Week 14 - Surrepticiously Writing at Work

Is it awful if I'm kind of sick of being pregnant? I feel like I'm stuck with some of the first trimester suckiness still, and don't have the fun of second trimester yet. Yes, it's only been a few days, but nausea seriously blows. It's gotten to the point that I feel overwhelmed whenever it comes up. It's not like it's as frequent as a month or two ago, but when it happens, I feel almost... defeated... all over again, because I can't figure out why it's happening and I don't have enough of an appetite to always eat on schedule. Add in a little stress from daily life and I turn into a pile of goo throwing a tantrum like a toddler. "My tummy hurts and I'm hungry and I don't know what I want *pouty face pouty face pouty face*."

I think what makes it so awful is I expected this to be over. Yes I have energy, but it's still uncomfortable to walk at a pace that even qualifies as mild exercise. Old people are passing me in the hallways at work, and my body is getting restless. I'm tempted to try to find a maternity swimsuit and try swimming, since the movements are generally pretty gentle and non-jarring. I haven't taken another shot at yoga either, for fear of hurting my sciatica.

Adding to my generally tantrum-iness is being kind of emotionally charged lately. Things that just might make me slightly annoyed for a second turn into A BIG DEAL, and afterwards I look back and think, "what the hell was that about?". Likewise, anything that makes me happy makes me practically giddy with joy, which is nice sometimes, but seriously, do I need to get so excited seeing commercials that make me smile? Is the Allstate guy pretending to be a hot girl with a pink headband that funny? Apparently it is. This is fine when I'm happy, but I don't want to feel like I'm PMS-ing all the time, tearing up at the commercials with little kids at Disneyworld or getting really offended because I misunderstand what someone means with an off-hand comment. And it will probably be even worse when the Christmas commercials start-up. [Side note #1: I have a really intense love of all things Christmas related which I attribute to my mom singing carols all the time because she didn't speak German and could only listen to the military radio station for so long. I should keep this in mind before getting an addiction to Justin Timberlake, lest my baby be born wanting to bring sexy back.]

Anywho, on the plus side, my hair has been growing like crazy, so much so that it now falls below my bra. So Friday I am going to cut off 8-10 inches and donate it. I will still have enough to do a ponytail, because my hair is just that freakin long. My nails are also growing a lot, except the one that was torn. So now I have nine awesome looking nails and a kind of stubby one that refuses to grow. Actually it doesn't refuse to grow, it just refuses to grow from the shortest edge, so it looks really bizarre, like I try to make the sides of my nails longer than the middle. Does this even make sense? Of course not. Because I am strange. Just like my nails. Also, I'm still feeling Frisky. Perhaps even more so. But now with better boobs! Yes honey, you got a new and improved model with a pending upgrade to "family". Happy birthday! [Side note #2: it really is his birthday today. I'm pleased to note that I had just enough energy to go shopping for gifts on Sunday and make a chocolate cheesecake yesterday. We'll see how I do on the butternut squash risotto tonight. If all else fails, I can just give him extra cheesecake and put some whipped cream and chocolate sauce on top. (Not like that, you sickos. And I thought *I* had a dirty mind.)]

Apparently babies don't grow consistently enough after the first trimester to describe them as fruit anymore. In all likelihood, there's probably something that roughly describes the size, but it's in a range of 3.25 to 4 inches. I'll go with avocado size, which is probably closer in shape than any of the round fruits have been. Hair is starting to grow (I'm hoping red like Daddy), and Little One can start to hear sounds. Whether this means just my heartbeat and stomach gurgles, or my lovely rendition of the entire soundtrack from Avenue Q, I'm not sure, but I should probably be a little careful about too much "The Internet is for Porn" and the aforementioned Mr. Timberlake. Now, who wants to join me for a pre-Halloween round of carols? No takers? Really? Y'all are no fun. *pouty face pouty face pouty face*