I'm not just getting fat....

So being knocked up at 40 is a bit intimidating.  We had hoped it would happen a couple years ago because 37 or 38 seems a lot younger than 40, but there it is.  It didn’t happen then and I really had gotten used to the thought that it wouldn’t.  I was sort of planning a ski trip this winter (well, they can ski, I’d shop, sightsee and drink hot cocoa), and toying with a scuba diving excursion this fall or early spring.  Those plans have gone right out the window, right along with our sanity. 

My boys are 16 and 12 respectively, and that’s a long time in between siblings, not to mention a long time since I changed a diaper, had to get up every couple of hours to nurse a baby, deal with bottles, diaper bags, teething rings, belly gas, spit up, stepping on toys and all that jazz.  Derek’s never done it, so we’re both in for a bit of a shocker.  The kids’ reactions were priceless.  I got a, “holy shit, mom….oh, uh, sorry…wow” from my 12 year old, Nigel, followed by an incoherent “uhhhhhhhhh, ohhhhhhhhhh, hmmmmmmmm, uh, that’s great, Mom” from my 16 year old son, Jacob.  Nigel then told me he would teach him how to skateboard “really good.”  When pointed out his brother might actually be a sister, he said he’d teach her anyway and he was happy about it.  He was all grins as he was sheepishly and tenderly handling the ultrasound pictures.

The ultrasound we had on Tuesday really made this pregnancy real for us.  A picture is worth a thousand words, especially a moving picture showing a strong heartbeat, arms and legs and hands and feet, tiny little eyes and a great big head.  An ultrasound really is a miracle of science.  I kind of half believed this was true until I saw that little baby in making with my own two eyes.  It’s still amazing at 40. I’m glad I’m not that jaded, yet.

Everything is looking great. So far, so good!  I’m 13 weeks along and Baby Conrad, whom we have dubbed “the pickle”, will make his or her appearance sometime around April 6, 2012. I haven’t had any morning sickness; only some slight 4pm nausea, and I’m tired and draggy, but otherwise I feel fine.  I miss wine and sushi. My Weight Watchers/dieting is on hold for now, so don't think I'm just getting fat. I'm getting fat for a reason!

   

   

If I were INDEPENDENTLY WEALTHY, I would….

There is nothing like a few vacation days off from work to make you appreciate the value of free time.  I love, love, love time off from work.  A home stay-cation over the 4^th of July is just what I needed. The slower pace, the relaxation, fun with friends and family,  reconnection with Derek, Nigel & Jacob, home-cooked meals; they are all a little slice of heaven. I sure do miss being home now that I’m back at work.  My stay-cation makes me realize that I just don’t like working. Having to get up at the crack of dawn, shower, fix my hair, get all dressed, drive to work, work, drive home and then fit all the good stuff in about 3 hours of the day before bedtime just isn’t enough for me.  I want more. I want to become independently wealthy like all those home investors on the Carlton Sheets infomercial.  And I only want to do what I WANT TO DO!

There are a few ways to go about this. I could hit the lottery jackpot, join Carlton Sheets for $199.95 and make my fortune in the real estate market (RIIIGGGHHTT…), slip and fall at Wal-Mart and sue for a bazillion bucks, rob a bank, invent something super-duper fabulous that nobody ever thought of before….I could go on and on with the hair-brained schemes, but in reality not one of them is fool-proof (or if it is, it’s not legal). Dang it, I was really having fun planning the next big Ponze Scheme.

If I were RICH (i.e. don’t have to worry a bit over money. Like, have so much I could never spend it all…) I would do the following:

1. PROTECT AND INVEST. Gotta make sure the future generations will all be fabulously, independently wealthy, too.

2. THE BOOK STORE. Open a coffee house/wine store/used & new book store and spend my days happily sipping joe (a.m.) or wine (p.m.) and discussing the merits of both along with my favorite read of the week with all my friends, clients and customers who come visit my awesome-fabulous-bookstore. I’d have book club discussions every day, great writers would come visit, speak and sign their books, we’d be the “IT” place for the ladies (and gentlemen) to meet and have a glass or two of wine with friends, clients would get great book recommendations, not pay exorbitant prices for books (i.e. cheap), and I’d be the super-star. Of course, I’d hire somebody to do all the work, but that would be my special place and I just know I’d love it. My hours: 10-2 and 7-10 daily, except when the husband’s and kids’ schedules conflict with sports and other fun stuff.  I can totally smell the coffee & cookies (and old leather bindings) right now.

3. DIVING. When I’m not at the bookstore, I’d be spending time with my husband and kids in fabulous locales around the world, pursing the perfect scuba-diving location.  I’d study coral, fishes and sea creatures and be an ocean environmental activist (I use that term loosely, as I’m not really the ACTIVIST TYPE, but would promote and financially support research and conservation efforts to preserve and protect the ocean.)

4. CHARITY WORK. My charities would be the Humane Society or other animal protection group, the American Cancer Society or other health research groups, and something like Habitat for Humanity to help under-privileged people live better lives. I’d be a foster mother for stray dogs/puppies and probably have a whole pack of dogs that I couldn’t part with.  Of course, they’d all be perfectly well behaved and groomed at all times.  And like cats (not to eat, but to play with). And like kids. And not bark at everything.

5. PAMPER MYSELF. Well, really – who wouldn’t?  I want a personal trainer to whip me into shape, someone to plan and shop for meals, (I’ll do the cooking, I like that part), clean my house, mow my yard, make pretty flowers grow, and give me a pedicure once a week. I know…I want an “Alice” like on the Brady Bunch. Plus a yard man/pool boy/gardener who knows how to grow good veggies.  He should be like the Dog Whisperer only better looking.

Hey, this is my fantasy. Don’t judge me too much on my self-absorbed dreams. I realize this isn’t going to pan out, but I am buying a lottery ticket for tonight. When I win, y’all know exactly where to find me. J 

Keys to my innermost self....

I never realized what you can tell about a person by looking at their keys. You can totally freak someone out, like you're a fortune teller or psychic or something, simply by carefully checking out their keys.


From mine, you can tell I do a lot of grocery shopping, I like B-iLo and use bonus points to get a gasoline discount at Spinx.  You can also tell where I work, the county where I live, that I utilize the public library (therefore, I probably like books), and that I have a kid in elementary school.  Publix Partners support public schools.  Only elementary school parents bother with PTA. By the time kids have reached middle school and high school, it's only the die-hards that keep the donations coming in.

You might also discern that I like the ocean, the beach, the Carribbean and snorkling or scuba diving. You could guess that I like to travel and have been to St. Thomas fairly recently.  You could also tell that I have a PO Box, a house, a car and I'm trustworthy since they let me have a "master key" at work.  I'm a real catch. (Derek can corroborate that!)   Plus, I don't use one of those hook things to connect my keys to my belt loop; therefore I'm way cool.

It's like putting your kid's name on his backback, your name on your mailbox, or wearing a t-shirt with your name across the back (a/k/a SAIL swim team t-shirts from the old days.)  Do you really want total strangers to know your kid's name, or yours? An observant person can glean a lot from the things you wear, carry on you, leave laying around on your office desk or living room coffee table.  Heaven forbid a crook ever gets hold of your phone. I'd be totally screwed!

Anyway, I heard the song, Fortune Teller, by Robert Plant on my ipod this morning, and got to thinking, did the Fortune Teller really fortell that the guy would fall in love with her, or did his keys give him away?





Connected by DROID on Verizon Wireless

Don't make me laugh too hard....

And god-forbid, don't let me sneeze.  All you chicas 39 and over know what I mean. I shoulda' done those dang kegel exercises.

Turning 40 isn't so bad, its just that the warranty recently expired and everything is beginning to wear down, malfunction, jiggle, droop, drop and just plain break. And I'm not the only one. My husband Derek is 40 this year, too, and has developed plantar fasciitis. Bless his heart, all he wants me to rub lately is his feet. 

Sore feet also puts the kabosh on dancing and going to shows at The Handlebar.  The concrete floors in there are murder.  Is that why we were the oldest couple in there Friday night for the Chris Cab set?  He's pretty fly for a white reggae artist. (Is that what the young people still say, "fly for a white guy"?)

After our dive vacation to Curacao last year, (OMG, Curacao was awesome!! We saw a spotted eagle ray during that trip! )

 

I felt so freakin' tired. Like worn out, can't get out of bed and go to work tired. So, I went to the doctor and told him I was tired and there was something wrong with me. He poked and prodded, tested and xrayed, and lo and behold he said I wasn't getting enough oxygen. He didn't know why, but prescribed me some asthma meds and sent me on my way.  After a year of this and feeling like my chest was constricting all the time, I went back & got higher doses and a referral to a pulmonologist.  

So this specialist talked to me and poked and proddded, tested and xrayed, and lo and behold he said I don't have asthma.  Well, that's GREAT. I mean, I'm glad I don't have asthma, but what the heck is wrong with me? Did scuba-diving using a community regulator give me black lung or something? Did I screw up my lungs by not doing a full 5 minute safety stop?  Why am I taking all these asthma meds?  Hmmmm, maybe you have....sleep apnea???  I'm going for a sleep study next week. That's why it's called practicing medicine.  Practice makes perfect, right??  If at first you don't succeed, try, try again?

So I'm undergoing more testing and junk like that, but I can guaran-damn-ty you that no 20 year old is writing about health issues in her blog.  That's what getting old does to you.  My grandma used to say, "It's HELL getting old."- (Kathryn Cone Way).  Grandma wasn't joking.  Heaven help us if I start writing about bathroom habits. Ya'll just commit me to the nursing home. Do come and visit once in a while. Bring Depends.