6.27.2007

Breath a sigh of relief....if only

One of the biggest differences in this pregnancy is the fact that I'm finding it impossible to breath. I get a few measly breaths here and there, but to take a real deep breath, now that is a chore. Then, if I eat, I can basically forget about breathing for a good 6 hours or so. Which means if I eat three meals a day I can't breath until long after I'm in bed. So I spend a lot of the day wondering if I'd rather starve, or breath, and dammit, the food always wins. This leaves me waddling around sounding like a choking duck or something. I try soooo hard to breath in, and that makes me cough, so then I try taking a series of quick breaths until maybe I get a full one. Nope nothin. On the rare occasion I do get a full one I let out a little victory sigh, which leaves me struggling to breath again.

As I was typing this I ran to the kitchen to put my lunch in the oven (which reminds me damn lasagna sounds good, wish I had some of that laying around huh) and I remembered to check the steak I was marinating for my husbands fajitas. I figured I would pour a little salsa in with that and I'll be damned if I didn't nearly dump a whole damn bottle of pepperoccinis on his steak. This would have been devistating as my husband is the king of marinades. There is a science involved and it took 2 years before I was even allowed to know the secret steak marinade and I wasn't allowed to write it down, in case someone saw it, which means, 90% of the time I fuck it up, meaning 99% of the time Rob marinates his steak and I deal with the sides because you know GRRR MAN MEAT, ME GRILL THE MEAT BECAUSE I AM MAN GRRRR! And did I mention that meat is only accepted in grilled or fried form.

So I finish marinating my meat and go back into my bedroom. Thats right, today I moved from my post on the couch to a new post in my bed. The only problem is I felt all clean this morning and I made the bed and straightened up the house and what not. WELLLLL now that I've made the damn bed I don't want to mess up my 8 pillows (shut up...thats not including the two decorative ones my son stole from me) so I'm not sitting here in the most uncomfortable position ever as not to mess up my damn bed, that I never should have made in the first damn place. So now, to avoid screwing up my pillows I've rolled over onto my belly, which is SOOOOO easy when your pregnant right. On the plus side the baby is totally moving when I lay like this, but I'm wondering if I'm just squeezing the shit out of him and hes like hey mom you asshole roll the fuck over so I have room to hiccup in here.

I think my biggest complaint thus far about bed rest is the fact that my husband can't find the cords to make my NES work meaning I haven't gotten to waste a single day playing Mario 1, 2 and 3. Woe is me. Now I'm wishing I had the stuff to make lasagna but if I even thought of sending Rob to the store for those ingredients lord help me. He would come home with macaroni noodles, ketchup and cottage cheese or something. No really. He HATES the store. I am pretty sure he screws up purposely in hopes that I will stop asking him to go! FAT CHANCE SUCKER! One time I sent him to the store for some chocolate chips in an emergency and he brought me home a bag of Betty Crocker chocolate chip cookie mix. I looked at him stumped and he said look it says chocolate chips. I said, umm yeah and beneath that it says COOOOOOKIE MIX. I asked him how on earth he didn't know what the yellow package of Nestle Toll House chips was. His defense was dammit they should have packaged that better and probably put that bag somewhere different. So now, I either take myself to the store, or send him and the go myself anyway because he forgets the important part like oh I dunno lasagna noodles.

2 comments:

Christy said...

I am so lazy that I would just order some lasagna from a pizza place. Screw cooking.

Cristina Mathers said...

i think husbands to do so that you won't ask them to go ever again. i once asked my husband to get italian sausage, and he came back with farmer johm maple sausage. no kidding.

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