More babble

And here's another entry in Kinneret's random stream of consciousness babble.

It's midnight and everyone is asleep. This is a twist on the way things have been lately, where I am sound asleep by nine or ten, sometimes earlier.
It's quiet, other than the furnace working, and a sweet cat is curled up in his basket beside me. He's snoring. I wish I were, too.

I was extremely tired earlier. That seems to have vanished along with the "morning" sickness that started mid-afternoon and persisted till recently. One good thing about going grocery shopping when lightheaded, sick to the stomach and nauseous, is that you tend to buy a whole lot less "adventure" food.

Adventure food is what I call the stuff you see and think "hmmmm, that looks interesting! I bet it tastes great!" with the eventuality that your grocery bill ends up much higher than anticipated. I hardly bought anything today and it was 170 dollars. Seriously. Hardly any meat other than deli. Some fish ... yes, grouper for 3.99 ... I love grouper. ( We were introduced to it in the Bahamas when on our honeymoon and it is delicious.) Some cheese. Canned stuff. Some fruit, veg and juice, because even soda tastes off now. Coffee. Some paper goods. Ice cream, of course. I am a fairly careful shopper, I buy stuff on sale, I clip coupons, the whole nine yards. So much for intellectual pursuits.

My breasts are sore and heavy. I am sick almost every day. And I still worry. I wish the OB appt had come and gone ... I am looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. I am terrified of hearing bad news, just scared stiff. I don't dwell on it, I try not to. And in truth, few understand why I worry, why I am so pessimistic, why I'm having trouble relaxing.
OK, you certainly could counter with "you're a control freak worry-wort, so what do you expect?" but you wouldn't be helping the situation.

John told me today that he's going to come to the OB appointment. Even typing those words, I noticed that I sighed with relief.
I am luckier than most in my choice of mates (and I know that many feel that way about their spouses, but I have to say my piece). John has been utterly wonderful dealing with my sickness, my moods, my food likes and dislikes. He laughs, he hugs me, he is extraordinarily patient. Upon my return from the grocery store, while I was putting the food away, he asked me how I was doing. I promptly burst into tears and told him I was exhausted and miserable.

I mean, really. Tears? Moi? No excuse for it. But the darned hormones have ensnared me and he laughed it off, dried my tears and held me close. He then ordered me to finish up and go sit on the couch and do nothing. Which I did, gratefully, while munching on some fruits of my labours (Fontina cheese and saltines. Lunch of champions).

Jr is being a pain in the ass. He is truly in full teenage mode these days and pushing buttons as he can. His latest thing is going to sleep in whatever shirt he wore that day. Ick. Teenage boys get very sweaty - they run, they skate, they do NOT sit still. Jr then wonders why he's getting zits all over his back. So, I reiterated to him once again "change your shirt before bed. Remove your dirty socks before bed. THEN get into bed and go to sleep - AFTER brushing your teeth."
You'd think a kid who'd spend 45 minutes in the shower (if we let him)would be more conscientious about his hygiene?
I also told him that if we caught him doing it again (multiple warnings on this one), his mp3 player would be forfeit for a week. I got the "you can't take it, my mom gave it to me!!" to which I responded that I wouldn't be taking it, he just wouldn't be using it, and that no matter what his mother bought for him, our rules are our rules.
Damnit, I hate sounding like a stepmom. And a parent.

He also has a project due when spring break is over - I'm staying out of it. When it comes to English, I have high standards (not that you'd know from my writing) and he doesn't even try to meet them. Which is typical for many teen boys, I know ... especially ones who didn't grow up with a love of reading and books. So, I'm leaving it to him and his father.

This baby - if it ever becomes a baby - will be showered with books and reading. You can bet on it.
(Yes, I admit it. I've been looking at baby crap online. Books. Pooh Bear stuff. Valances. Crap. Yeesh.)

It's weird. Even the parenting thing in my life, is coming out backasswards. First I'm stepmom to a pre-teen boy, raise him through adolescence, etc, get him ready for college ... then I do the infant thing. Maybe.
Typical of my so-called life. Frequently in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hey, it's gotta be what makes me so utterly unique.
Heh.

Three more days till the OB appointment. I can make it. And they better have a cooter cam waiting. I'm just sayin'.

Hey, I may actually be tired now. I better hurry before I wake up. Bedtime.