A Pregnant Pause . . .

That is my title because I am pregnant and have had an awfully long blog pause. Oh my goodness, aren’t I just the most witty thing ever. Anyway, yeah so I am knocked up, and just about to enter my second trimester. Also known as the glory trimester because you are no longer sick all the time, but not yet able to be harpooned by fisherman due to your large girth.

Things about pregnancy this time around I have noticed:

1. When you tell your husband, you know this might take like six months to a year, so we better start trying now. Please be prepared to be pregnant right away, and put away your flask.

2. When pregnant with Owen, I had often said due to some issues at the beginning “Please God, just let me be sick.” As this was suppose to be the sign of a healthy pregnancy. Well let me tell you, God is very funny, and very mean spirited. Only recently has the nausea subsided, but for the past seven weeks I have been hit with waves of pukiness. But I never puke, because you know that would mean relief, I just sit there thinking of puking, for hours on end. But you know what, I don’t care, because “it is a sign of a healthy pregnancy.” This to me know falls under the “a bird shitting on you is good luck” category. Absolute crap, but the unfortunate sufferers need a bright side.

3. The other day, I looked in the mirror and said to myself (or out loud, as I tend to do unknowingly): “Wow, Cass, you are getting chunky.” But then I was all like - I AM PREGNANT. THANK GOD, I AM PREGNANT. So the entire allowance of being a fat ass is a pretty sweet perk.

4. Forget bloodhounds, just let me track that missing hiker lost in the woods because my sense of smell is superhero extraordinary. Is this a good thing? Hell no. There is nothing worse than being the victim of morning, late morning, noonish, afternoon, dusk, evening, nighttime sickness and be met everywhere you go with the smells of the world. You ever change a 20 month old’s poop laden diaper when battling throwing up with the smell of a nasal ninja? And don’t get me started on MUNI. I am sorry man next to me, but your burps of Chinese food every 30 seconds might just cause me to punch you in the face repeatedly, and is that a beer you had with that lunch? Because I think it is, and I hate you!

5. You don’t know true happiness in your husband, until you look to his face when uttering these words “Its only one baby.”

So, yeah, pregnant again, meaning that my next hard alcohol cocktail will more than likely be for the celebration of the year 2010. Hello, my name is Cassie McCall, and I have been sober for 8 weeks. Our baby is due March 14, 2009. We can’t wait.

Things I Know Now . . .

I know what you are thinking, what a sweet and innocent boy (also, dude has hair!). Please remember, however, that said boy is captured forever still in this photograph. For if it was action, then you would see this boy jump left, jump right, put his right hand in, put his right hand out, put his right hand in and shake it all about while uttering a guttering wailing that can only be surmised as a cross between a Planet of the Apes bellowing and the sound I imagine victims of x-ray guns utter before vanishing into the great unknown. Last night, we visited relatives in an unchild proofed house. No biggie you say. But with Owen, Curious of All and Destroyer of Much it was hell on wheels. They say a toddler has an attention span of five minutes. And if one was to track his or her moments over a specific time frame, it would resemble the product of an intense session of spirographing. I left the apartment two hours later with a pounding headache. I remember the day before thinking - Yeah, I don’t have to cook dinner! But in all honesty, I would have made an eight course meal complete with crème brulee instead, because you know why? My house has gates, which contain the roaming beast. And it also has a bunch of toys, which pacifies the wondering beast. Oh, and there is this wonderful Cable TV station called Sprout, which soothes the beast with its Goodnight Show. So in a continuing list of resolutions with child, in addition to not smoke crack or invite hobos in for coffee, goes NEVER GO OUT ON THE WEEKNIGHT WHEN THE BOY HAS TO GO TO BED AT 7:00 P.M. I always hated tattoos, but thinking this one on my forehead might stop invitations.

Oh Really Vitamin Water?