Bye, bye, bathroom

The demolition started this morning.

I took my last shower in our shower.

The Mr. took his last poo in our toilet (and was very proud of it, thankyouverymuch).

The contractor found termites in our wall.

Tonight we move into my mom's house.

Tomorrow we pick tile, fixtures and a tub.

Does life get any more exciting than this????

S is for.....

Yeah, I know I'm getting a little carried away with this whole alphabet thing. I think mostly it's because I'm too tired/lazy/whatever to come up with real post titles.

Let's take a break from my hormonal outbursts, and focus on something positive. Something productive. Something satisfying. Yes, I am going there -- into TMI territory.

S is for.....

STOOL SOFTENER.

My new best friend.  How I have gotten through almost 24 weeks without you, I'll never ever know.

P is for psemi-psychotic preggo

Further evidence that I am no longer in control of my emotions:

Yesterday afternoon, I called my mom to update her on a couple of things and got her voicemail. Usually, she either picks up right away or calls me right back (she's almost as nervous about this pregnancy as I am). At 8:00, I still hadn't heard from her, so called her on both her cell phone and land line. No dice. So I tried again about 15 minutes after that. Still nothing. I know she's been working on painting a couple of rooms in her house, so cue visions of mom with a broken neck at the bottom of a ladder. 5 more minutes -- try again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Finally, at about 9:00, I decided to drive the 25 minutes to her house to make sure that she was alive and OK. The whole way, my heart was pounding and I was thinking about all of the grisly ways I might find her when I arrived. I was TOTALLY CONVINCED that my so-called intuition was telling me something was NOT RIGHT.

Turns out she was painting the bathroom with the door closed and the fan on, and couldn't hear the phone(s).

Sigh.

This morning, I started crying while putting on my makeup because I heard on the local news that school was back in session and the traffic might be heavier than usual. Seriously, this is all it takes to set me off?

Goal for today: no more crying. I'll be happy to take bets from anyone who cares to wager.

H is for Hormones

Whoa, boy. I don't know if it's the stress of the remodel, or just the natural order of things, but this weekend my hormones really came out to play.

I have to admit, I was a bit snappish yesterday. I didn't sleep well on Friday night, I was feeling breathless, and worst of all, CONSTIPATED.  So I know I had a few snippy comments for the Mr. during the day, which I know had to suck for him. But then, on the way home from a family party, he lost it back at me a little bit.  And the waterworks started. I tried not to let him see, but I had tears running down my face and snot pouring out my nose all the way home. And then I left him at home and went kersnuffling to the mall to be "alone," where I'm pretty sure I looked like a big fat red-faced freak. And then I got home and went to sleep at 7:30.

The whole time, I couldn't really figure out what was making me cry. I'm not a crier, especially not over something like a little mini-argument. And I'm not unhappy -- in fact, I kept thinking "I'm so happy, why am I crying?" 

I hope this isn't the new me for the next 3.5 months. Because I have to say, she isn't much fun.

23 weeks!

Lots of random updates and other incoherent thoughts on this lovely Friday:

• I had my 23-week appointment today, and everything looks great. The chicklette's heart was banging away at 146 beats per minute, and just as my OB asked me if the baby had been active, she gave the Doppler a good kick. Cheeky little girl. And in quite possibly the best news of the week, my weight gain is "looking good" -- only 2 pounds this month. Wooohoo!
• I've been doing a lot of driving to work this week, and have been really enjoying the Pregtastic Pregnancy Podcast. I've learned all sorts of things about epidurals, yoga, sex and traveling while pregnant. If anyone's got time to burn in the car and wants to listen to a bunch of preggos talk about their experiences at different weeks in their pregnancy, there's an hour episode each week that's free on iTunes.
• We decided for sure to go ahead with the remodel. So now I have 48 hours to figure out what kind of tile we want. I've got no frickin' idea. Oh, and I think we move into my mom's house on Tuesday. Lovely.

Anyway, that's what's going on with the Barefoots. Wishing everyone a wonderful weekend!

The tub of my dreams

We started baby shopping in earnest last week. We ordered the crib, made some nursery design decisions, and most importantly, got Grandma to splurge on the baby item I have been coveting for years -- the Sleep Sheep. (Is it wrong that I want one for myself now? He's just so soft and cuddly.)

In the midst of all this cuteness, though, the item that I am most excited about is a bathtub. Not a baby bathtub, but a mommy bathtub.

When we bought our house 3 years ago, we loved so many things about it -- the open floor plan, the back yard, the 11 skylights and the natural light they provided. But there was one thing missing -- a bathtub in an otherwise gorgeous Spanish-style tiled bathroom. Now, this wouldn't be a big deal for some people, but I love me a good bath. I used to take one almost every night when we lived in San Francisco.....so soothing in the cold foggy weather, and such a nice way to kickstart the falling-to-sleep process.

We've known all along that at some point, we'd likely have to remodel our bathroom to add a tub and fix some plumbing issues. Well, we've decided that time is NOW. Which is creating all kinds of fun prospects -- spending $30K of our savings, living with Mom for 6 weeks, and having to somehow get our nursery together while not living in the house. But it's now or never. I don't want to be living elsewhere once the baby comes.

So, away we go. Construction could start next week. I'm just holding on to the image in my head of lounging in a tub during my third trimester, with some aromatherapy candles and a good book (and probably a curious kitteh sticking his paws over the side). I just hope this isn't one of those Money Pit situations where 6 weeks turns into 12. ("Two weeks!")

Calgon, take me away.....

Getting my a** kicked

Butt-kicking seems to be a theme this week. Let me count the ways:

1. Work. I am in my crazy time of the year at work, and have been struggling mightily to get everything done, keep my cool, and travel across time zones without the help of Tylenol PM. I think that last part has been the hardest.

2. Yoga. I went again on Wednesday, and did some more struggling trying to keep up with the other ladies, who are all 30+ weeks pregnant. How embarrassing is that?!? I keep hoping it will get easier.

3. The chicklette. [TMI alert!] As of yesterday, she has taken to kicking me in the ass -- from the inside. Little jabs all night long in my tailbone, and um, other places in the rear. I wish I could describe the sensation, as it's honestly the weirdest thing I've ever felt. Plus, it makes me feel like I have to poop ALL THE TIME, which, given my issues in that area, is like the biggest tease EVER.

Despite the multilateral ass-kicking, I am enjoying every minute of the journey. I may feel differently tomorrow, when I have to attend a wedding with my in-laws at which I cannot employ my usual in-laws coping mechanism (i.e., alcohol).

Hopefully there will be some good cake.