Do you know that I have never taken a blogging “break” since the day I started this blog? Not an official one anyway. That must show you how sick I was/am — my blog was even neglected! Anyway - I’m alive. I’m by no means 100% and I won’t catch up with emails or announcing winners for contests until Monday or Tuesday. (The winners know they won — don’t worry!) But I’ve gotten so many kind emails I thought I’d pop in and say…Hi. And actually? For the first time in a week - I feel like I’m getting better instead of worse. Two weeks ago if I had spent the night in the recliner, waking up 4 times throughout the night with coughing fits, one of those time resulting in a 30-minute soak in a tub, I would have called that a BAD NIGHT. But - if it tells you anything about my week? That’s how I slept last night and I woke up this morning almost in tears I was so happy. Sleep. I actually slept some last night. I feel like a new woman.

There are a few things I would like to thank for existing during my time of need. This week has been rough and I’ll fill you in on all of the gory details later. Until then — let me thank a few things for keeping me from killing myself this past week.

• Dora. Dora. Dora. You know her, right? The Explorer? If she were not so mesmerizing there is no way my daughter would still be alive after this long sickness of mine. Luckily, Dora kept my daughter entertained while I rotated between coughing fits in bed, taking baths, coughing fits in the recliner, and taking baths. Thank you, Dora. I actually found you quite entertaining in my delirium as well. Several times I found myself yelling at the TV, in what little voice I had, “Espera! Espera!” to try to get that damn donkey to wait for you to get on.
• Johnson & Johnson vapor bath. I have a feeling that it’s probably bad form right now as a Mommy Blogger to pimp out a J&J product, but I can not help it. There have been several nights in the last week that the only sleep I got, was while soaking in a tub full of that stuff. Did you get that last sentence? I slept in the bathtub. Not the safe way to use the product, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I know it’s not marketed to me, but it has given me a few moments of peace and I have gone through FOUR BOTTLES of the stuff since I’ve been sick. Of course, I now permanently smell like a cough drop…but at least there was something to escape to when I was desperate.
• The recliner I claimed from my brother-in-law before he put it on the street that my husband has wanted to get rid of for quite some time. It’s ugly and broken but I have always loved it dearly. I talked MrZ to moving it to the bedroom to make room for the Christmas tree this year, and it gave me one place I could sleep that would keep me propped up enough to keep the coughing at bay for at least 20 minutes here and there. It made it a possibility for me to get 10-minute cat naps throughout the night and without those few doses of sleep, my sanity would have left me on Tuesday. (MrZ might argue that it kinda did.)

Anyway. I’m alive. Still coughing, very tired, achy (the recliner, although awesome, not the best place for a pregnant woman to sleep), and no where near functioning at 100% — but I’m getting better. And since I spent several nights this week getting worse, this is a good thing. I’ve got stories to tell from the war zone, of extreme emotional meltdowns of the likes I have never experienced before (lack of sleep is NOT GOOD FOR EMOTIONAL STABILITY) to wonderful gestures of kindness from my family. (LilZ woke up several times in the middle of the night to check on my coughing self. Granted - the coughing woke him up - but the fact that he checked on me instead of cursing me from underneath a pillow wrapped around his ears - I think is a sign of how awesome he is.) Anyway - I’ll be back to normal some time next week. Hopefully.

Until then, fill me in on your lives! Anything exciting happen while I was gone? If you have an accompanying blog entry to link to I promise to read it and comment. But please be warned that my comment may not make sense as I’m still not rested enough to make proper use of the English language.

So — this day has sucked donkey balls. Instead of reading you the laundry list of things that happened today to make me have a mental breakdown a short while ago, I’ll let you know the most TRAGIC event. The OTC cough syrup my doctor approved for me to take — the stuff I went and bought on the way home from the doctor, which I took one dose of — ended up spilled all over the white canvas bag I carry around with my CRAP in it. All over the calendar inside that my cousin made with all of our 50+ family’s birthdays in it. Ruining the brite blue dot stickers I just got in the mail. Coating a checkbook and my daily planner. Soaking through my makeup bag and all over the fancy hand lotion I just bought with a gift card the other day. Let’s don’t even discuss what it did to the magazines in the bag I had been saving to read when I had a moment.

sigh.

To unwind after an incredibly insane day, I soaked in the tub while NikkiZ read the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly to me. The non-cough syrup edition. There’s nothing like the commentary a 2-year-old can provide on photos of South Park characters and werewolves. Trust me.

I told myself when I sat at the computer this morning to write an entry, that I couldn’t talk anymore about coughing (and how much it sucks) or the exhaustion I’m feeling at being up all night coughing. And then I just stared at the blank screen because those are the only things I can think about. This previously innocent allergy-induced throat tickle has turned into a chest-pain-causing raging cough that has kept me at the 3-4 hour sleep mark for three nights in a row.

So, this morning? I called my OB.

I am “allowed” to take plain Robittussin (not the DM kind) and they wanted me to get pneumonia ruled out. The story is long and involved but essentially brought me to this point: I’m still coughing. There’s a bit in there somewhere about me crying at the doctor’s office because a certain doctor kinda made me feel like a dumbass (I’m NOT A DOCTOR) and I might have cried again later on the phone to the receptionist at the other doctor’s office. But none of those stories have good closure yet because I’m waiting to hear back from a nurse and the stories essentially boil down to this: I’m pregnant. My hormones are raging. I haven’t slept well in three nights. I’M CRYING AT EVERYTHING. LEAVE ME ALONE.

So. Still coughing. Still tired. Luckily you all have an assortment adorable pictures to keep yourself entertained while I try to remember what else is going on in my life besides this DAMN COUGH.

Disclaimer: Super Target is my very bestest friend in the whole wide world. Seriously. I love my Super Target with all of my heart. I love the hidden endcaps of clearance goodness and I love the prettily packaged generic items. I love the discount racks of cute clothes and the orange sale stickers. I love that they call customers “Guests” and employees “Team Members.” I love that I have never been in a line more than four people deep and not heard a prerecorded voice over the loudspeakers demanding cashier assistance. I love that their bags are thick enough to reuse (several times) and that they always have the cutest seasonal items that make me feel the urge to decorate for such things as St. Patrick’s Day.

BUT…

There is something they’ve always done that just mildly annoyed me once in awhile. No big deal. See - I go grocery shopping on Saturday mornings when the store opens. They have their Team Meeting in front of the jewelery boat (Yes, I know the lingo, shut it.) at opening. Oddly enough - fresh from the team meetings - I would always get at least 2 or 3 employees throughout the store noticing my browsing and asking if I needed help finding anything. It was an annoyance simply because I’m certain I know the store better than most employees. But that was it - just an annoyance. If I looked determined and never made eye contact, they usually assumed I didn’t need help and went about their stocking or inventory tasks. No big deal. And - it rarely (if ever) happened any other time of the week. Either because later in the day they’re too busy to worry about people like me, or because when they’re fresh from the team meeting it’s on their minds. Regardless - it only happened on my Saturday morning shopping trips.

UNTIL RECENTLY…

I don’t know if they’re being monitored now, or if there’s a reward program in place, or what. Somehow, something has changed. I can not go into the store now without being asked if I need any help. Now - in theory - I totally appreciate this concept. There are times I need help and it’s nice they’re there. HOWEVER - I have been making a point not to look them in the eye or even look remotely in need of help. YET STILL THEY ASK. I just feel uncomfortable constantly saying, “No, Thank you.” I wish there were obvious, but polite, clues I could give that I am on a mission and do not need assistance.

It’s almost like there has been a policy change and they now risk being fired if they let one single customer pass without asking if they need assistance. Which would be fine (almost) if only one employee would do it. However, Target keeps a lot of people out on the floor so I inevitably get asked multiple times. Yesterday, on my mid-week grocery run, I was asked if I needed help four times. The first time it happens I get mildly annoyed - mainly because I do everything possible to avoid eye contact and to look determined so they don’t ask - but by the fourth time? I’m encroaching on severely irritated. And I love my dearest Super Target too much to feel even mildly annoyed at it.

I feel like I need to go to couple’s therapy with my Super Target. Maybe with some counseling we could reach a common ground where Super Target would learn to recognize my non-verbal cues and only ask me if I need help when it looks like I might honestly need help. I feel like if we could just get past this hurdle, our relationship could live in the honeymoon stage forever.

Whew. I’m up, I’m brewing some coffee, I’m moving at a moderate pace, and I’m sitting down at the computer. Things almost feel normal again. If only I could get my knees to stop hurting. I think there is a reason a body gets morning sickness before the giant uterus, a hugely pregnant body is not designed for kneeling at a toilet for long periods of time. My poor knees will never be the same.

Here’s a TMI story for you: Do you know how women complain how in the last trimester their uterus gets so big that the pressure on their bladder sometimes causes them to pee a little when the cough, or sneeze, or laugh, or…blink? I didn’t talk about that much with NikkiZ because I carried her so high I was struggling to breathe, not maintaining control of my bladder. But with LilZ? I had to wear pantyliners because he could make me pee just by kicking me in the right place. It was bad.

Well - if subtle jerks and movements like sneezes and coughs cause a small accident - can you imagine what vomiting does? OMG. Like puking my brains out wasn’t bad enough, I had to follow that up with a change of clothes because I lost all bladder function. Do you know how humiliating that is? Hopefully not. I mean, I know a stinky puking pregnant woman is not typically competing for any glamor awards, but still. I would like to hold on to a little bit of my ego. And that is impossible when I keep wetting my DAMN PANTS.

I guess I should have rest assured I wasn’t dehydrated, right?

I’m very glad it’s over. My husband is also very glad it’s over because there is nothing cute about incontinence.

But - BEFORE I became the hottest wife on the planet - NikkiZ tested out her brother’s old sit-n-spin:

She loves it. And it took her no time to figure it out. (I still don’t understand how the damn thing works.) Best hand-me-down we’ve discovered so far. And the dress was a quarter at a yard sale from Saturday. We’re rocking the bargain lifestyle, you know.