It comes and goes...but it is reassuring, and not too difficult
compared to the throngs of vomiting mommies-over-loos spread
throughout the world...

But more excitingly:


I still don't understand why smaller things have faster
heartbeats. Wait, I just understood it. Taken care of.

I also just finished reading "Invisible Man" for the first,
and most definitely not the last, time.

So the heartbeat viewing/hearing was hallucinogenic.
My beloved was a little reserved about the whole thing
and, while seemingly happy, I believe he has stepped up
the panic mode.

Which is tiring if it leaks out as all his stress does:
picking fights with me.

I try to manage them.
He comments and rails a little, I sit on my tongue's hands,
he continues with raising voice, I sit and sit, but my
brow clearly furrows, he pushes and pushes...and finally,
I snap. He then goes and smokes a cigarette, or joint,
and feels better whilst I am left with a smoldering ball
of anger in my stomach.

The last one of these incidents was over "The Hurt Locker"
which he deemed too upsetting for me to watch.

Let it be noted here that I am 9 years his senior and
have much, much, much more life experience than he.

So. Tedious as his proclamations are, I have told him that
the next 8 months with be filled with "yessuhs" and me
just doing what the hell he needs me to do for him to calm

He does not like this idea.

But I am doing it anyway.

Our first visit to the ob/gyn was much more successful
than the last, empty egg revealing, visit. Even the Irish
looking assistant managed to scrape up a smile when I joked
with her. The doctor, in his gold-spangled glory, seemed
surprised at my amount of info. I am not telling him that
I am taking prenatal vitamins as the French do not do such
a thing, believing, hilariously, that they eat a varied enough
diet to take care of all nutritional needs.

Let them not fool you.
No one knows how to kill a vegetable more thoroughly than
a French country cook...except a Welsh one.

Broccoli is mush here...as are green beans...and salad is
minimal. Though not any kind of meat you can imagine...
including, of course, horse.


I love me some horses.
My man loves to eat him some horses.

Sometimes I feel that this relationship is doomed.

Then I try to remember that I am pregnant and nothing
should be decided when in such a state.

Also: I am thinking of quitting my best friend of
26 years as she is becoming a grey and self-absorbed
misery guts. On a recent visit to the US she spent
half an hour of the 7 waking hours I spent with her
looking at facebook. I doubt she would even note
the irony.

Fire her or not?

I know no one is reading.
But feedback is welcome.


The Duchess said...

Just found your blog and am slowly reading through. You are making me laugh... and that's a good thing!
And yeah! for the heartbeat. Hope the sickness isn't too bad for you!

La Framéricaine said...

If you can find someone in your general area who is practicing Ericksonian hypnotherapy (trust me), you can both go see him/her. Make the pregnancy much easier and keep the stress-related fight-picking to a minimum, if not vaporize it completely.

There is a man, Jean Touati, online at Cabinet Orgadia. You can read up on it. It is so what the doctor ordered for what we call life;>D Try it, you'll see... I'm going to see him as soon as I get to Paris (early March), my husband already went, and we are siccing him on the heart attack BIL ASAP. I'm totally serious.