The HST comes into effect tonight at midnight.  I think people have finally realized that the $300 rebate that we got is not going to balance out the added expenses that we are going to be hit with.  There areline ups for gas because the cost is going to co up tomorrow.  My plan of stockpiling baby supplies didn`t happen but I did start stockpiling coupons.  I won`t save as much as I would have saved if I bought everything in June but at least the big purchases are out of the way.

If the prices go up really high, I think that I am going to start cross border shopping more.  I know that there is the cost of gas to consider but Philadelphia has no sales tax and a Target.  That alone makes the trip worth it.

I have taken the rest of this week off.  I am going to spend most of my days off cleaning and getting things together for the baby.

I have a very long list and I doubt that I am going to get all of it done but I am hoping that I get some of it done because the thought of waiting until I am on maternity leave to get everything done scares the heck out of me.

So I will be spending my time mopping, sweeping, vacuuming, washing infant clothes, packing away the Samsung, changing curtains, getting blinds and buying paint. 

I really hope I get at least some of this done.

I went for my gestational diabetes test yesterday.  It was a different test than the one I was originally supposed to take.  My midwife changed my test at the last minute because she got my ultrasound results back and the baby is measuring in the 95% for size so she wanted to be doubly sure that I didn`t have gestational diabetes.  She is very worried that I am going to end up with a 10lb baby.  And trust me, I am worried about that too!!

Maks was 7.5lbs and I thought that was big.

I decided that if I do end up  having a 10lb baby I deserve diamonds from Millhouse.  He has not agreed to this yet but I still have a couple of months to convince him. 

It’s Tuesday!!  So I am going to let the randomness roll. 

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Apparently randomness is a word, according to my spell check anyway.  According to the dictionary it does not exist.  

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Thanks to Tru, I now know about this (http://www.crumbs.com/cupcakes).  I never knew that these kinds of cupcakes even existed before.  But now that I know that they do, I want them.  I am trying to find a way to get them to send me some in Canada at an affordable price.  Either that or I am taking a day trip to New York City.  And by day trip I mean I will drive 24 hours straight to get them. 

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The World Cup has started.  I love the world cup.  This year as with most years my money is on Brasil.  But as it stands right now, all the under dogs are pulling out upsets.  So if this trend continues Cameroon or North Korea is going to win the cup. 

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I have rediscovered frozen treats.  As if late I am loving popsicles.  But I have a feeling that all my frozen sugar consumption is not good for the baby so I may have to stop eating the only things I really want to eat until the baby gets here. 

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Thoughts on the name Mathias.  Is it too old fashioned?  How about the name Michael.  Is it too common?  Let me know what you think.

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*P.S.  from my title you can guess that this way supposed to be published on Tuesday but I got lazy.

This is clarify my anti baby shower stance even more.  This post was originally supposed to be protected because I did not certain members of my family reading it.  But what the hell here goes.  The ones that this is about know that I cannot stand them anyway so this is nothing new. 

One of the major reasons that I don’t want a baby shower is because of my crazy family.  Now not of them are actually ‘crazy’ per se.  They are just an annoying bunch of people that get under my last nerve and driving me to scream into pillows to avoid cussing them off. 

So here is the breakdown of my family.  And at the end you can marvel that I turned out so well. 

My mom’s side:  My mom has five brothers and one sister.  I can’t stand any of them.  They all have offspring and I am nonchalant with having a relationship with any of them.  The reason that they all bother me so much is because of their love of status and money.  All of them look down on us because we are not as rich as they are.  My immediate family was never considered their equals.  They go out of their way to remind us that they, in their minds anyway, are better than we will ever be.  They rarely visit even though they live down the street from me and when they do it is to see what we have or do not have and find fault with that.  And it is not just the things that we have that they criticize.  They find it necessary to criticize our complexion, weight, hair, and life.  They are quick to point out that I am the biggest female in the family and that I should look into a lower ab workout.  They willingly spend an entire conversation telling us about how great they are and how utterly horrific we are.  And, truthfully, I would rather have my fingernails ripped out one by one by a toothless wolverine than have a conversation with them.  

So I don’t. 

My dad’s side:  isn’t here.  

My dad has two brothers and five sisters.  Borders and oceans separate our immediate family from his side.  But I do love them.  They have their quirks and moments in which they drive me insane but because oceans and borders separate us guaranteeing that our time spent with them is short and should be treasured, I love them. 

But because they are so far away I am stuck with my mom’s side.  And really when it comes to them, I would rather be locked in a room with a toothless, rabid wolverine than deal with them.

*I like History.  I spent a lot of my teenage / university years reading up on myths and stories for different eras.  This is one of the stories that I remember very clearly from that time in my life.  I think it may be Greek in origin but I am not certain.  I am also not certain of the actual names in the story so I left them out.* 

There was a father eagle that lived on the peak of a mountain made of wax with his three sons. 

One day a great fire started in the valley and the mountain started to melt.  The eagle’s children could not fly yet but because of their size he could only save one of them. 

He chose the oldest son.  He picked him and as he was flying with him over the valley of fire he asked; ‘Son, one day you will be in a situation such as this.  When the time comes will you save your child or me?’ 

The son said that he would save his father. 

The eagle dropped his son into the fire and turned around. 

Upon returning to his nest he picked up his second son.  Once again as he was flying with him over the valley of fire he asked; ‘Son, one day you will be in a situation such as this.  When the time comes will you save your child or me?’ 

The son said that he would save his father. 

The eagle dropped his son into the fire and turned around. 

Upon returning to his nest he picked up his last son.  Once again as he was flying with him over the valley of fire he asked; ‘Son, one day you will be in a situation such as this.  When the time comes will you save your child or me? 

The son said that he would have no choice but to save his child just as his father was saving him. 

That was the answer the father wanted to hear and he flew his son to safety. 

At the time I read that story, I thought that the answer was obvious.  Of course it was the parents’ responsibility to save their child.  As much as I would want to save my parents, my obligation as a parent would be to my child.  It was very black and white. 

I am older now and even though the answer still makes sense to me.  I would like to find a way to save my father too.

I think that this baby is going to be a vegetarian.  

I am almost 7 months now and I am still not able to really enjoy any meat.  I am OK with things like Korean BBQ, and the occasional chicken nugget.  I am not feeling meat.  It is not the taste or smell that bothers me, it is the texture.  I can not handle the, literal, tearing of flesh that is required when you chew meat.  I can handle things like fish, and eggs but actual pieces of chicken, beef or pork in my mouth makes me nauseous. 

I can handle veggie burgers and tofu because the texture is so different from meat.  It makes them easier to eat.  But I don’t see myself eating much meat until this pregnancy is over.

I got my first stash of cloth diapers this week.  I ordered a sample pack of five brands so that I can compare and find out which ones I like better.  

That was a big mistake. 

Cloth diapers are nothing like what I expected.  I was expecting the wash cloth like things of long time ago.  These are nothing like that.  These are cute.  They are structured and don’t require any pins or fancy folds.  They have fleece lining, terry cloth absorption pads, and waterproof covers.  According to the literature that came with the diapers, the fleece always for the liquids to pull away from the baby’s skin, I am not sure about that part and will be pouring things into the diapers to test this out.  But other than that I am very enamored with cloth diapers. 

Now I can’t make up my mind.  I am torn between Bum Genius, Fuzzi Bunz and Happy Heiny’s.  I have found a lot of good reviews for Bum Genius and Happy Heiny’s.  A lot of people seemed to like Bum Genius more so I decided to go with them.  

Until I tried to order them. 

They are sold out everywhere.  I cannot find any Bum Genius all in one diapers in stock anywhere in Canada.  Happy Heiny’s on the other hand, are in abundance, at every store I check.  I guess I have to be patient and wait but now that I have made up my mind I don’t want to wait.

With Maks I didn’t have a choice why I gave birth.  My ob/gyn worked out of a specific hospital and that is the hospital that I had to give birth.

Simple enough, right?

This time around I get the option of where I want to give birth.  There are three hospitals that my midwife is able to work out of and I can choose one of those three to be my hospital.

Now this is where my indecisiveness kicks in.

Although choice is a good thing, I am worried that I will make the wrong choice.  The hospital that I gave birth to Maks in was old.  It was really old.  It was so old that it was torn down a month after Maks was born.  A new hospital was built 10 minutes from my parent’s house.  It is so close that my mom walks there for her appointments.  The new hospital is just that new.  It is brand, spanking new.  It looks nice, it has top of the line equipment but it still has the old staff.  The old staff and I did not get along during my last birth and that is one of the biggest reasons that I do not want to give birth there.

So I am looking at an older hospital again.  This one is about 20 minutes away from our house.  And we would have to take the highway there.  The hospital itself is older but it has more birthing rooms.  It is guaranteed that I will not be giving birth in a broom closet.  It has less private recovery rooms though.  I am not sure what the staff is like because I do not know anyone that has given birth there.  I don’t know anyone that works there.  I am supposed to go on my hospital tour there in August but I am not sure if I want to.

Part of me is leaning towards going to the newer hospital because even though the staff there isn’t the most pleasant it is closer to home.  It has six private rooms versus the two private rooms that the other hospital has and it is newer.  There is something about the newness that I find comforting.  Being in a place that has cracked ceiling tiles and dingy walls does not offer me any comfort.  Fresh paint and clean windows make me feel better.

But maybe that is just me.

I am very candid in the fact that I was demoted in March.  Millhouse likes to say that I was reassigned but I am much more realistic.  I was given a promotion, not given the tools I needed to succeed and when I started asking for help it was deemed that I was incapable of doing the job and it was taken away in an abrupt and unprofessional manner.  In my mind that is a demotion.

It doesn’t bother me like it used to.  When I was first demoted I would cry, I felt like a failure and I was really, really down on myself.  I’m not anymore.  That is mostly because my boss has the tools that I asked for and he is floundering.  It is not ‘us’ or our capabilities.  It is ‘them’ and their demands.  What they want is for us to fail because they want out of their contract, this is now obvious.  Unfortunately ‘we’ are the scapegoat and that’s no fun.

So even though I am no longer a manager I am still expected to go to meetings and train and I don’t want to.  The job I do now doesn’t list that as a requirement but unfortunately I am still expected to do these things.  When I don’t there is a sh*tstorm of criticism and I am back to where I was in March.  I have given up fighting it.  I go to the meetings, and feign interest.  I do the training and come back to the office.  I don’t have much of a choice but I take great comfort in knowing that in two months I am going to be off for a year.