Daily Meltdown Stories

I have decided to start a new project. It will be a log of sorts that I can look back on after this is all over. I will probably get a great kick out of it. I hope all of you will think it is as funny as I do.

The project is called My Daily Meltdown.
I keep crying about silly things. It seems every day I have a really hard cry about something or other. So I thought it would be really funny to start writing them all down. I post a few on Instagram and Facebook, when I remember to snap a picture of my crying face as proof. I have a terrible cry face, so that makes it even more fun.
Here, I thought I was make a master list of all the things I have had a meltdown about to date.
Please, feel free to laugh with me.

• The Hamburger meat was still frozen.
• My Lovely ate some leftover sausage that was still cold.
• A child at DQ was nice. He smiled and waved at us.
• Watching a reality cooking show and a lady says something nice about her sibling.
• Someone said, half joking, that if Trump became president and built his wall we would lose all of our Mexican food. I started crying about not being able to have tacos ever again. (We would of course have tacos - I just had a meltdown before logic could register.)
• I tried to make a dessert and everything went wrong, and it ended up too rich for Lovely and I to eat in one sitting.
• Watching a documentary and a coach made time to give an 8 year old girl positive affirmations because her Dad was being really awful.
• I have lost weight while pregnant instead of gaining some. I lost my 'bat wings' on my arms. It was very emotional.
• Pregnancy brain kicked in and I forgot my purse at the grocery store. Instant panic meltdown.
• I forgot to take a picture of the meatloaf I made. Lovely liked it so much it was all eaten before I remembered to document it for a recipe.
• I keep forgetting to take baby bump photos and so now there is a few weeks gap.
• I said something awkward while helping my sister study at her apartment and I couldn't handle how awkward and weird I was.
• Lovely and I are having a hard time getting on the same sleep schedule.
• I was reading reviews on local business and people were saying nice things.
• Adorable commercial being shared online about Moms.
• Lovely and I talked about my phobia of dogs and how he protects me, even if the dog is nice.

These are all the strange meltdowns. Not to add the crying because I didn't feel good or was frustrated with something. This list is funny, and even more so because before I got pregnant I NEVER cried, even when actually sad. So this Daily Meltdown is my log for the pregnancy.

I will be sure to share it with Spawn when old enough and share a laugh.

Smile Always.

Story of Doritos Chicken Nachos!

I don't often share recipes. I love to cook, but I'm pretty sure that there are enough recipe websites and blogs around.
I am sharing one now, though. Because it took me way too long to find it, and I am so excited to make it.

Many people call this Doritos Chicken Casserole, or some variation of that. I call it Doritos Chicken Nachos, and you will soon see why.
I first found this recipe when I was taking a cooking class at BYUI. They have since discontinued the class, and I can't find the recipes of anything we made on the inter-webs. It is awful. So many yummy things that I have to scour the internet to find something similar.
But back to Doritos.

I can go into details of the cooking class and all that. I can tell you all the reasons I love this recipe and la dee da. But you most likely don't care and want me to get to the actual recipe part. I can do that!

Bonus: When you tell your spouse/kids/guests that you are making something with Doritos in the name, they most likely will already be fully supportive of the meal.

Ingredients:

Bag of Doritos - different recipes tell you to get different sizes and that flavored tortilla chips work fine and all that. Let's be honest. Doritos is what everyone wants and is addicted to. Just get as big of bag as you think is priced fairly and that your store offers. When it says Family Size, just think that it is the feeling of family meals that is going into the food. Not that you actually have to share this with more than two other people.

Cooked Chicken - most recipes call for three-ish cups. But who cuts of shreds their chicken to put it into a measuring cup? If you do, good on you. You care more than me. I say grab four or five normal sized chicken breasts. Think a breast size of chicken for each person the recipe is (supposed) to serve. Chicken can be cooked any way you want. Boiling is fast. You can also grill, bake, or even steam the chicken. OR, amazing idea, grab a precooked rotisserie chicken from the market. So you don't have to spend twice the prep time on just bird meat. Lots of delis even have half portions of them, which is perfect for this recipe.

Cheese and more cheese - go for fun here. Mexican blend bags of shredded cheese are fine. If you don't like the taste of preservatives, the cheese you have on hand will most likely be fine. Cheddar, pepper jack, some of everything. I don't suggest Swiss cheese, but then again I just don't like Swiss unless there is fancy bread involved. Just grate, crumble, shred, or karate chop whatever cheese you have on hand. About a half cup per person. 2 cups average. But most people like cheese, so just let your growling empty stomach decide when you have enough. It's not like you won't snack on it while you're waiting.

1.5 cups salsa - I use salsa because it has bits of chilies, peppers, and onions in there. So I can pretend it brings something healthy. Something to offset the mountain of chips and cheese I am unabashedly dumping into this recipe. If salsa isn't your thing, you can use canned tomatoes, tomato and chili, tomato sauce and or paste. Just get something zingy in there. No ketchup. Don't be that person.

2 cans cream of chicken - I suggest adding one can, mixing, then adding the other only if needed. We are making the base more of a casserole, not a soup. You need to get a just-under-sore arm when you are mixing, not splashing that always aims for your eyes. But that second can is great if you need to stretch the recipe further.

6-8 ounces of sour cream - Important. Do NOT use whipping cream. Do not use milk, no matter how old. Just get some sour cream and don't tempt fate with substitutions. Depending on the store, you can find the smallest size being a 6 or an 8 ounce container. Either works. If your store has both, you are too lucky of a person, and just go with what your hungry tummy suggests.

Taco seasoning is optional. - I only use maybe half a packet of seasoning, if they come in those little envelopes. They say it is equal to a pound of meat, but that has always been overpowering to me. I suppose I could have just said 'to taste', but I always wonder if that means 'enough where you can just barely taste it' which I don't find to be very exciting.

(Did I mention that I am pregnant? That is why letting your belly decide is such an important step in most of these. #ObeyTheBelly )

Instructions:

Preheat the oven to 350*F. If you use Celsius, look up a converter on the inter-webs. I can't help you.

Attack casserole dish with cooking spray. This is very important, as we all know that baked on cheese may as well be cement. Get all the sides. You do not want to be chiseling cheese off later. Completely ruins the mood of the dinner.

Make a small layer on the bottom of the casserole dish with Doritos. Just a layer. Some people don't like doing this, as they feel the chips get soggy by the end. Your choice. But do it.

Grab out a mixing bowl and dump everything that is not Doritos in the bowl. You can save some of the cheese for the top if you like, but who has the self control? Mix well - or until your arm gets tired.

Now, spread that mixture of goodness over that layer of chips. It probably looks terrible at this point. That means you did it right. Got to love casseroles, right?

Some people now say to add another layer of Doritos over the top. Only do this if you like that charred taste that people seem to think means the food is fancy. Otherwise, hold the rest of the Doritos in a safe place and try not to eat them all before the rest is done cooking. Keep out of reach of children.

If you forgot to preheat the oven, like I always do, turn that on now.

Bake in preheated oven for 20 ish minutes. I should be more exact, but we all know that every oven is different, and with altitudes and all that silliness; I just don't want you to get mad at me. This is now the time to pull the food out (With oven mitts, you monster!) and add that extra cheese on top, if you had the self discipline. Cook that for 5 ish minutes more, aka cheese is bubbling and volcano hot.

Now, this is where it becomes nachos to me. Most recipes are saying this is a casserole, so you would now pull it out and serve warm. I say you take it out, and serve over the rest of those Doritos like it is a nacho party! This means you don't need to use spoons or forks that you have to wash later, and who doesn't want to use Doritos as nachos? This is why we didn't cook them all. They either become soggy under the casserole, or too brittle if cooked on top. But as little fake-cheese-flavored shovels, they are perfect!

I hope you liked this recipe. It wasn't very formal, but I'm not a very formal writer.

Share the pictures and reactions to your Doritos nachos creations!

Should I share more recipes?

Smile Always.

Story of the First Ultrasound

In honor of my leaving the First Trimester this week, I thought I would share the story of our first ultrasound.
I found out about the pregnancy at four weeks (though the nurse estimated at three weeks).
I was over the moon excited. I wanted to tell everyone in a second, but more than that I wanted to meet our baby.
While knowing I was pregnant, and feeling the morning sickness and exhaustion, I really wanted to have some sort of proof. Yes, the nice nurse lady have me a little slip of paper as 'proof of pregnancy' to give to doctors, it didn't feel real. The symptoms could be a really terrible flu bug or stomach virus. I didn't look any different. It was all just something we knew, but didn't feel real most of the time. Unless I was curled up next to the puke bowl.
So when we went in for the first ultrasound I was SO excited. I made My Lovely get out of class early and refused to plan anything for the rest of the day, because I knew I was just going to be a mess and not be able to handle it.
We had the ultrasound on the same day we were moving across town. I thought for sure in my planning that we would be done days earlier and by the day of the ultrasound it would all have been taken care of. Things didn't go that way. (Another story on that later)
So we finished the last moving out right before the appointment. With the last of the moving boxes in the back of our teeny tiny car, which we call the Barbie Jeep, we showed up for the appointment barely on time, and I went in while Lovely parked.
By the time Lovely came up, I had already been shown into the room after fixing a few paperwork errors in our records. I was asked to give a sample, and when I came back to the exam room Lovely was waiting there and we just had a quiet moment to prepare to see our baby for the first time.
After donning the amazingly attractive paper not-even-a-dress and sheet, the ultrasound tech came in and we did our attempt at small talk while everything got ready.
I had felt sick and excited. I knew I was pregnant. I was tracking symptoms and everything.
But when we got that first image of baby it was still a shock to see.
The pictures from ultrasound that people pass about are not really justice to seeing in person. It was all black and white. But because of the movement and real time, we could actually see our little Spawn wiggling around in there.
When the nurse found out we referred to our baby as Spawn she nearly swallowed her tongue in laughter and surprise. And when I compared our precious little baby to a deformed gummy bear I don't think she knew how to handle us.
All jokes aside, it was amazing. The little thing was wiggling around more than I had ever thought, though of course I couldn't feel anything. Spawn was waving around little stubby limbs.
I admit that I may have coughed once or twice to make sure it was actually my innards we were getting video of.
We found out baby was a week older than we had been told. Heart rate was nice a high, but a healthy number for a goober so young.
We got four pictures on leaving. None of them even touch on how amazing it was to see Spawn in real time moving about and to realize it was real, and inside me.
To wrap my brain around the fact that it is real, our baby, and to see Spawn inside me was just amazing.
The next baby appointment is in just a few days. While we won't be getting any more pictures, it will be so nice to check up and make sure Spawn is still doing well.

I do promise not every post on this blog will be about Spawn. Right now it is the biggest thing in my life, but I will go on more about other topics and rants, writings and opinions.

Smile Always.

The Drawing Story

I can't draw.
I really don't know why I even try.
Wait, yes I do.

When I was a child, I had no interest in being a writer. I loved to read, but it never came into my head that I could write my own books.
No, when I was a child, I wanted to be an artist. I wanted to draw the best pictures. A picture was worth a thousand words, and all that.
So, I would color, and draw, and make a picture of a tree into something that stood for the whole story involving a tree.
When I would finish a picture I would take it to my Mother. I would show her the picture. She would say it is nice, and continue with what she was doing.
But, it being nice wasn't good enough for me. I wanted her to understand all about the picture. That the tree had been there for how many years, and the branches bent this certain way because someone sat on them and tied things to them, or broke them, and the squirrel that I drew on the branch had an entire life story that I was certain my mother needed to hear all about.
My mother tried to be kind. She really did. But a little girl bringing your multiple pictures a day, then demanding to tell you every imagined detail about them would be tiring for anyone.
I would ask my sister what I should draw, and she would suggest something, but warn me not to draw people, because I couldn't draw people well. (I only drew humans for like three months after that comment.)
Finally, after a particularly long story explaining a drawing, one day, Mother turned to me and said that instead of drawing a picture to tell her a story, I should just write the story down, with all the information.
This was more than I could handle. That a picture wasn't good enough was awful, but the idea that I could write down whatever I wanted, and get all the important parts down without having to draw things I didn't know what looked like, was amazing. And that Mother said she would read my stories sparked something in me.
She wouldn't just glance at a picture and tell me it was nice, then listen to me (even at that age I knew her listening wasn't fully attentive) tell her all about it. She would have to stop what she was doing and read my story.

That was the turning point from artist to writer.

The writing part of this story I will save for another time.

Though I started writing stories immediately, I never fully fell away from drawing.

But I let that talent slide. At once point as a young teenager I remember some women looking at my art and saying that I was really good and should go to school for it and get more training. But at that time I was angry, because I had also put some short stories on that table with my art, and no one was reading them. I knew that art was an easily presented talent, and my writing would never get the same attention unless I could convince them to take some time a read it. This incident was at a sort of talent show, though.

I still like to dabble in art, though I have certainly focused my creativity at writing.

I sew, and cook, and paint (usually rocks) too. But writing will always be my passion.

I usually draw when I am supposed to be focusing and have to keep that side of my brain busy. I will draw people at church and in meetings, just to exercise that talent so it doesn't completely fall away.
Usually, my drawing will be for practice that no one sees, to show someone that they are beautiful, or just to illustrate a joke that doesn't translate well to the written word.

You know how when any writer doesn't have an answer to a plot hole or inconsistency, they will just wave a hand and say 'magic!'? Well, this happens a lot in any writing group I have ever had where I mention a problem. The other day I was hanging out with my science minded husband and some friends, and it got onto the topic of how space and other things work. The friend said it was probably radiation. This strikes me as the science version of "Magic!", where if someone can't explain how something changed or was created, they just blame it on radiation. We then made it our joke, so I later created the little Radiation Scientist above and sent it to our friend in order for him to be able to explain away any incongruity in the data later in his degree. He loved it. I made it in Paint program, and oldie but a goody, and I am very proud of it.

I understand that this drawing is bad.
Most of my art these days are bad.
But I love my bad art.

I am not an artist, I am a Writer.

I can tell you a story.


Smile Always.

My Perfect Day

I made up my perfect day years ago.
I made it up before I met my husband.
I made it up before I knew what I would go to University for.
I made it up on a whim for something to talk about.
And My Perfect Day still stands today.

My perfect day would start with baby cries. Not a usual model of perfection.
I imagine I will get up, still too tired to really think, and go in to feed my infant child. By the time the baby was fed and back to sleep, it would be time to get the older children up for school.
While the kids are getting up and brushing teeth, getting more spit on the floor and each other than down the drain, I will make oatmeal or cold cereal while yelling at them to hurry up and not wake the baby.
While they are sitting down for breakfast and fighting over who has more milk in their cereal, my husband would be getting ready for work and wondering where he put his keys (which this part is already a truth for My Lovely). He will come in to gulp down some oatmeal and kiss the kids, and then kiss me goodbye and have to get to work. He would be out the door as I give up on the kids finishing their entire breakfast. While they are putting shoes on the wrong feet, I will go in to the baby and pick him/her up so I can walk all the kids to the bus stop in my husbands slippers. (Bus stop nearness depending, of course, but this is a day of perfection remember) The kids will get on the bus while the driver gives my slippers a look, then I will walk back home.
After breakfast is cleaned up, I have a set amount of time. Errands have to be done, and I need to get in a certain amount of writing or crafting. I have goals, people. Even if I don't reach them, every bit of progress is a win for me.
After baby is sleeping and I have done as little house work as I can get away with while remaining tidy, the kids will be headed home. No doubt I will have an alarm set, because if I don't meet them or at least ready for them when they get home, mud pies will be the first order of their agenda.
Kids can come home either in a buddy system, or myself or another Mom friend (In my dreams of the future I am much better at making friends) going to get them.
Once home, shoes come off and the kids get a (healthy?) snack before anything else. Then, they have a chore list to do before they can play. I am not against video games, as long as screen time and other play time are balanced.
I will have another alarm to start dinner for it to be ready (around) the time husband gets home. It was be on a slightly healthier side, but still comforting food. Home cooked meals unless in celebration of something. Limiting take aways as a rule.
When husband gets home he has time to play with the kids a bit before dinner is on the table.
Dinner as a family, at the table.
Then husband gets to help kids with homework, and hold the baby while I have a minute of me-time. (I am aware this will usually just be a shower or a quick self-pedicure.) Then, kids are to bed with a story that isn't about coloring on walls or breaking into bear's houses. While they are asleep, and between bathroom breaks and glasses of water that will demand another bathroom break, husband and I will have time to catch up and be together.
Then off to bed, to wake up early for a crying baby in a few more hours.

That is my perfect day. You will notice it is a specific day. Most days aren't going to be this good, and I am very aware of that. But that is why this is my perfect day. When I have a day like this, I will be truly content that night, knowing I have reached my goal.
I don't want perfect kids or a perfect house. I really don't want to be a perfect Mom. Where is the fun in that? But I want a good, normal, day that I can be happy with.

I told my Mother about this perfect day in my head. She acted like I was weird, but hoped I got it at least once.
I asked her what her Perfect Day would be. If she had an image of one in her head, even just to think about, or if she had already had that perfect that.
She told me that her perfect day would be the day that the last of her kids got married in the Temple. That all of her children were worthy and married in the covenant, and her work would be done. Because it would mean she had done her job and raised her children to be righteous and good. And that meant we would all be married - and therefore off her plate.
My Daddy is waiting for the day all of his children write him a check each month, and he doesn't have to work anymore. (Inside joke. At least, I think it is a joke.)

What is your Perfect Day? Is it simple or grand? Is it an event or goal reached, or just a happy day that works out among all the others? Let me know below. I will read them, I promise.

Smile Always.

The Story of My Ta-Duh Day

Someone asked me once what was my most embarrassing moment. I didn't have an answer. I honestly couldn't think of one. Either I don't get embarrassed all that much, block it out, or make it a joke so it isn't embarrassing anymore.

And then I had my Ta-Duh Day.

Let's rewind the clock a bit. (As if that actually reversed time - but I like the phrase.)

I was a Senior in High School.

I didn't like High School. I didn't like school in general, really. I never got along with my peers until I came to University, and even then most of them annoyed me. In High School my issue was that if I was going to be there, I had better get something out of it. Which, as I am sure you are all more than aware, is nigh impossible. With classrooms crammed with a bunch of teenagers that don't want to be there, and don't respect authority, while most of them were on some type of dependency chemical (there is a reason Washington state was the first to legalize Pot) it was impossible for the instructor to teach a valuable lesson start to finish.

I had been taking community college classes instead of high school classes for over a year by then. It is amazing the difference it makes when the classroom is filled with students that want to learn. From classes where the students have to be there in order to not get in trouble, verses classes where the students paid for those classes and demand their money's worth, you can imagine the one I preferred.

But there are all sorts of rules to jump around when going to community college instead of High School. The system didn't want to going to college, as it reduced the money they were getting from the government, or some such thing. Either way, they made it very difficult for me to finish high school through college. In the end, on my block before graduation, they demanded that I come back to High School, though I only had two two classes left on the docket, which I could have taken in college classes. But because of details and loopholes, I was forced to take these last two at the physical High School.

Enough of set up, back to the day in question.

I had an early morning Seminary Class. I went every morning before the first bell, at a near-ish church building. My Daddy was kind enough to take me and some other Seminary students from the church building and to the High School.

That morning I had been late for Seminary. Or as my Daddy likes to call it, Cemetery. (because of the hours and brain dead students. Dad jokes.) Being late this early was nothing new. I didn't bother brushing my hair that morning, it being so short at the time, and my not caring about boys of that age anyway. I muddled through, and then we headed to High School.

When I got out of the car to cross the street, I nearly got ran over. Not uncommon, and I wasn't concerned.

My class was up the main stairway and in a computer lab. While I headed towards the stairway, I noticed that many students were already there, having breakfast in the cafeteria. The cafeteria is in plain view of all students coming into the building, and all students climbing the stairs. You see where I am going with this.

Not even half way up the main staircase, I trip over my own tired feet, and go sprawling all over the stairs. I always keep the top zipper pocket of my backpack open to easily grab pens and things. Because it was open, when I fell pens and pencils and two tampons fell out and scattered everywhere.

I rubbed my tired eyes and started picking things up when I noticed the laughter. I turned, and the entire cafeteria had seen me fall and were laughing at me. Nearest the stairs was a table full of the loudest and most popular guys. They were of course laughing the loudest and pointing.

With my hands full, and not knowing what to do, I thought fast.

I didn't care if I ever saw any of these people ever again. Most of them were annoying and just interested in social groups and making crude jokes.

But I didn't like the precedent that if I backed down or was embarrassed, it would just encourage them to continue the behavior.

So, trying to think through my tired brain, I turned to the group of guys that were supposed to be attractive (pull your pants up, gentlemen) and popular. I raised my full hands in an 'oh well' gesture, and clearly said "Ta-Duh!"

I continued on to class while they kept laughing.

I had all my things back in my bag before I got to class.

A few people were already in class, mostly in the back of the room and whispering about something or other. I headed to my usual seat that was neither in the back or front, and the seat all the way to the side against the wall. I like defensible positions.

As I went to sit down, I'm not exactly sure how I misjudged myself, but I ended up losing my balance and sitting hard in the seat, falling nearly out of the seat, and body slamming the wall. The impact was rather loud.

I looked behind me in the sudden silence of the classroom. Two girls that had been talking were sitting there staring at me.

I straightened in my seat, gave them a tired smile, and said "Ta-Duh?!"

When done with High School classes, I always had to immediately catch the bus in order to get to college. The bus ride was over an hour most days.

While I was walking to the bus stop closest to the High School, I was reading while walking. I did that a lot. (Still do, who am I kidding)

I noticed before reaching the bus stop that it was a bright and sunny day, strange for Washington. I looked up and around, and at my bus stop, that was usually empty, there was an older guy sitting there.

I had already had a morning of it. I was more awake now. I wasn't going to be weird in front of a guy that was actually okay looking. So I lowered my book, while not putting it away, and kept my head up while I headed towards the bus stop and this looker.

Turns out, not looking at the ground like I usually do, was actually a mistake. I forgot a slight unevenness where some of the pavement met. My foot hit it.

I went down.

I was holding a book, so I hit my knees hard, which gave out, and I fell forward.

Pens scattered again.

I got back to my knees and looked up. The guy was just staring at me, obviously not sure if he should help or laugh.

I had had enough. This day was out to get me. But I wasn't in the mood to give in to the horribleness presented. So, I knelt there and swept my arms wide, and looking this guy in the eye, declared "Ta-Duh!" loudly.

He thought it was funny, but did not help me pick of pens.

I read my book until the bus came, not really liking the sun hitting the pages and hurting my eyes.

When the bus came, the guy got in first, and went directly to the back of the bus. I decided to not tempt fate any more, and went to sit in one of the bench seats at the front of the bus that no one ever sits in, so I would be safe.

I was moving to sit, and was halfway sat, when the driver decided to launch the bus forward. I sprawled instead of sat. My bag was now in the swing of things, and pens went flying again.

I ended up sitting on the floor of the bus, back sore from it's attempts to catch the less than cushioned bench seat. The driver slammed on the breaks when he saw that I had fallen.

"Are you okay?" He yelled, squinting at my from the rear view mirror.

I had to laugh. Some days are just going to be those kind of days.

"Ta-Duh!!!"

And that was my Ta-Duh day. My family loves to hear me tell that story. Keeps people laughing. Other things happened that day as well, but I don't remember the details. The important part is that some days are going to be awful. Most of my teenage years were awful. But when all of it happens in a row like that, sometimes it is better to just yell Ta-Duh! and own it to make it your own.

Smile Always.

The Story of the Spawn

Plot Twist!
I'm Pregnant!

I first knew, because I wasn't having any symptoms.
Perhaps I should start earlier.
My Lovely and I were trying for a child since December. I then had just finished the long process of getting off of my medications in order to safely have and carry a baby.
I wasn't on anything crazy intense, just certain medications that I personally didn't want to be on with a baby growing. While the brands I was on rarely affected the child, and then usually only in the third trimester, I really didn't want to risk it, and I was on such low doses at the time, that I really felt it a good decision.
So, off the meds and being watched carefully by both Doctors and My Lovely, I was doing well. While I of course had certain things to deal with and changes had to be made, I was making it through.
Every time I was due for Shark Week (aka aunt Flo, aka moon sickness, aka menstruating monster, aka cycle sickness - you get the idea) I would get symptoms that I was always sure were signs of pregnancy. Turns out, off my meds that I had been on for years, my signs of Shark Week exactly modeled what early signs of pregnancy looked like. Bad body. I didn't need that.
Then, one month I didn't have any of the symptoms. I was relieved, but didn't think much of it. That month was crazy. We had relatives visiting from out of town, Family drama was escalating (helped by Spawn), and we just found out that we were moving. I wasn't thinking of counting days and stressing about what kept not happening.
I wasn't showing symptoms. At least not the ones I was looking for.
I started sleeping a lot. And I mean A LOT. I could only be awake for a handful of hours before I was nodding off again. It didn't matter what I was doing. I was suddenly unable to think or function until I took a nap. Then I was sleeping even longer each nap. My Lovely was getting worried.
Looking back, I was also very emotional. But because of the stress and drama that was happening at the time, it all seemed very reasonable while I was feeling it.
Said every hormonal train wreck of emotion that ever emoted.
Finally, I realized that I was near Shark Week. I told myself I wasn't going to test until I was at least a week late.
But, lets be honest, I have absolutely no self control. I tested early.
And it was a strong positive.
I screamed and cheered and went in and woke Lovely to tell him. He was happy, if half asleep.
I wanted to call everyone and share in my freak out.
But Lovely is more rational than I am, even while he was half asleep, and made me promise to go get a Doctor's confirmation test before I told anyone. So I did.
Because Lovely has to sleep days because he works graves, I walked myself down to the Doctor's office, and got the confirmation. I was ecstatic. I called, but he was asleep, so I left a text that we were in fact With Spawn.
I knew I wasn't going to be able to sit at home while he slept and stay quite and calm in order to let Lovely sleep. So I went over to some friends of ours. I only told them and one sister, while we made plans of how we were to announce.
Now, I know there is a lot of controversy about when to announce a pregnancy. It is either immediately, or waiting until the end of the first Trimester. Those who wait do so mainly because the risk of miscarriage is very high so early, and they feel it is safer to wait. Those who do not wait do so because happy news is happy news, and if a loss does happen, if people know they can mourn with them.
I decided to announce 'early'. Because if a loss does happen, I am going to be a mess, I know I will, and I don't want people impatient and wondering why I am so upset and angry all the time, and thinking it is just because I went off medication. Really, it is so people will understand and be sensitive, and not give me attitude about my attitude while I am heartbroken.
Also, I can't keep my own happy news to myself. I'm so excited, and I want to share the experiences I have.

We announced by having my Sissy-Poo, who is a photographer, take a photo of Lovely unwrapping a gift that is a mug saying "Best DAD Ever" on it. I love the photo, and I put it all over the inter-webs.

*Edited to protect the innocent*
Some people understood at once. Others didn't get it, even after all the comments of "congrats" started coming in. When I go subtle, sometimes it is too subtle, and no one even sees what I'm doing. I need to work on that.

My first ultrasound is in just under two weeks. Between then and now, Lovely is starting a new semester at university, we are moving across town, trying to get on WIC and Medicaid, and I need to pack and clean our apartment top to bottom. While I am so tired, and starting to feel the queasy and cravings. There is a lot going on. But I am very excited for this journey.

More updates will come as we know them.

P.S. Some people are upset that we are referring to our unborn child as Spawn. We think it is funny. And, if you think about it, accurate. We are in fact Spawning another life. Also, we need something to called it before we know the gender. Some people call the baby Bean or Blueberry or Nugget, or all sorts of other things. I think calling a baby an edible is far stranger than Spawn. So, on this blog the baby will most likely be called Spawn, or 4.1 after a sort of joke my Daddy has running. Don't take offense. We just think we are clever.


Smile Always.