Today we put up the Christmas tree. Hooray! However, it turns out our Christmas tree is much more ginormous than I realized. I guess I didn't really notice when we had it in our apartment last year because we set it up kind of between the living area and dining area, and it was never really in the way of anything. It wasn't until I looked at the box the other day that I realized it has a circumference of 58 inches. In case you missed it, that's almost 5 feet around! Holy cow! So, in all my nerdiness, I busted out the graph paper floorplan of the living room I made when we moved in, and all the perfectly to-scale graph paper cutouts of our living room furniture, and tried to figure out a place to put such a massive tree. The only reasonable option that did not involve completely rearranging every piece of furniture in the room, or completely obstructing neccessary walkways, was to temporarily relocate Charles' beloved recliner to the guest room. And so, because I have a fabulous, wonderful husband who loves me very much, he graciously moved the recliner (which first had to be disassembled so it would fit through the hallway) out of the living room to make space for Rocky (that's what we named the Christmas tree. For an explanation, see last year's Christmas post). And so the tree now stands, all glowing and adorned and Christmasy. And though it could very easily be argued that the scale of the tree is much too large for the room, it makes me happy. Next time we buy a house, we will just have to be more conscious of picking one that has a living room large enough to accomodate our full-figured foliage.

Today I had to endure a 3-hour-long glucose tolerance test at my ObGyn's office. I had a 1-hour test done a few weeks ago, which I just barely failed, and so I earned myself the opportunity to participate in the extra-long version of the test. Not pleasant. For those who may not know what a glucose tolerance test is like, allow me to explain. First, I was given strict instructions not to eat or drink anything besides water after midnight the night before my scheduled test. The next morning, as I was starving and desperately craving a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I went in to my doctor's office, where I was handed an 8oz. bottle of neon orange glucose-laden liquid and informed that I had 5 minutes to consume it. The stuff wasn't nearly as awful as I had expected. It tasted like a melted version of one of those cheap "freezer pops" that come in the plastic wrappers. After that, I was handed a timer with the instructions not to eat or drink anything, not to leave, and to come straight back when the timer went off. So I sat in the waiting room with my mom, who graciously agreed to come keep me company, for the designated hour until my timer started beeping, signaling the end of the test (this was my initial test, of course). They drew some blood and sent me on my way, assuring me I would have the results in a couple of days. Approximately a week and a half later, after 2 phone calls and an email to the doctor's office in search of the promised results, I found out that I failed. They were looking at my blood sugar level, which they want to be less than 130 at the end of the test. Mine was 138. And so, those 8 measly points bought me another test, only this one was 3 times as fun because it lasted for 3 hours. I initally went in to have it done last Thursday, and my wonderful husband took off from work to come pass the time with me. I was feeling pretty good about the whole thing when we went in, since I had already done the mini version. Little did I know... When I went back to drink my liquid sugar, I was handed a larger bottle of "juice," with twice the glucose content of the previous one, and this time it was fruit punch flavor. Still feeling optimistic, I downed it in the allotted 5 minutes, and returned to the waiting room where Charles and I were prepared to pass the 3 hours with reading and Sudoku for me, and paper-grading for him. Approximately 30 minutes into the test, my confidence started wavering a bit. My head felt funny and I was suddenly reminded what morning sickness had felt like. Thinking I might feel a little better if I got up and walked around for a minute, I went into the bathroom and promptly threw up the entire bottle of red glucose drink. Unpleasant, but I felt much better afterwards. Unfortunately, because I was unable to keep it down for at least an hour, I was forced to reschedule my test and endure the entire routine all over again. I was pretty bummed, but I'm pretty sure Charles was glad not to have spend 3 hours sitting in the waiting room. Can't say I was entirely disappointed about that either. Since he had already taken the day off, we got to spend the rest of the morning and afternoon getting some errands done that we hadn't had time for lately, which was nice. And so, this morning I once again took my growling stomach in to the OB's office for round 2 (or 3, depending on how you look at it). I had hoped they would let me have the orange flavor again, but unfortunately I had to endure the dreaded fruit punch flavor again. I had a little harder time getting it down this time, no doubt because of my looming fear of seeing it again, but managed to succeed in the allotted time frame. My mom came with me again this time, so she and I went out to the waiting room, made ourselves comfortable on one of the couches, and hoped for the best. Thankfully, I was able to keep everything down this time, and had my hourly blood tests drawn without incident. Now I just have to wait for the results. Hopefully I will get them in a more timely manner this time. I have an appointment with my doctor on Thursday, so I figure surely by then I should know something. Hopefully it will be good!

Two days in a row?!?! Look out, world!! I'm on a blogging spree!

Today was a good day a work. I needed a good day today, considering the last day I worked was utter chaos. I thought it would be fun to work on Halloween. Last year, they passed out costumes to all the kids and had a little party for them and all was fun and happy. Not so this year. Someone up on high decided it would be a good idea to instead hold all of the holiday festivities on Friday, so all the 8 to 5 folks could attend, I guess. Boo on that decision. So I arrived to work on Saturday with no cute kids in costumes to adore, no fun festivities to watch, and a bunch of crazy, cranky families to take care of. Sad day for me. But today was good. I worked with a fun group of people, had fantastic patients and families, and a generally laid back day. Good times. Probably one of my favorite moments of the day occurred when one of my patients' overly-involved grandmother came out of the room and asked me if I knew when her grandson's doctor would be making rounds. When I told her I didn't know, it just depends on their schedules, she shook her head and said seriously, "I really hope they reform healthcare. This is ridiculous!" Um...ok? I don't know how reforming healthcare will make the doctors round on any kind of a schedule, but whatever.

I think I have figured out my problem. Or, one of them, at least. I have blog envy. I spend my time reading blogs of friends who are so entertaining and humorous and talented, and I think to myself, "There's no way anyone out there wants to waste their time with my boring ramblings, when there are quality blogs to be read!" And so, I don't update my blog. But I have decided this should no longer be an excuse. When I first started blogging, many moons ago, it was not for the purpose of entertaining whatever people might stumble across it, it was to have some sort of outlet for the random thoughts that stumbled across my brain, or to chronicle the current goings-on in my life, purely for my own sense of release. People could read or not read what I had to say, and all was well. But somewhere along the way, I lost that. I began to feel like unless I had something exciting or amusing or interesting to share, I was wasting people's time, so I cut back drastically on my blogging. I have since decided this is ridiculous reasoning, and I need to return to my blogging roots. Go me.

And so it begins...

I am excited to report that I have finally gotten to a stage in pregnancy where I pretty much feel good all the time. Hooray! The morning sickness left around 18 weeks or so, and I have been feeling much more human since. My tummy has also finally started growing to a degree that is obvious to more than just me, which I find exciting. Along with that, my belly button is slowing starting to become an outtie, which I'm not so sure I find equally as exciting. It feels weird, and I find myself walking around pushing on it like a button, like maybe it will make something special happen. So far, nothing to report. Another thing I am loving right now is feeling Landry (that's her name, in case you missed it) move around inside me. It's unlike any feeling I've ever felt before, and I really think I will miss it after she's born. I was trying to explain to Charles the other day how I think I might be kind of sad after she's here and I can't take her everywhere with me all the time and know she's ok. Obviously, I expect that the joy and excitement of actually seeing her and holding her and loving her will drastically overshadow this tiny sadness, but I still think it will be there. I don't think he got it. I can't blame him. It does seem pretty silly. Oh well. I can tell you what I won't miss, though. This feeling that some tiny, baby appendage is constantly pushing on my right ribs. I don't know what to do with that. I just noticed it about a week or so ago, and it is super uncomfortable! Most of the time I can reposition myself enough to either make it go away or become less noticeable, but it always comes back. Annoying. But then I feel those little kicks, and I smile and life is good again. :)