Amy Winehouse and I Share Track Marks

For the past few days, my bruised arms have been sporting a matching set of massive perwinkle clusters.

Now, while my love of all things cliche dutifully reminds me that "crack is whack" and to say "nope to dope," nothing could have prepared me for that whimisical waltz with a needle known as the gestational diabetes screening exam.

Suffice it to say, a preliminary screening showed that my sugar was slightly elevated which led to my having to engage in a four hour session featuring my poor unsuspecting veins and my kindly's nurse sharp nosferatu.

It all began earlier this week when the head nurse called with news following my initial gds exam. That should have been clue numero uno since doctors' offices will never call to report lab results in such an expedient manner unless something is wrong.

Now, can I just say that I really enjoy that sugary voice most people rely on when they need to deliver messages which instantly denote a sense of doom and gloom? It's almost like these harbingers of woe are sending you to hell, but still wish to ensure that you enjoy the trip.

Anyhoo, in one sentence, she managed to effectively convey I was anemic; that I currently had a urinary tract infection; and that I had basically failed my initial gds exam.

In retrospect, I still don't know which aspect of the second exam was worse: that rancid kool-aid brew I was forced to endure; the subsequent track marks on my arms --a byproduct after four hours of testing; or the icky fruit-punch mouth I unwittingly sprung on innocent bystanders upon smiling at them until (that is) I successfully made my way to a toothbrush.

Slackertopia

...so I am officially one of THEM.

You know what I'm talking about.

The kind of people that have their Christmas tree complete with accompanying nativity scene still situated in the center of their living room at the end of January and beyond.

Now put away that wagging finger and don't be a judger since I do have some credit due: I actually removed the outdoor Christmas lights and decorations. See, I don't believe in having the whole neighborhood share in my public shame because that's just the kind of classy dame I am. :)

I keep the dysfunction indoors and only debut it on special occasions like for example when alcohol is involved or my husband has angered me for the umpteenth time while I'm pregnant. That way it's special...like a debutante ball for my neuroses.

Anyhoo, the situation is starting to seem pretty grim too since staring at these holiday treats in bewilderment has (fascinatingly enough) done little to improve the predicament and it seems twitching my nose in Samantha-esque fashion has yielded similar results.

*sigh*

Trade-Offs & Sabotage!

Well, I woke up feeling particularily spectactular this morning and by spectactular I mean as if I were on my deathbed. :(

My entire left eye is swollen due to a piercing migraine that is akin to a family of dancing needles performing in unison around its outer rim. I think it's fascinating how typically-viewed delusional and irrational ideas such as gouging said eye out or fanatisizing about numbing that area with a punch to the face suddenly appear quite practical when enduring unyielding mind-splitting pain.

The worst part of this dim scenario is that I had planned on cleaning my house today. Truth be told, I had planned on doing it yesterday morning with my daughter, but my aunt invited us over for a playdate at the eleventh hour. My 10 yr. old child then afforded me one of those priceless facial expressions that reads I'm the wicked witch singing the back-up vocals to Cinderelly, Cinderelly if I forced her to endure chores on such a lovely day.

Upon arriving home, I remain undaunted in my now seemingly hopeless quest for order. I even began tackling the abyss known as endless baskets of laundry in my room. Mere moments later; however, my hubby and child requested my attention outside to see a snowwoman they had accessorized on our front lawn. Unsuspecting of a ruse, I dutifully stepped outside to compliment them on their efforts, to which they responded by opting to ruthlessly pelt me with a ceaseless attack of snowballs.

Did I mention that I am seven months pregnant? Did I share that I had to run on black ice just to get away from these deranged freaks of nature?

By the time I managed to make it home, I literally collapsed in a breathless heap with every intention of cleaning when I awoke the next morning unaware--of course-- that I'd be waking up to this hellish nightmare and now we're full circle.

*sigh*

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Giving This Bloggie Thing a Whirl

The adventure begins. :)




Ode to My People

Inspired by some of the great mommy blogs that are out there, I decided to whip out my own cyber quill and get scribblin'. I always thought I was a somewhat well-adjusted individual, but, hey guess what? Venting is my thing too! Finding a cult devoted to the art of it via these mommy blogs was like submitting to that little voice in your head which assures you that you're not quite as batshit bonkers as you previously believed.

The bloggie that snipped away any reservations I might have had about cyber-scribing can be found here: Slacker-Moms-r-us

I discovered it yesterday while googling that famous oddity known as the tiddy bear and I became instantly smitten. (Mind the cliche). That's right. Who would have pegged the tiddy bear for such a giver?