Oh the Horror!

There is both comfort and drawbacks to working in an office environment that includes both those who are currently pregnant and those who have just had children. That is where I work. I’ve been working in this office for almost four months now and quickly deduced the people that I can and can’t tolerate.  I will be upfront. I am not a social person.  I hate about 80% of the human population, another 17% I tolerate and about 3% I actually like.  My husband is firmly in the 3% as are my mother and one of my sisters.  ALL of my husband’s are firmly in either the “I tolerate you”  or “I hate you” camps.   The list of people that I would actually leave my yet to be born child with is even shorter.  If you make that 1% list then you should get a medal for saint hood.  Here’s a hint, I don’t trust any of my in-laws alone with my kid.

Back to the office rant.  I very quickly became friends with a girl who has not only a set of two year old twins but also a seven year old son.  We can talk openly about pretty much all the gross pregnancy topics.  I like her, I feel comfortable with her and we follow similar principals for child raising.  Then there is the other girl.  I knew right off the bat when she point blank asked me, at an office breakfast function while we eating no less, if I was going to breastfeed that I would never like her.  Who does that?  First it’s none of her business, second it’s not a topic that should ever be discussed at the breakfast table and three she is soooo going on the “I barely tolerate you” list.  This girl reminds me all too much of my overly aggressive older sister (also on the “I tolerate you” list) which makes me not ever want to enter in to a conversation with her.

Earlier this week we were in an office meeting where this girl was talking about how she wouldn’t be able to go to a specific certification class that she needs for her new job title until November. This class is required to actually perform the role she will be doing.  She was expounding on how the class just isn’t being given in our area.  At which time I pointed out to her politely that she could find out from the scheduler if the class was being given at one of the other sites like San Diego or Georgia.

She practically yelled at the top of her lungs that she couldn’t travel to one of the other sites because she was still breastfeeding!  First off no one wants to hear you talk about breastfeeding, not even other breastfeeders, certainly not the people who work with your everyday. Second this right here is just one of the many reasons I will not be breastfeeding by the time I get back to work.  I applaud all those other mothers who continue to breastfeed for 6 months, a year, or more (I once knew a woman who as still breastfeeding her four year old!) but I will not be one.  I will not be shackled in to being a milk cow!  And just the thought of pumping breast milk at work, in a little room(whose purpose everyone is well aware of) makes me physically ill.

I’m not saying that we shouldn’t talk about all the realities of pregnancy.  I think if we talked about it more then maybe less teenagers would become pregnant. I am saying there is a time, a place and an audience for it.  That audience does not include shouting it at the top of your lungs to a mixed gender group of co-workers.  I think I actually saw some of the guys turn green.  Let’s keep the horror between us shall we girls?






The Baby Registry vs The Tack Store

Like I’m guessing all new moms to be I was delusional about clothing size for a long time. Because in the beginning, just to lure me in a sense of complacency and happiness all my regular clothes still fit.

Superhubs and I had decided (after I’d finally told him, again another post for another day) that we would not tell our families about my pregnancy until Easter weekend.  This date coincided with the end of my first trimester.  We made the decision because at 40 I’m not exactly a spring chicken and the majority of things that go wrong with a pregnancy happen in the first trimester.  So before we got our families all excited (we’d been adamant for years that we weren’t having kids. EVER! The Universe is snickering right now) we wanted to make sure that we were out of the danger zone.

I had told my mother and my younger sister (who lives with her) had been begging for both Superhubs and I to visit at the same time.  This might sound strange but because of the farm and Superhub’s evil work schedule it’s almost impossible for us to go anywhere together.  So my mother and sister were delighted when I told them we were coming for Easter.  In reality Superhubs and I had decided that was the weekend to drop the baby bomb.

So all oblivious I threw some summer t-shirts and shorts in to a bag and I was ready to go.  That was until I actually got down to my mother’s and tried to put those t-shirts on which previously had been living in storage from the summer before.  None of them fit.  NONE OF THEM!   I ended up borrowing shirts from my sister who wears a size large.

This instituted about six months of almost continually having to buy new clothes and underwear.  I have bought more new clothes and underwear in the last six months than I have in the last two years. Part of this is because I wear a military uniform to work everyday.  So I don’t need a ton of office acceptable clothing.  I need a few outfits for going to dinner and the movies, some outfits that I can trash for doing farm work and animal chores and that’s about it.  Mostly I bought t-shirts, first in size medium and now in size large.  I also had a week where I would be attending a civilian run class at which point I finally had to break down and buy actual maternity clothes.  Not a fun prospect.

So while I was still delusional back in the early spring I was still cruising Tack of the Day, SmartPak, Dover and various other equine extravaganzas.  Periodically buying horse gear and more often riding clothes that to my thinking I’d be able to wear if not now then in late fall/early winter when I could actually get back on my horse.  I bought zero baby gear because it was so far off in my head and I just didn’t want to think about it.  See delusional.

I would vaguely throw things on to a baby registry or two but without any real zeal or thought.  Not to say I didn’t get the big items. I bought the stroller (a seriously wicked thing that I can fold up one handed!) the portable crib and the let our families know which car seats we wanted as both sides had decided to buy us one.   But I equated this to buying a saddle, bridle and halter for a new horse that hadn’t even stepped off the trailer yet.   A big thing that was going to happen but not yet.

I just didn’t want to jump too hard in to this baby thing and kept clinging to my horsey stuff even though after around mid-March I had stopped riding altogether.  I even went so far as to purchase a pair of breeches that were stretchy enough to wear over my baby bump after I’d gotten in to the second trimester and stopped feeling like I needed to sleep for two months straight.  That was an eye opener. I pulled a couple medium sized riding tights from the wrack and while they sort of fit I could tell they were going to be completely uncomfortable for long periods of wear, say like, riding for 30 or 40 minutes.   I reluctantly pulled a size large off the wrack and those freaking evil tights fit perfectly.  I almost cried right there. I’ve never been a size large anything in my entire life!

Superhubs and I finally got the nursery repainted from it’s lovely but too dark Silver Blueberry color to a nice soothing greenish blue color called Tidewater.  I got some horsey art off of Etsy and finally started sorting all the baby things our families had bought us.  Which is when baby registry craziness kicked in.  I now spend more time looking at baby things than I do horse gear, a fact that I still hate, but it hasn’t stopped me from buying the odd piece of horse stuff that I’m setting aside in storage for later in the year.  I snagged a FITS shirt off of TOD and a Horseware Platinum tank top I’ve been admiring for a long time off of Dover.   Both of these I got in an ever hopeful size small.  I also finally got the red pony a correctly sized Micklem bridle.  Although who knows when I will actually get to try it out.

I’m not delusional enough to think I’ll fit in to these clothes any time soon but the crazy hope is there and if not this year then I’ll have a kick ass horsey wardrobe for next year.  I plan on getting back to exercising and eating better once the little Queen has been evicted from her current digs in my body in early October.  If you haven’t checked out the website Stable and Spice, go do it!  It’s a health and wellness website created by and for equestrians!  It’s awesome!




The Evolution of Exhaustion

exhaustionThis journey began way back in early January although I didn’t get clued in to the new plan until a week before my 40th birthday in early February.  Then I held on to the secret from everyone, even my husband for another two weeks.  That is a whole other blog post, the telling, that I’ll post about later.

No one bothers to tell you about all the little downsides to being pregnant. My two least favorite are the physical limitations and the exhaustion.  Both of these get in my way.  A lot. In the beginning I was still riding my beloved gelding, Fox.   He is the love of my horsey life.  Not that I don’t still love the bossy High Queen herself, aka Seneca, but Fox is a cuddler, very vocal and far more laid back then Seneca will ever be.

And I’ve gotten off track.  Again.  That’s another fun little thing that comes up with being pregnant.  Baby brain or pregnancy brain is REAL!  You forget things, all the freaking time.  Anyway back to the topic.  I was still riding in the beginning and then I hit the first trimester hurdle.  Exhaustion.  It was constant, aggressive and no matter how much sleep I got it never got better until I was in to the second trimester.

Thankfully through some quirk of genetics in the female line of my family I did not have morning sickness.  Thank you all that is holy!  I did have a moment or two of unsettled stomach but nothing like what books, movies and over eager mommies like to describe to you.

The exhaustion though made it really hard to do anything with my horses.  It was an effort just to groom them much less get the tack out, groom, tack up, ride, untack, groom again and turn my beloved pony back out.  It was just too much on most days.

Then blessedly the second trimester began.  Most of my issues went away.  I was no longer Monday after a horse trial weekend tired, I was still without the physical limitations that would come later and I felt pretty freaking great.  Except that I’d stopped riding at that point because my beloved red pony couldn’t really be trusted not to do something stupid while all my muscles had gone to pregnancy jelly. Thanks again Universe for ruining my ENTIRE eventing season!  Because getting pregnant in January means I won’t be getting back on my pony until late November or early December after the fall season has ended.  Yippee.

Now I’m at the beginning of the third trimester.  Only 69 days to go! And along with all the really fun things that again no one tells you about, like the baby constantly sitting on your bladder so that even after you pee, you still feel like you have to pee and the exhaustion has returned.  It’s not as bad as it was in the beginning but it’s still kicking my butt.  It’s more the afternoon after a really intense lesson with your coach tired than Monday after a long horse trial tired.



Yesterday I had aspirations of grooming the red pony.  I drove down my driveway and saw him happily grazing in vacation oblivion and I really wanted to groom him.  I figured I’d go in to the house, change, come back out and groom him for a few minutes.  The weather was even cooperating by being in the mid-eighties versus the soul sucking heat it has been the last three weeks or so.  Except that I went in to the house changed clothes and sprawled on the couch.  It’s like all the stress of the day, all the holding it together at work and endeavoring not to fall asleep at my desk (it’s happened, a lot) hit me at once and I just couldn’t muster the energy to do more than flip on the TV.

Superhubs made dinner and I managed to wrangle myself off the couch long enough to go feed my ponies and pet each one, even give Fox and Seneca some horse cookies to make up for not spending much time with them the last several months but that was it.  After I ate dinner I dragged myself off to bed.  Because again no matter how much sleep I get it never feels like enough.