My Books, My Belly, and My Gag Reflex.

I have to admit, I've never been very good at taking instruction verbally.
In fact, I rarely take instruction well at all unless it's self-instruction, but that's besides the point.

So, of course the moment that everyone finds out I'm pregnant I'm knocked on my ever-growing tushy by a barrage of "do this" and "don't do this" and a handful other less inviting phrases.

While I graciously appreciate everyone's concerns and intents to share their boundless knowledge and experience, why is it that even though motto of pregnancy is and always has been "No woman is alike", that the first people to forget this is women who have been pregnant?

I expect what I expect, and what I read, and more importantly; I will roll with the punches and get where I get when I get there. I don't need to know that I will be kicking my cat off my bed in the middle of the night because I no longer love him, and even more so, YES I am aware that you don't leave newborns alone in a room with two cats.

C'mon people, it's the first time a baby has been inside me with the full-on intention of coming out, but it isn't the first time this girl has been around a baby. They aren't foreign objects to me.
I have been around a few years, long enough to know that 1. babies are kind of hard to break, and 2. if in fact you do break them, it's ever-so-helpful that their daddy is a medical assistant.

Back to my original point.
I don't take well to people spouting off their opinions (or 'facts' depending on their assertion level) to me. I'm a reader and a doer.
At my appointment yesterday with my midwife, as she was flipping through literature and explaining the high points of the first trimester and what to/what not to worry about:(which btw, did not annoy me because it's her job) I already was aware of 90% of what she said.

Because I, the day after I got the 'you're knocked up' sign from my self-pregnancy test, went out and bought some books. And I read.
The most prevalent message I'm getting from all of it (other than the obvious do's and don'ts) is:

Every woman, and every pregnancy is different.

So as we go into it, it's a whole new ballgame, ladies and gentlemen.
While I appreciate the fact that your wife threw up at the sight of raw chicken, and that you ate peanut butter and jelly at midnight everyday for a month, and you have the "best" cure for constipation........

frankly, conversating about vomit and defacation isn't really what makes a pregnant lady feel fabulous, if you know what I mean. :)

Staycation and a Little Surprise.

I've been off work for a week.
It's crazy, because I thought I'd get WAY more done than I did.

I must add, I did get a lot done, but it sure feels like it's only been 2 days, not a week. But whatever.

We went through our storage, and now there is a huge "Goodwill" pile in the hall, as well as a garbage pile. The closet in the second bedroom is also much more empty.
I cleaned my fridge out. I reorganized my kitchen appliances and whatnots.
Odds and ends job completely all over the place.

I have come to one conclusion. Work sucks, I wanna stay home all the time.

*sigh*
Never gonna happen, but my, I love my staycations.
Granted, I would gladly trade one in for a trip to...face it...anywhere. But I got so much more done this way. And....it was cheap. I like cheap. I embrace cheap. It's one of my mottos.

Yesterday the hubby and I celebrated 4 years of marriage.
My, time does fly. We had pizza and watched Star Wars 4 - 6. I slept through most of The Empire Strikes Back, but hey. I was tired, in my defense.
It was a nice anniversary.

I digress. It's been a fast week, and I want it to start over. Also, I have a myriad of things to accomplish today and this weekend. So why am I blogging.
I need more tea and to get moving!

Ah yes. And one more thing.

I'm pregnant. :)

~The Unraveling One

Sincerely, The Starving Housewife.

Do you remember that feeling you used to get when your a kid, and you have your nice warm house, and big delicious dinners, and all the coolest toys you play with, and no bigger concerns than who you're going to sit next to at lunchtime tomorrow?

Yeah, all these little pouty kids that strut down the leaf-speckled sidewalks looking like the most pathetic creatures on the planet make me sick.

I mean, not that I want to go back to wearing hot pink sweaters and crooked ponytails and trying not to make eye contact with the creepy lunchlady in a hairnet....but I have to say I kinda miss that carelessness of childhood.
Adolescent minds simply do not comprehend the side effects of growing up.

~

After careful calculation between my disposable income and the stack of bills that clutter my mailbox daily, I have come to the conclusion that I can pay everything diligently and on time as long as I cease to eat for the next 6 months. Hm. Yes, that will work. Think of all the weight I will lose.

However, bearing in mind that if I die from starvation that nobody will get paid, some other process must be administered in balancing my finances. Either that, or I'm going to need to take up a second job licking stamps or making tacos for a pimply teenage boss.

Our dear friends at the Department of Revenue have sweetly requested payment for my previous year's balance due, and rightly so. I concede that I owe them the money. But I must admit, I'm a little miffed that in an analysis of my disposable income in order to determine my monthly payment that by excluding my credit card payments as offset, ANY 26 year old girl is going to plunge into starvation when they tell me I have to give them $112 a month.

This, of course, is actually the part that is only making things worse. The initial bombshell was a garnishment I recieved on October 1st because the lady at the collection agency is a biznitch and turned me in because my payment was...wait for it...


Not skipped.
Not avoided.
Not missed in over a year.

but late. Just a week late.

Soooo....now, rather than making my $25.00 a month payment, they are garnishing my paychecks for $560 a month. Seems fair. (cough cough)


Uhhhh.

Being the spreadsheet freak that I am, I created an simple filliable calculator in a program that allows me to input all my monthly bills, my monthly paychecks, and it will spit out an ending balance that I fondly refer to as my 'scrap fund'.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is what this girl, husband, and two cats will be surviving off of for the month.

$33.00.

Look like Mr. Capital One and Mr. Household Bank will be playing a role in my life again. :)

I think now I could really go for some of that cafeteria food and a crooked ponytail.