In summary: I am still mad. I want to thank everyone for their comments...about 30 seconds after posting yesterday I did a full-on forehead slap and went, "Jesus God, girl, what have you DONE? The assvice, it will destroy you!" But instead of dozens of I've-missed-the-point-entirely-and-want-to-lecture-you-about-mercury-levels-in-tuna-fish comments, I got dozens of thoughtful, supportive and unbelievably articulate comments. Would y'all talk to my doctor for me? Because you are like, SMART and shit. (One note of anal-retentive clarification: I am not getting an ultrasound at a mall. No one ever said anything about a mall. I'm talking about a 4D "limited medical ultrasound" that uses the same equipment a doctor uses for a Level II scan at a very nice, reputable facility that in no way compares to some 25-cent blood pressure assessment at the mall right next to the Orange Julius.) But your comments have inspired me not to do that right now. We're sticking with our original plan: extra-bonus 4D scan at around 30 weeks for our own entertainment, full medical ultrasound by 22 weeks. My doctor just doesn't know that second part yet. I really think my baby is just fine. While this whole situation has raised my... Read more →

(Jason has all our Aruba photos on his laptop at work. I have requested a zip file or something several times and have not yet received them, and he's gone all idle on IM and something more important has come up and I can't do an Advice Smackdown because actually, I need some advice and also I need to calm down and BREATHE.) I had a routine prenatal appointment this morning. I'm smack dab in the middle of week 18 or so, and I was expecting to get a referral slip or something for the big 20 week, midway-point ultrasound. (My insurance doesn't like paying for ultrasounds at the doctor's actual office, and will only refrain from giving me shit if I go to an outpatient imaging center instead.) He didn't bring it up, so I mentioned it, all casual-like. "Soooooo, how 'bout them ultrasounds? Should be fixin' to git one of them soon, right?" (My plan was actually to get the referral for a 20-week ultrasound, then speed-dial the imaging center from the parking lot and make an appointment for as soon as possible, because fuck that noise, plenty of people get them at 18 weeks.) To my shock... Read more →

We got back from Aruba on Saturday night. It's been a blur ever since. I still have not uploaded any photos, nor can I find my good hairbrush. I slept for many, many hours Saturday night, Sunday morning and straight on into Sunday afternoon, when it was time to pick up the pets from the Yuppie Pet Palace Hotel That Ended Up Costing As Much As Our Plane Tickets, Even Though We Supplied All Our Own Damn Food. Ceiba was...confused, as usual, like she sort of remembered who we were and that occasionally we fed her turkey bacon and oh! look! floor lint! She's a bit constipated and is having periodic yet dainty sneezing fits, but otherwise is doing just fine. Max surprised us by not being a royal bitch about everything. He's never been boarded before...usually our neighbors would just come over and feed him but they moved away and our new neighbor is absolutely terrified of Ceiba so I'm not even going to introduce her to our 15-pound Gigundocat. Anyway, every time we come home from vacation he gets a prissy funk about it and ignores us for days. I don't think Max enjoyed the Yuppie Pet Palace... Read more →

I'm back. Sort of. At work now, is crazy, am tired, outgrew another round of clothing midway through vacation. Look pregnant enough for fellow plane passengers to eye me suspiciously on ride home, as if I was about to give birth in the bathroom line to a screaming child who would kick their seat for the remainder of the flight, just like that three-year-old up in the third row with the weird hippie parents who never even once SHUSHED her or TRIED to stop the whining and screaming and whom I totally would have left behind in the airport's lost-and-found if she were mine. What? Oh right. Real update and photos coming soon, just as soon as I come to grips with the reality of no longer being in Aruba. Read more →

This entry is dedicated to Cathy at the Subaru Roadside Assistance call center. Yeah, so I had a tire blowout on the way home from work yesterday. Boom! I was hoping by waiting a day or so to write about it I'd find a way to make it funny. It's still not funny. After it took my very slow brain to comprehend what had happened (What's up with the highway surface all of a sudden? Is that noise coming from MY car? That noise is not coming from my car. Oh wait, yes it is.), I pulled over to the center breakdown lane and timidly crept around to the right side of the car, praying that no insane driver (you know, like me) would clip my protruding belly and kill me while I inspected the tire. Which was in shreds! Pop! As I was trying to call Jason, a cop pulled up on the other side of the median and stared at me, like, WELL? I calmly explained that I'd had a blowout and was trying to call my husband, and was also fairly sure I had some kind of roadside assistance card thing somewhere. Cop: (looking fairly and clearly... Read more →

(There will not be a Smackdown next week, due to the fact that the Smackdowner will. Be. In. ARUBA. I hope y'all will be okay without me, and will not go bolting towards the nearest Hair Cuttery and Maybelline display as soon as I leave.) Dear Amalah, I do not, for the life of me, understand Gwen Stefani's new song. What's a Hollaback Girl? What track? What's not gonna just happen like that? Bananas? The hell? Amalah I have no idea. And to think, I was still pleased with myself for knowing what that milkshake song was talking about. So, so old. Dear Amalah, First off, I hope your energy improves. Though I should mention during my first pregnancy I think I was awake two of the nine months. I kept a journal and went back to read it a year or two ago and holy cow. I slept a LOT. Sending second-trimester energy boost vibes your way. Secondly, I have hair issues. My hair is, for the most part, in the same exact style I've worn since at least high school, if not since infancy. I am attaching a photo which you must not share upon penalty of my... Read more →

Good lawd, what a day. Super-extra-mega apologies, but the Wednesday Advice Smackdown has been pre-empted until tomorrow because work is crazy and it's a friend's birthday and we have plans after work and then at some point I need to watch Lost and then I will need to go to bed. Don't send me hate mail. Actually, none of you would send me hate mail, because you love me, apparently, and will kick the ass of any troll who dares dump a guilt-trip worthy of my mother on me. For the record, the crazy speeding ticket email actually made me laugh, what with the specious logic that I was clearly someone who was also going to strap my newborn into a recalled car seat in the front passenger seat while putting on mascara in rush hour traffic. Yep, speeding is the gateway moving violation, kiddos. (Type A added: you forgot that babalah is also holding your cigarette and drinking coffee all the while.) Anyway, in summary: I love you all more than my brand-new Coach sunglasses. And that is more love than the human heart can ever fully understand. But I'm still not doing an advice column today. (OH! WAIT!... Read more →

I get a lot of email every day. No, more than that. I get an insane amount of email every day. I read them all, respond to almost none, everybody wins. Except for the people who write expecting responses and then get nothing from me, the snobby whore who is really just kind of scatterbrained. And most of the emails I receive are lovely -- people write to say I'm funny and entertaining and we have such-and-such in common or could I please help them transfer many millions of dollars out of Nigeria? Every once in awhile I get a non-lovely email -- usually from full-on asshats with poor reading comprehension -- and that's fine. It comes with the territory. And since I'm mostly non-controversial around here (someone once described this site as "bunnies and rainbows with a dash of the f-word"), I don't get the rampant trollism that others seem to suffer from. Yesterday, however, was a banner day. First, I got an email chastising me about my speeding ticket. Speeding while pregnant? What if I'd been in an accident? Did I not know what airbags could do to a fetus? The email went from annoyingly assvice-y to disturbingly... Read more →

Scene, Last Night, Out at Dinner: Amy: You have to take a picture of my belly tonight. Don't let me forget to make you take one. Jason: Okay. Amy: Because I have NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT and at least if I throw a belly pic at people they will shut up and not be mad at me for not updating. Jason: Okay. Aaaannnnd...we forgot to take a belly pic. Which is a shame, because the belly is looking pretty cool these days. Waaaay bigger than it should be at 16 weeks, but I'd totally be lying if I said I minded. I mean, I sort of mind the duck-waddle I've adopted, but it's simply goddamn fun to actually look convincingly pregnant. Your friends gasp and want to wait on you hand and foot! Your husband wants to pet the belly! Strangers smile at you everywhere! Cops reduce your speeding tickets! Yeah, I got to test that last one out this morning when I got pulled over on the way to work. $150 fine bumped down to $75, baby, and I SO TOTALLY deserved that $150 fine. I will not lie. But I will push my belly out at opportune moments.... Read more →

(The Wednesday Advice Smackdown seems to have settled into an every-other-week sort of schedule. I don't know why. I'm only the writing instrument through which the Smackdown flows. I don't ask questions. The Smackdown is firmly in charge and sometimes makes me feel not so safe in my own home but oh my God, please don't tell the Smackdown I said that.) Did everybody see Lost last night? Holy living crap on toast. Although I must say, the show DID help me make up my mind about one particular question that I've been pondering for awhile. I have definitely decided not to give birth on a deserted island. I may not have my full birth plan mapped out yet, I may have only realized today that daycare waiting lists are seventeen months long, but I'm pretty sure I've ruled the whole birth-in-a-jungle option out. Especially if the island's doctor is going to be too busy contemplating leg amputations and stuff so the baby gets delivered by a really whiny bank robber who cries a lot. And also, why didn't Jack tell her about the placenta? Kate probably didn't know about the placenta. (Now you know what it's like to watch... Read more →