Girls Just Want to Have Fun

After 20 long weeks, we confirmed what I had suspected:  

It could have been the horrific nausea, the consistent headaches, or perhaps just my intuition but something told me this baby was a girl.  Yesterday, that was confirmed.  While Jarrod panics about how to prepare for the arrival of a girl, Spence and I are thrilled.  Don't get me wrong - Jarrod will be thrilled but first the panic has to subside.  He fears changing a girl diaper ("It just feels wrong"), my likely increased spending habits, and the fact that we will one day likely have to pay for a wedding.

Spence and I, on the other hand, are excited.  I can confirm Jarrod's fears that I am excited for dresses, pink crib bedding, and bows.  Spence is excited because Captain America will now have a girlfriend and he won't have to fight a brother over the use of his Thomas bed.

The day we found out it was a girl, I came home with a horrific headache, spent the majority of the night puking my guts out over a toilet, and realized this little girl was already a trouble maker.  We have picked a name:  Barrett Caroline Taylor.  I can't wait to tell my grandfather.  Barrett was his grandfather's last name and he hated him.  Even with severe Altzheimer's, you mention the name Barrett and you are greeted with his thoughts that that was "one mean son-of-a-bitch."  Based on my sickness, I think he might be onto something with this one (just kidding!) but, nonetheless, I secretly can't wait to see his reaction every time he's reminder that's her name.  It's the little things that now give me pleasure.

Regardless of the drama this little one is already causing, we are thrilled, thankful, and anxiously awaiting her arrival.

Losing it......

I feel like Steve Martin in Father of the Bride when he's at the grocery store, flipping out about why they sell hot dogs in packs of 12 and buns in packs of 8. EVERYTHING right now seems to be getting on my nerves. While I'd love nothing more than a Xanex, that clearly isn't possible in my condition. So, instead, I'm left to try to ignore , forget, or simply explode. Then, I remembered...I have a blog. What do non-parents do on blogs? While I have very few friends who blog about things other than their children, I can only imagine that they must just complain. So, here (in no particular order) are my George Banks complaints of the day:

1. Finding a cute shirt on the sales rack, only to discover they have 20 size XS and nothing else.

2. Pollen, mold, dust, St. Louis, and anything else I'm allergic to.

3. Taco Bell: why can't one Taco Bell in the U.S. get a drive-thru order right? How hard is it to remember my mexican pizza?

4. People saying "We're pregnant." No, I'm pregnant - he will one day have a baby but currently, I'm doing 100% of the work.

5. People that say they've done laundry when, in fact, the hardest part of laundry (folding it) isn't done. (Okay, that one is specifically directed toward Jarrod who doesn't read my blog). :)

6. Parents who don't make their children say thank you.

7. Short toilets. Okay, this one is petty and no one's fault but the toilet maker. But, what is it with toilets that are practically on the ground, causing me back pain to pull my fat self off of them?

8. Old people. Again, horrible and uncalled for, I know. My grandma asks me during every conversation if I've gained weight. When I say no (because I puked 15 times a day for 8 weeks), she seems shocked. Then, when I confirm I have a growing baby bump, she follows with "so you're probably actually looking thinner in other areas."

I hope my George Banks moments don't turn into Fried Green Tomatoes Towanda moments or we might have problems. For now, I'm going to take a Zyrtec, double check my Taco Bell order, and go to bed for experience more horrible nightmares that leave me exhausted. I really should be a professional pregnant person...after all, I'm so enjoyable to be around! :)