Wait...did you just say vagina?

For about the past two months or so I have been convinced that Baby Newsom was a boy. This may sound silly, especially to those who don’t believe (I’m not too sure if I do anymore either), but a friend of a family member who is “psychic” told me that I was going to have a boy. This person told me a few other things about my life that is true, but not 100% consistent. He was so adamant that my baby was a boy that he didn’t even hesitate when he learned that I was pregnant. So, being me, I believed him. Since that point, the possibility that Baby Newsom was a girl was gone. Baby Newsom was a boy and I had his name picked out, I had his nursery picked out, and I was even calling it he instead of he or she in conversation. So when I went to my sonogram appointment on December 23^rd I was basically just there to confirm what I already knew…it’s a boy.

I had my sonogram while Aaron and I were visiting our families in Orange County for Christmas.  I had scheduled it that way so my mother could come too (and because I really freakin’ wanted to know!).  I wasn’t nervous like I always thought I would be when we got there. I was just going to have someone tell me that I was having a boy (duh!). I go into the sonogram room, lie on the table, scoot my pants down and wait for the obvious. While applying the goop to my stomach, the technician asked me what I thought the sex was. “Oh, it’s a boy for sure,” I tell her. Within a few seconds she had the wand on my stomach and focused in on something. “So, how disappointed will you be if you are wrong?” she asks me. At that moment I realized, you mean I could be wrong? I told her I would not be disappointed at all. She then tells me she sees a vagina. I couldn’t believe my ears (mostly because what my eyes were seeing looked like nothing of the sort). We are having a girl!!!! I was in shock and in tears. At that moment it became apparent that I had wanted a girl so badly that I had convinced myself it was the opposite to protect myself from being disappointed. Of course, if it had been a boy, I would still be over the moon, but man, I really wanted a girl. While still in shock, we watched as baby girl floated around in my womb. She even opened her mouth like she was yawning (let’s hope she isn’t already trying to scream) and she was so freakin’ cute.

So here we are…having a baby girl. I now get to start all over with the picking out of the name (I will share one of these days) and her nursery and all of the other fun stuff that comes along with have a girl. Since that day I have turned into such a mush. I cry anytime I think about her for more than 5 seconds. Boo hoo hoo…I’m having a girl…boo hoo hoo. I love her so much already that it scares me. I can’t even fathom how I will feel when I see and hold her for the first time. Of course, I probably wont get to hold her too long before Aaron snatches her from me and hogs her for the rest of her life. If she is anything like her mother, she will be a very good (sometimes naughty) girl.

Here we are, me and my baby girl (bump)

Picky Peter and Spandex Boy

            If you are a friend of mine on Facebook, you know two things about me when it comes to my job;  I work with all men and I am constantly annoyed. Well, being pregnant has made my level of annoyance go from a steady 6 on a scale of 1-10, to an astounding 12. Out of my 4 male co-workers, there are 2 in particular that annoy me to no end. For privacy sake, we will call them Picky Peter and Spandex Boy.  Picky Peter actually annoys me on more of a regular basis than Spandex Boy because he is in the office more often. Picky Peter is around forty years old and married (to a saint I imagine) and is the pickiest person I have ever met (hence the name). For instance, today we are having a small pizza and beer Christmas party in the office and every time we do this he insists on being in charge of ordering because God forbid there be a single item on the pizza that he doesn’t like. Normal people would pick something off their pizza that they don’t like and set it aside on their plate. But noooo, not Picky Peter. He doesn’t want anything he doesn’t like to even touch the food that he will be eating. He is like a 4 year old, and I am sure that if something like an olive ever touched his piece of pizza he would flail his arms about like a damn child.

                Another fine quality of Peter’s is that he always makes things more difficult than they need to be. He will butt into any conversation and suggest an alternative that is far more time consuming than the original plan. The thing that urks me the worst about this is that his suggestions always involve me being the one that has more work. He is by no means my boss, nor my supervisor, yet he loves to suggest odd jobs for me to do. If I hear him say “we can have Caity do this” one more time he is going to go from Picky Peter to Paraplegic Peter. I will rip his freakin’ extremities off and put them on his pizza. I probably would have already assaulted him by now, but I hear that going to jail while pregnant isn’t as fun. I doubt they would let me bring my maternity pillow.

                Now that I have gotten my blood pressure up by talking about Picky Peter, let’s discuss Spandex Boy. To answer the obvious questions….yes, he wears spandex to work on a normal basis and no, he’s not gay (although not totally proven). Spandex Boy, unlike Picky Peter, is not married (shocker) and is about 60 years old. To give you a visual, he looks exactly like Albert Einstein, but really skinny. As hot as that sounds, he is quite the opposite. He comes into the office around 10:00 am every morning at a pace of an Olympic speed walker. In fact, he travels everywhere at that pace. Sometimes he breaks into a full on sprint. This would make one think that there is an emergency, but no, that is just what he does. It has annoyed me to the point where I have gone to my boss and petitioned that he put a rule in place that restricts anyone from moving too quickly in the office. It makes me nervous. I assume Spandex Boy wears the spandex to help him move quicker. He does, however, ride his bike to and from work…but that is not a good enough reason in my book to wear spandex to work and keep it on all day long. He also wears the gloves, helmet and special shoes that fit like a puzzle piece into his bike pedals. It’s like he is competing in the Tour de France every day. Once inside he removes his “gear” (including his shoes) and announces his presence by yelling “OK” as loud as he can. He yells this any time he enters a room, a conversation, or sometimes just for the hell of it in the middle of the day. To make things even more fun (and weird), he also talks to himself really loudly as he works and if he is in a really good mood he will sing opera music at the top of his lungs.

                My annoyance for these two has reached a point where they don’t even need to speak and I am annoyed. Just looking at their face as they walk (or run) in the door in the morning makes me want to put my fist through the wall. Is this normal?... I ask myself on a daily basis. I even went as far as to Google “is it normal to want to destroy my co-workers when pregnant?”. While Google did not address my question exactly, I was reassured by half a dozen maternity sites that having thoughts like this while pregnant is perfectly normal.  So, I came to the conclusion on my own that being overly picky and wearing spandex to work is NOT normal. Thank God I’m not the crazy one.

DISCLAIMER: To all those people who ask me "arent you worried your boss or co-worker will read your blog and/or Facebook posts about them?"...No...that is what they have privacy settings for and they would never know about my blog, much less read it. (and if they do...they can suck it!)

Family, Friends, Food and Sassafrass!

I have been lagging on this latest post because I couldn’t really figure out a way to make this one funny. I finally realized…screw it! I can’t entertain you people all the time! But I will still try to do what I can.

Ok, now that I got that out of the way….last week I flew to Texas to meet my niece Savannah for the first time. It is one thing to see her precious face in daily pictures from my sister or from the videos she sends me (which I watch every day b/c she is so stinkin’ cute!). But it was entirely different when I saw her in person for the first time. My sister Cori and her husband Chris picked me up at the airport and I sat in the back with Sassafrass (my nickname for her) on the drive home. I fell head over heels in love with her the moment she looked at me. Somehow she knew I was the crazy aunt she had heard about and she smiled at me most of the ride home (she did cry a little, but I am pretty sure it was because she was equally as overwhelmed with my cuteness).

                A few hours after we got to my sister’s house (and after we ate some of Chris’s homemade gumbo…yum!) I was just about ready to put my jammies on and get ready for bed since I had been up since 4:00am when my sister says, “ok, I have a surprise for you and we need to go pick it up…now!” I was completely confused. I was thinking: what could she have possibly gotten me that would require an 8pm pickup and why can’t we pick it up tomorrow for crying out loud?!  I don’t get surprises very often so I kept my big mouth shut. Chris had gone to play softball and so Cori and I loaded Sass in the car and we were on our way. First we pulled into Jack in the Box and parked. “Oh, you got me Jack in the Box?”, I asked my sister. Nope, that wasn’t it, she said. A few minutes later her phone dinged signaling that she had a text message and we were on the road again. A few minutes later I realized….we were at the airport! What could she have gotten me that would require shipping it to the airport??? For the first time in a long time I was completely stumped. I had no idea in the world what we were doing at the airport. We then pulled up to the curb and who did I see? None other than my best friend growing up, Chrishell! I hadn’t seen her in 9 years and I was in complete shock at the sight of her walking toward the car. While Chrishell is not a celebrity, I did have one of those moments like you see on TV when someone is surprised by their favorite celebrity and they just stand there going “oh my gosh!”. I didn’t know what to say. I was very happy, but also overwhelmed with shock at the same time. Nine years people! That is a long time to go without seeing someone who you used to be joined to the hip with.  

                We spend the weekend catching up, playing with Sass and eating all the amazing food that Chris made. He is a serious cook and he made three amazing meals a day! I am pretty sure he is the reason why I couldn’t fit into my jeans the week after, but that’s ok. It was amazing! My dad and his wife Carol also came to my sister’s house for a visit, as well as my childhood friend Abby who I hadn’t seen in years either.  I left Texas on Monday a very satisfied preggo. I now just really wish we all lived closer!

Sassafrass

My Dad and Sass

My sis and Sass

Me and Sass sharing a jammies moment

My precious girl in the Christmas outfit I brought her

My friend Abby and Sass

Me and Chrishell

The Burping Queen

I know, I know. It’s been over a week since my last post. Sorry, but I have been busy stuffing my face…and subsequently, burping. I don’t really want to brag, but I was a really good burper pre-pregnancy, but now I have reached full on pro status.  In fact, I am so good at it that when I let a good one rip and there is no one around to appreciate it, I get kind of get upset.  I imagine it’s a little like Michael Jackson must have felt the first time he did the moonwalk in the solitude of his own bedroom when no one was there to witness it. Like me, he probably feared he might never be able to do it again. I am also thankful for my burps because it means that my icky-ness is gone and I am finally able to eat.  All of those veterans of pregnancy were right, you just wake up one day and the ick is replaced with hunger. Every day the hunger increases until you get to the point where you can envision knocking a co-worker in the head with your purse and running away with the donut they were holding in their hand.  I try not to look like a starved dog when I eat (even though eating fast would cause me bigger and better burps). I try to stay civilized.   

Thanksgiving was last week, which happened to be the first day of my second trimester, and I was able to have some pretty heavenly meals. Aaron and I drove down to see our family in Orange County, which meant I would have the opportunity to eat at the restaurants I have been craving that we don’t have up here in Santa Cruz. Of course, I had the traditional Thanksgiving feast of turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, dressing, sweet potatoes…ok, now I am just torturing myself! The next day, however, my mom and I went to Fashion Island (a whole island of shopping!...not really) and I couldn’t even wait until noon to sit down and feast on PF Changs. We were basically the first ones there at 11:00 am and I chowed down on chicken lettuce wraps and steamed pork dumplings. I had been wanting this for so long that when the first bite entered my mouth, all the flavors danced a little jig on my tongue.  I was so satisfied that I didn’t even buy anything during the rest of the day’s shopping. However, I did let go a pretty impressive burp in the purse section at Nordstrom’s. For some reason, it wasn’t appreciated.  Go figure. In my defense, it was completely by accident and I did try to stop it. Kind of.  

Here is a new belly pic of yours truly...the burping queen.