Not so grown-up, either

So, despite all my apprehensions, my nutrition appointment wasn't too bad. Basically, she said that I'm already doing everything right and that I just have to make a few, small adjustments. Then we went over the whole blood testing process, and it seemed easy enough. I tried it out once at the office, got my result quickly, and went on my merry way.

Unfortunately, that testing ease significantly diminished as soon as I left the nutritionist's office. I'm supposed to test my blood sugar four time a day: once right when I get up, and then one hour after eating breakfast, lunch and dinner. So, after lunch yesterday, I went to the bathroom at work to test myself. But this time, I couldn't seem to get enough blood out of my finger and onto the strip. After two finger pricks and two "error" messages on my monitor, I finally got a reading on the third try. But the number was really low, so I'm guessing I did something wrong.

Then, last night after dinner, I tried to test my blood sugar again. This time, I pricked myself three times, tried to squeeze out enough blood, and ultimately received three "error" messages.

And that's when I had a total meltdown. A meltdown of the order that would make my 3-year-old nephew look mature. And then, for some reason, all this crying and tantrum throwing gave me a bloody nose. (And no, I didn't test my blood sugar using my snotty nose blood. And yes, I briefly considered it.)

I next spent the better part of an hour crying in the bathroom, trying to get my nose to stop bleeding, all the while making the blood run faster by my continual crying. I kept wondering how I'd become such a failure at something as simple as getting a drop of blood onto a test strip, and then realizing that this is nothing, nothing, compared to how hard raising a child is going to be. And holy crap, what am I going to do?

Poor Chris, who has been my rock through this whole pregnancy, was exhausted after a long day and kept trying to get me to calm down and come to bed.

This morning, I tried to do a reading again and again got an "error" message. Then Chris tried on himself and succeeded the first time. He showed me his technique for getting more blood to come out — in his words, milking your finger like an udder. Since trying out this technique, I've gotten two good reads, so hopefully we've finally figured this whole thing out. At least I hope so, because I can't spend any more nights crying in the bathroom. The Wunder household would really like to enjoy these last 10 weeks of blissful, baby-free sleep.

Not so healthy

Remind me never to write things like "I've been blessed with a healthy pregnancy" on my blog. Because, of course, I jinxed myself. It turns out I have gestational diabetes.

I just found out on Tuesday. I gotta admit, when I found out, I was shocked, and pissed. My initial glucose screen came back on the high side, but that screen has a high rate of false positives. My sister actually had a false positive on her screen, but after further tests, was determined to be just fine. So naturally, I assumed I'd be OK, too.

I had my second round of tests on Saturday. It involved fasting for 12 hours, then drinking this nasty sugar water and having my blood taken four times over a three-hour period. (Yeah, worst way to spend a Saturday ever.) On the bright side, as a reward for having to go through this, Chris and I went to Kuma's Corner after the test and ate mac n' cheese and giant burgers until we were literally sick to our stomachs. Unfortunately, that little indulgence turned out to be a last hurrah for me. No more pasta, fries and pretzel rolls. At least, not for the next 10 weeks.

The reason I'm pissed is because I already eat healthy. Other than the occasional indulgence like the one mentioned above, I don't eat simple carbs like pasta, white bread and white rice. We don't even have any in the house. And I rarely eat sweets. My diet pretty much consists of fish and lean proteins, fruits, vegetables, eggs, milk, cheese, yogurt, nuts and whole grains. And I exercise. And I'm not overweight. And with this new food co-op we joined, I've been eating tons of fresh kale, greens, arugula and cabbage for the past month. WTF?

I suppose this means adopting a new "diet" won't be difficult. I have an appointment tomorrow to learn about all this stuff. I'm trying to be positive, but the idea of sitting through a lecture on how I shouldn't eat ice cream, fried chicken and pizza for every meal is infuriating.

Argh. I need to stop and remember that this is temporary. Lots of people have much worse conditions, none of which were deserved. And they don't get to say goodbye to those problems 10 weeks from now. So yeah, I'm just being a brat.

Countdown

I've been blessed with a very easy pregnancy so far. Never had morning sickness. No health problems (at least, not yet). No mood swings or insane fears. But I have to admit, I'm kinda looking forward to NOT being pregnant anymore.

There's the obvious reason: I can't wait to meet this baby that already seems to have a personality and sense of humor. For example, when Chris tries to listen to the baby's heartbeat, Baby TK has taken to kicking him in the ear. I'm so proud.

But then there are the day-to-day things I miss, like being able to bend over to tie my shoes, or walking up a flight of stairs without getting winded. This morning, it took me 30 minutes to walk from our house to the train. Usually, it only takes 10.

Part of me feels selfish and weak for mentally being done with this whole pregnancy thing only 70% of the way through. I'm not a C- kind of gal. But then again, this week, three people told me I'm starting to waddle. What's up with that?

Further proof that I am an adult

As of yesterday, I am now the proud owner of a home with central air, as well as a fancy, new furnace that, unlike our previous one, was actually constructed after the McKinley administration.

Add the A/C and furnace to the new windows we recently had installed throughout our home, and you'll get the next sure sign of our adulthood: a home equity line of credit.

And if those four things weren't enough, we now have a fully assembled baby crib, rocking chair and stroller/car seat combo. We are, undeniably, grown-ups.

Part of becoming an adult must involve turning into your parents. Less than 12 hours after the A/C was installed, I became my father and started scolding Chris for running the A/C too much. Our electricity bill's going to skyrocket. It's nice outside. We don't even need to run the A/C. Just open the windows.

But Chris wanted to play with our new household toy, so I caved. But after the novelty's worn off, I'll put my foot down because it really is too nice outside to run the A/C at night, and our electricity bill really is going to skyrocket.

Politically, I might be pretty liberal, but in MY house, I'm a fiscal conservative, dammit.

I am huge...

... and not in the Paris Hilton "that's hot" kind of way*, but rather in the "are you sure you're not having twins?" kind of way.

Seriously, one of my co-workers asked me that this morning. When I said no, she suggested that perhaps I'm carrying both a baby and a puppy. Which is kind of gross (birthing a puppy? ewww), but also pretty funny. Chris and I have often said that the baby should get its own dog, because Rosie's our dog and we don't want to share, not even with our first born.

To date, I've gained 16 pounds since getting pregnant, which is actually a smidgen on the low end — so much for gaining weight too rapidly in the beginning. The main reason I've slowed down is because eating has become quite difficult. My stomach must now be the size of a grape, because I get full extremely fast. As a result, I have to graze all day, eating little bits here and there. Which is actually really good for maintaining a regular blood sugar level for the baby. But it's also really good for your metabolism, meaning I probably burn a crazy amount of calories schlepping my massive self to the bathroom 50 times a day.

So, even though I haven't gained that much so far, currently it's ALL BELLY. This has also led every woman who sees me to say that, without a doubt, I'm having a boy. The fetal heart rate would suggest otherwise, but you know what? Both of these things are old wives tales.

All I know is this: I'm having a baby. Just one. And possibly a puppy.

* I just learned this term from a recent episode of "Kathy Griffin: My Life on the D-List," which, other than SYTYCD, is quickly becoming my favorite thing on television.

How I spent my 4th of July vacation

For the 4th of July this year, we spent the weekend at my sister's friend's annual multi-day party. We've been to this bash before, but this was the first year we stayed most of the weekend.

It was pretty much the perfect 4th weekend: there was swimming, fireworks of legal and illegal varieties, mass quantities of grilled meats and foods served in salad form, and hours of backyard whiffleball.

Here are a few highlights from the weekend:

Me and my new niece, Lucy. Also featured in this photo is my rapidly expanding belly. Thankfully, Lucy is obscuring most of that (because really, nobody wants to see a pregnant chick in a bikini). Next to Lucy's teeny right foot, you can make out my bellybutton, which is mere millimeters from becoming a full-blown outie.

At night Chris, Rosie and I camped out in the backyard, and Jack joined us as well. It was his first time sleeping in a tent, and I think he's a fan. Also a fan? The hosts' dog, Chewy (above), who wanted to hang out in the tent all the time, even when we weren't around.

Chris, demonstrating how with the use of baby sling, your hands are free for important tasks, like drinking a margarita and eating a burger. He is so ready for fatherhood.