Hormonal Much?

Just a leeetle bit perhaps.
In my Internet wandering today a few blogs have rubbed me the wrong way, and I need to tell the whole world about it, yet still be vague.
I read this one person, who is rather negative and it drives me batty. She's a great writer, but she whines about how horrible her life is, a lot. I should take her off of my favourites, shouldn't I? (I did take her off of my Facebook friend's list though.) Anyhow she's seeing a therapist and was given a diagnosis which she disagrees with, and yet still takes the drugs. It confuses me.
Someone in one of my online groups suggested that Trixie isn't counting, when she clearly is. (touching something and making and saying the corresponding number? Sounds like counting to me!)
In my real life...
I went to a movie tonight and there was no parking. I cursed a lot at all of the well dressed pedestrians and vowed to never return to the soul sucking place with no parking.

In other news, my pregnancy is going well. Although I shouldn't be shocked really, I had a perfect pregnancy with Trixie right until the day they induced me. I heard the heartbeat today, confirming that this baby does indeed have a heart and it beats, making noise. YAY. Trixie wasn't amused by this. She was at this point glowering at me for leaving her in her stroller.

Oh and if you're a girl and you like food, you should see Julie and Julia. It was really good. I wish the ending was a little sappier, 'cause you know, the hormones and all.

(tiny spoiler)

at one point Julia finds out her sister is having a baby and she loses it a little. I sympathized so hard with her that I nearly sprouted a couple of tears of my own. I've been there, trying so hard and everyone else around me seems to get pregnant. It sucks, a lot. There was no poetic licence taken with that scene.

Would be Facebook Updates

I had a lot to say today, but I don't like to update my facebook status too much in one day. I'll lay them out here instead:
*Trixie signed eat then cheese, I love how she's stringing signs together. She also says cheese, it sounds like "shchee".
*I'm really homesick for Canada. I would like to move to Vancouver post haste.
*I'm a socialist.
*Trixie has a killer diaper rash, so we're diaperless today. She signed potty so I sat her on the toilet, she struggled to get down then peed on the floor. 2X.
*I'm making beets for dinner with a cucumber salad.
*Perinatologist appointment today, looks like a homebirth is off the table, but a VABC isn't, yet.
*I bought Trixie pre cut watermelon and other melon chunks at Whole Foods, they are so yummy I want to eat them all up myself.
*I need more shoes.

T minus 6 hours

Until we board a plane for 13 hours, with a baby.
hmmmm doesn't Benadryl help babies to sleep?
Heh.

Also on the gall bladder news. I have a surgery date! I've suggested we call it the plop and drop date, as in they will plop it out of me and drop it into some receptacle. Hopefully... unless there is too much scar tissue then I will get a big ol' cut, above the bikini line. Which will ruin any chances I'd ever had to wear a Princess Leia gold bikini and be convincing. Oh well.

The Gall! (bladder)

Hey did you notice the post from yesterday, kinda lame, eh? I know that Adam wrote it, from his phone in the ER, and I'm totally not judging his writing. In fact I am so happy he posted, helps with the one a day, ya know. Anyhow there's totally a story.

Since I've had Trixie I've had these excruciatingly bad pains in my abdomen and I thought that they were gas pains, so I went with that, gas pains. I took Gas-X like it was candy and complained and moaned that I was going to die, waiting for the pain to pass. At first it did in a couple of hours, and during that time I was still able to function, so it wasn't much of an issue. But each episode would get worse and worse and finally when I would have "the pain" I would be layed up in bed quietly dying... although I'm sure Adam would say I wasn't so quiet. (so painful!) Before I went to Canada the last time I had "the pain" again and it lasted 3 days, which also included me being on a plane with Trixie. Lets say I was less than amused. It sucked. I'm not sure how I survived. While in Canada I had "the pain" two more times, for a shorter time, but so much more intense. Anyhow can you see where this is going?
I keep getting gas pains, they are getting worse and worse and more frequent. I don't see a doctor, eat Gas X like it's candy and it does nothing. I suffer, Adam gets little sleep.
Then I get the mother of all of the episodes last Saturday night and it's so painful that I throw up, several times, which wears my throat raw and makes me have bloody puke. On Monday Adam tells me to call the doctor, and she tries to prescribe me antacids. I refuse because I want to know why this is happening, and not just mask it with drugs, because I would like to get pregnant soon and I don't want to be reliant on scary drugs. My doctor gets exasperated with me and sends me to a allergist who pokes me many times for a skin test which proves I have no allergies (yay I can drink milk again!) I have many blood tests and I am not pregnant, no allergic to wheat and have no issues with any of the organs she tested. (she didn't test my liver....) Then last night "the pains" start again. So I rush to take an over the counter antacid and a handful of tums all washed down with some strong peppermint tea. I wait. There is still a lot of pain. Adam comes home and finds me crying from the pain (seriously as bad as labour pain, but with no breaks) so I call an advise nurse who tells me to go to the hospital NOW! We pack up the baby and go. We fill out forms, have my blood pressure checked and temperature checked (high- duh!, normal) and we wait. While we wait Trixie makes eyes at everyone she sees and they all coo over her, I try not to bite off the heads of random strangers in a hospital who are touching my baby, and I practice the breathing techniques I learned in my birth class. (they worked!) Finally I am called in and placed in a small room. I am asked a lot of questions, over and over. (why don't they read each other's notes?) Finally after a lot of breathing exercises, a couple tears and many doctors and nurses I have more blood drawn and am promised pain killers. The Big Burly Nurse comes in and he prepares an IV, (in my elbow!) and prepares to give me morphine, which I'm allergic to. (seriously, read the notes....) So he bustles off to find some other narcotic to inject me with, and comes back. It goes like this: inject, me freak out because I am immediately dizzy, BBN says it will pass in a minute and to breathe, I have no pain, but still dizzy. (and was until today)
The first doctor who I saw in the hospital comes in again and I can talk normally and not be gasping in pain, she tells me that I have the classic, albeit more intense, symptoms of passing a gall stone. She asks if I've ever been checked for gall stones -no. Ever had an abdominal ultrasound (not baby ultrasound) -no. Ever had blood tests to check for gall stones -no. So apparently my regular doctor who wanted to prescribe antacids is an idiot, and this isn't the first time she's totally screwed up... not the 2nd either. (new doc search commences when I get back from New Zealand) Anyhow the hospital doc says that she'll come back with the blood test results. Then BBN comes in and says I need to pee in a cup, which I hate. I do though, and one would guess I am so dehydrated that my pee would be consistency of syrup. (it wasn't) I later mention this to the doctor and she is convinced it's my gall bladder since dark urine is a classic symptom. The doctor comes back and tells me that my liver is behaving like the liver of someone who is a heavy drinker, except I don't drink, so it's a surefire sign that I have gall bladder issues. I am told that they are keeping me over night and I will get an ultrasound in the morning. If my gall bladder is infected or inflamed they will remove it. Which would mean that I would have to postpone our trip to New Zealand. Adam and Trixie go home since it's 2 in the morning, Adam was dead tired and Trixie was sleeping on me after having charmed the pants off of everyone until 1 am. I am left alone in the small ER room, listening to the chaos that is an ER. Adam and Trixie come back at 8:30 am, Adam's eyes are all red and Trixie launches herself at me, in the cute way that she does. (Trixie woke up several times, so Adam didn't get much sleep.) We sit around and wait and wait and wait. Then I am moved to the part of the ER where they keep people who have to stay over night. "It has a TV!" woo. Finally I am taken for an ultrasound. We come back to my new room. We wait, again, a lot. A new doctor comes in and... wait for it... I have gall stones! My gall bladder isn't inflamed or infected so I will have to make appointments with surgery and book an appointment to have it removed.
So YAY I get to go to New Zealand on time, but it looks like we might have to postpone trying to get pregnant, and hopefully we won't have to postpone it so much that I will have to redo the other surgeries I had earlier this summer.
Oh I was also prescribed vicodine... in case "the pain" returns.
So how was your night?

Name Game

Deadra is the #3443 most common female first name

0.001% of females in the US are named Deadra.

Around 1225 US females are named Deadra!

source: namestatistics.com

Adam is the #69 most common male first name

0.259% of males in the US are named Adam.

Around 317275 US males are named Adam!

source: namestatistics.com

Beatrix is a very rare female first name

Very few female first names in the US are Beatrix

Be proud of your unique first name!

source: namestatistics.com

C-Sections suck!

Remember this? My famous last words in an attempt to be an optimist were, "Hopefully it isn't anything serious..."; and so... I should have let my inner pessimist out to play!
Okay it's not that bad, but I do have to go in for another surgery, this time a little more complicated one involving scissors. Which makes me remember this post; especially this line: "I'm pretty sure security is tight so no scissors were admitted without my approval...", and now I have to admit some scissors! (And a camera and a little vacuum!) Sounds like a great way to spend an afternoon, doesn't it?
Okay so why do c-sections suck? The infertility doctor figures that the crazy amounts of scarring I have are related to my c-section! Now please explain to me again why people willingly sign up for these? And, seriously if I hear to avoid tearing I might whip down my pants and show them my ugly c-section scar!

Okay lets talk about my uterus since I've told the internets everything else.
A normal uterus is like a triangle standing on it's point with the wide part at the top. My uterus looks like a heart. The top is rounded out from scar tissue and there is something in the middle making it heart shaped, could be a polyp or just a lot of scarring, the doctor isn't quite sure at this time. We know that the scarring is related to the c-section and pregnancy because we have images from April 2007 of my uterus and it was a perfect triangle, and now it's not. The scarring is in a strange place since the slicing and dicing for baby extraction is done at the bottom of the uterus, but apparently it's still all related.
So it looks like that this is the birth that keeps on giving! (answer me again, why do people sign up for c-sections?*)


*I mean elective c-sections, not emergency ones. I know that I am being a little harsh for judging people for not wanting small tears in their perineum instead opting for a 6 inch gash across their bikini line, but it doesn't make any sense to me at all.

Family Photos....

Becasue I can....

Eating.

I've complained here to the internets* about my inability to satiate my cravings during this pregnancy.
I thought I should elaborate on this issue since it's still plaguing me.
Apparently I'm too Canadian to be living in Northern California, the land of every culture and every food type EXCEPT anything Canadian. In the past I've made it no secret that I want Tim Hortons chicken soup, which is my most favourite in the whole wide world. However I can't get anything even similar to it here. To add to my list of can't haves is pho sate from Saigon Y2K in Calgary which I've decided is a bastardized pho soup because we can't find it here either, and yet I want it in all of it's salty, spicy, kinda fishy glory. And my latest addition to my list of can't haves is perogies.
Yesterday Adam and I searched for them in the local store and found one kind, a frozen low fat kind, which weren't very good. It boggled my mind that at home they are a whole section in the freezer and there is a huge variety of them, but here- nothing. Adam was quick to point out that I could have taquitos, any variety, but sigh, I NEEDED perogies.
So I had the crappy ones. And I cursed not being in Canada again.

Stupid Northern California with everything EXCEPT perogies, Tim Hortons and yummy pho.

*Adam hates it when people say the internets.... hee hee.

Midnight oh one, coincides with week 35.

It's late and I should be all cuddled in bed trying to get over my killer cold, but alas my pregnant body will not let me relax. I've been blessed with the evil restless legs and lovely heartburn. I would love to complain about how I'm DONE being pregnant, but really and truly I'm not done. I'm not disliking it as much as I assume I should be after reading accounts of how much other women hate being in the late stages of pregnancy. Rather I am enjoying it. Granted I do not like the discomforts, but I do like feeling the baby move. I really love the anticipation of what's to come. And golly lolly after the rigamarole it took to get here, I am not going to take it for granted and wish it away. I am anxious to see this little being who like to make it hurt to take deep breaths, I'm not going to say I want to meet her because I know her quite well. She's really feisty, she doesn't like any pressure at all, and will fight it. I wonder if she will like being swaddled. She gets a little pissy when I have a contraction and when it ends she goes on a little rampage (it's little because she's confined). She will not participate in the daily "let the Daddy feel you" game, she gets all quiet then retaliates by dancing on my bladder.
Adam and I wonder what she will look like. I think, based on ultrasounds that she has my nose, and I hope so! We debate eye colour. Adam would love blue, and I think that she will have blue, but only because green is so less common, and especially my true green. Really I'll be happy with just her having eyes. (which is predicted)
Anyhow while we're on the topic, it seems my blood pressure has evened out. I don't know if is because of the acupuncture or if it's all because the nurse was an idiot. I think it's a little of both. Long story shortened, the nurse didn't get a proper reading (Lisa you were right), it freaked me out, which made a proper reading high, my cuff is a piece of crap, the doctor suggested pre-e twice, I had many tests, proceeded to get more stressed, hospital visit, all is well, doctor visit all is well, new home cuff and my bp is perfect. So home birth, ON! I'm still seeing the acupuncturist who is also going to help me learn to relax, which is quite the skill apparently and one that I've never really had. I've never been one to deal with stress well, which is a reason I am so sick now. (And the reason I had to miss Regan's birthday party...)
Speaking of the acupuncturist. Whoo whee it's interesting. Adam doesn't really follow that train of thought at all, which I can understand, it's quite different. I can follow it a little better, but I still have trouble understanding chi and vibrations. However after my session on Friday I can breathe easier (she was helping with my cold in addition to the high blood pressure). I also had an acupressure session, which was so, so nice. I expected it to be a lot more intense, but it was gentle and relaxing. Ahem, More please! The needles for the acupuncture are really strange. They don't hurt going in, but when she twiddles them they send some searing jabs up your arm, or where ever they are. I feel like there should be gaping holes in me, but I can never see them after she takes the needles away. It's really rather interesting, although a little pricey.

Okay it's midnight nineteen and I'm dead tired, and this has gone beyond rambly to incoherent.

New Years Eve.

Looks like tonight will be a nice and quiet night for Adam and I. We don't have many plans for tonight, a movie and something bubbly, champagne for Adam and apple cider for me.

As I was checking my blogs out today I see that many people made a resolutions list, or a non-resolution list. I generally don't make one because I never keep them, and then I feel like crap when I realized I suck. So I try not to make them, but still nagging in the back of my head is the ever resolution to lose weight. However this year I get to not make that resolution, even quietly because I am pregnant, and I shouldn't lose weight right now. Not even right after I have the baby, I have a buffer.

It's the best non-resolution ever....

Regrets

It's getting to be that time of year when we look back and reflect on the year.
This year has been mostly good to me. It started out rough and left me hopeless 5 times, and ends on a high note. I have a lot to be happy for, a baby on the way, a new house to move into in the New Year and a strong, secure, happy marriage where I get to laugh with my best friend every day.
I'm sure if I were to look there would be some regrets. However, honestly I don't look. I don't see how it's productive to look at what you did wrong and lament over it. When I do make a mistake I try to learn from it, but beating myself up over it is counter productive. That being said I have a small regret....
I missed seeing the Spice Girls reunion tour when it was in San Jose. I heard it was great. And man I loves me some Spice Girls!

YAY A Meme

So Cecily at Uppercase Woman tagged all of her readers in this meme.
List 7 weird or obscure facts about you.
1. I played rugby for a good long time. (I think 11 seasons pretty much back to back). Now most people who know me in person know this, but people that learn it are always shocked. It always amuses me to see the shock.
2. I love grapes, but I hate anything grape flavoured.
3. I've been to Tokyo Disneyland, but I've never been to a Disney amusement park on this continent.
4. I love Vegemite.
5. I generally find black pepper too spicy, and yet I love kimchi and other spicy asian dishes.
6. I didn't get my drivers licence until I was 18. I failed my first learners test and then passed the next 2 with a perfect score.
7. Before I got Chachi I thought chihuahuas were funny looking. Now I think they are adorable, with the most adorable one being Chachi.

So I'll tag anyone who needs blog fodder. Have fun!

UGH

Today is an ugh kinda day. Adam and I had to get up at the horrible ungodly hour of 8am. Which I know will have some people rolling their eyes, I roll them too, when I read that. But I wake every hour to pee, and don't go back to sleep quickly, so 8am is hell! Oi. How did I ever hold down a normal job?
I have no clue.
So anyhow today was an early day because we were interviewing a slew of midwives. Up until today we'd interviewed one, and she was nice, eccentric and I would have been fine with her, but I really want someone I just click with. Today I found that clicky person, and so did Adam, but it's not the same person. However Adam's person is my second choice.
Adam and I do agree though, that we do not want a midwife who will wave incense around me and chant hippy stuff. I'd be liable to drown her in the birthing tub, then labour around her floating corpse. (that's a horrible image....) Okay I promise I won't drown my midwife, but we don't want any crystals being brought into the whole birth experience. I want someone like me, who's a lot of no nonsense and will tell me, straight up, what I need to know. (I'm not saying that I'm no nonsense.... I'm sure I have lots of nonsense....) So it's a hard choice. We'll see what happens.
There was lots of talk of doulas, and we're on the fence. Adam's convinced that he can do it without one, but I worry that it will be a lot of work for him to support me all by himself. Having family step in isn't an option at all for me since our family is in Canada and I wouldn't feel comfortable with any family flitting around me during my birth (or really for the first week after she's born). We might consider a student doula since we don't need an advocate in a hospital since we're not going to one, and if we do have to be transferred the midwife would step into the position as doula at the hospital. In any case it's another decision.
I do wish this was all cut and dry. It's unfortunate that pregnancy and birth is so medicalized now and that we don't have access to more natural births in our lives. What I'm trying to say is that if both Adam and I had seen several births in our lives this would be a cut and dry decision for us, we would have a lot more of an idea of what we want. However we're not privy to that in our culture and I'm going on my gut instincts that this is what I need and Adam has to rely on that too, even though his gut isn't quite there yet. (although he's making strides and is still the only person who's allowed to have doubts)
In any case we're going ahead with it. And in 12-17 weeks I should have a lovely birth story for you, ending with me birthing at home or being transferred to a hospital, but still happy that I tried it my way. I guess really all that matters is that I'm comfortable (with my birth choice), which is totally selfish, but I feel that my comfort level directly impacts my baby, and I truly believe that this is the best choice for her.
Golly I can't wait to show everyone pictures of her.
I bet she's going to be 6ish pounds and a cue ball! I can't wait to see what colour her eyes will be (when the pigment comes in) or if she will have my nail beds or Adam's.
We shall soon see.

bittersweet day.

I really like November, for the most part. It is the start of the Christmas season, and I love Christmas, but only in November, then I get really exhausted by it and wish it would go away. It's also the month that I met Adam, which you know is huge. It has Remembrance Day, which is important to me and while it has a sadder meaning I look forward to it, to remember my Grandpa and remember all that he taught me. (more on that later, and check out what I wrote last Nov. 11)
And today! I love today. It was my Grannie's birthday, and she was the most amazing woman ever! Today was also my grandparent's wedding anniversary, so it was a doubly happy day for me growing up. There was always cake and celebrations. However the bittersweet is that they are both gone now, and I miss them so much. I still dream of them like I had just seen them yesterday, but Grampa's been gone since 1994 and Grannie since 2001. They were, without a doubt, the most influential people in my life.
My Grampa taught me to ride a bike, to weed a garden and make strawberries grow. He taught me how to wield a hammer and to mow lawns. He did everything a father should have done, but with his Grampa charm. He would drive me around my paper route when I was tired, he would pick me up from school when I was sick. He was amazing, I miss him so much. I can't really remember the tones of his voice, and I'm struggling to remember how he smelled (fresh garden soil and bounce), but he was amazing.
And my Grannie. On the level of amazing people I rank her above everyone else in the whole world. She was my everything. I chose to stay in Kelowna and go to a very small university so I could be near her. After my Grampa died I was the (only) one who volunteered to live with her to take care of her because she was too ill to be alone. (I was 17 and still in high school) It wasn't a sacrifice for me, I was at their house all of the time anyhow, living there just formalized it.
Growing up she taught me to bake and to cook. She's responsible for my creativity and love of crafting and making anything I can. I really think that she nurtured so much good into me and helped me to break a cycle that was being set. She encouraged me to go to University and was so happy when I was accepted to a school, even though they rarely didn't accept anyone. She had so much faith in me, she helped me to be confident.
A little while after my Grampa died, Grannie was put into a home, she was just too sick for the home nurses and needed more care. She was so brave about it. I never saw her upset by the choices made by others. While in the home I visited her nearly everyday. The staff asked me once how I got there, and didn't believe me when I told them that I drove. They asked about my school and I told them I came between classes or after I was done. Then they revealed that they thought I was 13, I was 20 at the time. And while this whole exchange was happening my Grannie was so happy, so proud. We would often go to the main hall to have tea, I hated seeing the envy on the other resident's faces, but I did love to see the happiness on my Grannie.
She was in the home for a couple years. I spent 2 Christmases in there with her. The last one (that I was there for) was just her and I for most of the day, then some aunts and uncles showed up. Then later that year she gave me a scare, the doctors at the home called me to come right away. They were worried that she wouldn't survive the night. I do not recall me driving there at all. I remember seeing her doctor, but I couldn't hear him because I was sobbing so hard. The nurses took me to sit with her, but she was in so much pain that she didn't recognize me. The nurses encouraged me to talk to her, which was so hard, I couldn't breathe since I was crying. I eventually willed myself to calm down and I talked to her. I remember she looked at me and her eyes were wild. My heart broke. Eventually she did calm down, and stabilized. Some aunts and uncles came and they saw me with her. They said hi and went and sat in the lobby, leaving me with her. The nurses sent me home at 6 in the morning. I'd been there all night. For the next several weeks I visited everyday, all day. I started to fail some of my classes, but most of my professors understood and gave me generous extensions on my papers. However one did not. He claimed that I knew about the paper all year and I should have had it ready, he didn't take into account that I had to do papers as they came, there wasn't time to jump ahead. Anyhow I failed that class, the only class I have ever failed. I'm not ashamed though. It was for a real reason.
I graduated that year, but I didn't want to walk the stage. I saw no reason to, it was just a formality and I remember thinking that if Grannie couldn't be there I had a better way to spend my day. She was proud of me though, she told me so, she was the first, it took my parents both several years to tell me that they were proud of me for graduating.
That summer I moved to Calgary, I wanted to, and yet I felt like I was abandoning her since I was really the only one left in the area. Around the same time my mom moved back and I felt a little better with my choice. Grannie was sad that I left, but she encouraged me. I called her often and visited when I was in BC. However she was getting sicker and sicker, and starting to have times when she wasn't coherent. When I decided to go to Korea I moved home and spent a couple weeks with her. She was supportive of me going, and gave me a ring on the last visit I had with her. I told her to keep it and give it to me when I came home. She said she would. This was in October.
She died that spring, my mom sent me an email and I read it at work. I scared all of the children in the computer lab because I just started wailing uncontrollably. I couldn't help myself. I managed to stumble out of the room and make my way into my bosses office where I was allowed to call my mom. I don't remember much of the conversation, but I do remember asking if she was sure. I decided to not go to the funeral, after Grampa's death there was too much family infighting and I didn't want to deal with it at my Grannie's. I never took any time off to mourn her, even the day I found out I finished working that day. I can't even remember the date she died. I don't want to know it.
I miss her so much. She was so amazing.
So on today November 5th, I think of my Grannie and Grampa. They were the most amazing people. The best grandparents any child could ask for. I wish I could have spent more time with them. I wish they could have met Adam, and meet my baby. I don't dwell on the deaths of them, I really try to remember the feelings of happiness I had with them. So although this is a sad post, I do really like today. If I had a choice of a date to get married I would have chosen November 5th, in honour of them.
I guess I shouldn't love November as much, it's the month my Grampa died (Nov. 28th). But this month makes me think of them so much, I feel closer to them in November, perhaps it is a little macabre, but it works for me.


ETA: For some reason our host wouldn't upload this. Hopefully it'll work today. Grrrr.

One of the BEST comments ever!

From my wonderful friend Michelle.

michelle said...
Hey.I know this is in no way related to your Poo-Particles-In-The-Nasal-Passages story.... but....HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!There. Now I've Facebooked you, emailed you and posted on here. I've officially happied the crap out of your birthday... tee heelove ya!!

This post coming to you as fuzzy black lines.

My glasses are in the other room, and well it's hot and I'm pregnant. Okay, also lazy. Moving on.
First when did I become so blind that I need glasses to see the computer screen well? Damn aging process! Oh well at least it's just a little fuzzy vision, no other things that I am scared of. (arthritis, diabetes all the stuff my grandpa had)

Anyhow today my dear sweet husband bought me two pies, a lemon one and a chocolate one. They were good, I had some of both. My argument was that the baby NEEDED them. Adam couldn't argue. Hmm pies. I have noticed that I have the appetite of a sparrow. It's rather odd and a little disturbing. I can eat half a sandwich and a cup of milk. I guess this is a good habit for me to continue. Perhaps it will after pregnancy also. I'm also a little disturbed at my total and complete distaste for meat. I can eat a little in stuff, like a sandwich, or a ham and pineapple pizza, but the thought of a breast of chicken on a plate makes me a little pukey. So I've ordered some rice protein powder since all I have is soy, and I had to swear off soy while I was getting pregnant. And now I learn that it can interfere with hormones during pregnancy also. Okay. No soy for me, well except soy sauce and miso, 'cause I would not be able to live without miso. (also they are fermented so they aren't as harmful apparently)

So I have been working on this theory that we humans are like dogs, and pure breeding has made us a little volatile. (Pure breeding as in not mixing ethnicities.) I've come up with this when I was diagnosed as being a carrier of Cystic Fibrosis. Whoo hoo! As it turns out I have the worst form of the mutation in my genes, which is the most common mutation. It will never harm me as I am only a carrier, however if Adam is a carrier there is a 25% chance that the baby would have the disease, and a 50% chance that the baby would be a carrier. So Adam was tested and after a week of waiting we were informed that he is not a carrier. So now the baby has a 25% chance of being a carrier and a 1 in 241 chance that the baby will have the disease (from a misdiagnosis on Adam not being a carrier). So I am happy with these odds and moved on. (For the record I didn't really freak out, the genetics councillor that I was talking to was excellent and spelled everything out to me really clearly.)
Anyhow my theory. There was an issue at all because Adam and I are both Caucasian, if either him or I weren't it wouldn't be an issue since this disease is mostly a Caucasian thing. Hence the inbreeding of us white folk*, like Dalmatians. Remember when the movie 101 Dalmatians came out and there was a surge of Dalmatians as a result? Do you also remember all of the reports of viscous Dalmatians as a result of being over bred? It reminds me of this situation, like I said if Adam or I weren't so blindingly white my being positive would have been a non issue.
Oh and lets not forget that the inbreeding isn't only a Caucasian issue, there was a whole list of potential genetic issues that could arise if both parents were of the same ethnicity. Unfortunately I don't have this list in front of me, but it was interesting how every ethnicity had it's own problem. But from my understanding if a Asian woman and an Eastern European man were to have a baby they would have less chance of passing on any genetic disorders because it would be less common for them to both be a carrier of the same issue. Am I making sense? So with the popularity of chihuahuas there are more problems with hips and other issues, but if you were to have a mutt they are generally healthier since it's less likely that a problem would be shared by both parents.
So there you have it, humans as dogs.
Also don't you just think that a blended ethnicity baby is so pretty? Some of the most pretty people in the world are "mixed". It's not to say that my baby won't be pretty, I'm sure s/he will be, but this baby will also have a host of other issues, like looking like the sibling of Casper the ghost. (This baby is going to have really fair skin, like transparent fair.)


*I hate being called white. I'm not white, my skin is not white. It's not appropriate to call people by colours so why is it okay to call me white? I get irritated when I have to check a box on some form and it lists the options, white, African American, Asian, Indian etc etc. No one else is a colour! Okay rant over.

Facebook and I are BFF

Well that's what is seems like. I think if I were to go and check as to when I signed up for Facebook and when my posts started dropping off here, I bet that there would be a correlation. Hee hee, ooops.
However this Facebook thing is pretty nifty. I've reconnected with several people from high school and from my childhood. See the nifty? My best friend from grade 2 found me and we've been good and chatty, and the really interesting part is she is due the day before me.
Anyhow my most favourite thing on Facebook is the Scrabble application. I can play several games all at once, which is really helping with my Scrabble cravings which I have been fostering. You see Adam hates the game and I adore it, so I need to play it, and now? All of the time. Which is why Facebook and I are BFF.

Floating in my head.

I tend to make up little songs, and they play over and over in my head.
Currently playing,
"Look at me, I'm TweedleDea, just a zed in the land of zee..."

In the Past.

While I was in Calgary I dated lots of people. (Dated, in the sense that I would go on a date with someone and we would both retire to our respective homes when the date ended, no hanky panky.) Now that I am all married and living down in Northern Calfornia, the land of sunshine and lollypops, I am occasionally met with a blast from my past.
Just today I was IMed by some random guy that I went on a couple dates with. Initially I had no clue who he was, or what he wanted, I just figured he was some spammer or something. He reminded me that we went out a couple times a year ago. He explained what we did, (some random movie) and I remembered, and told him it was more like three years ago. We exchanged a few sentences about how time flies, yadda yadda yadda, and then he asked me if I was still in Calgary. I explained to him that I live in California now. Then he asked how long, and I replied that I've been here just over a year. Then nothing, the conversation ends, and he doesn't reply.
This conversation abandonment leads me to a couple conclusions: firstly that he is a dog, and just lookin' for a booty call, and he must be desperate 'cause I didn't give it up three years ago, why would I now? Secondly, clearly my dog-dar was not all that tuned a couple years ago, and in retrospect, it never was. And finally, even now, three years later and married; the boys- they know quality when they meet it!

Internal conversation.

I've never hid that I think too much. All of the time. Like today, while I was doing my cardio here's a snippet of my internal conversation, ie a conversation I was having with myself:
"A better, more phonetical way to spell my name would be D-I-A-D-R-A, as in Diadora, the Italian soccer shoe."
"But then, could I still be Dea, as in D-E-A?"
"I've never seen myself as a D-E-E, even though phonetically I am a Dee."
"I wonder if being Dea causes some of the confusion with Deadra, because that Dea isn't Dee. it's Dia."
"However, I really identify with the D-E-A."
"If I were to be Diadra, I could make my Dee, D-I-I, like Wii...."





SO uhm, lately I've been thinking, that I think too much.