he said she said

Okay, so we're just going to get this out in the open. Because every time we tell someone, we just about get killed. So because this is such a big deal:

WE'RE NOT FINDING OUT WHAT WE'RE HAVING.

I know. The world is ending. Pink or blue. What should we do? Tragedy really. Everybody - just chill.

I have my reasons for not wanting to know, and luckily Jess too is happy waiting for our goo-covered surprise to arrive before we find out whether I'll be buying mass amounts of pink things or a reasonable amount of boring blue things. (Because boy things, like the name choices, are pretty much bow-ring.) My mom didn't find out for any of us, which is probably where I first learned the value of waiting, especially for such a wonderful surprise. But among my own reasons, there's just something about being fat, ugly, and sick for nine months that leaves one wanting to look forward to something. Like a little bundle of joy surprise. I will love whatever exits my body no matter what, no matter if it has my blue eyes (fat chance) or Jess' red hair (fatter chance).

Also, I like to make people gape their mouths open wide, tongues hanging out, followed by an exasperated, "You're not...!!!??? Whhhyyy?" Um. My gut. My kid.

The only real "good" reason anyone tries to give me for finding out what we're having is that I'll be able to buy the appropriate color items before its entrance into the world. So if you're really feeling concern for my unborn child's wardrobe and accessories, have no fear. There will be two newly minted grandmas standing by. I'm relatively sure that this child will be fully outfitted within 24 hours of revealing its gender by these two (only a little bit) excited ladies.

Anyhow. For those of you who have ultra fast brains and have thought to yourself, "Hey, this baby has a strong heart beat. It's totally a boy," let me assure you that every one of my mama's girls had the heartbeat of a strong little boy. So keep guessing.

Happy, healthy, strong. That's all I could really ask for. (Oh, and red hair and blue eyes, thank you very much.)

bump

So here I am in all my fifteen week glory. Although I'm not sure you could convince me that the extra weight is actually a child. I'm pretty sure it's chips and salsa. Lots and lots of chips and salsa. The child is roughly four inches big at this point in time. And while I got to hear its heart again today (and was again informed that it's a "strong one"), I'm pretty sure at this point, the growing belly has something to do with the growing appetite.

At this time, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to Chili's for offering their most perfect chips and salsa for a mere $3.29.

here comes the sun (hopefully)

Okay, so pregnancy is really messing with my mind.

How can it be that I'm craving the sunshine? Like desperately wanting to sit on the sun glistened porch and drink lemonade. Okay, substitute lemonade with something non-acidic that won't fizz on my gaping gums. Also, I don't have a porch. But I'd like one of those too.

This ISN'T NORMAL. I AM THE WINTER GIRL.

And it's not like I'm cursing winter either. This morning, I happily - and I mean happ-pill-ee - went outside and scraped the three inches of snow off both my car and my husband's. I just think there is something so strangely satisfying about a well-scraped car. And I mean, well-scraped. I don't leave any stacks on the hood, in the middle, those spots that are so easy to ignore as you know they'll melt and/or slide off when you come to a screeching halt at some point anyhow. I just love a thoroughly scraped off car. I was about to offer to help the Asian gal next to me, using her mini scrape (it was like a fork really) to scrape off only her windshield and back window. I was like, "Oh, I'm all over that. Allow me to use my high tech scraper on your snowbound car." But then she got in her snow covered car and drove away. It made me cry inside a little.

Anyhow. I'm not sure what it is. I'm fine in the snow, the cold. But what I really want is a sunshiney day. I'm so excited to lay out by the pool this summer, large belly protruding out of my maternity suit, other new body proportions equally visible to the sun. No really, I am. Sorry if you have to see me, but it's going to happen.

Pregalicious sunshine.

Pregnancy turns me into someone else. I'm not me. I am the carrier of Baby Cheney, the body of whom seeks sunshine and longs to find itself basking. Weird.

when it snows...

...ain't it thrillin'?

So we've got some inches. Which is inches more than we had last year. Much like St. George, Durham is totally unequipped to deal with snow, so much of the city is shutting down. Unfortunately for Jess, he logged on to Duke's Web site only to be informed that school is operating on regular school hours today.

I, on the other hand, intend to spend some hours working indoors, enjoying the freeze from the comfort of my couch.

i will now self destruct in....

So it seems that I'm developing some self destructive tendencies during pregnancy. You see, among the plethora of pregnancy symptoms I've been privileged to thus far experience (you name it, I've likely dabbled in it), one of the most wonderful is extremely sensitive gums. I bit into a (very soft) Red Vine, and SLICED MY GUM. It took a few weeks to heal. But the problem is, I've recently acquired an acute need for spicy foods. (And actually, no, they don't give me heartburn. So far. Only KFC. Another story.) So my current favorites include Flamin' Hot Cheetos and Miss Vickie's Jalapeno kettle cooked chips. They're so good AND I NEED THEM.

Problem is, they rip my gums apart. It's like the flame in the Flamin' Hot is literally lighting my gums afire. Or here's a way to describe how it feels at times - grating. My gums have been grated like a block of cheddar.

But I CAN'T STOP.

So there's where the self destruction comes in. I'm fully aware of, and audibly complain about, my aching gums. But I can't stop.

I hope my dentist father-in-law doesn't read this. He'd so fire me.

But then again, his wife had eight children. He must have seen some sort of erratic behavior during those six years (she was pregnant for SIX YEARS OF HER LIFE). I hear she once had a strange addiction to Hostess cupcakes. It's like that.

Except cupcakes don't rip your gums from your molars.

conversations in nursery

So in nursery today, the coloring activity was really advanced: one option featured a boy, the other a girl. So our conversation went a little like this:

Shauntel: "Now raise your hand if you're a boy."

Four out of five hands raise. Shauntel hands out the boy handout to the boys, including the one who didn't raise his hand.
A: With a look of disgust, "Hey, I'm not a boy!"
S: "You're not? What are you then?"

A: Completely serious, "A robot."

DUH.

nap time

So here's the issue: pregnancy makes me extremely prone to not only lashing out irrationally but also napping. Habitually. I'm pretty sure I can only have one child because if I'm pregnant with a second, the first will become an orphan while I sleep off that second pregnancy. Problematic really.

But the current issue: I'm going to start working at my old gig on Monday. It's only part-time, but when you're already busy sleeping part-time, it only leaves a few hours for things like getting dressed, combing your hair, eating some Eggo waffles. Work is not even factored in here. Problematic really.

Now if I were in Tokyo, this wouldn't be a problem. I could sleep on the subway. After all, commute time is practically nationally recognized as nap time.

Admit it. You really miss that place too.

pregnancy preferences

So to the right, you will notice my "What I'm Loving," "What I'm Hating," and "What I'm Missing" lists. The fun thing about these lists is they will likely not stay the same for very long. Welcome to my pregnant life.

You've heard that some women have cravings in pregnancy, right? Well, in the first three months I didn't so much have cravings as much as I had aversions. To everything. Every time I ate was WWIII with my head, desperate attempts to convince myself that the spaghetti wouldn't kill me. (No really, it won't.) For a while, I'd settle on something that I could tolerate - Ramen noodles for a while, Spaghettios with Meatballs for a while. But I didn't love them. I merely survived them and recognized that if I ate, I generally felt a little better.

Now that the second trimester has rolled around (and the heavens are still rejoicing about that one), I'm still not so much about cravings as much as I am about FOOD. My appetite is back in full swing. I don't crave strange concoctions as much as I just crave food. (Although I believe ham will never, ever, return to my diet.) Gone are the first month days of gagging at a piece of chocolate. (For real. I did this.) Just like my "real life" (that's what I refer to as my pre-pregnancy days), I get obsessed with a food, eat it like crazy, then move on to the next culinary delight.

I can say that things bug way more than they used to. Cranky pants is my middle name sometimes. Like my bangs. I don't know why I'm hating them. I loved them in my real life. Then a person started growing in my uterus and I hate them now. That's the best explanation I can come up with. So they're currently growing out. Luckily, pre-natal vitamins are causing my hair to literally sprout off my head so this awkward "I don't know if I'm bangs or not" stage will be short.

Anyhow, three cheers for the second trimester and yummy food. Although I'm still not sure the logic of eating for two justifies my consumption of twice as much food, seeing as how number two is roughly the size of my fist.

And if my fist were a person, I don't think it could eat a pan of cookies.

conversations in (future) parenthood

Shauntel (while scanning photos of in the womb baby stages): "Don't you think it's weird that a person is inside my belly?"

Jess: "Better yours than mine."

*********************************************************

Shauntel: "So I had this moment of panic today."
Jess: "Uh huh...and why?"

Shauntel: "I realized I'm going to have to squeeze another human being - out - of - my - body."
Jess: "Yup. Have fun with that."

oh by the way

So some of you may have noticed that my posting as of late has been sketchy at best. I can blame my recent lack of witticisms on my being in Utah for the holidays and sort of being scattered all over the place. But if we're being honest, it would be best to blame this drought on the fact that I don't so much feel like sitting down and being clever when I'm either fighting the urge to retch or sleeping on the couch (thereby totally supressing the urge to retch by forcing it into REM cycles).

However, something has happened in the last few days. Baby Cheney has decided that the first trimester was enough to torture me with, and the pukes have officially left the building. In fact, I have basically declared myself a new woman. I almost feel guilty because my only associations so far with being pregnant are being sick. So not being sick almost seems like I'm cheating.

BUT I'M NOT COMPLAINING. In fact, it is with great joy that my husband would like to announce I can cook again.

Here's the little beeb at nine weeks. I'm pleased to announce that since this photo, he or she has now formed some decent arms and legs.

P.S. We're just kind of excited. ;)

hard life

Sometimes my husband's life is really hard. :)

(Big Blue = Shauntel, Big Red = Jess)

i. am. awesome.

Looky, looky. Big Blue at the top. Followed shortly thereafter by Big Red. (The hubby had top honors for a few days, so this isn't very awesome to him.) It's possible I declared this the best day of 2009. So far.

And I know - I have lots to update. I know, I know. Just hold your horses.

And bow to me.

The winner.

;)


P.S. Never mind that I still have half a season to survive.