The "P" Word

I told Julie that I was going to devote a blog to peeing and heartburn lol. Not that I couldn’t ramble on for hours (well at least 20 minutes) on the subject, but I doubt that anyone would appreciate the effort. But seriously, I don’t think I have gone to the bathroom this much in my life. Just yesterday I discovered that we had hand sanitizer dispensers positioned outside the “facilities” at work that have, according to Mary, been there for 3 years. THREE YEARS….seriously?? I never noticed. I have gone from once or twice a day (yeah I don’t drink enough liquids) to 50 times. I can’t even give Jodi a hard time about her, as yet undiagnosed, diabetes and multiple trips to the little girl’s room. Sad.
Being the “new mommy geek” (thanks Christy) that I am, of course you know I am going to Google peeing and pregnancy and all I can say is THANK GOODNESS I haven’t experienced incontinence yet. Go ahead, Google it. It will make you feel better. If you need to break it down a step further and have loss of voluntary control of excretory functions defined, I will just tell you….It’s called pissing on yourself. This happens to some pregnant women. Lovely, eh? I haven’t pissed my pants yet, but if I do- promise not to laugh at me. I will stop there. “The day may come when the courage of men fails” and I devote an entire blog to the subject, but “it is not this day”.
I find myself becoming increasingly less embarrassed about the facts of life as this whirlwind continues. I mean, this is the girl who used to be embarrassed to be seen buying feminine products. (Still not a subject that is appropriate for mixed company, lest my proclivities on the topic go unnoticed.)
I digress.
Today’s blog is [mostly] dedicated to the story of my life, procrastination. Our little guy will be here before we know it (128 days, give or take a few-but not too many) and I feel like I haven’t accomplished anything in the way of preparation. I am over halfway there. Five months seems like a long time but then I think about how the previous five have flown by. Last night I actually made some progress in cleaning out one of my closets to make room but, I swear, I am not even close to being done. My problem is that I am a pack rat. There, I said it. If it holds a memory or the least bit of sentimental value, it’s probably stuffed in a box somewhere. As of last night, I still had old letters that my first college roommate and I sent to each other when she commuted. I actually found an email print out from 1996 to an old friend listing memories of things that we had done together that should never be forgotten. Guess what, I don’t remember half of them. Of course much of my college life I spent in an alcoholic daze. At least I have grown out of that. There were a few things on the list that cracked me up and brought back a funny story (chicken and chow mien rice, fire water) but I don’t suppose it’s doing me much good in a box. I was so proud that I actually narrowed two plastic storage boxes down to one but there were things I couldn’t bring myself to toss. I still have literary works of art from high school (please, let’s don’t reminisce on how long ago that has been- ugg) and poems that I have written. I just can’t toss those. You are with me on this, right??
I have also discovered that I have more tape dispenser refills than I will ever need and legal pads, oh and all sorts of crafty shiznit like card stock, poster board- that I will never use (thanks Christy for taking that off my hands). I found the latter when I was looking for a manila envelope to mail the rebate for Chad’s curve that has to be postmarked TODAY or I lose a hundred bucks.