All the News That's Fit to Print
Well, it's officially official. After all, if you read it in The Citizen, it must be true.
Sister says her first act as First Lady will be to plant a rose garden at the house. For press conferences, I assume.
So yesterday I felt wretched. Wanna hear about it? Of course you do.
First off, I should tell you that I am not at 8 weeks, only 7. I don't know where I lost a week, but there you go. Me and Yorkie are due two weeks apart. Belly Buddies!
Anyway, about the badness. I was good first thing in the morning. I didn't eat before going to the bus like I usually do because I felt like I wanted a couple of eggs and I wanted to have time to both cook and enjoy them. I got home, cooked and enjoyed them. I settled into the recliner with my knittng and it wasn't an hour later that the ookies began. I had to lay down on the couch, I felt so bad.
At 11:30, Bobo was getting hungry, and all she'll eat these days is tuna salad. The day before it smelled so good as I was making it that I had a tuna melt for lunch myself.
Yesterday it was all I could do to get the mayo mixed in without actually retching. I couldn't even make it into a sandwich. I had to give her the bowl and the fork and let her have at it. She went into the bag of bread and snatched out the heel piece and just ate it that way with her bowl o' tuna. And proclaimed it "yummy." I made myself eat some plain pasta with a bit of butter and salt and shaker cheese. I got it down, hoping that it would squelch the nausea, and it did--albeit marginally.
I didn't get off the couch until 3. I had my Elixir of Life (Diet Pepsi in the can) and that settled my tum enough for me to go off to my back-to-back meetings that started at 5:30. I had some saltines and another Elixir and I felt right as the mail by the time Mr. Poops picked me up. And as I was craving KFC by that point, he went out and got me some.
I'm here to tell you it was the best damn chicken I've ever had. Ever. I barely tasted it, I ate it that ravenously.
Today I feel fine. In the pink, so far. Of course I'm convinced that it's because I called the Dr. and made my first prenatal appointment and now I'm going to miscarry. And the news of the pregnancy has now spread like wildfire, so of course that's also calling down the bad juju.
When did I get to be superstitious? It's so unlike me.
Que sera, sera, I suppose. I need another Elixir.
Sister says her first act as First Lady will be to plant a rose garden at the house. For press conferences, I assume.
So yesterday I felt wretched. Wanna hear about it? Of course you do.
First off, I should tell you that I am not at 8 weeks, only 7. I don't know where I lost a week, but there you go. Me and Yorkie are due two weeks apart. Belly Buddies!
Anyway, about the badness. I was good first thing in the morning. I didn't eat before going to the bus like I usually do because I felt like I wanted a couple of eggs and I wanted to have time to both cook and enjoy them. I got home, cooked and enjoyed them. I settled into the recliner with my knittng and it wasn't an hour later that the ookies began. I had to lay down on the couch, I felt so bad.
At 11:30, Bobo was getting hungry, and all she'll eat these days is tuna salad. The day before it smelled so good as I was making it that I had a tuna melt for lunch myself.
Yesterday it was all I could do to get the mayo mixed in without actually retching. I couldn't even make it into a sandwich. I had to give her the bowl and the fork and let her have at it. She went into the bag of bread and snatched out the heel piece and just ate it that way with her bowl o' tuna. And proclaimed it "yummy." I made myself eat some plain pasta with a bit of butter and salt and shaker cheese. I got it down, hoping that it would squelch the nausea, and it did--albeit marginally.
I didn't get off the couch until 3. I had my Elixir of Life (Diet Pepsi in the can) and that settled my tum enough for me to go off to my back-to-back meetings that started at 5:30. I had some saltines and another Elixir and I felt right as the mail by the time Mr. Poops picked me up. And as I was craving KFC by that point, he went out and got me some.
I'm here to tell you it was the best damn chicken I've ever had. Ever. I barely tasted it, I ate it that ravenously.
Today I feel fine. In the pink, so far. Of course I'm convinced that it's because I called the Dr. and made my first prenatal appointment and now I'm going to miscarry. And the news of the pregnancy has now spread like wildfire, so of course that's also calling down the bad juju.
When did I get to be superstitious? It's so unlike me.
Que sera, sera, I suppose. I need another Elixir.
posted by Poops | 12:03 PM
4 Comments:
Oh, you just brought it all back for me. All the pregnancy misery. I feel for you. Hang in there!
Poor Poops. I hear you on the smell of tuna. I give it to my cat Thomas every once in a blue moon it seams as a treat. I can't even stand the smell of it then and I am not pregnant.
I'm superstitious too. But I've got a Chunkito to prove me wrong. You'll soon have The Pooper to prove you wrong too. Esp. since it sounds like you seem to spending a lot of time paying homage to what we call "the pooper" in my house ;-)
Oh Poops, you and I must be connected across the ocean by some bizarre psychic link. I've been having such horrible morning sickness that lays me flat until 12.30, then comes back for a command performance round 7. I have had to change my diet COMPLETELY around and eat things that I totally don't like, like pasta...cold, right out of the fridge. AMBROSIA...
My only bit of advice is to stay away from Diet Pepsi because of inconclusive evidence about the effects of fake sugar on unborn children. My OB actually suggested opening a can of regular Coke, letting it go flat overnight, then drinking it first thing in the AM. It works like you wouldn't believe.
They have these things called Ginger Nut Bikkies that are ACE, much better than Ginger Ale (which contains sodium benzoate, another no no). If you want, I'll send some to you, my belly buddy.
Hang in there...I feel your pain.
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