By golly, I'm home.

And have to get ready for work soon. And am not looking forward to whatever snotty email snotty boss sent me when I complained about her wanting 12 hours of work in an 8 hour day.

The Hersey Spa was just as lovely as I remembered. Everyone there is so nice( and not creepy- nice like Disney World) but really nice. Everyone seems to actually enjoy their jobs. We had a great time and for about seven blessed hours, I did not have ring around the ankle. Getting a pedicure while you look at beautiful scenery in an obscenely comfortable robe after eating chocolate chip muffins and drinking hot cocoa is..... good. Soooooo good. We are going back next year. I would LOVE to go with my husband for a last hurrah before the baby gets here but since my pedicure was 90 dollars and the room was almost 300, etc etc I don't see it happening. Totally worth every penny, but no matter how you look at it- still a lot of pennies.

Mmm food, the cheesecake with fresh strawberries was perfect. Sooooo perfect. Sadly, I only enjoyed the cheesecakey goodness for a short while before I spent 48 hours reliving the tablespoon of red onion on my salad. Up yours red onion.

On the baby shower front, well it has not gone smoothly. I am a chips and dip kind of girl. A low maintenance ( not including the once a year indulgence- once a month is high maintenance, once a year is a treat) person who HATES FUSS. I hate fuss, people. I hate being the center of attention. AND I REALLY HATE PEOPLE WHO SAY THEY HATE ATTENTION WHILE ACTUALLY WANTING AND LOVING IT BECAUSE YOU SCREW IT UP FOR THE REST OF US. JUST ADMIT YOU LIKE FUSS SO THE REST OF US CAN GET SOME FREAKIN PEACE.

Anyhow we were sitting at the dinner table for Mom's birthday and Mom was talking about Sea Monkey whom she insists on calling Little Boy Blue which is annoying. "And how is my Little Mama today? And how is Little Boy Blue Today?" Please imagine the most syrupy, you are a half-wit tone possible. That is the tone my Mom uses with children. AND THEN SHE PET MY STOMACH. And I bit her head off, a little. The only person who can pet me is Mister. Anyhow, ick. But then The Shower comes up. Because my sister mentioned that she "has" to invite someone I don't care for because we have known them a long time and it would be awkward for her not to. Now, I have heard my sister talk five kinds of smack about this girl for a good half hour multiple times. She avoids seeing her whenever possible. So, because SHE does not want to feel awkward we must apparently suffer. And I said it was dumb to invite people who were not going to be a part of our babies life and why did we need to invite my Great Aunt that I see once a year, anyway?

I want the people the baby will see and know and that ARE a part of our lives. See, this is why we freakin eloped. Because I have a low tolerance for this crap and I feel like my sister's pregnant prop. Do you know she suggested a game where everyone tries to figure out how large I am? What the CRAP kind of a game is that? How fat is the fat, pregnant PCOS woman? NO. NO. If I am wearing a size 18 maternity NOW, what size will I be wearing THEN? Then, when I said it did not make sense to invite people who are not a part of our lives- really does my 80+ Great Aunt want to drive over two hours to sit with us? Do we need to invite people I have not seen ON PURPOSE for over two years because they have lost their minds? Why and how they have lost their minds is a whole separate post but I assure you, their parenting philosophy is to put it kindly, lenient.

Anyhow, so my sister says that there are 50 people on the shower guest list. Now, this is incredible because if you asked me how many close friends I have I would say NOT 50. I have only a handful of friends now, because I withdrew from everyone during infertility and dealing with my crazy Mom. So telling me there are 50 people I MUST have, is incredible to me.

And Mister is fuming mad because my sister said " people from South Jersey have no manners". Ummm, or maybe I am just not a hypocrite. Because I am surely to God not inviting some of those people to my house. So why would I want them at a shower?

Here is who I would WANT. If I had to freakin have one. For Chrissake. My darling, darling AYM and her equally darling husband. My husband. My husbands best friends who will most certainly be seeing the child on a monthly if not more basis- and their Mom who is Mister's honorary Mom. And my stepmom. And I suppose my mother in law. Sigh. And my sister in law and her husband. And when she is not calling me and Mister ill mannered, back woods, inbred yokels- my sister. And Andrea and her almost husband. I have some friends that I love dearly in The South who are too, too far away to come but will be there in spirit. Sadly, also my Mom. Argh, Mom. ARGH. So we are only at 15. Then include my brothers in law. The ones that are close enough and you get to 19. I suppose my other sister in law would want to go. So 20 at the outside. There. See. WHO ARE THESE OTHER 30 PEOPLE?? And where were they when we were stripping the wallpaper in our house? And where were they when I was crying in exhaustion after taking care of Mom and cleaning up her pee and poop and changing the dressing on her bedsores? Cause they were not at my house, and they were not calling me to see if I was still sane. Or telling me everything would be fine and that I would get through it. Or listening to me rant about insurance companies and hospitals, and puke and the hundreds of other things you deal with when your parent is dying.

So Mister, in a display of fine backwoods inbred manners said NO SHOWER. Praise Jesus. And my sister said "FINE!" And I was thankful but suspicious. Because I don't believe her. No. Just no. Please no.

I am very, very tempted to tell a big, fat lie to my sister. Tell her my sister in law is handling everything, and then just let the damn illbred country bumpkin redneck chips fall where they may when nothing happens.

Stupid work

is making me crazy. And my boss is not evil but she has never been a manager at this level before. Which means she is proving herself on us. Fun. All my emails sound like " This is unacceptable!!" Yes, she uses two exclamation points in her emails. Because they are CRUCIAL, you know. And she is 25. Do I need to say anything else besides that she is 25? There is nothing inherently wrong with being 25, but this girl had no people skills as a supervisor, did not develop them as a manager and is in charge of a whole store and has wretched people skills. You do not get good work out of people by telling them they have to stay late, then when they tell you they have to open saying " that sucks for you.". That is going to get your tasks done that night, but what about the future when your employee resents you?

She has no idea how to talk to people and is alienating her staff already. Including her managers. Including me. And if the person training your staff does not like you or respect you, you have problems. I was open to liking her but... nope.

My rule for good management is take care of your staff and they will take care of you. It is hard to find good employees, it is expensive to train them. If you treat them like they are dumb, lazy, clueless, or micromanage them; they will act dumb, lazy, clueless, and need micromanaging.

The biggest part of being a manager is keeping all your employees happy. Happy employees are productive. Who doesn't get this? I think she will get short term results and long term resentment. I think she has some things in her favor, like energy and follow through but that is not enough. It's enough in a manager of a department, but not for a whole store.

I wonder sometimes if she is going to try and fire me. Who cares? Then I can collect unemployment and she will have to go through Christmas without a store trainer who has almost seven years of experience. Go ahead, babydoll. I know I am the best trainer in our area. You need me more than I need you. I can get an employee fully trained in 12 hours. I can get them emergency trained in 6. And they love me, and they work hard for me, and are happy. I could get another job tomorrow. Yes I could.

I don't want to, though. I want my freakin maternity leave. It is free money. Hello, free. If I get a new job I won't get maternity leave. I want the convenience of a job they have to hold for me so I can go right back. I like my co-workers( well most of them), I like my job. Mostly. I like my actual job, the cover your ass paperwork, the corporate crap, and new boss growing pains excepted.

Sooo my game plan ( unless she figures out a way to shit-can me, in which case my game plan is unemployment) is to make it two more weeks. Then it will be crazy busy from Christmas and I won't have as much time to notice her, then it will be the second week of January. Sllllllllow. BUT, she is getting married in February, so she will be distracted. Then she will be gone for her honeymoon. Then it will be March. Maternity Leave! So hopefully we will all be too busy for anything to happen for the next couple of months.

No, just no.

When Mister saw his parents my mother in law( who in many ways is great)told him " let me know as soon as she goes into labor and I will take a personal day so I can be there in the delivery room."

Mister said "No. It's just us, she doesn't want anyone there besides me. You may wait in the WAITING ROOM with everyone else and see the baby with everyone else." And she said
"But I'm your MOTHER".

Hellll to the no people. My mother in law+ my vagina= NEVER. Mister stood firm and I have to tell you my idea of torture would be any more people than medically necessary being there. No thanks, we didn't even have privacy for the conception- I would like a little for the birth.

I have no idea how those women on tv are ok with cameras and film crews and giving birth. But I would lock myself into a closet for privacy. Please, I DON'T EVEN WANT TO BE THERE. Mister doesn't want to be there, but I told him he has to- to hold my hand BUT NO LOOKING. His area is from the neck up, we will happily see the final product but neither of us wants to see, touch, cut a cord, or examine my nether regions. Neither of us is a fan of goo, bodily fluids, pain, or the distinct possibility that I could poop in front of people. Having my mother in law there will NOT help.

Soooo, my mother in law is a little put out. She will have to live with the disappointment of never seeing my ladybits. EVER.

Snips and snails and puppy dog

tails, that's what little boys are made of. We got an unmistakable shot of what our tech called the "wing wing". LOL. Sea Monkey( or if we are being formal- Peter) looks great and is to quote" perfect and exactly right". YAY! My placenta did move, and is in the front of my uterus. Likely being pummeled by Sea Monkey which is why I can't feel anything. He was fully stretched out and almost lounging across my belly. We saw his wee man hands and legs and feet. Everything is in the right spot and doing everything it should. Hooray!

Mister and I are beyond excited. Mister scanned in all the pictures so if I can remember how, I will post the newest ones.

Sea Monkey is stil in there!

I heard the heart beat nice and clear this morning at the doctors office. So now tomorrow can be a treat where we will finally see how Sea Monkey is doing. I cannot believe how many weeks it has been since we have had a peek in there.

So tomorrow we will get up early and have bacon and eggs and then head off to see what all we have going on in there.

I almost forgot, my blood pressure is fine, and I gained five pounds this month. Which is horrifying to me. personally but my ob said since I have only gained 7 pounds over 20 weeks that she is not concerned. So according to my nutritionist, I can gain 8 more pounds, but the ob says I can gain 13. I am hoping it is only 8 more.

Tomorrow is twenty weeks

Wow. It still doesn't feel real. When does it feel like something that is actually going to happen? I guess if I have not relaxed yet, I won't at all. Tomorrow is my regular appointment so we will at least know if the baby is still alive. Then the day after is the gender screening where I will grab the poor ultrasound tech by the neck and demand to know WHERE THE DAMN PLACENTA IS AND HAS IT FREAKIN MOVED? Sorry Laurie( that's her name) but I am at the edge of patience.

On our way home on my birthday, I asked Mister if he was still afraid that we would go to the appointment and find Sea Monkey had stopped developing. He said yes, but that he thought I would feel different. I don't think I would feel anything. I don't think I would "just know". That is the scary part to me, that something could be wrong and I would not know, and there is probably nothing they can do anyway. Most people around me when I tell them that I am trying not to get excited till viability give me that "babies don't die and if they do it is only OTHER people's babies" look. Or they say " nothing will go wrong". Which is a crock of shit. Denying something could happen does not make it less likely. I can't decide if I am realistic or morbid or if this is just me being unable to commit to something I still believe will get taken away from us.

Is it wrong that I am not floating around in some cloud of blue and pink? I am happy, but so so cautious. I do feel like I do not love the baby yet. I tell the baby I love it, but I think I am afraid to. I loved our first baby right away. And that baby never even developed a heart beat. I wish I could be different and like everyone else. I know if I was on the outside of this I would not even consider that something could go wrong at this point. My sister has thrown caution to the wind and is buying a ton of stuff. I feel like some crazy woman trying to ward off the evil eye while everyone around me smiles and tells me there is no such thing.

Mostly instead of thinking about decorating the nursery I think about how horrible it would be to undecorate the nursery. I still have not bought a pregnancy book, I still have not registered at the hospital or scheduled child birth classes or infant cpr or breast feeding or anything. I keep putting it off. Partially because what is the point of a labor class when it might be a c- section but mostly because I just can't believe we will need it.

But tomorrow at least we will know if Sea Monkey is still in there. And the day after if everything goes well we will know if we are going to be surrounded by pink or blue. My sister is hell bent on willing a girl into existence and has bought a ton of pink stuff from this store called umm Jack and Jill? Janie and Jack? Something like that. She was showing everyone on my birthday and said she could not resist and if it is a boy maybe one of the other two pregnant women in her life will have a girl.

Personally, while all we really want is a baby, Mister and I would choose a boy if we could. But only because we can't agree on a girl name. And have made no progress trying because Mister said it is pointless to pick one till we know we need it. I know my husband and if we have a girl she will have that man wrapped around her finger from day one. He says no, but I am sure he will be a pile of mush forever.

I am about to go to the store and get stuff for meat sauce. I might throw some sausage in there this time instead of just ground beef. And then we are making apple pies out of the 15 pounds of apples we have from Sunday. I will just be holding my breath till tomorrow.

Today I am officially

advanced maternal age. Or as I hear it in my head, ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE...... I tried so hard to get pregnant and be done before hitting this number that is like a giant signpost reading "COMPLICATIONS AHEAD" Well, it's here. I am 35. Thirty freakin five. I will be 70 when Sea Monkey is my age.

I am having a lovely weekend. Yesterday Mister sacrificed himself and took me furniture shopping. We were planning on the museum but did not realize they had shortened their hours. So we had to skip that. But couches.... I love looking at couches. * Note to self- it is a little less enjoyable when you must heave yourself out of each couch.* After I had drooled over living room sets, we went to the best and most wonderful store in the universe. Sephora. And I picked out a big box of Urban Decay eyeshadow and a lovely face mist. Ooooh it is nice. Then we went to Longhorne, Mister loves steak and I do not cook it so I had a pretty nice chicken while he made sweet, sweet love to an enormous piece of beef. Then we went to Ikea, then we went to WalMart- which sucks but we needed cat food. Then we went home and curled up on the couch and watched Transformers 2 and had milk and cookies while Mister rubbed my feet.

Then we went to bed and this morning Mister made me pancakes and I treated myself to half a cup of coffee. My first coffee since July! I can't feel anything but we assume Sea Monkey is high off the sugar and caffeine. I admit, I had a teeny hope that the syrup and coffee would provoke Sea Monkey into a few karate chops. Nope.

Soon we are leaving to pick apples, then we are going to see Mom. Good Christ I am not looking forward to that part. But still, we will be 20 weeks on Wednesday and there is no hiding it anymore. I am NOT looking forward to it. But I enjoyed my peace while I had it. Then, we are going up to Daddy's who is grilling pork chops and chicken. It is the last time he'll use the grill this season. All in all, it should be a lovely day. Except for the Mom part. Ugh.

But mostly a very lovely day.