Just thought I would mention these things,

In case any of you care:

1. I am having, without a doubt, the worst gas of my life. I am so relieved that I am not taking the train to work anymore, as holding it in for an hour each way, while doable, was sort of stressful. When I am at home, I just let it go. I keep matches nearby. It's terrible, but also fun to dutch oven Kiki. (She doesn't mind at all.)

2. As of now, I am still do not need to go on bed rest. I have another appointment next week to check my progress. This is good news. Maybe I just have a Dynamic Cervix. (capitalized cause I think it would make a good title for a song or a poem, or maybe a band name.)

3. I broke down just after Christmas and ordered a coat. I used some of the money my sister gave us for Christmas. Trever was happy to use our gift this way, even though there were plenty of others ways for us to use it. My coat was not zipping up anymore, and we still have a few more month of weather to deal with. I spent hours upon hours looking at maternity coats online, and came to the conclusion that pregnant ladies apparently like to walk around in giant belted sleeping bags during the winter. NO THANKS. I've never liked those puffy coats, why would want to look even puffier now that I am already am? The non puffy coats are all cheaply made or too itchy or have some god awful belt. I just can't get down the belted coat look, sorry. And then I found this. It was more than I wanted to spend, that's for sure, especially with the added shipping, but then I got to thinking about it, and I realized that the only new coats I've ever owned were gifts that my sister got me. Everything else has been from the thrift store, and I have been 100% okay with that, but I am THIRTY FOUR FUCKING YEARS old and if I want to buy a coat that I don't fucking hate when I am pregnant, then I should be able to do it! SO I DID. (and since the money came from my sister, it's almost like she just bought me another coat.) It came yesterday. It's glorious! And I will definitely be able to wear it when I am NOT pregnant. It's lined, but not puffy or bulky at all. The hood is a little gnome-like, but I am okay with that. The color is awesome. The twill is soft. The lining is fleece, which I usually HATE, but this fleece is not that the kind that gives me chills all over my body and makes me want to grind my teeth and punch things. Of course this week is unusually warm and I don't need to wear it. Thanks, global warming.

4. My boobs are itchy.

And that's all I've got.

Edited to add: I just went back to April's posts and cried. I miss my Roo-cat every single god damn day. I am so grateful that we still have Kiki, and it's hard to imagine that I will ever be without her. Can we just name our baby KikiRoo? Or Rookiki? That wouldn't be that weird, right?

I learned a thing.

Did you know that you can have a short cervix? It's true. And I have one. We found out on New Years Eve. Way to ring in 2013!

What does this mean? That there is a higher chance of preterm labor. One in two, really. We spent too long googling things and getting upset. A few days later, I am in a little better frame of mind about it, mostly because I have to be.

I am taking progesterone, which will hopefully help. I am on pelvic rest (no orgasms.) My work schedule has been cut in half, which is nice for Kiki and bad for my checking account. I am trying to take it easy, but when I am supposed to be resting is when I feel like I need to do things. (Funny how that works, when I have a lot to do is when I want to do nothing.) I have some crappy Y/A books to read, and I have my laptop. There is always SVU when all else fails me.

At least it's cold out. Then I don't feel so annoyed about laying on my bed for hours at a time with Kiki sleeping like a fur lump next to me.

(oh the baby? The baby is doing great. Just gotta keep in there as long as possible.)

Sometimes I have the rage.

Yesterday it appeared when I realized that we had left behind a bag at the grocery store. It was a bag of the fancy organic shampoos & conditioners & tea tree oil wipes that I love which were HALF-OFF at the regular grocery store because people in Quincy like to wash their hair with chemicals that smell like teenage girl deodorant. I was psyched, cause I was out of conditioner, and the last time I bought shampoo & conditioner I spent more money that I felt was right. It's not that I don't believe in treating myself once in awhile, but I work in a bookstore. I am not made of money. And I spend more money on Kiki's prescription food that I do my own food, so sacrifices must be made, especially with the forthcoming baby.

I went to take a shower before bed last night (at approximately 8:15 pm - I stayed up late since I don't have to work today. Get wild!) and I remembered the conditioner. I went to find the bag. It was nowhere. Trever had put the groceries away the night before. He had no idea, didn't remember seeing it. He checked the car. Twice. It wasn't there. He had been playing video games with headphones on when I realized it was missing, which I think sent the rage into over drive. I was VERY UPSET. I don't want to waste our money. And I couldn't understand how we just lost it. We went through the self checkout. We put all the groceries in the back of the volvo. We just left an entire bag behind? HOW DID WE DO THAT? WHAT THE F U C K? Yup. The rage took over. I was trying to stay calm. Really, I was. In the middle of crying and getting upset, while Trever was looking in the car, I picked up a pair of scissors off the bed from an earlier mending project, and the two clementines that had been in my bag, left over from our morning trip to the movies, in order to clear off the bed so I could get in it. He walked back inside and the look on his face was that sort of why-are-you-upset-it's-not-really-a-big-deal-you-are-acting-like-a-crazy-lady-look which basically just sent me right over the edge. I don't remember what he said next, but I definitely threw a pair of scissors across the kitchen (not AT him, he was in the other room) and threw a clementine at the floor with such force that it exploded. Then I shut myself in the bathroom to cry.

HORMONES ARE SO FUN.

He went back to the store. We must have left the bag behind cause he went to the clearance bin and it was all back in there. I had bought three of the five containers of the tea tree oil wipes, and there they were, right next to the grapefruit & geranium shampoo. I texted him not to rebuy it, out of principle, but he insisted. I told him how I felt he was dismissive of my feelings and he apologized for that. Then I went to bed.

This morning I got up early to feed Kiki. My slipper got stuck on the something on the kitchen floor. A little while later I made coffee. Trever came in to get some and I asked him what spilled on the floor last night. He reminded me that it was the clementine I smashed. He didn't clean it up last night, was going to do it today, but I felt embarrassed and stupid so I cleaned it up right away.

The point of all of this rambling? A reminder to myself, I suppose. I don't need to freak out and throw scissors and smash fruit. I don't want to be that person. I have a very distinct memory of my mother slamming kitchen cabinet doors so hard that plates fell on the floor. If I need to vent or feel the rage, I can alway sit in the car with the windows rolled up and scream at the top of my lungs. Or I can watch an episode of SVU, that usually helps. Or those tricks my therapist taught me so long ago that I have shoved in a corner closet of my mind. I supposed I could also channel the rage into lyrics for future rap songs. I can still filthy rap if I have a baby, right?

A few days after the last post.

We got some big news over here. It turns out that my lady pieces are not as defective as I thought. I won't just be a cat mom anymore... THOUGH I WILL ALWAYS BE A CAT MOM, FOREVER AND EVER. (furever? ugh) This has been life changing news. I guess it usually is... but you see, I had gotten to the point where I was perfectly comfortable with the idea of never having kids. In fact, I liked the idea of it. So this all came as quite a surprise, and not a totally pleasant one. I am being honest here. I know lots of ladies are all OMG BABIEZ or MY LIFE MEANT NOTHING BEFORE MY BB WAS BORN but that's not me. I liked what we had and how things were going, so this has all taken a little while to sink in, just as it took me a little while to get comfortable with the idea of it possibly never happening.

Trever, on the other hand, is beyond thrilled. I think he's been waiting his whole life to be a dad, whether he knows it or not. When we went we had our twelve week ultrasound and saw our little hitchcock alien spawn moving around inside of me, he was crying and smiling, and all I could say was "This is like science fiction."

Now that I am 18 weeks into this.. experiment, the idea has grown on me as it grows in me and my body grows around me. I am, of course, uncomfortable in my body. My butt is getting huge, my boobs are way too big (I bought three new bras which fit for a couple weeks, and now I need new ones again) and the heartburn is killing me. Lucky for me I had acid reflux and a bad back and bunions BEFORE getting pregnant, so I guess at least I am used to these terrible pains that are with me non-stop. Besides all the physical discomfort, and the logistics that go into having a baby (we will have to move, we have no money, what will I do about work, etc etc etc), I do think that we will be excellent parents, even if I sometimes come off like a cold-hearted bitch.

I think the fact that we really enjoy each other's company and love each other will help us to be good parents. Also we have seen lots of examples of what NOT to do. And let's not forget all those episodes of Nanny 911 I have watched over the years. I GOT THIS. Not to mention, we are both cool as fuck, so it's going to be rad to impart all of our knowledge and awesomeness on the tiny person we made. (Am I supposed to stop swearing? Sorry, that will probably never happen.)

His giant Brady Bunch family is all very excited for us, as is my tiny family. My friends have been wonderfully supportive and don't mind that I never do anything fun anymore. I go to bed at seven o'clock now, since working retail during the holidays and being four months pregnant are a terrible combination (go figure) so I don't see anyone anymore, other than Trever and Kiki.

SPEAKING OF KIKI, she is doing well. We did not get a kitten, though it's still a big possibility. Part of the hesitation now is that we will need to move in the next couple of months, so it doesn't make a lot of sense to get one now... or does it? It seems like a lot of trauma for her to adjust. A new kitten, a new home, and a baby? But then we think if we get a kitten now, they can bond, and she will a friend to go through it all with. I am still keeping my eye out on craigslist for free kittens, and hoping that I will see one and I will just know that we need it. That's only happened once so far and the person never emailed me back so clearly it wasn't meant to be.

I think Kiki knows that something is up. She is smart. She isn't doing anything weird yet, like peeing in corners, but she did ignore me for a couple weeks when we first found out. She sometimes will sit on my lap, which is not normal for her. And since we got her new treats for christmas she is being extra annoying about staring at you and meowing every time you step into the kitchen. We can fill her bowl and she will ignore it. Why have delicious EXPENSIVE cat food when you can just swallow treats whole? KIKI, THEY DON'T CLEAN YOUR TEETH IF YOU DON'T FUCKING CHEW THEM, YOU KNOW.

Anyways.. I guess that's all, for now. Trever just made us tacos, so I am going to stuff my face and sit awkwardly on the couch with pillows shoved behind my back. I plan to write in this more often, which will be much easier now that I have a new-to-me laptop (christmas gift from the best dude I know) and I will also start scanning the years' worth of polaroids that I've accumulated and done nothing with. This means that Collecting Time will be updated in 2013, so do check back if you enjoy photos of cats, branches, bricks, shadows, and empty places.

BYE.

twenty two days ago

That was the last time I wrote on this thing. What has happened since then? Well, it's officially FALL, which is great. I am so glad. Now if only I knew where my tights and sweaters are, since I packed them away before we moved, but I don't know in what. Probably in the mountain of shit in our storage space. Not that it will matter much if I find them, as I've easily put on fifteen pounds since last fall, so it may be time to invest in some new tights. Too tight tights? NO THANK YOU. (I am currently wearing one of the two pairs I could locate. Right now, I feel like sausage in casing.)

Fall into winter is a busy time at work, and in life, I guess. I will be turning 34 in a couple weeks, and things are changing in some pretty major ways, most of which I will not discuss on here, but I will say this: when you aren't expecting things is when they will happen.

We brought Kiki in to see her boyfriend (the vet) to check out her scabby chin and get an overall check up & senior blood work done.

(Here's where I brag for a moment about just how GOOD Kiki is at the vet. She may cry in the car, but once she is there, she never puts up a fight, even when he scrapes the plaque off her teeth with his thumbnail. She has not once scratched a vet, not in al her fifteen years. Watch, I probably just jinxed myelf and next time she will tear someone up...)


He asked us how she was doing, being the only cat and what not, and then recommended that if we DO decide to get another cat, we SHOULD get a KITTEN.
THIS IS EXCITING NEWS. Especially because the Quincy Animal Shelter is loaded up with them right now. In fact, this weekend they were having a "Kitten Klearance" Adoption Weekend, as they have over SEVENTY kittens available. We are going to check with the landlord to make sure it's okay if we have two cats (I've never understood the only-one-cat-rule. What's two cats when you already have one, really?) and once we get the okay, we will go pick out Kiki's new kitten. I wish we could bring her along to choose. I have a bunch of days off around my birthday, and all of our possible plans have not worked out, so I have no plans. Perfect time to stay home with cats, I'd say.

Maybe we will name the new cat Birthday.

I can't believe it's September.

We have not adopted a second cat. It's still a thing we think about and talk about, but I think maybe it's not what Kiki wants after all. We've started leaving the radio on for her during the day, and it turns out that maybe she just really wanted to listen to NPR for eight hours a day. WHO KNEW! She is so informed now.

So far the only problem with this plan has been the night we went to Amber's graduation party and we spent the night to be safe. We left the radio on in the bedroom for her. The volume of it at noon on saturday when we left was perfectly acceptable. That same volume at 5 am on Sunday morning blaring out of open bedroom windows, not so much. When we pulled into the driveway, I heard people talking. I thought WHO THE HECK IS UP SO EARLY AND WHAT ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT and then I realized what it was, and I felt like a giant asshole.

It hasn't happened again.
Anyways.

We are nearly settled. The tiles are scraped in the bathroom, so we can see the original lovely sea green/aqua. We still need to fix the grout, and we plan on replacing the bathoom faucet. It works fine, but it's gross. Pretty gross. Too gross to actually feel clean when you clean it. So even though we rent, and we won't be here forever, we are going to replace it. Just like we did with the kitchen. It's amazing, it's such a small thing to do and it makes the BIGGEST difference. Try it the next time you move into an old apartment.

I have a little workspace set up in the corner of our "diningroom". It's gets the quotes, because while it has a table and chairs and a hutch with dishware, it also houses the aforementioned workspace, (made up of our old tiny table and some strategically placed shelves) a bookcase, more books in the hutch, the plant cart, and the two fifty gallon tanks filled with water where Ethyl, Bertha, Bruce, and Little Turtle* live. Also my giant closet. So it's just a big mish mosh, like everything else in my life, which is fine with me.

Speaking of the turtles, Ethyl & Bertha let me stroke their heads. LT likes to be hand fed one piece of food before he will eat anything else in the water. Bruce doesn't really want to interact. It's fine. I am like that often, too, Bruce, so I understand. Kiki is only interested in LT and Bruce when she has had a lot of catnip. Not a little. She needs a whole pile to roll in, only then does she notice their presence, and it's a pretty awesome sight.

It's hard to believe it's almost the middle of September. I turn 34 years old in a little over one month. It's hard to believe it, sometimes.


*Little Turtle is the only turtle with his original name. I renamed the other three. Little Turtle is also known as LT or Lawrence Taylor.

I guess we are still grieving.

I know that the humans in our household are still missing Roo. It happens every now and then, we find another picture of her tucked into a book, or find one of her mice with the half chewed tails. At least we have the comfort of knowing we did what was right for her. We are aware. But what about Kiki?

Since we got home from vacation, she cries at night. It's a howling sort of mrow sound, and it's very loud. She starts at the opposite end of the apartment, getting louder as she makes her way into the bedroom. I, of course, wake up. She will jump on the bed, continue her pitiful cries, until I force her to lay down next to me. Sometimes she will stop, and lay still. Other times, she will wriggle out of my arms and sit on my pillow, behind my head, and continue with her yowls, only now RIGHT IN MY EAR and close enough to my face that I can smell her old cat breath.

This happens three to four times a night.

It's like we live with a newborn, only one that has four legs and a rotten mouth.

At first I thought maybe she was going deaf (my old cat at my mom's started yowling a lot after her hearing went) or starting to get senile. Her hearing seems fine, though. She is not looking for food, as we have started giving her some before we go to bed JUST IN CASE that was the problem. It's not.

So I started googling. Web MD for cats is a bad place. But I found some other useful sites. I read that some cats, like people, take a long time to adjust after they lose a companion. And I suppose moving a couple months after losing her sister, and then we leave for a week and she was alone at night for the first time in life, did a real number on her.

Some things I read said that if you have two cats, and you know one is going to die, that you introduce a new cat before that happens. Well, I know it's too late for that, obviously, but then I get mad at the past, cause that was my argument for years with my ex, that we needed a third cat, the cats needed the third cat, and he always fought me on it. I let him win, even though I KNEW it was the right thing. And of course, after he left and I bounced around apartments, trying to adjust to my new life, is when Roo first started getting sick, and there was no way I could juggle a sick cat, Kiki, and a new cat, especially when I moved five times in a year and a half.

I know, I know, I sound bitter. BUT I TRIED TO DO THE RIGHT THING BY MY GIRLS and now my poor Kiki is lonely and old. I am afraid that a kitten will make her feel like she is being replaced, and I think that another girl cat could cause problems. Maybe a two year old boy cat, who's a little lazy, will be the just the thing?

I have no idea. I wish she could just TELL ME what she wanted. And I wish I could sleep through the night without a banshee cat waking me up.

(If you are reading this and you have experience with sibling cats and one dying before the other, let me know your thoughts. Thank you.)