April 29, 2005

April 29, 2005

Dear Diary,

    I’m officially at the halfway mark.  I’m here to put in my stats, and record the
milestone with a picture.
    
    I sort of look a
little pregnant if I’m wearing a tight t-shirt.  I’m told I don’t look obviously pregnant, just a little overweight.  I don’t really feel pregnant, although Jim
would perhaps disagree sometimes.  I think I’ve been pretty easy on him, so far I haven’t made him go out at midnight
to buy me pickles and ice-cream (or anything like that).  For posterity’s sake I will include a few of my more bizarre cravings.  Last
month it was tomato juice and chocolate, this month it’s pickle juice and
donuts. Something about the combination of sweet and sour/salty…maybe I should
just eat Chinese food.  Truthfully I’ve
been craving sushi and margaritas like nothing else (actually straight up
tequila would be better), but unfortunately they’re forbidden fruit when
you’re pregnant. 

    I’ve gained two
pounds so far, and all my normal clothes still fit me (which is fine with me,
as I can’t really imagine myself in that cutsy stuff women wear when they’re
pregnant). 

   I’m not looking forward to being a mother (I can already
hear the outraged cries of mothers all over the world)  I am excited about having a
baby,  I’m just not doing the whole baby
factory-psychotic worrier-mini-van owner thing.   Jim is already exhibiting great father skills by playing the
baby plenty of Guns’n’roses, Eric Clapton, Metallica and a variety of other
classic music.

   In closing, I’m including
the promised pictures (compliments of Lydia who may turn out to be a famous
photographer someday).  It seems rather
vain to include pictures, but what the heck…I can totally admit I’m vain.

So long for now,

                      
Ez

April 26, 2005

April 26, 2005

Just a bit of random observations and ramblings.  There are many
things I tell myself I ought to write down and I never do.  Maybe
someday I’ll actually have a bonified journal (leather bound and
everything) but for now this neglected blog will have to serve in its
place.
We found out last Tues. the kid I carry in me is  a wee little
lad.   I’m  still in shock.  How can I possibly
have a person in me?  A person complete with a name.  James
Ramsey IV…aka Jamie (until he decides he’d rather be called something
else)
Julia keeps popping into my trailer saying things like,  “Can you
take the baby out so I can play with  it? …I promise I’ll put it
back in your tummy when I’m done” and “Jim won’t teach me how to kiss”
or “Jim won’t let me dress your baby in girl clothes!…but I saw a guy
yesterday who was wearing girl clothes.”
Somebody stop me from getting on the Crossings…it depresses me.
Somebody stop me from using Google.  It takes worries like
preeclampsia, placenta previa, and premature labor right out of the
doctors office and directly at my fingertips.  Google is like fast
food hysteria when you’re pregnant.
We’re all celebrating today because Uncle Vern lost his job (something
he’d been hoping for)  I find that mildly amusing.   He
was supposed to  retire this year, but because they’re selling the
ship he works on as an engineer (the Exxon Valdez) he was hoping
he’d be laid off before he had to retire, so he could get  a
severance package and his retirement.
I need to talk to people more often.