Holy Dyslexic Klutz and Other Developments

It’s not the most convenient thing to be nearly 6 months pregnant and settle in from a big move.

My attempts to unpack and organize things-considering how my center of balance is so off centered- are futile and I love my hunnie so much for doing everything.

Alas, I have become a total dyslexic klutz. I have recently been spilling things, breaking things, dropping things, tripping, forgetting things, confusing numbers, mixing up digits and letters- my baby genius brain has been clouded by hormones and who knows what else.

I’m not used to having all the weight on me- I constantly miscalculate and judge how much space I need to get through because of the baby bump. Now my poor little feet are unable to sustain the baby bump and weight – I had to alas give up my precious high heels finally.
Good bye heels- hello Crocs *barf*.

I set aside my detest and purchased 2 pairs of Crocs- but at least they are the ballerina flat looking ones instead of the hideous elf –like clogs. I refuse to pay full price for something so ugly- so went to the outlet and got them. I guess all the recommendations are true- they do feel so much better and stable for my pregnant feet .

One positive thing of showing now is that people are SOOOO nice to you when you’re pregnant. They let you cut in line and let you have things your way-like ALL the time. However, I did notice that Korean people are so freaking rude in NY in regards to how they treat pregnant women. This ajushi straight up blew smoke in my face as I walked out of this store! Wtf! Then when we went to go eat at Korean restaurant, the Korean ajuma waitress was rude too just because I asked her to re-wipe the damn chair.
My glucose test came back perfectly fine- but it looks like Dylan wants me to eat more iron. The nurse called me and told me that I have an iron deficiency in my recent blood work so I have to take iron supplements along with my prenatal vitamins. I think it’s really important to be on a good diet BEFORE you get pregnant because before I got pregnant I had such poor diet of not eating but one meal a day and getting through the days with cigs, coffee, energy drinks and candy. This led to me have really awful morning sickness in my first trimester and all sorts of stomach turmoil because my body wasn’t used to eating so much food.

My friend Cindy suggested I take pics of my baby bump to document changes. . .I retorted "Why would I wanna document fatness?" LOL.

Dylan has been kicking and moving around alot more. The last time I had my ultrasound- the ultrasound technician and nurse both said an active baby is very healthy so I am relieved. It's the most o-mazing feeling to actually feel him kick, tumble and elbow me. He's pretty strong because sometimes I will be in the middle of doing something and he will kick me really hard. To think there is a little mini-me/ danny oppa curled up inside me doing things is so weird. According to my Pregnancy & Childbirth book Dylan is approximately 15 inches long and and a little over 2 lbs at 28 weeks old!

hello glucose. goodbye clubwhore du jour clothes and my guys collection!

Maybe I am just weird- considering everyone I asked told me that the glucose drink tastes good or like candy, but the glucose drink I had to chug down for my gestational diabetes test was absolutely disgusting! It wasn't so much the actual taste but the consistency that really grossed me out- it was so damn thick and it went down all slow. I'm really picky about texture and consistency when it comes to anything I have to put in my mouth. I think the baby didn't like it very much either because he kicked/elbowed me.

Anyways, I carefully read the directions for the glucose drink a million times because I didn't want to mess up the test and as a result have blood taken out again. You can't eat anything prior to the test and you have to drink that nasty thing within 5 minutes and 30 minutes before your appointment and then you have to get blood taken out exactly within 1 one hour or else you have to do it ALL over again. I absolutely hate having blood taken out because I have really sensitive skin and the aftermath bruise looks like I'm one of those spun out herion addicts! I felt so tired after the vials of blood they took and I literally passed out when I got home waking up to thunderstorms at night.

My conclusion: I don't think I would make a very good fang banger. That's what they call people who fuck vampires and let them feast on them and drain juuuuuust enough blood. . .yes its real because True Blood is real.

Back to sorting and packing and GAH throwing away (aka donating) club whore du jour clothes and other boys clothes I "borrowed". . .

Mom: WHAT IS THIS? HOW DO YOU WEAR THIS?
Me: Uhhh I dunno. You wear those kinda things to the club. That's really old anyways its from like freshman year in college. I don't wear those kind of things anymore umma! I like Blair Waldorf style seeeeeee.
Mom: Throw it away NOW! THROW IT ALL AWAY!
Me: *SOB*

Brother: Why do you have so many guy's tshirts, shirts, jackets and hats mixed in?
Me: Guys let me borrow em and stuff like after the club. . .you know.
Brother: UHHH *disgusted look* you need to throw this shit away.
Me: Ok Geez.

Retiring Days and Nights of Play

Who would have thought that I would finally retire my days and nights of play where I spun drinking debauchery in the midst of clubbing and bar hopping? Going clubbing/drinking every night was beginning to get old and tiresome. I was beginning to prefer nights with the boyfriend or close friends versus club du jour life- GASP- I never even thought that would be possible! Any new hipster club/bar imaginable- I went and pranced around in VIP and took a gazillion million pictures- because -yeah yeah yeah-I am a photo/video whore du jour.

Drinking and dancing the night away was my way of avoiding stress- the stress of growing up. And it wasn't my fault I could out-drink YOU YOU and YOU. . .its the irish blood in me GAH.

How ironic to think that when I was younger, I just couldn't wait to grow up. I was always wondering if I would be as pretty as my mother when I grow up or independent as my aunt or gangster as my father. . .

I couldn't wait to leave home, to have my next birthday, to finish school. The idea of being free to be myself was like this great shining star in front of me, and I wanted to hurry up the process and gain it for myself. And now, that star is in my grasp. . .

And it’s not as grandeur as I expected. Growing up comes responsibilities and decisions. . . And I’m not even completely sure if I am satisfied with this GROWN up version of me.

In all honesty, I don't want to grow up. I'm scared shitless of growing up and moving away into a world that doesn't HAVE to love me, that won't pick me up when I fall. But when you have another human being growing inside of you- completely relying on you . . . it gives you a new perspective on things.

You start having to think about what’s best for the baby and not just you.

THAT is the reason why I agreed with the decision to move away from Atlanta- my home-where all my dear friends, family and memories reside.

And that is what I have done. . . Made a grown up decision- and now I shall anticipate the future.