I fear that in order to appease the sciatic nerve gods, I may have to sacrifice a goat or something....I lay down it hurts, I stand up...my leg gives out and I convulse as though I've been hit with an imaginary bolt of lightening.  I've only gained 10 lbs...what's the deal? 

At this rate, I'll be using a big ole' stick or branch...whatever I can find in my yard...that's right , not a cane (little inside joke there for my sales girls!) to walk around with by September, and likely shopping for motorized scooters by October.

And just so I'm clear, orthopedic shoes and support hose are fashionable, right?

So...I went to the Dr yesterday for what I thought would be another routine visit...apparently not!

As the doctor was poking around, she said "oh you have a knobbly-bit" down there"...really? Is that what we are calling it now??  I'm sorry but that does not instill any sort of confidence in me whatsoever?

So to make a long story short...as it turns out, the hard lump that I had assumed was Baby Snider's Head, and to which Jamie and I have refered to as the baby, rubbed it like it was part of the baby etc etc....turns out is a weirdo, ever-expanding FIBROID! YUCK!  So here we've been referring to this random mass of nothingness as our babie's head....really hoping that isn't foreshadowing for things to come.

And just as I am getting used to the whole idea of a human growing inside me...I find out I am also growing a parasitic blob!  Again, not so comforting.

So now I have an excuse for being so lazy and tired....not only am I growing a human, but ...

Why is it that when your sense of smell has been elevated to that of a blood hound, you are exposed to some of the more pungent smells around?  Murphy's law I suppose.

I guess in a way, having an overactive smell has been somewhat of a good thing.  Now, when we take our dogs for walks and they make a poopy, Jamie will often end up carrying it, if I can even manage to pick it up without dry-heaving a few times first.  And here I was thinking THAT smell was bad....

This morning I got up and could NOT figure out what that peculiar smell was permeating it's way through our house.  Considering all the windows and doors are closed since we are "not cooling the outdoors you know!" ... I assumed the smell must be originating somewhere in our house.  I smelled my way through every room with no luck.  Then the smell started to take form and make itself known - SKUNK!

I am thankful that it didn't spray because of one of my dogs...if that happened, I think I'd have to move out...but no amount of diclectin could save me this morning. 

Not only was the smell SUPER amplified in my blood hound nose, but my gag reflex was working double time as a result!

On a side note, I'm thinking of selling my olfactory services to York Regional Police...I'd make a wicked drug/bomb ...or maybe just skunk sniffing tool right now. Maybe pest control will want me?

Just when you think you've mastered the art of throwing up- yes my life has come to this...I have nothing left but to perfect upchuckin' - a new dimension is added.

For those of you who can appreciate what morning rush-hour is in Toronto, you'll appreciate how life threatening this situation was.

I had been sick all day Sunday and Monday with sharp stabbing fibroid pain - sounds fun I know. So when Tuesday rolled around and I was actually able to get out of bed and walk, I was pretty excited to go to work......puzzling?

So I set out on my hour long treck to the office with my husband wishing me a better day than my previous two, but 5 minutes into the drive and I just didn't feel quite right.  I soon remembered that in the midst of my debilitating pain from two days previous, I forgot to take my saving grace anti-nausea medication....CRIPES. 

Convinced that I could potentially shake my diclectin addiction, I thought to myself "self, you can do this...focus...breathe"  I made it through most of my trip no problem.  But as is typical the throw-up monster normally strikes around 7:30 AM....just as I was cruisin' down the 427 with about a million other people.  I rolled down all my windows and was willing myself out-loud (likely to the amusement of everyone around me) not to throw up...don't throw up....don't throw up....SHIT, my mouth is watering.......

What does one do when one is driving down the 427 and the urge to throw up is upon you? You keep driving of course 'cause there is no way you can pull over on the shoulder....what shoulder?  Would I rather throw up on myself, OR get rear ended by 1/2 the commuters on this road.  Hmmmm let me see....I guess I'll take the former , and I did (insert shame here).

So you tell me, is partially throwing up on yourself while driving a better or worse day than sharp stabbing pain....it's all relative at this point my friends!

New pet peave...being called "mama". I'm not "yo mama" so why are you calling me that?? Not a fan. don't like it. I have a name...use it! 

Note to self - when experiencing sciatica, make sure all those around have a firm grip on you at all time, and you on them.  You never know when you'll be, oh I don't know...say walking downtown Toronto - with crowds of people - when your leg will give out from under you, like you've been hit by an invisible bolt of lightning,  and you'll drop like a sack of potatoes - leaving your husband - and strangers alike -  wondering "what the hell.....??"

Nothing says "Cool, collected, with-it" pregnant lady, like one who drops to the ground without warning!  No wonder pregnant ladies' clothing looks so tattered after they are finished with it. It isn't the fact that they have fewer items and have to wear them more frequently - NOPE.  It's because they are constantly, bumping into things, dropping food on themselves, misjudging their girth and rubbing up against things, oh and falling down!

So I have to wonder why, at a time when it would be nice to feel more intelligent and self confident, to feel like perhaps you have what it takes to get this whole parenting thing - that you attempt to put together baby furniture and those manufacturers - more precisely, their instruction writters - make sure that your self confidence and any reasoning ability you thought you might posess are completely shattered by the time the project is complete - if you are lucky enough to complete it I suppose.

I've learned over the past few weeks that nothing is as humbling as trying to put together any item relating to baby - playpen, bouncy seat, CRIB & CHANGE TABLE.  While you are unpacking all the pieces from the mass quantities of cardboard, plastic wrap, styrofoam and twist ties, you think to yourself "self, this seems pretty straight forward, all the pieces seem reasonable and well labelled...I've located the instructions and AM able to read so this should be doable"  HA!  First mistake...

What could possibly seem more simple than putting together a play pen.  I mean really, the thing practically comes fully put together anyway right? All you have to do is "simply pull up on each side to gently lock each arm into place" OK seems simple enough - but why aren't the arms gently locking into place....? "I better try again....hhmmpph, nope, still not staying up.....let me try this other side....still no luck?"  "Maybe mine is broken 'cause the intructions say "gently pull up on the side".  There must be something wrong with me, I must be doing it wrong. Why would they say that if it weren't true?  OH that's because in reality, you have to shake the living S%#* out of it to make it stay up..and who knows, one false move and that sucker could implode??  How would you know,  YOU'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE!  The great thing is that once you start mentioning the trouble you had with this seemingly simply project to people who have had kids, then the truth surfaces "oh yeah, there's a trick to those play pens, ours only stayed up if you stood on one leg, while humming "God Save the Queen" while you pulled up on the left side - you always have to start with the left side, Jill, there's a sequence you know!"  Right of course - the secret sequence that was apparently written in invisible ink somewhere in my instruction sentence.

You'd think these manufacturers know that you're going to be putting oh I don't know...a BABY in this thing....and to perhaps make it as clear and therefore as safe for the baby as possible...naw!

Then there's the crib and change table...who knew there were so many pieces?! OK fine still doable because there's an instruction manual, with diagrams!  Ok great, so I have my dad helping me - whose a pretty handy guy, and what seems to be a complete set of instructions - with pictures and all the screws and bolts seem to be labelled with corresponding letters.  Excellent - this should take us no time.
But wait a minute, the picture is telling me I need a rectangle piece...but I have 5 rectangles here??  Which one do I use? Oh and now I need screw MM, but there is no screw MM, I only have SS and QQ?  Oh no wait, here is MM, oh but it doesn't fit in this hole? And wait, they have the piece upside down, is it suppose to stay like that or is it just like that for the photo op?

No worries people, luckily my dad beat those instruction writters at their own game and somehow figured out, despite their best attempts to sabotage, how to put together the crib and changetable.....and we only had 2 screws left over.....oops!

OK, I have to give credit where credit is due.  My good friend Kelly has turned me on to one of the most cathartic exercises I have ever experienced.  Creating a flow chart representing all the responses you wish you would have said, or wished you would have thought of when someone has said something somewhat insulting.  It's GENIUS!

If being pregnant has taught me one thing so far...it's that I am going to be more honest with people when they say something inappropriate. Or at least I'm using the pregnancy for this...yeah that's probably more like it. I am no longer going to pretend that it is OK and casually laugh off socially inappropriate comments.  Be forewarned everyone!  Don't get me wrong, Im not bothered by these comments because they have in anyway hurt my feelings.  I am more bothered by the sheer gaul or complete obliviousness with which these people wander through life and open their mouths "sans" filter!

So to all those people who have made this comment to me or other pregnant women before me...this is for you....this is what we really want to say....

Maybe it's just me...but I don't think that the words "Menstrual Cycle" should ever be spoken to you by a co-worker....by a male co-worker.....while you are in the lunch room seconds away from eating your lunch - Call me C-R-A-Z-Y!

So we'll ignore the fact that this male co-worker - whose wife just recently gave birth - described the first week of parenthood as..and I quote "PURE HELL"...gee...thanks...'cause I'm not worried with my due date about 3 weeks away or anything...Nawh.  I feel so much better now.....or not.

Nope, wasn't even that comment that made me take a step back and wonder if I had in fact wandered into what I thought was the office lunch room but was in reality a black hole to an alternate bizarro universe.

The culprit in question- now apparently a pregnancy expert since his wife had just gone through it - was asking when I was due.  I proceeded to explain to him that based on the charts, my due date was the 31st of December, but that based on ALL the ultrasounds that I have had, the due date was at least a week earlier on the 23rd.


He turned to me, obviously confused by what I had just said and stated to me as though speaking to a 5 year old that in order to determine my due date, I would have to begin with the first day of my ....eeek don't say it....last MENSTRUAL CYCLE.  Ick! .....and there they were ...the words menstrual and cycle...thrown out there in the lunch room for all to hear. 

First off, does he really think that at 37 weeks pregnant, that the concept of how they determine, what is a rough guestimate of how your due date is predicted, has somehow escaped me??  Seriously....I rattle that information off like it's now part of my identity...."Name- Jillian Snider, Adress - 17 Johnson Road, Height - 5'11", Date of Last Mentrual Cycle - March 26th 2007....Apparently he thinks that ALL women are exactly the same and that all aspect of their biology repsect this table that was developed to predict due dates.  He probably shouldn't rely on the rhythm method if that's how he thinks.

So I was thinking, in order to equally embarass him, I could either set up a presentation easle outside his cubicle and go over the concept of ovulation in great detail.  OR ...and perhaps this is better....explain to him, once again at great length, the importance of prostate health or testicular exams...you know, a concept with which I really have no business giving advice on or speaking of...especially in the lunch room.

That pretty much sums it up....sitting around, not really able to go too far from home..not as fun as one might think!
Don't get me wrong, not having to get up at 5:15 AM and drive an hour to the office is fan-freaking-tastic...not to mention cheap.  BUT I wish I had some sort of events coordinator to hang out with whose sole reason for being was to plan activities  for me other than what I've come up with so far....showering....eating...napping...oh and watching TV.  What a time for there to be a writters' strike...I mean really.  How many reruns of Seinfeld and Arrested Development can I possibly take?  Eight HUNDRED channels and I am still bored?!  It's sad....when vaccuming is a highlight.

....or am I just getting so much bigger in comparison? It actually became a problem solving activity to attempt to get out of the bathroom stall at the Keg last night??!  I started wondering if I'd still be in there to ring in the New Year...I had visions of them finding me at 12:05, wedged between the door and the frame, straddling the toilet - while attempting to keep my jacket and purse out of the bowl water.  Maybe those stalls are sufficiently wide enough during the Summer months when you don't have boots, jackets, gloves, hats and a purse to keep track of...but I can assure you "toilet stall designers"  they are not big enough for the majority of Canadian months....even if I weren't pregnant, I think I might have a hard time.  It just adds a different element..wondering if while balancing attempting to excape the stall, if my leg will give out and I'll well...you can imagine....

Have any of you seen  Will Farrell in "Elf"?  When Buddy the Elf hides out in his North Pole Elf Bathroom....that is how I now feel in bathroom stalls with my larger girth...not pretty.  And the irony...think of how often I have to go to the bathroom...I know where every bathroom is in the majority of stores here in Aurora/Newmarket.  I'm going to write a book...Fromers Guide to Bathrooms in York Region.