The duck was fabulous, but we didn’t eat much of it and now the smell lingers in the fridge and makes me puke every time I open it.  Oh sigh.  The stuffing was INCREDIBLE I am a genius.  The pie was perfect.  Can you believe I made this all from scratch?  Me neither.

The potatoes I had issues with.  Nate loves them, but I think they had a leetle too much herbage going on.  Next time we will make plain potatoes, and they will be just as delicious.

Anyway.  We dragged out all our Christmas stuff.  We have a lot of Christmas stuff for newlyweds.  We inherited a ton from my mom last year (including a Satanic tree that is a PAIN to put together) and also got a huge tub of decorations for a wedding present.  Unfortunately, I have been too sick/tired/annoyed to deal with decorating, so everything is sitting around in a big pile and our tree looks sad because the cats have discovered their new climbing toy and are slowly killing it.

UNTIL TODAY!  Today we went out and bought shatterproof ornaments because of the angelic kittens, and we set up our kitchen with decorations and everything.  Now all that is left is the outside lights, and the second tiny Christmas tree to be set up in the nursery.  Excellent.  We will see if these tasks are accomplished before I go back to Utah in 11 days.

Meanwhile, I have no point to make, so pick your favorite point and go with it.

So, so wrong.  Apparently everyone and their grandma was out yesterday, swarming all over Wal-Mart and buying their Thanksgiving groceries.  Snap!  I even went to the Wal-Mart in Missouri (their taxes are lower, so I get more of a discount on our card) and it was STILL swarming.  Where do all these people come from?!  Wait, don’t tell me that.

Anyway, it took three hours, six panic attacks, two major cart gridlocks, and one trip back to the store for stuff I forgot, but our shopping is DONE for the week.  I am never leaving my house again.

This will be Nate and my first Thanksgiving together as wedfolk.  We went to my grandma’s last year, but this year we will be staying here (obviously).   We were invited to our home teacher’s house, but…awkward!  Plus, I have no guarantee that I won’t be throwing up on Thursday, so I don’t really want to risk it.

We will be eating rosemary duck (because I hate turkey), herbed mashed potatoes, homemade stuffing, and mostly homemade pumpkin pie.   If it doesn’t turn out, I’m going to Wendy’s.

Also yesterday, I threw up white foam.  Apparently I am rabid.  FEAR ME.

Now, because Sue over at <a href=”http://borrowedlight.blogspot.com”>Navel Gazing</a> wrote about her engagement story, and now I have to write about mine.  Our anniversary is coming up on the 6th anyway so it’s good timing.

I never in a bazillion years thought I would have a boyfriend, let alone get married.  It took Nate FIVE DAYS to decide if we were officially boyfriend/girlfriend or not (and that was the most confusing and awesome and scary five days of my life) but finally he did.  I remember freaking out after about a week of “going steady” or whatever the kids are saying these days, because I knew that if I didn’t break up with him RIGHT THEN I never would.

We’d been dating for about a month when we started talking about marriage, and our plans for our respective lives.  I couldn’t decide if I wanted to go on a mission or not (at the time I was 19, so I had a while to decide) and Nate said he didn’t want to wait for me if I did go on a mission.  Jerk.  I finally decided I didn’t *have* to go, and on May 6, 2006 Nate proposed.

We were reading the scriptures, and it was Nate’s turn.  “I the Lord God said unto my Only Begotten–Kris, will you marry me?”

WHAT?!  I’VE NEVER HEARD THAT VERSE BEF–oh.  So we were engaged.  For about a month.  And then he took it back.  Jerk.

And so we went from June-August not-quite-engaged, but still dating.  I was giving him till our 6 month dating anniversary in September before I broke up with him.  For the record, he still frequently apologizes for being a complete moron.  All I’m saying is, it’s a good thing I wasn’t the person then that I am now, because he would have been dumped in two seconds flat if I was.

Anyway, August 5 he came over early in the morning and we talked (ironically) about baby names for about an hour.  Finally he got quiet.  I asked what he was doing and he said he was formulating a master plan.  Thinking he was talking about a plan for the day, I was quiet.  He asked me how many credits it would take me to graduate.  Confused at how this would play into the plan for the day, I told him it would take me 18 more credits.  He was quiet.  I asked why he wanted to know.

“Well, how about you go back to school this semester and next semester, and then in April you graduate and we get married.”

What?  Are you even asking?  But I said yes, and on December 6, 2006 we were married by (my favorite ever) Bishop L.  Woot woot!

I have to admit I am terrified of being a Mom.  I never liked kids and I never thought I would have kids of my own.  Ever.  I never even thought I’d be married.  Surprise!  So I’m scared.  I have no idea how to handle babies or small children or even older children.  I barely have a grasp on changing diapers.

There are a lot of days when I hate being pregnant because I am scared of having a kid.  There are even some days when I daydream about going back to June and sticking to the birth control and cursing the circumstances that caused me to run out of pills + be out for a few weeks.  And I have to admit, there are days when I think about having the baby and leaving it with my husband and disappearing off the face of the planet.  Those days are rare, but they still happen.

And then there are moments like right now, when I just want my stinkin’ baby here already, not because the barfing will stop, but so I can be its mommy and love it to death.
Being a mommy scares the snot out of me, but I laugh in the face of danger, bwahahaha!

It was the second time I have spent November 6 in the hospital.

My husband dragged me, kicking and screaming (“NO!  It’s my BIRFDAY.  I will NOT go to the hospital!”) and whining and crying.  I was throwing up blood and for SOME reason he thought he should be worried.  Silly boy.  They prescribed me Zofran.  I just threw it up five minutes ago.  Zofran loses.

Anyway.  After five hours they let me loose and Nate took me to the Mall (and bought me ice cream and cookies!!) and then out to dinner.  Then we came home, I called my mommy because I missed her, and then I opened presents.  My mom sent me two new shirts which I am ecstatic about because I have been wearing the same two shirts since September.  She also sent me a bunch of Stitch stuff from Lilo and Stitch.  Yay!  My grandma sent me some monies so I can buy pants to go with my shirts, and a skirt so I don’t have to wear pants to church anymore.  And Nate bought me a Mormon Tabernacle Choir CD, which I am confused about since I have made my hatred of MoTab known to him several times.  But that’s all right.

All in all, it was a good birthday.  Except for the hospital part.  Although I did get lots of pity and sad looks from the nurses.  And now I have a cool hospital bracelet.  Anyway, Nate says we will try to have my birthday again on the 16th, sans hospital and with more cake.

The doctor asked me if I smoke or drank.  I felt like saying “well I haven’t had a chance yet, but if you’ll let me out of here I’d love to start.”  Hee.

My mom and I are a lot alike.  We’re both ridiculously stubborn, snarky, and bossy.  We clashed a lot when I was growing up, because neither of us ever back down.  Except I tend to back down from her now, because she scares me.  She’s meeeaaaan.  In fact, my husband is the only one I’ve ever met who is not scared of her bossiness.  I like to hide behind him during conflicts.  But when we’re not conflicting, we’re cracking each other up because we are both hilarious. We both do this awesome thing with our lip…it’s really cool…everyone who sees it is highly impressed…but since this is an Internet post, my lip-thing is lost in translation or something.  Oh well.

But with how alike we are, we’re also extremely different in some ways.  She is constantly moving.  She does 10,000 things at once and she does them all amazingly well.  Right now she is the head counselor and part time administrator (principal) of a private high school/college, she is going to school to earn her doctorate, and she is preparing to teach a class next semester at BYU.  She is also going to be spending a month in Uganda next summer teaching people how to be a principal.  Holy snap.  Meanwhile I am writing math tests as my only job and only real obligation and I am so overwhelmed I want to explode.   My mom makes friends easily.  I am a hermit.  My mom is assertive.  I am not.  My mom is not a whiner; I am.   Usually when I whine she tells me to suck it up.  Although during this hellacious pregnancy she has been surprising supportive, which is nice.  It’s nice to be able to tell someone else besides Nate that I am throwing up buckets of blood.  Anyway.

My mom had me when she was 19.  She chose to keep me and raise me even though she wasn’t married.  I made her deathly ill and was a horrific baby.  I was a screwed up, scary child, but she kept me and worked with me and here I am.   My step-dad and I fought CONSTANTLY growing up and she didn’t kick me out.  Lots of times growing up I thought my mom hated me.   I am not the brightest crayon in the box.  She has done so much for me, I honestly can’t believe it sometimes.

(I called her yesterday and we talked about our upcoming visit (1 month and 19 days!!) and she mentioned that she wanted to get something for us for Christmas.  “MOM,” I said, “You already got us a nursery set and AIRFARE TO UTAH.  I really think you don’t need to get us anything else.”  But she insists.)

Even though my mom is not big on showing affection, I know she loves me.  I have done a lot of dumb things in my life, especially over the last 3 years, but she still loves me.  I have done some things she doesn’t agree with (like inviting my biological grandparents, who she hates, to my wedding), but she still loves me.  I miss her a lot, and I can’t wait to see her again.  I can’t wait for my kids to have her as their grandma.  Someday if I can be half the woman that she is, I will be great indeed.

And now I am going to go cry, because I miss my mommy.  And this week is going to be hard, because it is my first birthday where I won’t see her.  *sob*

The baby is a boy.

I have a job.  I am now writing math tests.  Math is my mortal enemy.  This job is not going well.

Tonight I have a date with a large cheese pizza, Diet Coke and The Nightmare Before Christmas.

I turn 21 in 6 days.  Run away!!!

Last Wednesday at my OBGYN appointment I ask my doctor if ear aches are normal for a pregnant woman. He says yes and to take Sudafed and Tylenol until I feel better. I leave, trusting his judgement. Thus, I do not visit the Emergency Room when the pain gets to the unbearable point. I feel like a hypochondriac, plus I had a friend visiting I needed to get from the airport, so we skipped the ER.

On Friday I could take it no longer and went to an InstaCare clinic. After being diagnosed with an inner ear infection by the doctor at InstaCare I was given a prescription for an antibiotic and sent on my way. Later that day, blood began pouring from my ear. Nate scared me enough to get me to the Emergency Room (“what if you never hear again?”) and so off we went.

Dr. Tutt, who saw us in the ER, told me I had ruptured my ear drum and that it would take 5-7 days to heal. He prescribed me some Vicodin, which is exactly two molecules different than cocaine, woo hoo!, and sent us on our way.

Saturday was spent in a cocaine induced haze of delicious flowers and happy dancing fuzzy animals.

Sunday the pain started getting bad enough that the Vicodin didn’t last as long as it needed to. I started taking 2 pills instead of 1. It was getting bad. I no longer had blood draining from my ear (instead there was a clear liquid), but I also could no longer hear anything from it. Sunday night was spent writhing in agony as Nate tried to sleep.

Five days from the original infection (meaning: I am supposed to be better.) Monday was terrible. Monday I called everyone I could think of, trying to find a doctor who could help. No one could see me until Thursday. My mom and grandma advised me to use heat. I had been using heat to no avail. So on Monday night Nate took me back to the ER and we shelled out another $100 copay.

This time I was diagnosed with an OUTER ear infection. Dr Holland put an ear wick in my ear to help medicine get to all parts of it, prescribed me with ear drops and 10 pain pills. He said I would be better in two days.

Tuesday nothing was helping. In fact, my face had started to swell up and so had my neck. I still couldn’t hear, and on top of everything, I was out of pain pills. Again we called everyone in the known universe pleading for pain medication. No one would help. “Nobody’s listening to you, Cokehead.” So last night I spent sobbing and screaming and trying to sleep through the agony. This is the worst pain I have ever felt in my entire life, bar none. I have been through a lot, and this is incredible. I am so ready for labor after this. Nothing compares.

Today we were able to get into another clinic. By the grace of God, I was seen again by Dr Holland (my ER doc on Monday.) So he knew I was not faking. He told me I was having an allergic reaction to the ear drops, but that I could also have a yeast infection in my ear. He prescribed me with new ear drops. If I am not better by Friday on them, I need to take an anti-yeast medicine. If I am not better by Monday on that, I need to go to a specialist. He gave me more, blessedly stronger pain pills. I love Vicodin.

And now, here I am. It has been a week since the pain began. Finally I am seeing light at the end of the tunnel. Let us recap how it has gone, shall we? Summary:

Pregnancy leads to > morning sickness which leads to > excessive vomiting > sinus pressure buildup > inner ear infection > ruptured ear drum > draining liquid gets into small cut on outside of ear > outer ear infection > swelling of ear, neck, and head > allergic reaction to medication > possible yeast infection > who knows? > possible permanent hearing loss > death.

Holy crap. Here’s to hoping I am cured by Monday. Also, we find out what gender the baby is on Friday. Anyone care to leave their guess?

*Please excuse any typos or bad grammar issues in this post as I am on a very strong dose of Vicodin at the moment. I cannot be held responsible for my loopiness.

It was a little half bundt cake, the kind that Wal-Mart sells for $2.00.  It was Dr. Pepper Cherry Vanilla flavored, which is my favorite soft drink but one I don’t get often because the diet variety does not come caffeine free, and I don’t like normal soft drinks, just diet.  There was a ton of vanilla glaze on top, and in short, it was the most delicious cake I have ever eaten.

Alas, I had about 1/4 of it and then had to stop, so I put it away for a bit.  Away, on Nate’s desk where he was hard at work.  I then watched TV, went to the bathroom, threw up, rested, rested, and rested a little more.  Finally, my stomach growled loud enough to wake the cat up.  I needed more cake.  The time had come.

I informed Nate of my hunger, and asked for my cake back.  Instantly he got that cornered, sheepish look, and winced.

“Where is my cake?”

“…I ate it.”

At this, I became a mad woman.  I flung myself off the couch (this is the fasted I have moved since becoming pregnant, I am sure) and attacked him with tickles.  “YOU ATE MY CAKE?!” I kept crying.  “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?!  WHY WOULD YOU EAT A PREGNANT WOMAN’S CAKE?!”

10 minutes later he was unable to breathe from tickles and my bloodlust was satiated.  But I still want more cake.