fighting da man.

good thing all my nice pants are for a fatter suki...cause today I gotta go and get dressed up (although I'm not trusting my balance in heels...)

today is my hearing to fight that e-z pass lane ticket.

officer what's his face is gonna feel my ire...


and I'm probably gonna walk away with a heftier fine and four or five tickets on the grocery getter when I get to the parking lot.

either way...it should be fun to play Suki Smith, Esq and talk them into oblivion.

here's hoping I don't get nervous and choked up!


(or fall in my heels)

just breathe

the monkey had her first track meet yesterday.

and I watched her have her first acute asthma attack.


NO FUN.

she runs the 800 (why would a kid with asthma be put in a half mile sprint you ask? answer: I do not fucking know)...and about 400 meters in hit a wall.

she was grabbing her throat and gasping. no fun at all.

she was running in third when she stopped being able to breathe normally, and to her credit, kept running another 200 meters before collapsing.

I freaked out.

I shoved everyone out of the way and sprinted across the track to get to her.

I beat the athletic trainer there. she drove a cart. I lost oqui.

when I got there she was a quivering mass of snot and near-vomit...and surrounded by her team mates.

good kids. a girl from the other team...whom she was racing AGAINST...tried to talk her through the race and stayed with her as other people passed them. she put her hand on her back and said, "I have asthma, too. Just relax. We can do this."

what an awesome kid. such compassion from a competitor. I hope that in a similar situation...I'd be as kind as that kid.

sooo...the monkey recovered (I'm still working on it. its pretty traumatic to see your child suffocating) and I'm going to have a little talk with her coach about:

a. putting her in that event
b. not taking asthma seriously
c. never once asking how she was
d. not being able to tell anyone where her inhaler was

that aside, we're not giving up on track. she asked me last night if she didn't have asthma would she be a good runner. I told the monkey that if flo-jo can run with asthma...she can, too. she's got amazing form and the heart of a (mini) lion.

we'll manage the breathing and get her back out there.


and hopefully, I never have to watch her choke and gag, again.

I'm going to hell.

today I told the 'pah that I hate god.

( don't even believe in god...yet somehow, somewhere deep inside...I'm sure I'll pay for that.)

I am just sooooooo incredibly fucking sick of how I feel. I thought it was easing. I thought I was feeling better. I thought this long-playing shitty nightmare of a movie was almost over.

nope.

DENIED. back in bed ya go, suki. I've lost all sense of time. I woke up this morning and panicked because I didn't have a birthday gift for my grandmother.

her birthday is in november.

I am so entrenched in physical suffering that my mind can't even wrap itself around the concept of spring. the only thing springing is the mouth of hell.

wide open. trying to swallow me.

besides the fact that my body is getting weak and sore...my mind is getting fucked. this is the time of year I'm supposed to be raring to go, hitting the crags, fucking up trails and generally kicking ass.

nope.

I'm weak. under-nourished and black out every time I stand up.

I KNOW it'll pass...but I'm getting impatient. I'm also petrified of an early winter birth and post-partum PLUS seasonal depression all exacerbated by sleeping no longer than two hours a shot due to breastfeeding.

and more upsetting than how I feel NOW (and trust me. that's pretty fucking upsetting)...is the fact that this is attempt number two at pregnancy. and so far both have absolutely kicked my ass.

I'm upset...because I know that I'll never want to do this, again...and that seems incredibly limiting to me.

should my attitude suck about that already?

nope.

but, I'm finding it hard to be positive. REALLY hard. so disappointing.

I'm not depressed, though. its time to take action. Now, I'm just angry.

I envisioned smashing everything within reach with a baseball bat. I drempt I shot someone in the foot. I daydreamed I sliced the little jerk kid neighbor's basketball so he wouldn't be able to bounce it through my skull anymore.

I blamed god.

if this shit is truly a biblical curse because eve was a fucking cunt...then god is an unfair, unjust, bully of a prick.

(^yup. going to hell, again)

oqui started leafing furiously through all the pregnancy books for mention of god-hating in hopes of finding some advice on how to handle me.

nope.

so he did some yard work and picked up the dog poo...after ensuring all the knives were out of reach and my suic/homicidal fit had passed.

ha! little did he know...

I've got a shiv under the mattress and plan on hacking the dogs to pieces tonight while he sleeps.


a girl's gotta accomplish SOMETHING, right?

you take the good, you take the bad...

you take them both and there you have...

whatevs. tootie was a twit. but...I'm rolling with it.

after two days of relative activity (we rode and climbed tuesday then hiked the dogs yesterday)...I crashed. I got a pregnancy migraine.

sooooooooo gross.

they SAY you can take tylenol...but I wouldn't. so I did the next best thing and went to sleep. my lord was my head pounding. new (non-pregnancy specific) nausea had its way with me (ginger tea be damned)...and my skull ached.

then VIOLA! it was gone.

a-men. I love that I'm generally feeling better. I still have my moments...but there are periods of near-normalcy between.

we ALMOST went climbing outside today. even made plans to take a friend with...then I hit a wall and had to bail. so the 'pah is out riding and I'm just glad the house is quiet, lest another killer skull ache drops by to visit.

I realize that I'm also developing my own little superstitious routines. I can drink the ginger tea...but only after three crackers and an orgasm.

I can eat yogurt, but only while watching weeds.

whole grain bread is fine...as long as its toasted no longer than 48 seconds.

cheese is out. screw that. I wanna poo, again.

almost any food is acceptable if it:

a. is not cooked at home
b. is something I would normally never eat
c. is not consumed within 2 hours of entering or exiting the bedroom

I can only guess what life'll be like once I can eat vegetables, drink milk (or water for that matter), and frolic at will, again.

seriously...what the hell am I going to do with myself when I'm feeling better?

oh, I know.

clean the damn house.

Dear Kim,

Give me your maternity clothes.

I will love them and hug them and...

do extraordinarily naughty things in them.

Thanks,
Teh Suki

cock sucking ass eating e-bay bitches!!!!

I keep getting outbid.

dammit!!!

I'm bidding on about 43,000 lots of maternity clothes...and have yet to win ONE.

one!

I hope they get yeast infections.

in other news:

I'm obviously feeling better. (ha!) actually...I am. yesterday I did a whole slew of things I haven't done in a while.

-took a bath
-cooked a meal
-cleaned my disgusting kitchen
-rode my bicycle
-climbed (a little)
-brushed my teeth
-craved a carrot

more important than any single item on this list...is that I did them all...in one day.

I'm still uber scared to even think of going back to work. my job sucks. its stressful and demanding...and the thought of it makes me nauseous beyond belief....

BUT...we're already risking not being able to pay the mortgage next month...so I'm gonna have to suck it up sometime...

sometime soon.


god. just the thought of going back makes me seriously want to cry.


...and puke.

glue feet

I'm sleeping too much. I'm waking up in the (beginning) middle (and near end) of the night, heart racing, with all sorts of nightmares.

last night...was glue feet.

I'll spare you the trully boring details (like the 8ft blonde who jipped me in line and almost got her 6 foot hair cut off)...but the jist was thus:

when I needed to run from the bad guys (in the form of rather menacing UGLY and horny teenagers in a dark alley)...

I got glue feet.

couldn't move. incapable of fleeing. stuck...to the emmer effing ground.

oh NO you didn't!

that pissed me off even in the dream.

so I tried to climb. I managed to climb a tiny tree with all the grace of a brown bear...only to end up breaking the limb and landing (wrapped in saran wrap) by the bad guys' feet.

great. I'm gonna get nailed in my own dream by some pimply faced loser boy.

stellar.


the night before last graced me with a werewolf baby, blue skin and a complimentary trip on the maiden voyage of the titanic.

several others include losing my car (literally...just LOSING it. not being able to find it. this one was PARTICULARLY frustrating), the eternal journey from north 10th st to south 10th st that always threatened me with a beating, mugging, or rape via drug dealer, and my dogs' asses opening up and swallowing my bedroom whole.

they stink. they really really stink.

remember months back when I was uber offended by the pregnant chick who came through my house and made a yicky face?

yeah. I'm thinking of writing her an apology note.

these dogs fucking reek. I feel like I live in a (dirty) hamster cage.

no one will EVER buy this house unless I kill the dogs.


so...today's to-do list begins as such:


-kill the hamster dogs
-stop sleeping so fucking much

my mood...

is best defined right now by the words indescribably angry.

fuming. pissed. irritated beyond all comprehension.

worked...the fuck up.

this morning's text message to the 'pah:

come home. I'm sad. I miss you.

his response:

gotta go check out the new kitchen floor at bob's house.

fuck to you.

I've been in this fucking bed for endless days. sleeping 16 hours a day for no other reason than I feel too fucking shitty to be awake.

I'm tired...of sleeping.

thursday night. he's at a show...I'm in bed.
saturday afternoon. he's shopping for gear...yup, I'm in bed.
sunday. he's galavanting around (is it supposed to make me feel BETTER that so and so's fucking wife could only eat mashed potatoes, too????)...I'm watching dvd's and feeling like shit...you guessed it:

in bed.


this morning after getting my message it took him HOURS...yes. entire fucking HOURS to come home...

then he got all dressed up for a bike ride.

insensitive ass licking twat.

visions of being stranded with an infant (toddler, teenager, et cetera) as daddy's out riding, climbing, partying or whatever flash through my mind.

gigantic dent in trust.

I'm not cut out for this sedentary shit. I'm obviously not handling this well. someone is going to get hurt.

mark my words...he will totally fucking pay for today.

climbing...is out for a while

between the nausea, general malaise and sky-high heart rate...I've decided to hang up my harness for a bit.

perhaps once I've run the gauntlet and am feeling better I'll take another stab at in a body harness, but for now...

I'll take up my place on the sidelines.

sad. sad. sad.

climbing and riding (both sports during which I get to yell. ironic?) were GIGANTIC outlets for me. feeling crappy? climb it out.

pissed at the world? hop on a bike and hit the woods.

yet, I'm feeling so pathetic lately...that both of those things aren't even on the scope for me.

sad. sad. sad.

I was really hard on myself the other day. I think its because I had a break through window of feeling really good for a few hours...

and started planning.

next week I can (blank). tomorrow I should (blank). oh, yeah...it'd be really cool to (blank) soon, too.

then it all came crashing down in another wave of nausea and I felt instantly...

like it's my fault. I feel like every time I lie in bed instead of hike the dogs...my fault.
when the kitchen goes untended for three days and things start growing in the sink...my fault.
the dogs are bored the kid is eating doritos for breakfast...my fault. my fault. my fault.

I feel like if my attitude were just a little bit better, or if I was concentrating hard enough...I'd feel well, again. I feel like I should be able to will myself out of this.

so when I don't...

definitely my fault.

I'm feeling so down on myself...that the little "push me" voice in the back of my head is this-very-minute bitching at me for even typing the words "my fault."

aaaaagh! there is no doubt that how I feel physically and how I feel mentally are connected...

I'm just having trouble identifying causality.

do I feel like shit because I feel like shit?

or do I feel like shit because I feel like shit?

hmmmm...

either way, I've decided that I need some sort of outlet (and since its most certainly NOT going to be eating. food is fucking disgusting...)...

I'm going to get creative, again. I whipped out a few of my old craft magazines and tried to get motivated. I thought of picking up my knitting needles and getting to work on some baby booties. I imagined the sunroom painting being done and my brand spanking new craft room taking up residence there...

then I took another nap.

then I ate an orange (this is big news, btw...my fruit aversion has been tremendous).

then I tried to eat some hummus (no luck).

then I started to type.

of course...all of those things have, once again, made me nauseous...and I can feel the creativity seeping out of me.

water. maybe I need water. did they ever tell you you could have an aversion to water???

yeah. I do. the very sight of a glass of water makes me wanna wretch. milk...forget it. juice...no way.

maybe if I got good and hydrated I could stop the cycle of feeling like shit.


so there's my new plan. drink water. make stuff. stop feeling like shit.


I'll let ya know how that works out...

let's see if I can't make this interesting

nope.

can't.

it boils down to nothing but a countdown for me at this point. I am taking the "you'll feel better after the first trimester" to a whole new level.

5 weeks. 2 days. 2 hours. 12 minutes.

that's how long I should have to wait before feeling human, again.

if it's any longer than that, I vow to you now...

I will absolutely, categorically, without question...

fucking kill myself.

not to say that feeling like stir-fried ass isn't interesting and all...but I'd much rather be able to poo, eat, walk, converse normally and smile, again.

yeah, yeah. it's worth it. yeah, yeah...hormones doing their job. yeah, yeah...for the baby.

yada yada.

I know. why do you think I haven't offed myself, yet? I did, however, have a lil napmare yesterday that kinda involved self-harm. ok. it involved straight up self-harm...but it was unintentional, I swear.

I was so bloated and bowel distended and...you get the point...that I had a dream that I woke up stabbing myself in the abdomen.

of course, they hauled me off to the loonie bin for trying to kill the bebbie...

when really...I was just trying to take a poo.

while this particular idea manifested itself in the form of a bad dream...I'm not so certain it precludes it from being a good idea.

if things don't start, shall we say...moving along of their own volition...

it might come down to the knife.


in other news:

my students are still boneheads.
my daughter is getting two c's (I just might end up using the knife on HER).
the 'pah is still unemployed.
and I can still smell EVERYTHING as if it were in ultra condensed form, formed into a pellet and shoved up my nose.

just the beginning (aka 4mm)

we saw the sprout today.

nothing more than a flutter and some fuzz...

and we both cried.

we could see its little heart going. 109 beats/minute...just like its momma, lately. they adjusted my due date south. I say south because when things go south...they are bad.

and because they added 4 more days to my gauntlet (ie. 1st pukey trimester)...I considered that bad.

I was hoping we might get some monumental news...like I'm due any day or that we're have gazillionettes...yet was strangely satisfied and awe struck at seeing just one...

one little flutter.

I'm amazed upon waking every single morning at the sheer depth and power of my love for this man...and now we have yet another monkey to share this with.

true love....


just the beginning.

reprieve

I feel better. soooooo much better.

whether this respite is temporary or not...I'll take it!

I'll take it to regain the 6 lbs I lost in the last two days.

I'll take it to actually get out of bed and feel human.

I'll take it to maybe...just MAYBE venture a meal...

and if I keep feeling relatively stellar...

I might even hazard a disgusting vomit and constipation inducing pre-natal vitamin.


but...probably not.


have a great easter, everyone!

no mas, por favor. NO MAS!!!

this baby is trying to kill me.

it's all good.

we're not worried, yet.

we're looking at this as the potential for a little much needed vacay.

he's got prospects...and an interview tomorrow.

if things don't go well tomorrow we might start crying blood...but as of right now:

the dog's chewing a bone.
he's painting the bathroom.
I'm bloated.
and the only thing we're really concerned about is that its been too wet to ride.



in other news:

we climbed the other day. I wore a heart rate monitor. conservative guidelines state a maximum first trimester heart rate of 140.

the athletes disagree. they say that 165 is fine for women who are conditioned and accustomed to heavy exercise.

since I fall somewhere in between lazy ass american and marathon running psycho...I was giving myself 160.

woops.

halfway up each climb I was approaching 175.

NIGGA WHAT?????

my resting heart rate went from about 65 to 85+.
belaying clocked me in at 112.
standing around looking dumb after a climb was about 130.

they say your heart rate increases in the first trimester...but oh.my.holy.god.

I walked up two flights of steps today and thought i was going to implode. no WONDER I feel light headed...

my heart is going to burst every time I scratch my ass. and my perceived level of exertion has ZERO to do with my actual heart rate. looks like I'll be sporting a monitor every time I wanna touch a bike, a rope or hike the dogs.

soooo...I got off the pumpy over-hung climbs and stuck to easy slabby jobs.

not much change. my heart rate was the same on 7's, 8's, 9's and...

wellll, I didn't climb no 10's.

I'm lazy and chubby, already.

awesome.

I want to know.

I want to know who THAT guy is.

the guy who either accidentally or otherwise...let it get back to the partners that oqui was "talking about the company."

I wanna know who the person is that opened their mouth about a co-worker and friend of almost 10 years...

and got him fired.

I want to know what their motivation was...and what, precisely, they hoped to gain.

I want to know what they're thinking right now as he's clearing out his desk and coming home, unemployed, to his pregnant girlfriend.


yeah...I wanna know who the guy is who can't keep his fucking mouth shut.


so I can tell him:


FUCK YOU VERY MUCH, DOUCHEBAG.