For Those About to Gestate, We Salute You

“Aw, look. You’re having a Hellboy.” – our friend Chad

There comes a time in a young-ish married lady’s life when she looks at her husband and has to make a choice, to a) beat him in Scrabble, b) mold his beard into funny shapes, or c) do it. And sometimes, choosing “c” results in being 12 days late with her ladytime, taking four negative pregnancy tests followed by a fifth positive one, and then gaining 400 pounds, roughly half of which is fetus and its accompanying goo. (Note: The other half is burgers and lemonade.)

Which is to say, I’m knocked up. (Due on Cinco de Mayo! Break out the virgin margaritas.)

Yay! Husband and I and ESPECIALLY OUR PARENTS are thrilled with this development, as it means our familial line will continue for at least another generation, or in nerd terms, through iPhone57G. We look forward to all the cuteness and wonder and giggles and poop, which we've been assured there will be lots of. In fact, we’re even looking forward to the inevitable moment when the baby pukes into our open mouths, which, if friends and family on Facebook are to be believed, happens alarmingly often.

And while we're over the moon, I gotta tell you guys – pregnancy is kind of funky.

Don’t get me wrong - the prospect of introducing a new human to the wonders of Pixar and brownies is dumbfounding in its awesomeness. But my first trimester was a little rough. Meaning: I did not take the Barftrain all the way to Vomitville, but I did make a month-long stop in Queasytown. (Motto: “Where you always feel like s**t.”)

There was a span of about two weeks during which I slept negligibly, ate weirdly, and cooked nothing – not a slice of toast, not a bowl of cereal, not liver with fava beans with a nice Chanti. We subsided mainly on Chipotle and the kindness of passing Chinese takeout delivery boys, who, as it turns out, prefer to be paid for their troubles. My diet was neither cheap, nor healthy, nor particularly good, unless you count the burgers. And there were many.

It’s Month #4 now, and the nausea has finally begun to subside. I’m cooking again, and my appetite has returned with all its friends and relatives. According to the medical books (a.k.a. Manuals of Horror) I've read, the rest of my pregnancy should proceed thusly:

Month 1: Sore bosom
Month 2: Fatigue
Month 3: Nausea
Month 4: Raging indigestion
Month 5: Pregnancy … thing … bus … uh, brain
Month 6: Carpal Tunnel Body
Month 7: Hormone conflagration
Month 8: Beatlemania
Month 9: Gigantism
Month 10: Pass a human through my nethers

I'm looking forward to it - the pregnancy, the birth, and especially the whole "raising a child" part. Because I've tried to teach the cat how to read, and he's just not getting it.

In the meantime, I'll blog when I can, hopefully regarding food. And if y'all have any suggestions? I'm all ears. And abdomen.

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Comment Policy

Sweet readers!

We've received many wonderful comments lately, from insightful and generous viewers of this here blog. We love getting them, and engaging in the discussions they inspire. Honestly, the community aspect of blogging is probs the best part.

However, we've also received quite a few comments that read like this:

Great post! I agree. -Aromatherapy Gladys

In these cases, the name link connects directly to one of two things:

1. A corporation or an amateurish personal site meant to sell a variety of crap: diet aids, acai berries, dining room tables, etc. 
2. A fraudulent cooking site created entirely so SEO-heavy "recipes" can attract eyes to Google ads.

It's spam, and I never, ever post these comments. But A) I wanted to give other bloggers the heads up (heads up!), and B) I'd like to stop receiving them. The filters miss a lot, and checking the links takes up far too much of my valuable 30 Rock-watching time.

So, folks that send germane comments packed with relevant information: Thank you and keep sending!

And to the folks that comment solely for traffic: Please stop. I don't want your dining room table, and your SEO sites are hurting bloggers who publish actual content, and who depend on this for a living. For real.

Excelsior!
Kris

P.S. Google, please get on this.

P.S.S. The first comment I received after posting this:

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Navigating the Reboot: Getting Back on Track After Falling Off of It. (The Track, I Mean.)

(Note to readers: This post is a tad self-indulgent. [On a blog! Go figure.] But hopefully, it'll help some folks who have been sidetracked on their financial and foodie journeys.)

Between September and early January, I was adopted by a cat, got married, went on my honeymoon, traveled to another wedding, got a new job, traveled for Thanksgiving, moved to a new apartment, blew through Christmas, traveled for New Year, broke my toe, and was buried in snow up to my cerebellum. Except for the prolonged limping, it was fantastic. I loved every minute with family, co-workers, and various strangers at the airport.

However.

You know all those good intentions you have stored in the back of your mind? And those behaviors you honed and practiced until they became habits? And those years and years of good financial, nutritional, and organizational practices, which you blog about almost every day, to the point where your husband asks with some regularity when you’re coming to bed?

Um.

Not to say I’ve spent the last few months buying Lexuses and cleaning out Chipotle. But I’m ludicrously out of shape, and my financial discipline has fallen way off. Part of this is (see above reasons). Another part is that I’m cooking for three different websites, all of which require an array of totally unrelated groceries. As far as the third part, I have no excuse. Spreadsheets made me sneezy? Yeah, that's the ticket.

Yet, my undies are not in bundles. It’s been a wonderful few months, which I wouldn’t trade for all 30 Rock reruns in the world. And, though it's not often mentioned in the frugality blogosphere, it's thoroughly possible to temporarily neglect budgeting and still feel okay about yourself.

But now, it's time to shape up, ship out (?), and get back on the horse. (You know the horse. It’s big and made out of money and noodles.) So here's my plan. Maybe it's applicable to your situation, too, and we can track our progress together. That would be neat.

1) Set some measureable goals, both long and short term. There's no better way to spark action and drive than having a quantifiable objective. For the short term, I'd like to get in shape, at least to the point where I'm not winded by subway stairs. For the long term, HOTUS and I would like to buy an abode before the apocalypse. So it's time to start saving.

2) Forecast necessities. First, the Commodore 64 from which I write this blog will soon be incompatible with … anything remotely technological (though it will make an incredible paperweight). Second, I'm running out of contact lenses. Actually having none would not only impair my ability to see, but impair my ability to get fuzzies caught between my contact and my eye. And last, but not least, my iPod, which I love like a child, has a big ol' line running through the screen. Is this a necessity? That's like asking, "Can I live without daily infusions of Weezer's Pinkerton?" Which – duh. No.

3) Create spreadsheets/tangible records. (*Sigh*) As it turns out, procuring a new job and a new husband kind of blows your former budgeting process to tiny pieces. Getting a handle on our spending, plus our combined financial powers, will go a long way towards accomplishing #1. Hello, Excel. Be nice to me.

4) Work out. For real, now. While dreams of being the first woman to play Major League Baseball have long been quashed by the sad acceptance of my A) total physical incompetence, and B) gender, it doesn't mean I should forgo exercise entirely. A 33-year-old shouldn't be stiff arising from bed in the morning. So, walking (and perhaps the dreaded jogging) will soon be in order.

And those are it for now. Readers, have you ever fallen off the horse? How did you get back on? Tips are sweet.

~~~

If this prolonged navel gazing appealed to you, you might also enjoy these:

• If I Had Known Then: Food and Financial Advice for the College Bound
• Mission Statement ... OF DELIGHT
• Should You Read Cheap Healthy Good? Take This Quiz and Find Out

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