock, you know moving around can be tricky. So imagine that PLUS an extra 30 or so pounds PLUS a boulder-shaped belly. Back to my story… I start to shift. Just a little – a few inches would get the sun out of my face. I move ever so slightly, and… SUCCESS. The sun is out of my face. But my magazine is out of reach. I sit up just barely to reach for it, and as slowly as I leaned up to get it, the hammock slowly turned over. I didn’t even realize it was happening until I was on the ground with my dog in my face like “holy crap – what just happened?” I seriously had no idea that I was tipping over. I was so intent on moving slowly to get my magazine so that I WOULDN’T tip over, that I didn’t see everything slowly turning upside down. All I could do was sit on the ground and laugh. And if any of my neighbors happened to catch sight of the slow-mo-flipping-preggo, I’d imagine they got a good laugh too.

Catching Up… Hard to do with Pregnancy Brain

2009-03-31T16:15:00.000-07:00

I was just cursing my best friend for not updating her blog for nearly 4 weeks when I realized that I am such a hypocrite. Over the past few weeks, I have been so inundated with all things “baby” that the blog has fallen to the bottom of my list (along with laundry, shaving my legs, and the oh-so-fun task of writing Thank-You cards). So here I sit with the challenge of making my brain focus on one thing for more than 3 minutes.

Before I got pregnant, I gawked at the notion of pregnancy brain. It was a farce to me – a lame excuse women used to get away with being absent-minded. Pre-pregnancy, I was a perfectionist. Everything fell into a schedule, and everything happened according to a plan. Being absent-minded was not an option. Absent-minded people were just unorganized – they didn’t take the time to focus and really get things done they way they ought to. Then BAM! Sperm meets egg, 6-8 months go by, and I can no longer remember what I set out to do five minutes ago. Are you kidding me?! I try so hard to be that organized, planned-out perfectionista that I once was but I think I’ve lost her for the time being. I do try, though. My desk is covered in post-its because if I don’t tag the status of every. single. paper on my desk, I WILL forget why it’s sitting there. My house is cluttered with to-do lists, sometimes 2 or 3 of the exact same list because I will start making a list, walk away, and forget all about it just to start the exact same list 15 minutes later. Once again I ask… are you kidding me?! It’s like my brain just decides that it’s done for that moment and walks away with absolutely no notice to me. I can be mid-sentence and completely forget what in the world I was talking about or where I was trying to go with a story. I will get up to do something (which in and of itself is becoming quite a task) only to forget what I needed to do once I’m up. I’ve even gotten in my car, gotten out of my neighborhood, and completely forgot where I was going. All I can do is hope that I regain some sense of cohesion once the baby is born because I don’t think I could put up with myself like this forever, much less expect those around me to put up with this too!

Along with my pregnancy brain, I am in full-blown nesting mode. I didn’t really know this was a real state of mind until I caught myself going up to the nursery just to re-fold baby blankets that I had put away earlier. Only I think my nesting has become more of a neurosis. If we get anything to add to the nursery, it HAS to be put away immediately. And while I’m putting that away, I HAVE to check on everything that I’d previously put away and re-touch and move around if it needs it. OCD much? Yeah, probably. I contribute it to my perfectionista trying to come through and control the situation – for whatever reason, the nursery is the only place I can really focus. And I’m not sure if it’s typical “nesting”, but cleaning the rest of my house seems to fall under my nesting/neurosis umbrella. I will literally follow my husband around and pick up after him. That sweet gesture you’re making by cooking a homemade dinner? Slightly less romantic and thoughtful because I’m following you through the kitchen with a dishrag, wiping the counter each time you set something down or pick something up. Taking my dishes to the sink after dinner so that I don’t have to get up to do it? That is so sweet. You really shouldn’t have. REALLY – you shouldn’t have because I’m getting up behind you to make sure the dishes are going into the dishwasher instead of sitting in the sink. Hard day at work? Sit back and take off your shoes and socks – put your feet up. Only disregard my grumbling as I get up to immediately take those shoes and socks to the closet so they’re out of the way. It’s not like my hubby is a messy guy – I know those things will get picked up eventually. I just have this overwhelming urge to do it NOW. Agh – I said it before and I’ll say it again… if that man is still by my side when all of this is over, I am an extremely lucky woman. Some days, I honestly don’t know how he can look at me with a straight face and tell me he loves me.

For now, I’ll leave you with this one realization that I’ve been mulling over for the past few days. The nursery is ready. The baby showers are over. The clothes are hung in the closet, and the diapers are stacked on the changing table. There is only one thing left to do. HAVE THE BABY. Yipes.

*Although when I really get worked up about that one thing left to do, I just think about this face and realize that I’d give anything for delivery day to be tomorrow so I can see him in person.

Top Ten

2009-03-06T16:19:00.000-08:00

It’s Friday and my brain is too far gone from the hectic week to put together a post, so I made some lists. Call me Mrs. David Letterman – they’re my Top Tens of Pregnancy (of course – what else?), although not listed in any specific order.

Things that I miss:

My favorite pair of jeans. I tear up a little if I look at them too long, sadly hanging in my closet crying “Wear me! Pick me!”
The ability to stay up past 10pm without feeling like a total zombie.
Margaritas.
Sleeping through the night without waking up 2-3 times for potty trips. We’ve gone through more toilet paper in my pregnancy than should be allowed by law.
Wearing my wedding and engagement rings. I bought a stand-in to wear through the rest of my pregnancy, but it’s just not the same.
Wearing heels. Like my jeans, I tear up a little when I look at them sitting in my closet, literally collecting dust. Although, I must admit I’ll probably keep a few pairs of flats around post-baby. I’ve become a big fan.
My Victoria’s Secret pj’s. I actually boxed up my pre-pregnancy pj’s so I wouldn’t be able to see them. Or attempt to wear them and inevitably stretch them out. I know hubby is waiting for the day that I pull that box down from the top of my closet. Let’s just say looking cute at night hasn’t exactly been as big a priority to me as it was before I got pregnant.
Being able to “get up and go” in a moment’s notice. It takes a little time and a lot of effort for me to go from point A to point B. Especially in a hurry.
Beers with my buddies.
Being able to bend over, twist, and put on pants and undies without hobbling around like a complete idiot.

Things that I love:

Feeling my baby move. Best. Feeling. EVER. I love that I feel like I know him so well already.
Reading What To Expect When You’re Expecting each week to track baby’s growth and progress.
The compassion I get from other women – who knew they could be so nice? From simple acknowledging smiles in the grocery store to full blown conversations in the elevators, pregnancy seems to provide an instant bond between women.
Hearing/reading other people’s baby stories and knowing that I’m not alone.
My hubby’s face when he feels the baby move.
My Snoogle body pillow – it’s a lifesaver. I highly recommend it for all preggos.
Knowing that this is the one time in life I’m allowed to stuff my face and get round without judgment from others (although some people still feel the need to judge…morons).
My new boobs.
Decorating the nursery and hanging up teeny clothes.
Maternity jeans – I’ll miss the elastic waistbands dearly once this is all over.
Foot and back rubs from hubby.

Things I’m not so crazy about:

The swelling – sometimes my ankles and the spaces between my toes disappear completely. I feel like I need to put up “LOST - REWARD” signs for them
The heartburn that now bothers me all day and wakes me up at night. At least Tums has come a long way on their flavors.
The fact that I cannot stand up or roll over in bed without extreme effort – complete with grunts and heavy breathing on my end and a few smirks and snickers from hubby’s end.
The extra layer of cellulite that has taken up residence on my thighs and hiney. As if I weren’t cursed enough before baby. Mother Nature has such a wicked sense of humor.
My ever-expanding booty. Like the cellulite, as if my booty weren’t big enough before, I feel like one single pair of my pregnancy undies could double as a swimming pool cover.
The stretchmarks that continue to spread across my mid section. Cheryl’s neighbor (who’s also a mom and stretchmark victim) had a great analogy. It looks like Freddy Krueger attacked my belly.
The hormone swings. I can go from your best friend to your worst nightmare in the blink of an eye. For absolutely no reason, other than the fact that you are standing there. Breathing.
The fact that I can no longer climb into bed without a little help from hubby. I feel like a 5-year-old.
The hot flashes. Although they aren’t as bad as the horror stories I’ve heard from some women. I get them occasionally at night where I’ll wake up in a pool of sweat, and sometimes during the day just sitting at my desk. I'm the crazy lady pounding bottles of water while fanning myself with a manila folder.
The constant worry of hypertension and preeclampsia, now that I’m in the home stretch.

The good thing is, my list of things that I’m not so crazy about are things that should go away immediately or soon after I have the baby (however, the cellulite and XL booty will take some extra effort on my part). They’re just temporary nuisances that I have to deal with in order to get the big reward in May. As much as I complain, I still love it. Most days ;)

Tremors

2009-02-17T15:43:00.000-08:00

This week I am in my 28th week of pregnancy. GAH how time has flown. My body is making the transition from the second to third trimester, so I guess you could say I’m entering the home stretch. I see the light at the end of the tunnel, and I’m ecstatic and TERRIFIED at the same time. Good God, I’m going to have a BABY. Fine time to freak out, right? But I’m not really freaked out, per say. Just anxious.

The last few weeks have been fun. Well, fun for me. Non-preggos would surely look at me in shock when they see that my idea of FUN is reclining on the couch or in my hammock in a big tshirt and fat pants with my hands plastered to my belly. Giggling. Before I got pregnant I’d look at anyone doing that with a raised eyebrow, contemplating calling the loony bin to make that crazy lady a reservation. But now I get it – I understand the fuss and obsession with hands-on-belly. Because Luke has been on the move! I can feel him spinning around, flipping upside down, stretching, and occasionally getting the hiccups. It never gets old. Even better, he’s strong enough now that you can actually see my belly move in response to his movements. Usually it’s just little flicks – in response to the more frequent kicks and jabs. It looks like my stomach twitches – just quick enough to make you second guess whether or not you actually saw my belly move. HOWEVER – there is absolutely no doubt when he is flipping over. Have you ever seen the movie Tremors? Remember the way the ground mounded up as the worm-creature moved under the surface? THAT’S about as accurately as I can describe what my belly looks like when he’s flipping. Some days it’s so bizarre that I feel like I should take my belly-show on the road and join the circus. Seriously – can your stomach do that?

Aside from my sci-fi belly movements, I think I may be getting into the nesting phase. I’ve always been an overly organized person. I feel like my house is a wreck if there is mail scattered across my kitchen counter or more than a dish or 2 in my sink. Right now our office has a few random boxes and other odds and ends sitting in a corner because we haven’t figured out where to put it all in the new house. And it literally pains me to walk by that room. It drives me nuts. But lately, my obsession with all things organized has gone into overdrive. Kevin was gone on a job this past weekend, and I saw that as the perfect opportunity to get our house in top shape. I hung pictures. I dusted. I moved stuff that we’d bought for the nursery into the nursery (instead of the random places that we’d just set the bags down whenever we got home with it). I put a lot of random “homeless” items into a hidden closet so that it was at least out of my sight (which totally reminded me of Monica in an episode of Friends). I ordered the nursery furniture that Kevin and I had picked out, which ultimately led to me sitting in the middle of the nursery floor imagining different ways to situate the furniture once it got there. For whatever reason, that led to me hanging up baby clothes that Kevin’s mom bought and mailed to us. Hanging up the new clothes led to me rearranging the way everything else we’d already bought for him was hanging. I sorted the clothes out by age/size. And then mixed it all back up because I felt like my OCD was getting the best of me. And then fought the urge not to sort it all back out. If you walked in the nursery right now, it’d look like an empty room. Just some tiny outfits hanging in the closet, a pile of shopping bags lined up against the wall, a bedding set still in its packaging, and a gallon of paint waiting to be opened. After this weekend, hopefully the walls will be painted and the furniture will be delivered. Then I can shift my obsession to the details and begin wrapping my brain around the craziness that is creating a baby registry.

Swollen Feet with Mickey and Friends

2009-02-10T16:38:00.000-08:00

I’ve gotten lazy about updating the blog. Not really so much lazy – just sidetracked. My first excuse is that work kicked into high gear. I’ve been non-stop from 7-4 every day. Most days I felt like I hadn’t taken a single breath until I made myself get up from my desk for lunch. And by the time I get home, the last thing I want to do is sit at a computer for a single moment even to write a quick post. Aside from work, I was helping my family plan for something big. Something HUGE. We were taking a week-long trip to Disney World. A total of 7 people – my parents, Kevin and I, my sister, her hubby, and baby Bradly – were packing our bags, boarding a plane, and heading to the most magical place on Earth. Because, really, who doesn’t turn into a big 5 year old the moment you walk through the gates at Disney?

Let me just say that I love Disney. I’m usually not a big fan of any place where hundreds of people – much less hundreds of KIDS - are running around. I can barely do Wal-Mart without cursing, and the mall is my worst nightmare. But somehow Disney is different. People are happy. There’s a giant castle with a parade and fireworks every single day. And characters from my favorite childhood movies are walking around giving out hugs and taking pictures. Okay, okay, I know. The characters aren’t real, you say. But I challenge you to keep your cool when you are standing face to face with the uber-gorgeous Minnie Mouse.

We had a great time. Each day was spent at a different park. We ate. We shopped. My mom, Bradly, and I people-watched while my sister and the guys rode all of the thrill rides. FYI while Disney is kid focused, there are a few rides that are geared more towards the adults. However, that usually translated as not preggo-friendly and definitely not 13-month-old friendly. So we had to sit out for some things. Unfortunately for me, I LOVE the thrill rides at Disney. My absolute favorite ride in all of Disney is the Aerosmith Roller Coaster. And I couldn’t ride it this time. So I sat outside and pouted like any grown 25 year old pregnant woman would do. As I mentioned before, there are Disney characters wandering the parks to meet and greet. Usually, they were surrounded by kids. But that didn’t stop Kevin and me from jumping right in line with the rest of them to take pictures. We met Mickey and Minnie, Donald, Goofy, Pluto, Chip and Dale, Stitch (one of my favorites!!), Pooh, Eeyore, Tigger, and Buzz Lightyear (who even gave a salute to baby Luke as we walked up). Strangely, we noticed that there weren’t nearly as many characters walking around this year as there had been in previous years that we’ve gone. Was it because we weren’t there during the peak season? Makes sense, right? But no that wasn’t it. We learned that even Disney was being affected by the crappy economy. Some of Disney’s characters were given their “take a hike” notice due to hard times. How sad is that?! Somewhere poor Snow White and her Dwarves are flipping burgers. How’d you like to see THAT next time you drive through Whataburger?

One solid week of 6 adults and 1 baby trying to agree on exactly what to do and when to do it got a little trying at times. Being the happiest place on Earth, we all tried our best to grit our teeth and bear it when it got tense. Especially when the baby got fussy or preggo got swollen and/or hormonal (i.e. – moody. Remember my lost filter?). Usually, we all went our separate ways after dinner and we had one day that was rainy which all of the “couples” used to do whatever else they wanted. Kevin and I opted for Downtown Disney to do some shopping and get some alone time in. And for our last night at Disney, Kevin and I had a date night. We had dinner at a restaurant in the Magic Kingdom, did some last minute shopping, and then watched the fireworks while huddled up and drinking hot chocolate.*side note: I failed to mention that the one week we spent at Disney was apparently the coldest week of the year for Orlando – they had record lows, and it froze 3 nights while we were there. I’d rather it be in the low 50s all week than be in the 90s with 100% humidity, though, I suppose!

We had a great time – I can’t wait to take Luke back when he’s old enough to enjoy it (and when he’s big enough to ride everything – mama’s not sitting out on rides again!). I was worried that I wouldn’t enjoy it as much because I was pregnant. But honestly, being pregnant gave me a much different perspective. While waiting for the others to get off the big-boy rides, I went in shops that I otherwise wouldn’t have gone in. I did more people watching and paid more attention to parents interacting with their kids (begin collective eye-roll now). Things that I never would have paid attention to before. And I even got a free souvenir that serves as a constant reminder of my family’s trek all over Disney – the most swollen feet that I’ve EVER had. My feet look like two freshly baked loaves of bread, and my toes look like Vienna Sausages. I’m still trying to figure out how to get the swelling down to at least what it was pre-Disney. …Any suggestions?...

Preggo Nursery Rhyme

2009-02-10T16:37:00.001-08:00

Oh where, oh where have my ankles gone?

Oh where, oh where could they be?

One day they were there,

And the next day they’re gone.

Oh where, oh where could they be?

Dear Bladder,

2009-01-16T16:28:00.000-08:00

…you are not my friend today. In fact, you have not been my friend for some time now. I have a few bones to pick with you…

You are the reason I am tired today. You are the reason I am tired most days. Perhaps you didn’t get the memo. Pregnant Chandra needs sleep. These are her last few glorious months with the possibility of uninterrupted sleep. That does not seem to be coinciding with your current schedule. Every single night, you feel it necessary to wake me up at 3:50am on the dot to run to the bathroom (and more often than not, also around 11pm and 1am). My body jolts awake, feeling as if Niagara Falls is about to flow from my body. I peel myself from under the covers and out of bed to shimmy to the toilet. Because this happens like clockwork each and every night, I have learned to make this maneuver with my eyes closed (peeking only briefly once I reach the toilet to ensure some snake or other sewer critter isn’t swimming in there, patiently waiting for me to have a seat). However even with the closed-eye approach, once I have left the comfort and warmth of my bed my mind begins to crank and my body begins to wake up. There is no going back to the deep slumber that I enjoyed before you so suddenly woke me AT 3:50AM. If possible, do you think we could try to push this back to somewhere around 6am when my alarm goes off? And maybe even 8-ish on the weekends? Think about it and get back to me.

Not only do you interrupt my sleep, but you have also altered my daily activities. No sip of water, not even a single reposition in my desk chair, goes without that familiar feeling – Niagara Falls knocking at the door, waiting to escape. Fearing a possible accident at work, I stop what I’m doing and shimmy down the hall to the ladies room. Sometimes I feel like I need to speed my shimmy to a quick jog (something that would surely provide entertainment for all that I pass along the way) because of your urgency. I pick a stall and get ready to release the rapids when… drip. Drip. Drip. That’s it?! You’ve got to be kidding me! I sit for a moment, making absolutely SURE that there’s nothing else coming before I trek back to my desk. And there’s nothing. Defeated, I shuffle back to my desk to get back to work. Lo and behold, not 10 minutes later, with a sip of water or reposition in my chair – there it is! “The Falls” are banging on the door again. Aha! I knew I wasn’t crazy the first time – I really DO have to go. I shimmy back down the hall to the bathroom, have a seat, and… drip. Drip. Drip. Foiled again. You win, bladder. Just as you won yesterday. And the day before that.

Please consider this letter my waving of the white flag. I give up – I surrender. Please let me know when you’re ready to show some mercy and call a truce.

Many thanks.

Preggo Rant

2009-01-14T18:25:00.000-08:00

I love being pregnant. I really, truly do. I love that God has deemed me worthy of becoming a mother and has given me the opportunity to have this baby. I love that my body is going through changes that only other mothers know and understand. I feel like every mom in the world is a member of this exclusive society, and the initiation is pregnancy and childbirth. I can’t wait to complete my initiation and become a lifetime member.

I am in my second half of pregnancy. My belly has rounded out, going from the “has she gained weight?” phase to the “she’s having a baby!” phase. Random people are stopping me and asking me when I’m due. It’s nice. And it’s also hilarious to watch people want to retract their questions as soon as they ask, fearing that I’m not really pregnant and just a little too round in the tummy area. Don’t get me wrong - I don’t feel at all like I’m “due” any special awards or recognition for being pregnant (although the “expectant mothers” parking spaces at some stores are WONDERFUL and should be placed at ALL grocery stores and Targets). But the “Oh my god – congratulations!” and “He’s going to be so beautiful!” comments have really become sunshine points of my days. They are nice buffers between the daily bouts of heartburn, gas, back aches, and swollen feet and toes.

HOWEVER

I am realizing that with the “Congratulations” comments comes the “Let me tell you” conversations. Why, oh why, oh WHY do people feel that they have the right to tell me how to “be” pregnant? Even more so, why do people feel they have the right to tell me how to raise my unborn child? Every. Single. Day. Some self-appointed “parenting guru” feels it necessary to tell me what I should be doing, how I should be doing it, or what to expect in the next few months/during childbirth/for the extent of my child-rearing years. What gets me are the different types of people that I get it from, particularly men and other parents:
Men – First let me say that seeing a man holding a baby, carrying a child on his shoulders, even just holding their child’s hand – anything to do with a man being affectionate with a child (in a non-Dateline “To Catch a Predator”-type of way) absolutely melts my heart. I think dads can be a little overlooked during the pregnancy phase, which is unfortunate as they are usually the target of the many mood swings and the retriever of late-night food cravings. However, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, a man has absolutely no right to tell a woman how she should be feeling during pregnancy. Except maybe the “pregnant man” that used to be a woman who got pregnant (I can’t believe I actually just typed that… only in today’s world). Until you have carried a human being in your body, please do not tell me how or what to feel. If you know some amazing remedy to my current ailments, by all means please tell me. If you have man’s-perspective advice on what I can do or say for/to my hubby as an extreme token of appreciation, by all means please tell me. But, once again, do not tell me how or what I should be feeling physically. *My hubby gets a free pass on this for many reasons. #1 – he was there when baby Luke was created. #2 – he puts up with my many pregnant personalities, often changing without notice. #3 – he reads about pregnancy ailments and milestones and then tells me when they’re probably coming soon (i.e. “Those jalapenos are probably going to start giving you heartburn soon.” Or “You’ve been on your feet too long – they’re probably going to be pretty swollen tonight.” – Both of which he have told me) I think it is absolutely the sweetest thing that he is reading/remembering these things and trying to coach me through them in my moments of hard-headedness.
Other Mothers/Parents – There is nothing more that I can say other than you should know better. Let me throw out a little disclaimer here… I respect mothers and parents in general. I bow down to everything that you do and everything that you have been through. But please don’t lecture me on how much things are going to change when the baby comes. Really, do you think that I don’t know that already? You were given the chance to learn lessons on your own. Please please PLEASE let Kevin and I have the same experience. I’ve also had some mothers tell me “what I’m in for” for the remainder of my pregnancy and their hell-acious labor stories. If all goes according to plan, I will be pregnant for another 4 months. I know that I will get bigger. I know that I will get more and more uncomfortable. I know that certain bodily functions will get worse and new ones may appear. And sweet Lord, I KNOW that labor will be the most painful experience of my life. For my sanity and your safety, please remember what it was like when you were pregnant and others tried to tell you “what you’re in for”. Remember the ping of fury that shot through your body as soon as others tried to tell you. Remember that all you wanted to hear was “You look great. You’ll be fine. And if you need to vent, I’ve been through it and I’m here for you.” Those words are golden to a woman with child.

Let me catch myself before you start to think that I’m some angry head-case that walks around snapping at anyone who tries to speak to me. I appreciate the many mothers, fathers, and friends in my life who have been through this. And I appreciate all of the words of encouragement, support, and advice (I know, that completely contradicts this entire post) that I have received up to this point. The advice has been amazing – what creams to use on my belly for the itching and oh-so-lovely stretchmarks, ideas on nursery room colors, what medicines I can/can not take, and ways to deal with those who offer too much advice are just a few. But these bits of knowledge were received from those near and dear to me, and usually in conversations where I’m asking “What do I do??”

A lesson to those with preggo’s in your life…
Be supportive. Tell her she looks great, and really mean it. Don’t expect her to be capable of everything she was capable of before baby (spending hours walking the mall or grocery store, staying up late to hang out, etc). Expect mood swings and out-of-the-blue tears. And most importantly – when you start to think “Oh my god, I can’t TAKE her anymore! She’s become a monster!”, know that your old friend/sister/daughter/wife is in there somewhere. She’s just going through a lot and is just as confused and frustrated as you are (if not more). Do your best to love her as much as you did before hormones took over her every breathing moment.

Wordless Wednesday

2009-01-14T18:11:00.001-08:00

Baby Friends

My two nieces, one month apart in age, met for the first time last weekend. To describe their "play date" in one word: adorable.

Baby, Is That You?

2009-01-07T16:16:00.000-08:00

Feeling a baby moving around in your belly… it’s such a strange feeling. Strange and completely amazing at the same time. I love it. I absolutely, whole heartedly love it. I’ve been feeling baby move around for over a month now. At first it started almost like a little tickle from the inside. Many moms call the feeling “flutters”. You know the feeling when you’re on a roller coaster or drive over the top of a hill too fast and your stomach flips? That’s how I’d describe what I felt for a few weeks. Only it wasn’t in my stomach, it was in the area below my belly button. The movements became a daily occurrence, and baby began to move around more in response to certain things. For example, he seems to love it when I drink orange juice. I try to have at least a glass every morning to give me and baby an instant shot of our fruit servings for the day. And it always gets him going. It feels like he’s dancing in there. Another drink he seems to like is water, plainly enough. I can drink a Coke and feel nothing, and then drink a few sips of water and he starts moving. And the food he seems to react to the most is salad. But not just any salad – it has to be a salad from my favorite pizza place. It gets him going every time. A salad from anywhere else doesn’t quite have the same effect.

Back on topic… about a week ago, the movements started getting much stronger. They felt more coordinated, if that makes sense. I told Kevin that it felt like any day, he should be able to start feeling the baby move too. I felt so bad that he hadn’t felt the baby move yet. Here I was, feeling Bun moving every single day and Kevin just had to sit and watch. Actually, he had to sit and listen. I’d always say “Bun’s on the move!” or “That really got him going”, not realizing that it was probably breaking Kevin’s heart that he couldn’t share in the feeling. I would get so excited that he was moving around in there that I’d just blurt it out. Don’t get me wrong – Kevin was excited too, but he wanted to be able to feel what I was talking about. So rewind to a week ago… I started feeling much stronger movements. It was like baby was working on his jab. Whatever it was, it was getting much more powerful than the little “flutters” from the weeks before. So I started walking around with my hands glued to my stomach. I wanted to feel it from the outside, and I wanted to be sure that’s what it really was before I got Kevin’s hopes up.

It happened Friday night. After 3 days of constant hands-on-belly, I was laying in bed watching tv (yes I know, my Friday nights are too exciting for most to handle…). My hands were on my belly by chance (my belly’s getting to the size where it’s hard to put my hands anywhere BUT the belly when I’m laying down..). And there was a little jab on the lower right side of my gut. Instinctively, I shrieked. Then there were 2 more little jabs in the exact same place. I shrieked again. I had been waiting on this moment for months, and there I sat shrieking at my stomach like a maniac once it finally happened. It wasn’t at all what I was expecting, but then again, how do you really know what to expect of something kicking from inside of you? Ponder that for a second…

I yelled for Kevin to “Get in the bedroom RIGHT NOW” – something that probably gave him the impression that I suddenly felt the need for nookie because he was there in a flash, kicking his shoes off as he came through the door. Much to his disappointment, there I sat in bed, fully clothed, holding my side, jaw dropped, and tears in my eyes (sidenote: My reaction to just about ANYTHING lately is to tear up). “I felt him – give me your hand.” We must’ve sat there for 10 minutes with both of our hands covering every square inch of my belly, waiting for any kind of movement. And there was nothing. Kevin was disappointed. And I felt awful.

…Fast forward a couple of hours…

We’re both in bed watching tv. I could feel baby moving on the inside again, so I nonchalantly moved Kevin’s hand from holding my hand to resting on my belly just over the spot where I could feel baby moving around. After a few minutes, I felt a really big thump. I jerked my head towards Kevin to see if he felt it. There he sat, smiling, looking at my stomach from the corner of his eye. “Was that him?” All I could do was smile and tear up.

Hello, Baby!

2009-01-03T20:01:00.001-08:00

I decided to change the name of my blog. I wanted something a little more relevant to me right now. So I picked two of my favorite things. Flip flops and maternity pants. It just doesn't get more comfortable than that. 6 months ago, the name may have been something like "High heels and Chardonnay". But this whole "baby mania" has turned my world upside down. And I am loving every second of it. Well, almost every second of it. I have my bad moments, which are becoming more and more frequent. But I digress.

I haven't seen our baby on screen since I was 7 weeks pregnant. My doctor ran an ultrasound just to confirm that there was, indeed, a baby hanging out in my uterus. And that's when we saw it for the first time - this little bean-shaped blob attached to the wall. We were in total shock to see this living creature INSIDE of me. We were reeling - excited and totally freaked out at the same time. After that, there were no more ultrasounds. There was no medical need for them - I was low risk and everything in my bloodwork and lab tests seemed to show normal results. But once I accepted the fact that I was in fact pregnant, I wanted to see my baby more. I wanted to see it every day. Every. Single. Day. I read every week to see what was going on with it - what new organ systems he/she was developing. How big it was. How much it weighed. I rented a fetal doppler so that Kevin and I could listen to the heartbeat whenever we wanted. I was absolutely in love with this baby, and I hadn't even really met him/her yet. Kevin and I kept a countdown for my 20 week mark - that was when we'd get another ultrasound and get another look at our baby.

That 20 week mark came on December 29th. We woke up pumped. That was the day we were going to see the baby again, and with any luck find out if it was a boy or girl. I'd had a gut feeling for a few weeks of what the baby was, but in all honesty all I wanted to hear was whether or not our baby was healthy. I wanted to hear that it had all of its organs, its measurements were good, and it was developing as it should be. And if the baby was feeling less-than-modest that afternoon and we could see whether it was a boy or girl, fan-freaking-tastic - that would be icing on the cake.

Everything went as perfectly as we could've hoped for. We watched the baby move around on the screen. He/she moved his/her hands around its face and stretched its legs out as we watched in awe. Our baby was BIG! So much different than the little bean shape from 13 weeks before. This is probably the most precious thing that I've ever seen - it's my favorite ultrasound picture that we got. Tiny baby feet.

And then the big news. The ultrasound tech said she was 100% positive she could tell whether it was a boy or girl. Of course we said we wanted to know, and she confirmed what my gut had been telling me for weeks. She confirmed that I had some inkling of maternal instinct that I was seriously doubting I was capable of having.

WE'RE HAVING A BOY!!!

Baby Luke, we can't wait to meet you. See you in May.

Happy 2009!

2009-01-03T19:41:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! I was thinking last night about everything that happened in 2008 - it was probably one of my busiest years yet.

I started a new job - entering a field that I knew nothing about - with hope and determination to kick some ass.
I found out what it was like to live without my husband for 2 months while he was in Malaysia on business.
I took my first solo international trip to visit hubby while in Malaysia.
I turned 25 - an age I'd feared for so long. And it really hasn't been so scary so far ;)
I traveled the country for nearly three months straight for work - hello frequent flier miles!
I became mortally obsessed with a book series.
I made new friends and mourned the loss of a family member.
I watched both of my nieces turn one year old - my GOD how time flies!
I argued with a pregnancy test that tried to tell me there was a baby in my uterus.
I surrendered after 4 pregnancy tests and embraced pregnancy, with all its ups and downs.
I put my best friend to sleep and tried to figure out what in the world I was supposed to do without her - I'm still trying to figure it out in 2009.
I moved into a house that my husband and I designed and watched come to life over the course of 5 months.

Overall, 2008 was a year of change for me. I learned that I am capable of so much more than I give myself credit for. And I also learned that I needed the support of family, friends, and my incredible husband more than I ever imagined I would. I am so lucky to have everything that I do, and I am so lucky to have so many incredible people in my life. I only hope that 2009 will bring both challenges and laughter to continue shaping me into the person I strive to be.

Loss of a Friend

2008-12-15T14:55:00.000-08:00

On Thursday December 11th, I lost my best friend and side-kick of over six years. Abbi was more than a pet, she was my forever loyal and constant companion.

In November 2002, I was laying on the floor of my apartment in Mississippi. I was flipping through channels, anxiously waiting for my sister to return from a trip back to Houston to visit our family. Normally, I didn't stare at the clock counting the minutes until her arrival. But that time was different. She was bringing something back for me. She was bringing me a puppy - an early Christmas present from my parents. Before laying my eyes on this puppy, I had already named her. Abbi. I remember the apartment door opening and I never once looked up to greet my sister. My eyes instantly locked on this tiny, black and white, runt-looking creature that came trotting through the door. I fell in love as she ran straight for me, like she was waiting to meet me too, not even caring to sniff around her new home. I picked her up to eye level, letting her lick me all over my face. And that was the beginning of our friendship.

As she physically got older, Abbi never seemed to age a single day. She got bigger, yes, but her puppy mentality seemed eternal. Whether we were at home or visiting friends or family, it seemed Abbi's personal mission in life to kiss every single person there. She wouldn't stop until she was satisfied that you had gotten all of the kisses you could stand. I think she may have even converted some non-dog-lovers to her side. Once Kevin and I had moved to Houston and into a house, we still seemed to be learning new things about Abbi. One was that this dog could run. FAST. Once she was out of the apartment and had her own backyard, she never wanted to stay inside. She loved being outside, and if our other Boston Terrier Baxter (who we bought 2 1/2 years after Abbi) was outside with her, she'd run him all over the yard. Almost like she was taunting him, proving to the rest of us that she was the fastest dog in the land. Something else we discovered about Abbi was that she loved to swim. Whether we were at the dog park or at my parents house, Abbi would go barreling into the pool. A few times, I went outside to check on her and she was swimming laps by herself in my parents' pool. She was dubbed "little fish" because she'd jump in, no matter what month of year it was, and occasionally swim under water to make sure everything underneath her was as it should be. Early on in her lifetime, we also discovered that Abbi smiled. Not the kind of smile that a lot of owners claim their pets do where the corners of the mouth turn up and the tongue hangs out while they're panting. No, my baby had a big, toothy grin. I think it started by accident because of her slight underbite, and then she caught on that we responded positively when she did it. So it became a method of endearment for her. When Kevin or I ate, Abbi would sit next to us or on the floor in eye sight with a big grin. Or if one of us wasn't in the best mood or Abbi did something that resulted in scolding, she'd flash a grin like "I'm sorry - does this make it better?" And it always did.

In January 2008, Abbi had her first seizure. I had no idea that's what it was at the time - it was so minimal. I saw the whole thing happen, grabbed her into my arms to see what was wrong, and of course she covered my face in kisses. The fact that this dog's top priority was to show affection, even while suffering a seizure, still amazes me. Once it was over, Abbi was totally fine. Like nothing happened. So I blew off the incident - I had no idea it was the beginning of something awful. Three months later, the same thing happened. The exact same thing. Only a second episode followed about 10 minutes after the first was over. I didn't blow it off this time. We went to the vet. The vet dismissed it - it didn't sound like seizures, she said. No tests, no bloodwork. Maybe it was a reaction to Kevin being gone, she said - he was coincidentally out of town both times it happened. So we went home. It wasn't seizures, thank God. Or at least that's what we were told. Until July 4th weekend when this (see previous post) happened. It solidified my worst fears. They were seizures. Abbi had fluid on her brain causing them. From July to present, Abbi continued a vigorous schedule of medications. They had to be given at certain times to keep her blood levels and brain activity levels stable, otherwise she could enter another episode of seizure activity. Kevin and I had to schedule our days around her medicine times. Did we care? Absolutely not. She was like our child, and there was absolutely no question that we'd do whatever was necessary to keep her healthy. She had a few small seizures in August, but they were minimal and totally manageable. Then nothing until Sunday December 7th. She had a big seizure. Kevin and I were able to stop it with her dog-Valium. All was well again. Monday was perfectly normal. Abbi was extremely affectionate - moreso than usual. And she was antsy. We both noticed it, but wrote it off to her maybe being stressed out from the packing and moving boxes that were collecting in preparation for our big move. Now we think that the affection and antsy behavior was her way of trying to tell us something big was about to happen. Tuesday December 9th I went home from work early. I wasn't feeling well. Something was off - it wrote it off as pregnancy related. So I spent the afternoon napping on the couch with Abbi curled up next to me. It was our last time to just BE. At 8PM she had a small seizure. We gave her Valium which helped, but not as much as it had with her seizure a few days before. So I took her to bed. I fell asleep with my arm around her, so I'd feel if she had another seizure. I just had a bad feeling I would. At 11PM I woke up to her having a severe one. Kevin and I gave her another dose of Valium, which did nothing. So we went to the Animal ER. It was exactly like it happened back in July. They kept her overnight and referred her to her neurologist the next morning. Only this time, Abbi seemed worse. Something wasn't like it was in July. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something wasn't right. Kevin and I discussed the possibility of putting her to sleep with her neurologist. We all decided to give her until Friday the 12th to see if she could snap out of it. I never thought it possible to pray and cry over a pet so much during those days. On Thursday the 11th, her neurologist told me they'd found pneumonia in Abbi's lungs. That in combination with her brain disease was basically shutting down her respiratory system. We made the decision - it was the hardest decision I've ever made in my life. One that I'd never wish on anyone. But I couldn't let her suffer.

Kevin and I were both with her when she passed the afternoon of December 11th. Abbi was sedated, but aware that we were with her. I was at her head, kissing all over her face while her neurologist gave the injection. I know Abbi would have turned the table and kissed all over my face if she'd had the strength. Once it was over and they took Abbi from the room, I felt like they were taking my heart with her.

I know that we made the right decision. There was no way that Abbi would ever be the same, if she even recovered from the pneumonia. Kevin and I knew in our hearts that as much as we wanted to be selfish and keep her with us, we couldn't let her suffer. Now we're trying to figure out how to be without her. All three of us - Kevin, me, and Bax - are trying to adjust. I think the hardest times for me are right before bed and again when I wake up. Those were "our" times. We'd lay in bed and cuddle, usually for hours before Kevin and Baxter would come claim their man-space in bed. And in the mornings, I would wake up face to face with Abbi - under the covers with her head propped up on my pillow, just like me. Every morning, she'd get out of bed with me and lay in the bathroom while I got ready for work. Then we'd get her medicine and I'd put her back in bed with Kevin and Baxter before I left. I still roll over in the mornings expecting her to be right there. I never thought I could miss an animal so much. But a pet becomes such a fixed part of your life, and when they're suddenly gone, it takes time to get used to that seperation.

There's a well-known story in the world of grieving pet owners. I cry every time I read it, but it also brings me comfort. Get your tissues ready if you're a pet-owner:

The Story of Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge.
When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable.
All the animals that had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind.
They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. Her bright eyes are intent. Her eager body quivers. Suddenly she begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, her legs carrying him faster and faster.
You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together....

Abbi will be forever missed. There are no better words to say it.

Please Stay Back At Least 4FT

2008-12-08T14:50:00.000-08:00

Hormones.

Surging, raging hormones. They have almost completely taken over my actions, my facial expressions, and most unfortunately my speech. The first few months, my hormones remained at bay. Sure, the Chandra monster would raise its ugly little head occasionally. She'd snap at a few people, give the hubby a dirty look, and then go back into hibernation. Totally manageable with quick recovery. Lately, though, HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. Sometimes I feel like pure evil. And admittedly, sometimes I like it. I say things that I've always wanted to say, but never previously had the cahongas to say. Take this morning for example. I was on the phone with a customer service rep for one of my credit cards. I told the woman she was incompetent - seriously, I literally told her she was incompetent. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing. God bless her if it was her first day, but she was being obnoxious and not doing her job and I told her just that. For reasons like this occurance, my hubby has done his best to prevent me from interacting with the public. AT ALL POSSIBLE. Apparently, hormonal Chandra feels it is her civic duty to seek out those who cannot do their job at peak performance levels and tell them what a failure they are.

However, as with most things, there are two sides to this sword. Sometimes I feel awful when my mouth or body language reacts without my permission. Most of the time, this involves me snapping at my innocent husband. It's happened more often that I'd ever imagined, and I've learned to do something that I've always dreaded. Swallowing my pride and apologizing. OFTEN. I've never been a fan of such. But evil Chandra makes it impossible to avoid. Too bad we're only about 1/2 way through this roller coaster ride. God love him for sticking with me.

On a completely different note, we move into our new house THIS FRIDAY!!! Over Thanksgiving holiday, we received an offer on our current house that we absolutely could not refuse - they were offering EXACTLY what we had the house listed for (i.e. no obnoxious and stressful price negotiations). There were only 2 catches - they needed our help with the closing costs, and they wanted to close December 12th (which at the time gave us TWO WEEKS). Without hesitation we said DONE and DONE. With some frantic phone calls and a little pressure on our construction manager, we seemed to have pulled it off. Both our current house and our newly constructed house will be closed on Friday. Details are still being worked out with the lenders, and our new home is getting its finishing touches as we speak. So it's not a done deal YET, but we're thisclose. When I tell you that we are excited, it's probably the biggest understatement of the century. To move to a brand new house that Kevin and I designed from the framework up, not to mention the fact that we'll be back in SPRING - just minutes away from my family and our best friends - is such an amazing feeling. I just hope nothing falls through. At this point, I don't think we'd allow anything to fall through. I'll be sure to post pictures once we're in!

Things are Looking Up...

2008-11-19T14:28:00.000-08:00

This week marked my 14-week stamp of pregnancy. 14 WEEKS! That's over 1/3 of the way through.

I'm now in my second trimester, and let me just say it is fan-freaking-tastic compared to the first. While I'm not too far into it yet, I'd imagine this is probably where most women get the whole "I love being pregnant - if I could be pregnant forever, I would!" crazy mentality. Yes, at this stage, I'm loving being pregnant. I love knowing that there is a baby - MY baby - growing in my belly. I love knowing that soon I'll start feeling it move around, if I haven't already felt it (I've had a few instances the last few days where I'd swear I have). I love that my belly is starting to pop out, even if right now it still looks like I've eaten a few too many pints of Ben and Jerry's. I honestly feel like I have been a happier and less-stressed human being since I've been pregnant (clarification: happier and less-stressed ASIDE from my insanely rampant hormone swings). HOWEVER - do I love it all so much that I would go so far to say that I'd be pregnant forever if I could? That's a big n-to-the-o. I think pregnant girls are so cute, and whenver I see one I want to run up to her and be like "I'm pregnant too! Want to be friends??" But with the cuteness, there is also a dark side. A few "for instance"s: my face seems to be going through a second round of puberty. Growing up, I've been lucky to have fairly good skin. I'd just break out here and there right before Aunt Flo came to visit every month. Now, my face is in a constant state of break-out (although actually getting better in the last couple of weeks). I've also begun feeling the aches and pains. God bless Kevin who doesn't mind giving me frequent neck, shoulder, and back rubs for temporary relief (I haven't quite talked him into the foot rubs... yet). Unfortunately the pains are constant and nagging pains that no massage or dose of Tylenol can unwind. My newest pain is one that has set up camp in about a 6 inch span across my lower back. Fantastic. Sleeping is also something that has continued to suffer. My growing belly is keeping me from sleeping face down, and I'm getting in to the danger zone of back-sleep risks (once the baby and uterus grow to a certain point, sleeping on your back can cut off circulation to baby and my lower half). So I try to stay on my sides all night, which has typically been my position of choice even pre-preggo. Because my body's posture is all out of whack due to my belly, I've started sleeping with a pillow between my legs to try to straigten me out again. It helps, but I fear that gone are the days of careless sleep. The plus is that I'm no longer waking up every 2 hours for a potty break. Most nights I'm able to make it all the way through the night without going! As the Pull-Ups commercial would sing - "I'm a big girl now!". And my main reason for not proclaiming my desire for eternal pregnancy... I miss my wine!! I miss my morning coffee!! Some people say that coffee is fine, as long as it's in very limited quantities. And once you're out of your first trimester, a glass of wine on occasion is okay. But I refuse to drink either. I am absolutely committed to doing all that I can to harbor a safe and healthy body for my baby, and if anything were to go wrong I want to know that I did everything I possibly could to prevent it. So 9-10 months without my morning coffee or wine nights with the girls is completely fine with me. Forever, though? Pshhh. No way!

As for Bun, he or she is supposed to be about the size of a closed fist now. Everything is in place, and from now on it will just be growth and development occuring. Something new this week is hair - eyebrows, eyelashes, and "baby fuzz". I've rented a baby Doppler machine for a month so that we can listen to the heartbeat as often as we'd like. I figured now would be a good time since the heartbeat is so strong and detectable, and because it was such a long stretch before my next ultrasound. We've used it a couple of times, and found the heartbeat within a minute or so each time. It's absolutely astonishing - I could lay and listen to it all day. I wish I could figure out a way to record it and upload, although I have a feeling you wouldn't be as enamored as I am with the sound ;)

**Complete sidenote - TWO DAYS until Twilight movie! Cheryl and I are so there opening night!

6 things I love

2008-11-07T15:09:00.000-08:00

I've been tagged by Cheryl to post 6 things that I love. Now, I love a lot of things. Way more than 6. But I decided to go with the frontrunners on my mind right now. So here goes... 6 things I love:

1) Jolly Ranchers. Especially the Cinnamon Fire kind. But I also love Watermelon and Apple. Basically, if it's red or green, I love it. I keep my office stocked at all times.

2) Lemons. I like to cut them in half, sprinkle salt on them, and chow down. Seriously. I used to do this obsessively when I was a child (Santa would even leave lemons in my stocking - hey, they were cheap and I was happy so it worked well for both sides). And for some reason, I've picked this habit back up during my pregnancy. Cringe if you may, but it's magically delicious. Bun and I are big fans.

3) Money. It's been said that money can't buy happiness, but watching the bills pile up sure does put me in a crappy mood! With the economy in the crapper, our current house on the market, our new house under construction, and Christmas right around the corner, we're on a bit of a budget. We're both fortunate enough to have well-paying jobs, but right now we're feeling the clench (as I'm sure the rest of yall are or have at some point, right? I mean, I'm not alone in this, right? RIGHT??). Please feel free to make a donation to the Crane fund. Wait, make that Baby Crane's College Fund. Yeah, that sounds more legit. ;)

4) Houston's "cool season". The weather right now is gorgeous!! It's so hard to be inside at work all day when it's so nice outside. Sometimes I put my chair right up against the window so it feels like I'm outside. I make sure to close my office door so the people walking by my office don't think I'm loonier than they already do. I can't wait until it's cool enough to bust out the pea coat. Oh crap, will I need to buy a bigger one because of my bulging belly? Sweet Lord, please refer back to Thing I Love #3. It's a never-ending cycle.

5) Christmas season. I love everything about it. People are cheerier. Things smell better. You can't help singing along to Christmas songs (which, btw, they've started playing at the grocery store and Target!!) You get to wear scarves and gloves (okay, for like 5 days). And my three most favorite Christmas things:
(1) wrapping presents. I try to make every present look different - different papers (yeah, we end up with like 17 nearly-full rolls of wrapping paper after it's all said and done due to this), different ribbons, label tags. For a lot of people unwrapping presents is the most fun part. For me, it's the wrapping.
(2) decorations. Last year, I pulled Kevin into the mix by having him crawl all over the roof to put lights on the house (it was our first Christmas in our very own house). I was his cheerleader from the ground, but I don't think he was quite as enthusiastic as I was about it. The inside of our house gets all done up too. Cheryl pulled me into her ornament decorating obsession, and I created a custom mantle garland that was BEAUTIFUL, if I do say so myself!
(3) Christmas commercials. The Coca Cola polar bears are the BEST!! But I love them all.

6) The Twilight Series. Totally unorginal, I know. But I'm counting down the days until the movie comes out. Am I really going to elbow pre-pubescent and high school girls out of my way to see it opening weekend? Probably. As BFF Cheryl likes to put it, "I heart Edward". He's really my baby daddy. And Kevin knows this.

So I'm supposed to tag people from here. But here's my version of the "tag" - if you read this blog (even if you found me by chance and just happen to be passing through), I tag you! And let me know if you follow through with it so I know some of your loves :)

Lost: Filter

2008-10-31T11:46:00.000-07:00

Since I don't have much to update since my 10-week post, I thought I'd just share a fun occurance that's been going on. First, though - I had my 2nd OB appointment Monday! Nothing extremely exciting like an ultrasound, unfortunately. I won't get another ultrasound (i.e. new picture of Bun to share) until week 20 when we should find out whether it's a boy or girl - exciting!!! That should be right around Christmas, so ho ho ho to me! My appointment was for some bloodwork and my annual "fun lady exam" as I like to call it. Which all of us ladies know is really no fun at all. But with the bad comes the good, and my good came in the form of a little Doppler machine that Dr. Wonderful pulled out of her bag of tricks. She wanted to get an update on Bun, and since we weren't doing an ultrasound she used this Doppler machine to find the baby's heartbeat! It took a while to find - I think even she got a little nervous because she kept saying "You're not leaving this room until we find your baby's little heart". And just when I was on the brink of tears because she couldn't find any heartbeat other than mine, there it was! No words can describe the feeling I got when I heard that little flutter of beats. It melted my heart and turned me into someone that "Chandra from 3 years ago" would've totally made fun of. I've become a softie, and this little person that I haven't even met yet has already got me wrapped around its tiny fingers.

Now, on to something a little more entertaining...

I think I've lost my filter. What filter, you ask? The filter that makes me civilized. The filter that keeps my manners in check. The filter that controls my actions and words. And I think I've lost it. Honestly, I didn't know it was gone until Kevin and I were walking through the grocery store one day and Kevin had to scold me. Yes, a true-blue, mom-style, just-short-of-a-spanking kind of scold. I think it was when I was pushing the buggy along, and a man made the mistake of crossing right in front of me. I'm pretty sure I threw my hands up in the air and said something about his blatant disregard to grocery store traffic etiquette. And once I got a little closer to him, I'm also pretty sure I made a comment about how he should've been on the soap aisle instead of the produce section because his B.O. was "stanky". Kevin snapped his head around to me, bug-eyed, and mouthed "STOP IT!" My little quips weren't exactly quiet - the man definitely heard me. Isn't that awful? It doesn't end there. I also make ugly faces at little kids that are annoying me. Or little kids that just happen to be looking at me. I "comment" a little too loud when teenage girls - hell, even grown ass women - are wearing certain items of clothing that are entirely too tight or short. I get a lot of dirty looks, but what are you going to do? You can't hit me - I'm pregnant! Learn how to dress, you disgrace to society, and there wouldn't be a problem in the first place. My non-filter doesn't just end with strangers. I've gone on and on in restaurants about whether what I ordered was absolutely amazing or whether it was not so great. Kevin's had to leave some hefty tips to counteract the fact that I've announced to anyone in earshot that the service was the worst ever. I also tell Kevin everything I feel going on in my body - even if it's just gas (sorry - I warned yall I wasn't holding anything back. Don't act like you don't get the gas...). I've woken him up at 2am just to tell him that I was uncomfortable. If that man is still standing beside me at the end of this, I swear I'll be a lucky woman.

In conclusion, if I offend you in any way or make ugly faces at your child I apologize. Just remind me to try to find my filter. I promise I'll do all I can to be on my best behavior.

Can you spare a pillow?

2008-10-20T14:53:00.000-07:00

Another week down - as of today, I am 10 weeks pregnant! It's hard to believe. I feel like it was just last week that we found out and began telling our families - and I was only about 4 weeks at that time! So ten weeks, wow. Here's the weekly breakdown:

BUN:
Big news for Bun this week - he/she's no longer an embryo. It's graduated to a fetus! What exactly that means, I don't know. I guess it's like going from a baby to a toddler. But the word "fetus" gives me the heebies, so we're just sticking with saying "baby". The baby's still growing like crazy - supposedly it'll reach about an inch and a half this week. Everything I've read compared it to the size of a prune, only without all of the shriveled-ness. Bun's also supposed to lose the "reptile" look completely this week, straightening out and losing the "tail" to look like a baby instead of a lizard (or at least babies that age looked like little lizards to me in online pictures!).

ME:
No big changes for me since the last post. I'm still very anti-meat and very pro-cheese/pasta/potato. I've noticed that I haven't had a sick day in a couple of weeks now (knock on wood). I had some minor queasiness this morning, but it was nothing compared to what I'd been through in earlier weeks. I haven't weighed myself this week, so I couldn't tell you if I've gained anything. My pants still fit (with the exception of me undoing the top button when I sit), so I take that as a sign that I'm doing alright weight-wise. There is something that I didn't touch in my last post that has taken the lead in constant preggo-symptoms. I am EXHAUSTED. All the time. Seriously. I tell everyone that if you snapped your fingers and said "Go to sleep", I would. And I'd jump at the opportunity to prove it. Please - give me an excuse to take a nap. Just 20 minutes. Make it 45. I'm begging you. It isn't uncommon for me to fall asleep in the car (as a passenger of course, silly!), even if it's just a short drive to/from my parents' house. Or to the grocery store. Or to a restaurant. I've been tempted many days to close my office door and stretch out on the floor during my lunch hour. Now that the weather's nice, I've actually gone out to my car on my lunch break, rolled the windows down, laid my seat back, and shut my eyes. And it was wonderful. And if you don't think all of these things are just a little over the top, here's the kicker. I now go to bed at 8pm. 8PM!!! I know 7 year olds that go to bed later than that! But I can't help it - I just need to sleep. And it's so wonderful. On weekends, Kevin tries to keep me up a little later, but I've yet to make it past about 10. I know, sad.

I guess the newest and most surprising addition to my baby tale is the appearance of my baby bump. By all standards, it's definitely just in the beginning phases. But when you've had a relatively flat stomach and a narrow waistline for 25 1/2 years, you definitely notice when things change in that department. I'm definitely rounder, and any hint of muscle definition that I'd worked so hard to achieve (although always covered by a nice layer of "cushion" as I liked to call it - ha) has now disappeared. It's just... round. And bloated. Funny thing is, it changes daily. One day I'm all round and poking out, and the next day I'm "flat". And I've noticed that I'm always rounder by the end of the day. I'm sure it's all relative to how much and how often I grazed throughout the day, but I know that there's a little baby floating somewhere in there that's the root of all this change. So bizarre. I'm still not used to it. Luckily, I'm still able to hide it from people who I'm just not ready to tell yet. The change in my belly is 100% obvious to me, but apparently not so much to everyone else. I guess because I know what's going on, and I'm constantly staring at my belly looking for changes. I definitely don't think I'm going to be one of those women who can go 5 months without showing. No such luck for me. But at the same time, I'm so completely awed by my changing belly. I kinda like it! Or maybe I just like the fact that I can eat and eat, watch my belly grow in response, and not feel the least bit guilty about it. hmm. Tough call.

And so continues the saga of first-time pregnancy. Every day I wake up, get dressed, and go to work. If only a pillow and blanket would fit in my purse. And a Chipotle burrito maker. And a full-time massage therapist. ...It's always nice to dream, right?...

I'll have one of everything, please!

2008-10-13T17:00:00.000-07:00

Now that the big news is out, my blog seems to have a purpose. While carrying a child inside of me for the next 7 months won't be all that is going on in my life, it will certainly be one of the more important - and certainly entertaining - storylines. So prepare yourself. I don't plan on holding much back.

Today marks my 9th week of pregnancy. However, the baby is really only 7 weeks old. Apparently, someone who failed math in school created the pregnancy timetable. Or a man came up with it. You choose. So nine weeks - holy cow.

I read every week about things that are (or should be) going on with me and the baby. Here's this week's breakdown.

BUN:

Right now it's about the size of a martini olive (oh, how I miss martinis... *tear*) and weighs about the same as a penny. It's got arms and legs with little webbed fingers and toes. It's got most major organs (coming this week: either ovaries or boy-balls!), and its brain is continuously developing. It's already got eyes, ears, and a nose. I'd give anything to be able to see its teensy face (but no ultrasound again until week 16 or 20, I think). Supposedly, the baby is beginning to move around in there. But I still won't be able to feel that for a couple of months - Bun's still way too small for me to feel now.

ME:

Food: If you didn't know I was preggo, you'd never think anything of it. Or at least that's what people are telling me. At first I gained like 7 pounds, but I think it's because I acted like a Hoover in the initial weeks - I ate anything I could put my hands on. I've never in my life felt a hunger like pregnancy hunger. I'm completely full and fine one second, and all of a sudden I become this raving maniac on the prowl for food. Do not get in my way and DEFINITELY do not try to carry a conversation with me. Unless it's about going somewhere to eat. As we're getting into the car to go to said place. Lately, though, I'd like to think that I've learned to manage the hunger a little bit better. I've actually lost a few of the pounds I initially gained because I'm not constantly camped out in our pantry at home. And I'm not having cravings, per se. Not to the point of waking up at 2am wanting a pickle, or making Kevin drive to the ice cream store 10 minutes before it closes for a banana split (like I've heard about another mom whom I absolutely adore). Not saying that will never happen, but I'm just not there yet. I am, however, at the point where there are certain things that I can eat for every single meal, every day. Pizza. Cheese fries from Chilis or Outback. Bean, cheese, and jalepeno tacos/burritos/quesadillas. Chipotle veggie burritos. Pasta. Clearly things that are not the healthiest of choices, but I'm not going to try to fight it. It's all so good!! I've noticed the one food aversion I've developed since getting pregnant is meat, especially beef. I can't eat it! I can eat bacon, shrimp, and I've been able to do a little bit of chicken. But the thought of a burger makes me queasy. Hopefully this won't last forever. On a healthier note, I drink a ton of water every day. I'm allowed a certain amount of caffeine, but I usually don't even get near the max amount. I try to keep it to just 1 Coke or tea a day. And no coffee at all, which is really hurting my mornings.

Sickness: There were about 2 1/2 weeks (unfortunately including 1 week that we were without power due to Hurricane Ike) where I was absolutely miserable with nausea. Like, must-lay-down-now (and forever if possible!), the-room-is-spinning, contents-of-my-stomach-are-sitting-in-my-throat kind of nausea. The worst. Fortunately, I haven't actually actually gotten sick. I despise throwing up. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I can go this entire time without actually doing it. Some people have asked me "Wouldn't you rather just throw up so you feel better?" And my answer every time has been a fat "NO". While, yes, I'm sure I'll feel better after I throw up, I know that the nausea will inevitably come back. So no throwing up for me, thanks. Dr. Wonderful (as I'll call her from now on) told me that I can take Dramamine for the nausea (my choices in medicine are now seriously limited), and we'd move to something stronger if necessary over the next month. But Dramamine seems to be doing the trick! I take it in the morning before I leave for work, and I keep one in my purse in case I need it later in the day. Those 2 1/2 weeks of misery seemed to have been the worst of it - I have a few bad days occasionally where I just need to lay down. Or when I have to go to the grocery store. No lie - I can smell the fish counter before I walk through the door (I'm the crazy girl literally running past the meat section plugging her nose and holding her breath - ladies aren't lying about the heightened sense of smell!!). But for the most part, I really only get nauseated now when I start to get hungry. And I've found that Starbucks Blended Lemonade works miracles for me on subsiding the nausea and holding me over until meal times.

Craziness: I now go from laughing to crying in about 2.2 seconds. It's pathetic. It can be a story, a tv show, a commercial, or just a thought in my head that triggers me. Poor Kevin was the target of my mental instability yesterday. He made a crack about a possible Halloween costume (that involved a preggo-style Chandra). It was something that pre-pregnancy, I would've just shot him a dirty look, slapped him in his man-place, or pulled the hair on his legs. Something playful, but also in the "Don't F with me, Crane" department. But Pregnant Chandra reacted completely differently. I sat there for a second, brushing my teeth, letting his comment sink in...overanalyzing. Suddenly tears began welling in my eyes, so I tried to fight them back and leaned further over the sink to try to hide my face from him. But then I lost it completely. My welled-up eyes became water fountains, and I couldn't keep my shoulders from shaking with my sobs. He came out of the closet and caught me, against all of my efforts to crawl down the sink drain and hide away. He was blind-sided. He didn't know what was going on - "are you hurt? are you sick? what's wrong??" All I could do was look at him with a mouthful of toothpaste, red-faced and out of breath from crying and say "That wasn't FUNNY!" He was heartbroken and must've apologized about 20 times in a minute. I must say that I have the most incredible husband, seriously. He has been absolutely amazing and super-supportive of all things preggo-Chandra (except, of course, for comments about Chandra-inspired Halloween costumes). This was his free pass - his one "get out of jail free" card.

So there's the bulk of my experiences as of now. Hopefully week 9 will be a good one! Just for giggles, every time you sip on your morning coffee or order a margarita with dinner, please enjoy it just a little more and know that I'm living vicariously through you ;)

Honey, can you come here?....HONEY!!!!....

2008-10-03T15:35:00.000-07:00

Kevin: What’s wrong? What does it say?
Me: *look of sheer terror, shock, and joy mixed together* There are two pink lines.

Two pink lines.

I fell to the bathroom floor in a dramatic huff, laying on my back looking at this white stick with two pink lines. Kevin just stood in the doorway to our bathroom staring at me wide-eyed with the biggest, most childish grin on his face that I’ve ever seen. It reminded me a lot of the day he proposed to me. It was one of those raw, naïve, and completely unadulterated smiles that he gets when he doesn’t even realize it. When he’s truly happy. I, on the other hand, was lying on the floor staring at this stick with what I can only imagine was a look of confusion and doubt. Am I pregnant?? No! I can’t be! Silly little white stick, you’re wrong! Something must’ve happened to this little bugger during manufacturing. It’s a false positive. It has to be. So I’m a few days late – it’s probably because of all the traveling and wacko dieting I’ve been doing these past few months.

Good thing I bought a 2-pack.

For the second test, Kevin sat there and stared at me. He was still beaming. I was busy wondering if there was a wrong way that you could pee on a stick. For the next three minutes, I sat in his lap hugging him. He knows how to make my worries disappear, even if just for three minutes. We jumped up to look at the new white stick as soon as the clock ticked past the 3rd minute. And once again, TWO FREAKIN PINK LINES! I still didn’t know what to feel – I needed more confirmation before I committed to any kind of emotion. I grabbed my purse and headed to Target to buy more tests. To make things even more interesting, this was the morning of September 12th – the Friday that Ike hit Texas. So Houston was in a mad craze. I was already worried enough about having enough water, batteries, fans and snacks to hold us over during the aftermath and inevitable power loss. And now I’m having to fight the crazies in Target just to get another pregnancy test?! I felt like I was in the middle of some bad joke. Like at any moment, Ashton Kutcher was going to jump out and tell me that I’d been Punk’d. Too bad I’m not a celebrity. This was totally real. Real people don’t get Punk’d.

I sat staring at the different kinds of pregnancy tests. I saw the 2-pack that I had used earlier that morning. Psh – stupid pink lines. I need to write that company a letter to let them know their sticks are faulty. I needed something more than just pink lines for a confirmation of this magnitude. I needed a test that would scream at me “Girl, you’re pregnant!” Unfortunately, there are no tests with audible results. So I settled for the kind that specifically said “Pregnant” or “Not pregnant”. It can’t get much clearer than that, can it? And best of all, there were no silly pink lines to interpret.

I got home, did my thing, and set the stick down for its three minute deliberation. I washed my hands and quickly stole a peak at the little results window, not really knowing what I even wanted it to say. It hadn’t even been a minute anyway – it’s probably still blank. But I had to look. Big and bold, there it was – "Pregnant". What?! This stick didn’t even need three whole minutes to tell me the big news. I grabbed the stick to show Kevin (who was outside testing the generator – he didn’t stare at me for this third test. He didn’t need that extra confirmation – he was completely satisfied with the pink lines). On my way out of the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There was a smile stretched from one side of my face to the other, and I didn’t even realize it was there. And that smile was all the confirmation in the world that I needed. No pink lines or screaming pregnancy tests could confirm more than what my smile told me.

We’re having a baby.

For about 2 ½ weeks, we tried to keep the news only to ourselves and immediate family. We both agreed that we wanted to go to the doctor to make sure the tests were right and everything looked normal before we announced it to everyone. Monday we met with my doctor, and everything was fine and healthy. My doctor is amazing, too. She answered my ridiculous questions, and she told us that the baby and I were perfect. Seriously, who can’t love a woman who tells you you’re perfect 6 or 7 times in a few minutes??

Since right now it’s just a little blob hanging out in my uterus (and we won’t know whether it’s a boy or girl until around week 20 – I’m week 7) we’ve decided to lovingly call the little thing “Bun”. Yes, as in “bun in the oven”.

Here’s Bun’s first photo:

Construction Update!

2008-09-06T14:54:00.001-07:00

A couple of months ago, Kevin and I decided to build a new home. Since that time, we've chewed our fingernails down waiting and watching the progress as our house came to life. I've been terrible about posting updates on the progress (which, really, I'm not sure if anyone is even interested - but humor me if you aren't, ok? :D ). So I've decided to post some pictures that will bring you to where it stands today.

First, our lot was cleared of trees and debris:

A few weeks later, the form was laid and plumbing was installed:

Two weeks ago, the house was framed up (This was probably the most exciting part, because we could actually see our house. And we knew that everything would go quicker from that point on!):

Today we drove by to check the progress, and here's what we saw:

Of course, we had to get out of the car and go walk through it! Now that there are exterior walls up, my fear of falling out of the second story to the ground outside was minimalized. Notice that I'm not saying my fear's gone, though - surely if anyone were to fall through a wall of an unfinished house, it would be me. The inside of the house is still mostly just studs, but there is a sturdy foundation of plywood on the second story so we were able to walk through the entire house. I'll post more pictures once the sheetrock is up and rooms are actually visible. Right now it just looks like a random maze of studs for anyone that doesn't know the floorplan.

For me, however, it's a dream come true. When I look at it, I already see each room finished and decorated. I see friends over - the guys in the gameroom playing pool and the girls sitting around the kitchen island drinking wine. I can't wait! Home sweet home, we're just a few months away now!

Airport Ponderings

2008-09-05T12:33:00.001-07:00

Sitting in the airport in Charleston, WV, and here are a few of my random thoughts at the moment (mostly travel-related, as that seems to encompass my life lately):

1) "Living out of a suitcase" is something often spoken by celebreties in magazines. Therefore, that phrase somehow connotates a certain amount of "glamour" and "excitement" in my mind. Um, not anymore. I've been living out of my suitcase for nearly the past month now, and glamourous and exciting it is not. Perhaps if I were staying at the Ritz or Four Seasons. In a suite. With a teleportation device that will zap in my hubby and pups (and girlfriends, of course, for girls' nights!) at the command of "Beam me up, Scotty!"

2) Hurricane season is a little more scary when you own a house. Hurricane seasons when I lived with my parents or in an apartment were exciting - Hey! Hurricane party!. While hurricane parties are still totally a part of the plan, I find that I'd be drinking more to forget that my roof might blow away at any second instead of "yay! it's a hurricane! woohoo!" Fortunately, no hurricanes have come through Houston in the past few years. None of substance, anyway. Yet I have somehow managed to be in the line of fire for Dolly, Gustav, and currently the one riding up the east coast. Forgot her name.

3) The man that just sat down next to me at our airport gate stinks a little bit. A cross between old people, body odor, and whatever it is that he's munching on. I am suddenly very aware and thankful that I am on a Continental jet going home (the plane with 2 seats one one side and 1 seat on the other) and I am on the side with the single seat!

4) I am still completely obsessed with the Twilight series I've been reading (see previous post). I'm now in the middle of the 4th book, and I literally have to make myself put it down so that I will go to sleep. And also so that I'll still have some book left to read on my flights home. I am a little upset (ok a lot upset) that once I finish this book, the series is over. Done. Finished. Gone. Well, for now. There's the movie in November and rumors of a book from Edward's point of view to be published, but when?? What is going to hold over my Edward addiction in the mean time? Do I start reading the series over again, or would that just be crazy? To keep from going overboard, I've promised the books to my sister so that she can join the obsession.

Well, there you have it. My current random thoughts at the moment. So now I'll put away my computer, flip through a few magazines I bought in the goodie shop (an obsessive airport habit of mine), and then people-watch until I board the plane and can tear into my book again.

My Travels with Edward Cullen

2008-08-15T13:24:00.000-07:00

Over the past month, my job has kept me on the road. Monday through Friday I have been out of town, visiting my company’s various facilities in places like Corpus Christi, Shreveport, and Kilgore (and coming soon – Utah and West Virginia). Living out of my suitcase for this time has created some pretty bad habits on my part. My traveling coworkers and I have no choice but to eat out for every meal, and then we usually retreat back to our own hotel rooms when we’re done for the day. For me, this was much appreciated. Because of the line of work that we’re doing at these facilities, all I want to do at the end of the day is take a shower and crash. However, my diet and exercise routines have fallen to the bottom of my “to do” list each day. And I started to see the effects of it almost immediately. I decided after week 2 of traveling that I needed to break out of my bad travel habits. For lunch, we all decided that we’d find somewhere with healthy foods – salads, veggies, Subway… things like that. At least we’d be eating one healthy meal a day. And I made it my personal goal to hit the hotel gym (if you can really call a treadmill, bike, elliptical, and free weights in one room a “gym”) every night. Well in week three I realized that I wanted to get a few books to read while I was gone – it would give me something to do while we were driving/flying to facilities, while I was working out, and something to do instead of rotting my brain with reality TV every night.

I happened to mention my plan to Cheryl one day while we were hanging out by her pool. “Oh my god – you have to read the Twilight series!” were the exact words that came out of her mouth. I was intrigued – Cheryl and I usually have similar tastes in such things.
Here’s the jist of the conversation that followed:
Me: Never heard of it, what’s it about?
Cheryl: It’s a series of books about a girl who falls in love with a vampire and all of the things they go through trying to be together.
Me: *trying to hold a straight face at the thought of reading a vampire book – I mean, really Cheryl??* Yeeeaaahh. Sounds great – I’ll keep an eye out for it next time I go to Barnes and Noble.
Cheryl: They’re really good – seriously.
Me: Yeah. Mmmhmm. Okay.

While I love to read (though I don’t do it nearly as often as I’d like), I’m not at all a sci-fi book kinda gal. I am way into some sci-fi movies but I’ve never been one for alien/vampire/space wars books. Not my thing – no thanks.

So I go to Barnes and Noble on a quest for a good book to read during my week in Kilgore. Nothing jumped out at me. So, with a sigh, I pull out my cell phone and call Cheryl. “Hey friend. Who’s the author of those books you were telling me about?”…”Stephanie Meyer – seriously, they’re good books! They’re on the best seller list so they’re probably somewhere in the front of the store”…”Okay I’m going to try to find them.” I was desperate for a good book, so I put myself at the mercy of my best friend’s recommendation. Lo and behold, front and center of the bookstore there is this big display with all 4 books in the series. I picked up the first one, read the back cover, became slightly intrigued, and headed for the checkout. I only bought the first book, just in case I couldn’t get into it. The book sat on my kitchen counter all weekend, and then in my suitcase for the first 2 days of my trip. Then I decided to stick to my plan – Tuesday night I grabbed the book and headed for the hotel “gym”. It took me a little while (although part of that was probably me fighting off my inner voice reminding me that I was reading a vampire love story), but I became hooked. I couldn’t stop reading – I read until my legs couldn’t go anymore on the treadmill, read in the elevator back to my room, and read until I made myself put it down at midnight. I read it almost the entire 3 ½ hour car ride back to Houston. I had about 150 pages left by the time I got back home Wednesday. I tried to tell myself that I’d finish it that night – once I got in bed. I had a lot to do once I got home, and I wouldn’t do any of it if I opened that book. So I finished everything as quickly as I could, spent some quality time with my doggies, and got in bed at 7:30 that night. JUST SO I COULD READ!! Talk about obsession, right?

Without getting into the plot (because you could easily google “Twilight” and get tons of information about it), let’s just say that this vampire – Edward Cullen – completely turned me upside down. I hadn’t felt so strongly about a character since Ryan Gosling in “The Notebook” (hello, lover – shwing!). I was absolutely enthralled in everything about him. I’m such a sucker. I am probably EXACTLY the kind of person that the publishing company was hoping to rope in. And now that it’s been 2 days since I finished the book, I have been frantically trying to figure out when I can get to a Barnes and Noble to pick up the other 3 books. Needless to say, I’m going after work today. So I have a feeling I’ll be spending my weekend with Edward Cullen ;)

*Thanks Cheryl for an incredible recommendation. I’ll never doubt you again. Unless you tell me to go buy a love story about a werewolf. ;)

A Broken Heart

2008-07-14T15:16:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday night, I felt like my world was crashing down around me.

All within about 10 minutes, my heart broke and I was more scared in those moments than I have been in a very long time. My dog Abbi, who has been like my child and my shadow for the last 6 years, was having a seizure. A serious seizure. She's had little ones twice before where she shakes for maybe a minute and then trots off like nothing happened. But this was full blown. Frothing at the mouth, chomping, losing conciousness, and she stopped breathing a few times. I felt like my child was literally dying in my arms (for those of you with pets, you understand. For those with actual kids who may be rolling their eyes at that, sorry that you don't understand).

I've taken Abbi to her regular vet before when she was having the small seizures. Without running any tests or bloodwork, the vet looked me in the eye and told me they weren't seizures. She didn't know what they were, but they weren't seizures. Probably just "episodes". And I believed her. She's a vet, so she knows what she's talking about, right?

Bullshit.

After Abbi's large seizures, I was able to educate myself in just a few minutes that those small "episodes" that I trusted my vet's judgement on were, in fact, small seizures. It is eating me up that we could've put her on anti-seizure medicine MONTHS ago to control the seizures and possibly prevent them from progressing. That's neither here nor there now. But it still eats me up. And we're finding a new vet. One that may possibly know what the hell he/she is talking about. But I digress...

When Abbi's seizure kept getting worse and lasted more than 5 minutes, Kevin and I jumped in the truck with her and headed for the animal ER. I was so scared that I couldn't even cry. I just wanted to hold her and talk to her, afraid that it might be my last time to hold her. I didn't know what to expect. The ER admitted her right away and kept her overnight for observation. She had 3 more seizures that night while she was there (thank God in the hands of capable animal medics who could medicate her) and the next day we were referred to an animal neurologist for further testing. AN ANIMAL NEUROLOGIST. Who knew, right? She was admitted into the intensive care unit there and kept for three days. I didn't know what to do with myself while she was there. But each morning, I talked to her neurologist and got updates...
morning 1 - her blood tests came back perfectly normal
morning 2 - her MRI showed that she had significant swelling and fluid buildup on the right side of her brain. she's not responding out of her left eye, her left side is showing weakness, and she's turning in tight circles. All signs of brain damage. It was highly recommended that I go visit her, which of course I was there as soon as I could hang the phone up and get in my car.
morning 3 - still showing all signs of weakness, but they wanted to release her in hopes that being home would help. I picked her up immediately after work, beaming with happiness that my baby was coming back home!

To make a long story a little shorter, Abbi is definitely improving. She has been seizure free for one week, she's no longer turning in circles, and her left side is slowly getting stronger. She still cannot see out of her left eye, but she's definitely adjusting really well to the disability. She trots around the back yard, cocks her head at me when I talk to her, and plays with Baxter again. And she did her absolute favorite thing last weekend - she swam! Granted, she wasn't the little fish that she once was, but I could tell that she was so happy.

We still have a long road ahead of us. We don't know if she'll ever be like she used to be or if her sight will ever fully come back. There are lots of pills to manage daily, and lots of heart-dropping moments when she even slightly twitches. But she's home. And she's happy. I wouldn't have it any other way.

For those who have never seen Abbi and been graced with all of her good kisses, here's a picture to put a furry face to the name:

*I am just realizing that I left a few very important names out of this blog.
Since Monday morning (1 week ago) Kevin's been at work offshore. He didn't want to go, but we decided it was best since at the time we weren't sure how long she'd be kept in the ICU. He called to check on her many times every day - I know it was eating him up that he couldn't be here once she got home.
My mom and dad have been amazing. Mom came with me to pick Abbi up from the ER and drove us straight to the neurologist. Abbi was still in pretty bad shape, so mama drove while I hugged on Abbi and tried to keep her calm. She also met me back at the neurology center when I went to visit Abbi Tuesday. We were both afraid that they were calling me in to see her to give me bad news, and she wanted to be there for me if that really was the case. Since I have to work during the day and Kevin's gone, mama has come over every morning to take Abbi and Bax back to her house in case Abbi has a relapse and she brings them back in the evening. I have been so fortunate to have her do that for me - I don't know that many other people care enough to do something like that. It's not like I'm right around the corner from her house!
The day I had to leave Abbi at the ICU/neurology center, I was a wreck. I didn't know what to do with myself. Then at 5pm, I got a phone call. From Cheryl. Checking on Abbi. And then 20 minutes later, she was at my front door with a bottle of wine. For the first time in about 24 hours, I stopped crying. I was able to get my mind off what was going on, sit back with a glass of wine, and have a normal conversation with one of my favorite people in the entire world. I don't know what I'd do without her.

New Home!

2008-07-06T16:25:00.000-07:00

Today, Kevin and I turned in our final paperwork for our new house! We meet with the builder in a few weeks to go over final details and sign off on the blueprint, and then they start building it up! We left the sales office, got in the car, and both started unleashing our excitement. I think that if we weren't restricted by the ceiling and doors of my car, we both would've bounced all the way home.

It's so awesome to think that a house is being built exactly how Kevin and I want it (well, our budget snapped us back into reality on a few things, but you get what I'm saying..). We have picked out everything that will go into the house - how incredible is that?

Now comes the tough part - sitting for about 4 months watching it come to life. Right now, it's a piece of land overgrown with trees and weeds. But (hopefully!) by the beginning of December it will be our home. Our home. It makes me smile to think about it.

XXV

2008-05-15T16:40:00.000-07:00

Think back to when you were 7 or 8 years old and had a birthday coming up. Did you count down the days until that magical day like I did? My birthday is in May, but you could ask me in January “How many days until your birthday?” and I would probably, without a second of hesitation, respond “132 days!” I’m not joking. I counted days until my birthday like I counted days until Santa came. It was my day.

Oh how things change.

I used to think my parents were crazy because they didn’t go hog wild on their birthdays. My sister and I would get them cards and presents and maybe go to dinner. And I kept thinking “Why aren’t they more excited?”. It just didn’t make sense. …I get it now... As I’ve gotten older, birthdays are just less important to share with the world. I’m perfectly happy with a “happy birthday” kiss from Kevin in the morning, spending time with my family, and going out to dinner. Granted, all day in the back of my mind I can imagine a little Princess Chandra wearing a tiara and holding a wand saying “This is my day – it’s my birthday!” But I don’t feel the need to proclaim it anymore.

Except this year.

I turned 25 on May 7th. I half-way expected myself to panic as if I were turning 50, but it’s good so far. After all, I can now legally rent a car AND rent a condo in Destin for Spring Break. *yeah, too bad I no longer have Spring Breaks.
…But I digress… Cheryl and I both turned 25 within a week of each other. So we decided that “the world surviving 25 years of Cheryl and Chandra madness” merited a party. And Cheryl and Saul just bought their first house – which is totally cute and homey and has a POOL – so of course they are dying to show everyone their new crib! So we are having our birthday party at their new house.

It’s going to be phenomenal – see you there.

Catching up...

2008-03-27T14:51:00.000-07:00

So I realized that is has been over a MONTH since I last posted anything. And I feel like so much has happened. So put your reading hat on (all 2 of you who probably read my blog..), because here I go.

1. A month ago I was packing my bags to go to Malaysia, dreading the flight, the food, and the jetlag. Well the flight was long, the airplane food was edible, and the jetlag disappeared as soon as I saw my hubby's face on the other side of the customs door at the Kuala Lumpur airport. The trip was a-ma-zing. Not only was spending a few days with Kevin the most incredible feeling, but Kuala Lumpur was a really really cool place to visit. It's this huge business hub of a city - there's skyscrapers, monorails, and people everywhere. Our hotel was right in the middle of it all - with a strip of cute little cafes and bars right across the street. We did the two things that I really wanted to do - the Batu Caves (google them - they're awesome) and Chinatown. The caves were gorgeous. We had to climb 272 steps to get into them, and once you're in you feel like you're in this little corner of Heaven. They were spectacular. And to boot, there were wild MONKEYS! EVERYWHERE! Sa-weet. And Chinatown by far surpassed every expectation that I had. My top picks that I brought home were Coach, D&G, and Dior. I also brought home some sweet negotiating skills that I had to muster up to get all of my bags. LOVED IT! And of course, spending time with Kevin was what I ultimately went for. We were inseperable. Having been apart for so long, it almost felt like we were getting to know each other all over again. I can't even say how wonderful it felt to just hold his hand again. I could go on and on about spending time with him, but I wouldn't put you through that (and Cheryl, I wouldn't put you through that again.. haha). Here are a few pictures...

The Caves

Getting our Malaysian drink on..

2. Cheryl and I went to the rodeo! A friend of hers is on the HLSR committee, and we were like VIP all night. And what made it that much better was that Clay Walker was on stage that night. Hearing him sing "She Likes it in the Morning" totally made my night/week/month/everything. If you've never heard that song, find it and listen to it. So sweet. And it was Cheryl's first rodeo experience, so we definitely did it up big. And by "Chandra and Cheryl doing it up big" that means: (a) actually going OUT, (b) getting dressed up in something other than tshirts and flip flops, and (c) a constant flow of libations (ps libations is my new favorite word). Cute cowboys, beer readily available, and live music = a good time in my book.

3. My sister's baby Bradly is growing every single day. She's 3 months old now, and she's gorgeous! Since I'm in a picture-posting mood, here she is in her Easter dress last Sunday! 4. The biggest thing going on with me now is that Kevin comes home in 2 days. TWO DAYS! After two months of being gone. I can't even imagine how weird it's going to be for him to get back. Weird in a good way, of course. I mean he's been living in an apartment with 3 other guys, he hasn't eaten true American food (they have American chain restaurants over there, but they are not even close to tasting the same), he hasn't driven, he hasn't seen his dogs, hasn't hung out with his friends, and he hasn't seen his family. I'm so ready to get him back home. I've cleaned our house top-to-bottom (for about the 16th time since he's been gone - it's one of my coping mechanisms), and I went to the grocery store today to stock up on some of his favorite things. I'd say I did okay with keeping my emotions in check, too. I've only had a few major breakdowns, and I managed to keep them private. Except for one, which unfortunately happened after many libations while Saul and Cheryl were over. Sorry, guys. I'm really sorry. Think of it as a bonding experience ;) A few positive personal things have happened while Kevin's been away though. I've realized that I can take care of a HOUSE - bills, lawn mowing, changing light bulbs - all by myself. And I've realized that me and Kevin are capable of being seperate for 2 months on opposite ends of the world (not like we really had a choice, and not that I'd ever volunteer to do it ever again). And I've lost 13 pounds! Go me! I'm definitely not there yet, but I'm feeling much better (and healthier) than I was feeling 2 months ago at the start of my bikini-body-boot-camp.

So that's what's going on with me. Not everything, but I'm tired of typing and lord knows you're tired of reading about my life. Hopefully it won't take another month for me to post something else. We'll see!

Let the rain fall down...

2008-02-15T20:30:00.000-08:00

Kevin's been gone a little over a week now. I must say that I think I've handled it relatively well... for an overemotional female. I have only had 2 emotional breakdowns where I thought the world was falling down around me because he just wasn't here. And that's pretty good in my book. I was expecting 1 or 2 breakdowns a day. Yes, I love my hubby and I feel like a crazy person when he's not here. Last weekend was hard. Really hard. I pretty much became a hermit. Kevin had been gone for not even 3 days, and it hit me. Hard. I didn't leave the house. I cleaned, I mowed the lawn, and I weeded (weeded?! Is that a word?) my flowerbed. And a few martinis Saturday night helped me through. I survived. Last night was another tough night. Because it was Valentine's Day, you ask? Not at all. We don't celebrate that day - I slipped a card into his suitcase and he sent me flowers. We've never done any big she-bangs for that day. It's just silly. So it was a normal day for us. I don't know what it was. I just missed him. But I cried, got it out of my system, and got on with it. There will be more of those days, I'm sure. But I do my best to wake up happy each morning as if it were any other day.

With Kevin gone, I'm realizing more than ever that Abbi and Bax (our kiddos) are extremely protective of me. Yes, believe it or not, these hyperactive self-involved dogs go through some sort of change while he's gone. It's so weird. Even with Kevin here, I'm the "dog lady". I love dogs. With all of my heart. If I see any dog (stray or friend's dog), I'm in love. And 100% attached. Cheryl calls me the dog whisperer part deaux. But back to my babies. With Kevin gone, I'm realizing that they are forever by my side. And there are two of them, which can make for pretty crowded couch/bed quarters at times. Bax becomes my lap dog. No matter what I'm doing - eating, drinking, or just sitting - he's in my lap. And won't get up. Abbi becomes the watchout. She sits in the hallway or in the middle of the living room rotating positions, watching each door. It's so strange, but so comforting at the same time. If you don't have a dog, you probably don't understand. But it's like they know Kevin's gone and they have to look out for me. And it's nice.

*just a side note... I won week one of the weight loss challege. Chandra - 1; parents - 0. $50 in my pocket. SHOW ME THE MONEY!!!

Here's some pics of our kids, for the 3 people on this planet that have never met them.

Abbi - if she's not smiling (seriously, she shows teeth and all), she's cocking her head at you like this.

Baxter - he's usually off in his own world, but he's a hunk of love.

Bikini Body, Here I Come!... Maybe

2008-02-13T20:02:00.000-08:00

It's coming up on that time of year. All girls know it, and 99% of girls dread it. Bikini season. I used to LOVE bikini season.... when I was a size 6. Laying out by the pool, going to the beach - LOVED it! I have always been self concious of my body, but never so self concious that I wasn't terrified to slip on a bathing suit.

Until about 3 years ago.

What the hell happened?! Beer, pasta, and falling into the trap of knowing Kevin loves me no matter what I look like. That's what happened. ugh.

But this year, I'm kicking it into high gear. My ass is in the initial phases of pure hell. All for the sake of getting in shape and getting healthy. But for now, my sole motivation are those little bikinis that have been so wonderfully hidden away in their own drawer for the past year. Those little monsters that have brought me so much angst, depression, and shame for the past 3 years.

So I challenged my parents to a weight loss challenge. My parents have been working out together for the past few months trying to get themselves in better shape. And it's been working for them! So I knew they were my best competition. Every week, we're pooling $25 per person (that's a $75 pot per week for you non-mathletes). The one who loses the biggest percentage of weight loss (can you tell I watch Biggest Loser?) get's the pool of money for the week. We started last Friday, so our first official weigh-in is this Friday morning. I have been sticking 100% to my Nutrisystem (I'm a complete advocate for this program, by the way) and working out every day. My eliptical machine is back in motion and my abs are killing me from the crunches. I'm doing this, and I'm doing it the right way.

Like a maniac though, I weigh myself every other time I walk by my scale (which I NEVER used to do out of sheer terror of what it would show). All weekend through yesterday... nothing. No change. I felt so defeated. But today after I got home from work, I stepped on with my eyes closed. I didn't want to look for fear of seeing that same God awful number. But, oh holy hell!! I dropped 3 pounds. Out of nowhere! Now 3 pounds... eh, not a huge feat. But it's progress ;)

I would love nothing more than to be 15 lbs lighter for my trip to see Kevin. That's my short-term goal. It's 90 degrees out there, and I have no doubt I will be in a bathing suit at some point or another. And it would thrill me to show him that I've been working my ass off to be a hot wife for him. And for me, too!

We'll see. Think skinny, small(er) ass thoughts for me. I'll need them ;)

Fun times

2008-02-06T18:39:00.000-08:00

We booked our hotel for Malaysia last night! So everything’s set! I had this hotel that I was in love with all lined up – I had the vacation package picked out, my massage all but booked, and pictures in my mind of me and Kevin laying out by the pool. It was an awesome hotel. So yesterday Kevin calls to finalize all of the reservations and give them our credit card information. Bad news. They’re renovating the entire hotel. It’s still open, but they are graciously notifying guests that there have been numerous complaints of noise – in other words, “You might want to stay somewhere else”. Very very cool of a hotel to do. So we booked at another equally amazing hotel and all is right with the world again. Except tomorrow Kevin leaves. *tear*

Last weekend was great. Kevin wanted to spend time with the gang (i.e. – Cheryl and Saul) before he left. So Saturday night we went to BW3’s and then went to our house for another installment of Crane/Keene/Wittmann game night – girls vs. boys, of course. Squabble led to drunk Dance Dance Revolution which I totally need to post pictures of. Stories don’t do our dDDR sessions justice. We even got Mr. Kevin Crane in on the action, although he doesn’t quite share the enthusiasm that Cheryl, Saul, and I have for it.
Sunday morning we went to the Houston Auto Show and got a first-hand look at our future car – the new Chevy Camaro. Seeing this car – Bumblebee from Transformers – in person was amazing. I’m not a Transformers fanatic and couldn’t have cared less about what cars they used in the movie, but seeing the Camaro up close made me catch my breath a little. I fell completely in love with it – it’s going to look beautimus in our driveway next year. Moving on… after the Auto Show we went over to Cheryl and Saul’s apt for the Superbowl. Cheryl’s parents were there, which is always fun times. Too bad we didn’t make Jello shots – next time, Mrs. KJ, next time. And Keith came over to hang out, too. Saul played chef and cooked up some fantastic football food, and we watched the game. None of us particularly cared who won (once the Packers were out, me and Kevin were pretty much destroyed), and yet we all were yelling and pointing at the tv by the time the game was over. While it hurts me a little to support an alumni of the Ole Miss football team (Go Gold!), I must give props to Eli Manning. Sweet game, dude.

I'm leaving on a jet plane...

2008-01-29T18:16:00.001-08:00

Well, it’s official. I’m going to Malaysia for a week - I just booked my airline ticket (which was a feat in itself. Without sounding like a complete bigot, I officially cannot understand people with Korean accents and they cannot understand me with my southern accent. I was turned away by not one but TWO Korean Air phone reservation agents. Fan-f'in-tastic. *vent*). Anway - Kevin will be over there for about 2 months for an engineering school, and I just can’t be away from him for 2 months. I can barely stand it when he visits his parents for a week. So I’m packing a bag (or 3) and taking my non-Malaysian-speaking, doesn’t-fly-well-with-others self 10,000 miles across the Pacific to Malaysia. I’m going right in the middle of his 7 week trip, which is perfect timing because that week is his birthday. And I’m pumped. And totally nervous at the same time. This is the first international trip that I’ve (a) had to plan completely on my own and (b) had to endure the flights ALONE. For as much as I fly, I am a HORRIBLE flier. I get antsy after about an hour, I fantasize about how great it would be if I were sitting in first class, and I always get stuck sitting next to one of three kinds of people:
(1) the talker. I do not know you. I do not want to know what you do for a living (unless it somehow benefits me), and I do not want to hear about your life for the next 20 hours as we share this excruciatingly long flight together. Unless you are a cute little old person. Or unless you are famous (in which case you would be in first class or in your own plane). Otherwise a polite “excuse me” every few hours as we have to climb over each other to get to the restroom will suffice for our in-flight conversation.
(2) The head-bobbing-sleeper/snorer/drooler. To me, sleepers are the perfect neighbors to have on a flight. However, I am a head-bobbing-sleeper on planes, and having two next each other is a safety hazard as we may eventually collide. And, well, snoring and drooling are pretty self-explanatory.
(3) The stinker. For some reason, stinkers generally manage to sit in very close proximities of me on planes (and yes, I’ve checked a few times just to make sure it’s not really me). It’s just not right. Or fair.

I have another in-flight concern. I have had the luxury of flying first class on a couple of occasions and have been exposed to the wonderfulness that is first class airplane food. It looks like food, smells like food, consists of more than a cold sandwich with chips, and you get your own salt and pepper shakers (with REAL silverware!). However, the majority of my flying experiences have been in coach. And call me a food snob, but I cannot eat the food they hand out 95% of the time. Just the smell of it makes my stomach turn a little. Especially when everyone opens their mayo packets to put it on the above-mentioned sandwiches. *random fact: If you know me, you know how much I absolutely cannot stand the smell of mayo.* In summation, I generally cannot handle airplane food. Therefore I plan on raiding a vending machine before I board the plane. 20 hours living on chips and peanut butter crackers… nutritious and delicious.

So as sad as I am that Kevin leaves me next week for TWO MONTHS, knowing that I will be seeing him a few weeks after he leaves (and getting a vacation at the same time!) makes it a little less unbearable.

The Cranes take on Malaysia… this should be entertaining.

Tag!

2008-01-26T08:42:00.000-08:00

Here's how you play: Once you've been 'tagged', you have to write a blog of 10 weird/random/ habits/goals/facts about yourself. At the end choose 10 people to be tagged , listing their names and WHY you chose them. Don't forget to leave them a comment and tell them to read your blog. You can't tag the person who tagged you, since you can't tag me back - let me know when you've posted your blog so I can see your answers.

Here's the fire that was lit under my ass to start a blog. Cheryl tagged me to come up with 10 interesting/random facts/habits/whatever about myself. Read and learn, friends. Chances are, you probably already know most of them. :)

1. I am quite possibly one of the most sarcastic people walking this planet.

2. I am totally in love with my dogs. They can do no wrong. Well, that’s an exaggeration. They will jump all over you, lick you in the mouth, and possibly pee on you when you walk through the door. And they have no concept that I just spent $30 on new toys in PetSmart – their mission in life is to destroy that $30 worth of toys as soon as I take them out of the PetSmart bag. Regardless, they are my children, and I will lay you out before you have a chance to hurt them.

3. My sister and I have a relationship that only my sister and I can understand. We can look at each other and just blink a certain way and know what the other one is thinking. I consider myself very lucky to have that.

4. I love Target. I go there regularly to see if they have gotten new shoe shipments. As much as I walk around in heels, I cannot justify spending 50 or 60 bucks on every pair of heels that I own just to scuff them up and wear the heel tips down. I have a few expensive pairs of heels, but I can find shoes at Target that are just as cute for about 1/3 the price.

5. I have an elliptical machine in my study that has not been used since before my wedding – 9 months ago. I swear I’m going to dust it off this month. Or next month.

6. I am OCD about unplugging things and turning things off. I’ve been halfway to work many times and turned around because I thought I left my coffee maker on, my curling iron plugged in, or the back door unlocked. And 98% of the time, I turned the coffee maker off, unplugged my curling iron, and locked the door when I left the first time. But I feel like I HAVE to check.

7. I love those days where you can open all the house windows, crank up the radio, fire up the grill, sit back with a beer and have a patio/pool party day. Those are the best.

8. I do not feel the need to go out all the time. It doesn’t phase me a bit to not have a story that begins with “Last night, at (insert bar name), I was so drunk…”. I am just as happy to hang out at home and drink with Kevin and whoever wants to come over. I’m not a homebody, I just don’t need to be in a bar to say I had a good time – not that there’s anything wrong with you if you do.

9. I am obsessed with time. I map time out based on how long it takes to do things. For instance, I know how many minutes it takes for me to brush my teeth, do my hair and makeup, get dressed, and get my coffee ready for work. So I can sleep until the absolute last minute possible. And if I really need that one.more.snooze., I pull my hair up for the day to make up the time difference. I’m crazy, I know.

10. I am a Dance Dance Revolution machine. However, only in my living room either alone or with Cheryl and Saul. With the game set on extra-extra-beginner level. I could never EVER do it in an arcade. Those 10 year olds would put me to shame. But I bet those 10 year olds don’t have jazz hands like I do.

So that's it. 10 things about me. Chances are, you still think I'm just as crazy as you thought I was before you read them ;)

Now to tag people:
Kaci - consider it something to do when Bradly's napping

Az - because a crazy Mexican definitely has 10 interesting things to say about herself

Sabrina - because you definitely have some wild stories to tell

Vero - because I'm not sure that you'd do it, but consider this a challenge

Kevin - I know you won't do it, but I'm hoping me saying you won't do it will make you do it

Matt W - Because you like talking about yourself. And we like listening :)

Heather - Because you have a totally different perspective on life, now having a 8 month old boy

*Well, that's only 7 people. Oh well. Tag away!