Just Laugh and Pat Me on the Head

So, on Christmas Eve a little head cold descended upon me and I still hadn't completely shaken it by about mid-January...mostly a cough but interspersed with lovely sinus pressure and tremendous headaches. It finally abated this last week, and just Wednesday I was saying to Auntie S that the "coffas" (that's what Henry calls coughs) had finally gone away.

I have these big plans for painting three rooms of our house and organizing an office space and a baby's area. And maybe catching up on laundry and getting David to clean the bathrooms...

When what to my wondering nose should appear
but oodles of snot and aches in my ears,
And a scratchy old cough so wracking and sharp
that I'm quite sure my body is falling apart...

I think what's most frustrating is that all the OTC cough medicines are watered down versions these days because of the punks who used the regular ones to get high, so the things that my OB says are OK to take are actually extra OK because they don't do diddly squat for any of my symptoms.

So I got grouchy and took a dose of Nyquil last night without consulting my doctor. (gasp!)

And I woke up when it wore off thinking, well - it got me a little bit of good rest. Wow! I feel like I can do another day...I just hope it won't cause me to give birth to a tap-dancing penguin.

In more cheerful news, I think I am in love with the Take Home Chef. He is cute. And the food he makes? Actually gives me some cravings, which is a wonderful sensation. I have been bereft of cravings this whole pregnancy - an unheard-of phenom in my sweet-tooth driven life.

While it is nice to weigh two pounds less at the half-way point than I did pre-pregnancy(also unheard of in my experience), eating just because I know it's necessary for life is not really all it's cracked up to be.

So, yeah. Thanks to Curtis Stone, I want me some fruit pizza with creme fraiche and berries, sprinkled with chocolate shavings. And someone to make it for me. Now. And that feels normal, if not great, to me.

Yep, I'm starting to feel more and more stereotypical crazy pregnant lady, and it's kinda fun. Like, I was thinking yesterday it's a good idea to find a name for Boy in my junk-mail inbox. I mean, they are sheer poetry. I'd want to use the first and last names together in most cases.

Check it out - I really think the 64 spam messages I got yesterday made Cabbage Patch birth certificates, baby name books and search engines totally obsolete for expectant parents. Here's a sampling of the awesome names any young boy would be happy to call his own: Tyrell Swasey. Jarvis Lovell. Amadi Dewey (I'd call him Dewey). Angus Nickerson.

And the girl names are even more beautiful, even if you decide not to use the last names as middle names. Despoina Buescher. Cleisthenes Ang.

I mean, these are enough to make me give up my penchant for Greatest Generation names and go junk mail. The only drawback is never really being able to tell my son what the person he's named after was trying to peddle via mass e-mail.

But hey, I took Nyquil while he was in utero. If he can overcome that, he can overcome being called Suzette Maurice. Right?