Oh heyyyyy girl, hey. Remember that one time I told you that story about how we all got the flu and it was the worst four consecutive days in our family's existence? Oh, and remember how then then next day I told you I was also pregnant and feeling like a dumpster fire 24/7?
Oh yeah, put THAT brilliant combination together and make it tango.
What I'm saying is that even when I was feeling better, I wasn't feeling better. The upside to this parade of vomit and nausea is that I haven't gained an ounce in 11 weeks, and baby is doing just fine. The downside is that my current existence and nutrition is totally dependent on buttered toast, Teddy Grahams and water.
But then, in a moment of glory, the other night for dinner I HAD to have a crispy chicken sandwich. Eegads! Food! Sounding delicious! Must. Get. Some. Now. Like, some crispy chicken sandwich magic maker probably should have just delivered it to me in 2.9 seconds with a side of light mayo and fries a-la the freaky fast Jimmy John's commercials. But no, we had to driiiiiiive to Red Robin, where they do make a delicious crispy sandwich and as an added bonus offer bottomless steak fries. Word.
But then, as we pulled into the parking lot and curses if you wouldn't imagine it, CRISPY CHICKEN SANDWICHES ARE NOW MADE BY THE DEVIL. I shall never eat again! More toast! Begone, chickens of the world!
This is my life. In rare, glorious moments, some foods sound amazing and I must have them immediately. But in the time lapse it takes to actually get said food that is not a Teddy Graham to my mouth, something goes horribly wrong and my body denies its very existence and tells my brain that it's made of poison and will likely a) kill me; 2) give me a real show of the gags; and/or c) ruin my life. Or quite possibly a combination of all three.
Because, no. Just no. I like food too much for all this to even be real. 2nd trimester feelings of Super Mom, pleasepleaseplease come soon!
Showing posts with label Vomit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vomit. Show all posts
Friday, April 5, 2013
Monday, January 23, 2012
A variety show, of sorts.
Starring: my Middle Finger. I've been using it a lot lately, in many forms.
Curtain.
The Verbal Middle Finger
Implied by the tone of my voice. Used in various supermarket encounters with rude individuals and also on the phone recently with my health care provider.
The Facial Expression Middle Finger
This is a special form of the MF, exacerbated by my dark features and laser beam-capable eyes. This one is reserved for those people that still write checks in the supermarket line and Michiganians that always seem to forget how to drive come the first snowfall.
The Literal Middle Finger
Used during the January 12 episode of Grey's Anatomy. Extensively.
The Body Language Middle Finger
Also referred to as the cold shoulder, though the BLMF is a much more rare creature. This one is typically reserved for meetings during which I am annoyed and also when service providers (see also: stylist, manicurist, physicians) are running obscenely late for my scheduled appointment time.
The Incognito Middle Finger
This one marks some of my best work. I have honed these skills over many, many years. You wouldn't even know when I'm doing it because I'm overtly sweet, as if to cover up the fact that I want to tear your face off. See also: situations in which I cannot win.
End scene.
I think I have a lot of issues to work out.
Curtain.
The Verbal Middle Finger
Implied by the tone of my voice. Used in various supermarket encounters with rude individuals and also on the phone recently with my health care provider.
The Facial Expression Middle Finger
This is a special form of the MF, exacerbated by my dark features and laser beam-capable eyes. This one is reserved for those people that still write checks in the supermarket line and Michiganians that always seem to forget how to drive come the first snowfall.
The Literal Middle Finger
Used during the January 12 episode of Grey's Anatomy. Extensively.
The Body Language Middle Finger
Also referred to as the cold shoulder, though the BLMF is a much more rare creature. This one is typically reserved for meetings during which I am annoyed and also when service providers (see also: stylist, manicurist, physicians) are running obscenely late for my scheduled appointment time.
The Incognito Middle Finger
This one marks some of my best work. I have honed these skills over many, many years. You wouldn't even know when I'm doing it because I'm overtly sweet, as if to cover up the fact that I want to tear your face off. See also: situations in which I cannot win.
End scene.
I think I have a lot of issues to work out.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Where Does It Come From?
How can something so little vomit so much?!?!
At Alex's last pediatrician appointment, the Doctor warned us that between 3 and 4 months is the peak of spit up for babies. If by 'peak,' he meant that Mister Alex would be spewing gallons of partially digested formula from his face every 45 seconds, then he was spot on. Ok, so maybe it's not that bad...I just rather enjoy the dramatic.
Honestly, I don't know where it comes from. Right at the moment I'm sure he's hurled up everything he's just eaten, blaaaaaaaaaahhhh and out it comes. All over my shirt. The couch. The floor. Himself. Even Jake. Nothing is sacred anymore.
All I have to say is thank you, Babies 'R Us, for selling bibs in bulk.
At Alex's last pediatrician appointment, the Doctor warned us that between 3 and 4 months is the peak of spit up for babies. If by 'peak,' he meant that Mister Alex would be spewing gallons of partially digested formula from his face every 45 seconds, then he was spot on. Ok, so maybe it's not that bad...I just rather enjoy the dramatic.
Honestly, I don't know where it comes from. Right at the moment I'm sure he's hurled up everything he's just eaten, blaaaaaaaaaahhhh and out it comes. All over my shirt. The couch. The floor. Himself. Even Jake. Nothing is sacred anymore.
All I have to say is thank you, Babies 'R Us, for selling bibs in bulk.
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