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Tragic Love Friday: Audrey to the rescue

Hey! Remember back in August when I solicited recaps for part two? And how nobody was up for the job and I was very, very sad about the lack of TLF love?

Well, happy days are here again, because Audrey of Sangria Lover came to the gang's rescue. She actually rescued me at the beginning of the month, but I've been too busy to format her Word entry within TypePad and I was adamant about posting it on a Friday because duh, Tragic Love FRIDAY, and anyway, now it's the end of the month and I hope she forgives me.

Because her recap? Is AWESOME.

Enjoy.

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Tragic Love Friday – The Sequel

I tried to keep it short and sweet, but there was A LOT of tragic lovin' going on these last few months! I also looked back at the Part 1 recaps for inspiration and loved Silly Hily's idea of including the best commentary from each chapter so much that I went ahead and stole it. Because TLF just wouldn't be the same without the commentary. And you know what else it wouldn't be the same without? The comments! So I re-read all of the hilarious comments and copied and pasted my favorites for each chapter here as well. I felt it was important to recap every aspect that makes TLF so amazing--Lil' Frema's writing, Adult Frema's commentary, and TLF Addicts' comments.

Prologue – Kayla

Kayla, Cassie, and Kyle arrive in Cedar Springs, Iowa via plane. Their car will arrive via u-haul truck, obviously.

Kyle is the result of Kayla being gang-raped by some security guards in prison, just a month after her daughter was taken from her to live with Jenna and Michael.

Katherine is the reason they're in Cedar Springs. Kayla's dick (p.i.) located Katherine, and the Kayla-Cassie-Kyle clan have come to … spy on her?

Kayla has a new last name and a new hair color. Kay is Clark Kent to Kayla's Superman, and Michael, as we will learn, is far too stupid to see past the metaphorical eyeglasses and recognize her.

Kyle has no idea about his half-sister or the circumstances of his birth. Kayla's painted a nice picture of a family-abandoning father figure for him to admire.

Kayla hopes for a brother-sister bond between Katherine and Kyle. Be careful what you wish for, sweetie.

Best commentary: "Don't cry!" my friend said. "It'll be OK, Kay. I promise. I feel the same way you do. I'm dying to see my niece." [You'd think these women would've sworn off exaggerated death references forever. Such poor taste!]

Best comment: Pink Herring. Here comes the incest! Woohoo! It's not a real soap until a long-lost sibling pair unwittingly falls in love, forgets to use protection, and then finds out about their parentage when the chick is already knocked up.

Chapter 1 – Katherine

At school, Katherine meets Kyle and immediately develops a not-so-sisterly crush on him. The feeling is mutual. Actually, Kyle is a big flirt, and Katherine is annoyed by this. Lucky for Kyle, Katherine is asked to tutor him because he's "a little behind." They make arrangements to "study" together.

Best commentary: He seemed satisfied with my response. "Fair enough. I'm sorry if I rubbed you the wrong way today." [And that wasn't even an innuendo!]

Best comment: Isabel. My prediction is that Kyle really wasn’t asleep in the back of the car. The kid is smart, don’t forget. He totally knows what’s going on. He knows that Katherine is his (half) sister and he’s into that kind of thing.

Chapter 2 – Jenna

Jenna works as a personal assistant in advertising. For a company that "wasn't really recognized as trustworthy and worthwhile." Her boss lands the big Folger's account, so naturally she has to do all of the work. With bitch Agatha's help.

Jenna and Michael have twins--Luke and Leigh. But they want another--one to name after Michael, preferably (because Luke wasn't good enough? Or Michael and Michaela just didn't sound as good as twin names?)--but they've hit some infertility struggles and their marriage is suffering a bit as a result. The lines of communication, they are not good.

Best commentary: [OK, in my line of work, I've seen managers fired after five MONTHS of non-performance, but what can I say? Lil' Frema hates to put people out of work. Killing off innocent babies is fine, but contributing to America's poverty population is not an option. For now.]

Best comment: May. I'm glad that lil' Frema has Jenna & Mikey still in love & nice to each other, despite the pressure of 3 kids, crappy jobs, infertility, etc... I mean, haven't they been through enough? (Answer - no, we still have more sequel to go! Yay!)

Chapter 3 – Kyle

It's time to tutor. Kyle invites Katherine over then does what every girl dreams of by asking her to help him unpack when they're done studying. Swoon! Then he goes and hides in the bathroom because he has no friends. Gee, Kyle, maybe if you invited more people over for manual labor…

Incestual flirting takes place. (I'm pretty sure I made up the word Incestual. Just go with it, k?) Kyle tells Katherine that she looks just like his (their) mother. Ew.

Speak of the devil, Kay(la) comes home and is surprised to see her long-lost daughter. Aunt Cassie meets her niece. Kyle gets suspicious, but is placated with an "it's complicated, you'll understand when you're older" brush off. Katherine stays for a k-lassy frozen pizza dinner. More incestual flirting ensues, and Kay does NOTHING to stop her children from getting involved in what is quickly becoming an inappropriate relationship.

Michael comes to pick up his "daughter," and we learn that he is incredibly stupid and cannot recognize [that murdering bitch] Kay.

Kyle goes to bed but doesn't fall asleep for "a long time." My guess is he was "contemplating the trials and tribulations of his complicated existence." *wink, wink*

Best commentary: [Geez, with all that time he spent contemplating the trials and tribulations of his complicated existence, he could have just masturbated.]

Best comment: Rachel. And, I am so glad that Michael is not teaching at my kid's school! He is definitely not the brightest crayon in the box. I'm pretty sure that if I dyed my hair blond tonight, um, my face will still look the same.

Chapter 4 – Michael

Michael and Jenna visit the fertility doctor to find out (who's at fault) what the problem is. Doctor has bad news--basically it's a really really bad idea for Jenna to get pregnant again. Her body can't handle it.

Michael tries to smooth things over by suggesting a weekend getaway. Jenna's far too busy with the Folger's account to mess around with romantic nonsense.

Michael later runs into Kayla who "conveniently" has a flat tire in his school's parking lot. Even though she's a "complete stranger" to him, he gives her a ride home and pours out his heart about his failing marriage.

He comes home and his son tells him to "Get some, Dad." He probably doesn't, though, even though he and Jenna are having a rare romantic moment at the end of the chapter.

Best commentary: "I hate it when that happens," I said, and she laughed. "I can't replace your stuff or turn back time [or even put two and two together to realize you're the same woman who tried to kill my wife fifteen years ago, even though "Kay" and "Kayla" are about as different from each other as, well, "Mike" and "Michael"], but I can give you a ride home."

Best comment: Isabel. I love how the doctor is named "Peters". The 13 year old boy in me giggled when I read that. Tee-hee.

Chapter 5 – Kayla

Kayla is loving that Katherine comes home and makes out with her son every day after school. Is developing a major crush on Michael. (Chandler: Could things BE any more inappropriate?)

Michael and Kayla run into each other at the grocery store and then decide to spend the whole day together. Except instead they go see a movie that night.

Kyle is sketching Katherine. Probably nude. Kayla lets it slide.

Cassie is, for once, a voice of reason and advises Kayla not to date Michael. She is ignored completely.

Kayla dresses for an 80s-themed date, despite the fact that she is living in 1994, and all but encourages Kyle to pursue his love for his sister.

Michael picks Kayla up and both have apparently forgotten all movie plans. They go to a bar instead. And talk about how crazy Jenna is losing her shit. He notices a scar from a past suicide attempt of Kay's and then takes her to … uh… Lover's Lane? Where Kayla describes how Kyle saved her from her botched suicide attempt.

After that oh-so-romantic discussion, they start making out. Then she stops things before they go too far (for now), and he takes her home.

Best commentary: Everybody did their own thing [did their own sister]
and
but only an idiot could miss the added sparkle that I knew could be found in my eyes. [Kayla, have you met Michael Spencer?]

Best comment: David McNelis. Kay is so gonna end up boinking Michael. But then at least Michael will be able to honestly say to Katherine, "Yeah, well I porked your mom!" and not be lying in the least. Won't he be happy to get that off his chest. :)

Chapter 6 – Katherine

Kyle asked her to go to the video dance, whatever the hell that is. None of the adults stop this from happening, naturally.

Katherine gets all gussied up with her suspenders and striped pants. When snooping around to steal her mom's perfume, she stumbles upon some adoption papers but doesn't realize they are her own.

Kyle picks her up, gives her a rose, and we end the first part of TLF 2.0 with Katherine dreaming about how magical the night will be. If only she knew what was in store for her… So long, innocence! So long, sanity!

Best commentary: [Oh, Jenna and Michael, please produce more children who you can ignore and leave alone to fend for themselves, with only a pizza to console them!]

Best comment: Rachel. Don't ring loud!

Chapter 7 – Katherine

They took a cab to the dance. How romantic. They dance. They kiss. And it's great, as only a kiss between siblings can be. Or maybe I mean weird and creepy. Not great.

Then they go outside and Kyle rapes her. It's not pretty at all. Katherine is understandably angery. But at least Kyle was thoughtful enough to leave her cab fare (prostitute fee?). Which she rips to shreds in anger.

Best commentary: It was sweet and passionate and tender. [And also against God's plan!]

Best comment: Isabel. My notes do indicate that I instantly thought of Brian Astin Green's character in 90210 dancing like a FOOL when you mentioned Kyle being a good dancer. Sweet.

Chapter 8 – Jenna

Katherine is losing her shit, but nobody seems to notice.

Michael misses the special dinner Jenna makes, so the hungery twins have to eat without him. Katherine continues to lose her shit.

Michael gets home late. They fight.

She slaved over the Folger's presentation and then the bitch assistant stole her materials and so Jenna got fired. Because that's what happens in the cold, harsh world of ad agency assistant work.

Best commentary from Frema: At home, I was surprised to see Katherine was already there. [I have a daughter? Cool!]

Best commentary from Jennifer/Pink Herring: "By now, Michael, you shouldn't need my help! You should be able to understand me!" [Honestly, Michael. I don't even know why we paid for all those mind-reading classes!]

Best comment: Virginia Gal. Is it wrong of me to think that the only difference between Michael's mistress (Kay) and Jenna's (her job) is that he is getting laid and she is getting laid off?

Chapter 9 – Michael

Michael comforts Jenna after she gets canned. Then thinks how old she looks and makes her go take a nap while he goes to tell Kay that he's in love with her. And then they get it on.

Best commentary: Just last weekend we put up her Christmas tree. [Because baby Jesus loves it when adulterers come together to honor his birth with flashing lights.]

Best comment: Lizarita. You're KILLIN ME SMALLS.

Chapter 10 – Katherine

Is pregnant with her half-brother's rape baby. Jenna is flippin' burgers at Burger King.

Katherine decides to take matters into her own hands and take a bunch of her mom's anti-depressants.
Lucas is starting to be affected by the tragic drama going down around him. Katherine tries to be a good sister for a minute before going to spend the night at Shannon's house.

Best commentary: I had to pee on a stick (provided by the box, how thoughtful). [Honey, that stick is the test. Peeing on anything else just means you're weird.]

Best comment: Sant. I like how Lucas went from being raunchy hormonal to a shirt sleeve sobbing 6-year old in no time flat.

Chapter 11 – Katherine

Shannon's house is where she pops the pills to pop her baby out of her stomache. All the while she's having hallucinations of her little daughter, whom she affectionately names Katrina before blacking out. When she comes to, she finds herself in Shannon's bathroom, covered in blood and shit (quite literally). Which she proceeds to rub on her face. She feels okay, but something is still swimming around inside of her. (Excuse me while I add to the vomit in the room.)

Shannon is a saint and washes the bathroom. Three times.

Best commentary: "Kath, you were pregnant. You lost your baby." I nodded. [Um, how would Shannon know this? Katherine's only a few weeks along, and unless there was an arm or toe bopping on the surface, there'd be no way for a teenager to diagnose this as a miscarriage.]

Best comment: Molly. Beatings and vomiting and rubbing dead baby pieces on faces, oh my!

Chapter 12 – Kyle

Kayla reveals that she's pregnant. Cassie punches her. Frema celebrates the return of batshit crazy. Kayla and Cassie duke it out.

Kyle is a little freaked out that his whorish mother is pregnant. He almost feels bad about what he did to Katherine, but then talks himself out of it and convinces himself that it was her fault for being such a tease. He hates her. And also is in love with her.

Best commentary: [This is where the "Anything you can do, I can do better" part of today's title came from, because God forbid something good or bad happen to anybody without this woman jumping in with a one-upper. Jenna gets pregnant? Kayla gets pregnant AND carries the baby to term. Jenna gets married and enjoys a committed, monogamous relationship for over a decade? Kayla steals him in two weeks. Biological daughter is raped? Kayla gets knocked up by said daughter's father. Kayla wins, every time!]

Best comment: Molly. The kitchen scene with the sisters was awesome. I loved that they kept beating on each other like wild apes.

Chapter 13 – Jenna

Christmas morning starts with a good ole marital fight. Michael has huge balls; I'm not sure how he shops for pants. Jenna accuses him of having an affair. They hear the twins sobbing and find the twins, whose Christmas has been ruined forever, comforting Katherine who is having a conversation with Katrina.

Michael and Jenna start throwing punches in front of the kids. Katherine tries to intervene and gets kicked in the stomache. Her stomache "rumbles and bursts," breaking the water of her still-swimming fetus. Jenna realizes with horror that her little girl is pregnant and Michael calls the paramedics. The twins continue to be traumatized.

They get to the hospital and Michael immediately calls Kayla. Balls = huge. Michael lets it slip in front of Jenna that Kay(la) is preggers. Jenna quickly proves she is smarter than Michael (doesn't take much) and realizes that Kay is, in fact, Kayla. Kayla tries to claim Katherine as her own, but Jenna won't allow it.

The doctors deliver Katrina via c-section and it barely resembles anything human. Still, Katherine caresses her baby (better than rubbing shit on her face, at least!) and apologizes for hurting her.
Katherine has to stay at the hospital for a week, so Jenna takes her family home--except Michael, who chooses to stay with Kayla.

Best commentary: [Talking to the spirit of your dead fetus. One of those pesky side effects Planned Parenthood failed to include in their brochure.]

Best comments: (Chapter 13 was pretty long and there were too many great comments to pick just one!)

Silly Hily. Oh the irony (and confusion) here. Jenna, who's baby was killed by Kayla, kills Kayla's baby's baby. Is she going to take out Kayla's new baby as well? Can she make it two ladies and gents? We shall see.

Kathie. Because, when would be a more appropriate time to introduce your wife and your mistress than when your daughter was in hospital having a miscarriage that isn't entirely not your own fault? It's like Michael thought "Hey, I'm up shit creek without a paddle here, I might as well get it all over with at once...". The man either has ginormous balls, or is clearly insane. Or both.

Isabel. Dr. Frema, will you deliver my next child? You've got mad medical skillz.

Chapter 14 – Kyle

He is reeling from everything he's learned. He raped his sister. Aunt Cassie isn't his aunt. His mom's gettin' it on with Katherine's dad.

Kayla tries to explain. She sums up TLF part 1--baby killing, baby-daddy killing, prison rape, and all.
Kyle admits to raping his sister. Naturally, Kalya understands and, a rape victim herself, isn't mad that her son is a rapist.

Best commentary: [You'd think the fact that she was pregnant herself would have caused her to show more remorse for killing an innocent life that hadn't even been born yet, but no, she still mourns the jackass who couldn't keep his dick in his pants.] [I'm sorry, David, I didn't mean it. Love you! Mean it! RIP!]
and
[But you're still grounded! No sex for a week.]

Best comment: Angela. Kyle: Momma, the thing is... I raped my sister, just like what happened to you, I'm so sorreeeeee! Kayla: Oh, it's okay sweetie, that doesn't shock or horrify me as a former rape victim whatsoever, let's go eat cookies and sing kumbaya!

Chapter 15 – Kayla

Kayla pays a visit to the Spencers. Completely ignores Jenna. Has a chat with Michael--he's pissed about the betrayal and stuff.

She's making her rounds, so she heads to the hospital next. Katherine apparently can't get a nurse to keep her clean, as she's lying in a pool of blood in her hospital bed. And she's pissed at Kayla, too. Abandonment issues and all that.

Best commentary: He filled up a part of me [snicker] I thought I'd closed off."

Best comment: Silly Hily. "Grow up...not everything revolves around you." ???? Oh no bitch didn't!

Chapter 16 – Cassie

She and Kyle have a little heart-to-heart in which Cassie earns zero character development. They mostly talk about how upset and hurt Kayla must be feeling.

Best commentary: "He hit her?" Kyle looked angery. [Really. Forcing a woman into sex and impregnating her with your child is one thing, but slapping one is quite another!]

Best comment: Virginia Gal. Kyle: "If I had known Katherine was my SISTER..." Though I do feel better that he's sorry because Katherine was his sister, does that mean he wouldn't have been sorry if he'd done that to another girl?

Chapter 17 – Michael

Katherine comes home on Frema's birthday and promptly demands to see her adoption papers and photos of her parents. Michael despairs about how much weaker than Kay(la) his wife is. (Bastard.) Then he realizes that he's in love with both Kayla and Kay--all of her. He immediately tells Jenna. The entire Spencer family goes to pay Kayla a visit.

Best commentary: [Michael, you sonofabitch. A woman forced to bear the brunt of her HORRENDOUS mistakes, at least two of them made at the expense of YOUR OWN DAMN WIFE, hardly makes her admirable.]

Best comment: TasterSpoon. Poor Jenna. First the Folger's presentation, now this.

Chapter 18 – Katherine

On the way to Kayla's, she goes through a roller coaster of emotions but ultimately forgives Kayla and Kyle. No commentary.

Best comment: Fraulein N. Has Katherine been taken over by a pod person?

Chapter 19 – Kayla

Kayla is spiraling into deep depression. She's alone at the house. She grabs some pictures and goes to the garage, which she drenches in gasoline. She gets in her car, puts some Beethoven on the radio, and tosses a match out the car window.

Best commentary: "God, bless them and keep them safe," I whispered, closing my eyes. "I can't do it anymore." [Especially now that you're going to burn in Hell.]

Best comment: Silly Hily. And poor Jenna. She's still left all alone. Kayla not only kills her baby and her baby daddy and then takes her husband away from her but then she goes and kills herself as to get to David first. So, now she's got first dibbs on him, too.

Chapter 20 – Kyle

Sees the flame in the distance and runs to his mom's side. Kayla has passed out (and probably already died) due to inhaling too much smoke. He starts to try to save her but then remembers when he saved her from her botched suicide attempt when he was only 11. He "had saved her from death, only to let her go through more pain."

He apologizes and promises that he won't let her go to heaven alone, then joins her in the car.

Best commentary: "I won't leave you go to Heaven alone." [Oh, Kyle. You'll have to set your sights a wee bit lower. Maybe Purgatory will have you.]

Best comment: Isabel. When I just had to verify my comment, the code was "Kye". I think it was Kyle contacting me from the dead.

Chapter 21 – Cassie

At Kayla and Kyle's funeral, she recalls the scene when she arrived at the burning house. An officer starts to tell her about "the corpses," but Michael insists that she hear the news from him.
When the Spencers arrive, Jenna runs to get help while Michael stays and makes sure the twins witness the whole traumatic scene.

Back at the funeral, Cassie pays her respects. And maybe makes me cry a little. Then she and Katherine walk away from the graves, hand in hand.

Best commentary: We stayed behind until all the others were gone [what others? Her gang rapists?].

Best comment: Pink Herring. The bodies were burnt beyond recognition? No mention of compared dental records? FAKED DEATH!!

Chapter 22 – Jenna
4 years later

Jenna and Michael divorced but managed to stay friends.

Cassie's mom got AIDS from being a slut early in life, so Cassie and Katherine moved to Illinois to take care of her.

The twins are 16; Lucas is failing in school but excelling at painting creepy portraits of Katherine. Leigh has completely dropped out of school and dates a lot of worrisome boys. Stellar parenting, Jenna.

Michael comes over for dinner. The end.

Best commentary: I could see she was unhappy, so I didn't make her go, which didn't go over well with Michael. [Seeing as he's a FUCKING TEACHER, I would guess that no, Mikey wasn't jumping for joy at that.]

Best comment: Silly Hily. Can I just say that I was so hoping there would be a BIG twist, like her "visitor" in the end being David or something. What? People come back from the dead all the effin' time on Soaps.

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How are you guys doing without a weekly dose of TLF in your life? Are you adjusting or drumming your fingers impatiently for part three? Be honest. I can take it.

Maybe.

Tell me I need a medium and it'll be the last sentence you utter.

Oh, Internet. I am a crabby, crabby woman.

Part of it is the craptacular sleep I've been getting lately. Neck cramps from using even one damn pillow to support my head. Pee breaks every hour and a half. The agony that is laying down on the mattress in the first place, because if my body suspects even for a second that I want to lay on my back, it's like a thousand-pound weight has been dropped onto my chest and I'm grunting like one of those Orcs in Lord of the Rings.

Luke's been a good sport and swears my thrashing about doesn't bother him, but I'm wondering how much longer I've got before he banishes me to our yet-to-be-used sleeper sofa. Or leaves me permanently in search of greener, less pregnant pastures.

The other part is juggling my work load. It continues to get better, though, which I attribute to dragging my ass into the office before nine-thirty to get a head start on my day. You eight o'clockers are probably cursing me out right now, but my work schedule is so flexible that I could really show up at any time (or work from home), so long as my productivity doesn't suffer. I usually thrive on later hours, but these days all I care about is ending my day as soon as possible so I can eat peanut butter ice cream and take lots of naps.

This week is particularly busy, but there'll be a silver lining come three o'clock this Friday, when I can deliver a ginormous proposal downtown. I may reward myself with tickets to a Tori Amos concert--another issue causing me a great deal of inner turmoil.

I was introduced to Little Earthquakes on a spiritual retreat in high school at the tender age of seventeen and was immediately taken by her vivid imagery, the way her voice could be both brutal and tender, the manner in which her fingers moved over piano keys. So what if I couldn't interpret most of the lyrics? Lines like "Maybe she's just pieces of me you've never seen" blew me the eff away.

My confusion deepened with each album I discovered, along with my musical infatuation, and except for a brief time in high school where I debated chucking Boys for Pele because I feared listening to track number four would secure my spot in Hell (to this day I skip that one, it creeps me out that much), I remained a devoted fan into my college years. Sophomore year my friend and I scored tickets at the last minute for her show with Alanis Morissette, and I was so excited about going to MY FIRST CONCERT and it was to see TORI FREAKING AMOS, OH MY GOD that I cried in my dorm room for twenty minutes.

Anyway. I bought everything of hers I could get my hands on until 2001, after the release of Strange Little Girls, a cover album I actually really enjoyed, but the rest of her stuff after that was too weird for me and I gave up trying to figure it out. It warms my heart to know she's still around, but I don't follow her current career.

At least, I didn't until I learned she was coming to Indy this November. Indy, of all places! The woman who brought "Snow Cherries from France" into my life will be performing in my own backyard.

For forty bucks a pop. And therein lies the dilemma because, in case you didn't know, Luke and I are having a baby this December. I can think of a million ways to spend eighty dollars that don't involve sitting in a packed theater and wading through lines of sweaty strangers to use the john every eight minutes, all to hear a play list that'll be mostly unfamiliar to me.

On the other hand, Luke and I are having a baby this December, and this may be the last time in my twenties that we can attend a concert worry-free. Plus, with her cult following, isn't Tori mandated to include a good number of tried-and-true fan favorites in her set?

What's a girl to do?

(Also, are you still with me? I realize this entry is horribly fragmented, but it's been so long, so very very long!)

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Hmmm. When I started this entry, I was very crabby. But I'm not crabby anymore. And if you want to know the truth, what really ticked me off more than any of the shit I just mentioned was an encounter I had with one of my coworkers this afternoon right before leaving the lab. I was waiting to drop something off for the receptionist when one of my coworkers (the omelet guy! Yes!) happened to be walking down the hallway. He saw me, stopped, furrowed his brow, and smiled.

The hell? I thought, but I smiled back anyway. That's when he said it.

"When are you due?"

Red spots danced before my eyes.

"December. December 10."

Pause.

"You sure?"

The spots turned into stars. Glorious, yellow-brick-road stars with flames bursting from each point. I sincerely wished for one of the points to embed itself into Omelet Guy's skull.

Shit. My "That's not nice" line is totally out of place here.

"You know, my doctor says I'm measuring perfectly. I don't know why I get all these comments about my size," I said.

He cocked his head as if lost in thought. "Mabye it's the shirt," he finally concluded, and then he was out of sight, continuing his stroll down the empty corridor.

(Insert mouth agape emoticon here.)

Internet, I am not crazy. I really am measuring perfectly at the doctor's office. At twenty-eight weeks, my uterus was twenty-eight centimeters (not inches, thanks, Katie). Upgrading my shirt size will not change how the cotton clings to my belly, a belly that is FILLED WITH A CHILD WHO IS ALMOST THREE POUNDS, WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME.

I do not look nine months pregnant.

Do I?

You realize, of course, the above question was totally rhetorical.

In Blogs We Trust

And I thought explaining blogging to ten undergrads was difficult.

Try selling the benefits to forty budding writers with varying degrees of Internet experience.

This afternoon I made the trip to Saint Joe for the second time this week to host a fifty-minute workshop called "Why Writers Should Blog," one of several offered through an all-day writers conference held on campus. I committed to presenting back in January, before the freelancing, teaching, and pregnancy gigs came along, and for the last month I've been kicking myself for not trying to worm out of it. I spent a good three hours putting my PowerPoint together--three hours that could've been spent sleeping, crying over my chipped pedicure, or diving headfirst into a pint of Ben and Jerry's--and several days stressing over my public speaking skills, which still leave much to be desired.

It's not a happy accident that I write for a living.

Once I took my place behind the podium, though, I realized how excited I was to brag about the blogging community. It took a few minutes, but I eventually felt myself relax, to the point where my voice stopped trembling over every third word and my face regained its natural, non-burning-red-oh-my-God-is-it-just-me-or-is-it-HOT-in-here pigment.

I felt adequately prepared to handle all the questions that came my way, though one in particular took me aback. Some were especially concerned about copyright protection for online works, wanting to know how they could prevent others from plagiarizing their content. "Anybody could come along and copy and paste what I've written," one person said. "Right?"

Well... yes. Yes they could.

I tried to explain that the blogosphere is a community based on trust, and when it comes to issues like that, we have each other's backs. I said that when cases of plagiarism do crop up, it's usually because a reader discovered it and brought it to the original author's attention. I pointed out that you can be equally suspicious of the individuals in your local writers group, and it's up to you to decide whether or not the benefits associated with publicizing your work outweigh the risk of any unethical use that may occur.

As I drove home, I thought a lot about my experience with the Internet. When I started blogging, I had no desire to post the Great American Novel or improve on my fiction. I started blogging because I liked taking incidents from my own life and turning them into stories all their own. My first year was a bit rocky in terms of finding my voice, but I did find it, and I'm quite proud of (most of) what you see here. I may not be peddling my entries to publishers, but if someone tried to claim them as their own, I'd be pretty effing pissed. So I can certainly understand why some are hesitant to give the blog thing a try.

But I think as people become more familiar with the blogging community, most of us worry less about public inappropriateness and instead revel in the joy this social networking tool adds to our lives. At least, I do. Blogging has been so, so good to me. It gave me a chance to find myself as a writer. It motivates me to keep producing content when I'm heartsick or sad or confused. It provides a way for me to document incidents in my life that I wouldn't otherwise hold on to. Most of all, it allowed me to find friends in corners of the universe I've never even seen, friends who empathized with me through struggles with religion and impatience with my biological clock, who delighted in my engagement and marriage and big baby announcement. You guys laughed at my omelet story and inability to properly use a meat thermometer, and you shared your personal experiences with prenatal testing and maternity leave. You climbed on board the cheesy love songs bandwagon and even came to my aid when I begged for your copy of a trashy tabloid because it featured a shirtless picture of an old friend. (Thanks again, Lauren, so much, and all those who e-mailed with links to Jason's MySpace page or an image of the actual article. You really are the best.)

I communicate with some of you more frequently than my "real life" circle of friends, most of whom don't even bother to read what I post online, not understanding this little hobby is sometimes the only thing keeping me sane, because no matter what I bitch about, I know at least one of you will understand. I shudder to think what would've happened if I'd let fear of the unknown keep me from sharing my life and my work with you. There'd have been no Tragic Love Friday, that's for sure--a tragic thought in and of itself.

Life is moving along at a lightening-fast past these days, and I don't always have the time or energy to update this site as often as I'd like. But selling the pluses of the blogosphere today reminded me just how important this space is to me and how much I value all of you. It would take a lot more than fifty minutes to convey how much.

We're having the Butterfinger pie tonight, and no, I didn't forget the bacon

Today I went to the store to pick up bacon and a tomato for dinner. I ended up walking out with two pints of Ben and Jerry's, Butterfinger pie courtesy of my grocer's freezer, and three taffy apples. God help me, I even thought about cinnamon rolls.

I think it's safe to say the third trimester is officially here.

My workload continues to increase each day, but I'm crossing off items on my to-do list at an equally rapid pace, so things are balancing out. The end is in sight, and I find myself more concerned with bigger-ticket items like getting life insurance, making out a will, and finding an intern to handle story assignments at work while I'm on maternity leave. Plus, I'm so excited about having twelve weeks to do nothing but bond with my baby that everything else is starting to pale in comparison.

Speaking of corporate America, sometimes I think my coworkers forget I won't be around for three months come December 10th. Just today, one of them asked me to remind them about starting a project "sometime near the end of the year."

Ha! At that point I'll be busy cramming my boob into a child's mouth. Good luck with that one.

I welcomed trimester number three on Monday with a trip to the doctor to check my blood sugar. Everything is peachy keen--the measurement of my uterus is perfectly in sync with Freka's due date, and I was complimented on my fifteen-pound weight gain to date--but there was a scary moment where the doctor heard a tiny blip in between one set of the baby's heartbeats and left me in a room hooked up to a fetal monitor for twenty minutes, which, way to freak out an emotionally hormonal pregnant woman. Also, as of yesterday morning, I've been taking an iron supplement to combat dangerously low iron levels. Guess I should've been more on the ball with taking those damn prenatals after all.

In other news, I think I've finally figured out a way to handle tacky remarks that shows my discomfort without putting the offender too much on the defensive. Last week, the facilities manager saw me taking a piece of hard candy out of Betty's candy jar and cried, "If you keep eating stuff like that, you're just going to keep getting bigger!"

Plastering a smile to my face, I replied, "Now, that's not nice," which caused him to grab my hand and talk about me being blessed with the miracle of life and blah dee blah blah blah. It came in handy again this afternoon when one of my work friends exclaimed that I looked like I was about to explode. After I delivered said line, she hurriedly went on to say that my weight gain was all in the belly and don't I look wonderful and pregnancy sooo agrees with me.

Mission accomplished.

On a (sort of) related note, it's been a while since we talked about assvice around here. Anyone have a juicy story to share?

An update and a mission, should you choose to accept it

This weekend brought with it a wide range of pregnant emotions; the hormonal extravaganza kicked off on Friday night, when I reached my breaking point and sobbed into Luke's shoulder for a good sixty minutes about how overwhelmed I feel by everything these days. Day jobbing, teaching, freelancing, budgeting, gestating.... Why did I think it would be a smart move to take on so much responsibility during the most physically challenging time of my life? Why didn't I have the foresight to understand that dunking chocolate chip cookies into a generous glass of milk would be more than enough stimulation for my very pregnant brain? Sure, the extra money and professional development sounded like good incentives at the time, but now it takes every ounce of energy I have just to stay on top of things, and I'm wondering if my resume really needed mention of an adjunct teaching position on a subject outside of my field, a gig that demands hours of prep time and out-of-town travel and pays peanuts in return.

If only I were strong like Kayla. She never complained about the messes she'd gotten herself into.

Oh, wait....

Anyway, I had my hissy fit and staunchly refused comfort in the form of ice cream or cheesecake (!), but after getting those thoughts out in the open, the world seemed brighter. Luke saying how proud he was of me for juggling so many things at one time and me admitting that most of the problem was poor time management helped a lot, and by Saturday morning, I was sunshine and smiles again. After taking care of some housework (am I the only one whose mental state can be drastically improved with a clean kitchen?), we paid a visit to the Indianapolis Zoo and spent some time walking through the grounds, enjoying a frozen lemonade, and admiring the animals on display in their artificial habitats. Honestly, how can you hold on to a negative attitude when there are baby giraffes in the world?

We also enjoyed a quite dinner out, budget be damned, and overall just relished in each other's company. It was the best day I've had in a long, long time.

Today I am left to my own devices, as Luke is on assignment for work and won't return home until Tuesday night. There's a whole list of things I hope to accomplish today, things like reading for class and writing a Parents entry and working on a PowerPoint presentation for a blogging workshop I'll be running next Saturday, but so far all I've managed to do is shower, eat some pot roast, and succumb to not one but two naps, one curled up in the rocking chair in the baby's room (I'm drawn to it like Sleeping Beauty to a spindle these days) and the other sprawled out in bed.

What was that about time management again?

And now, the mission.

On Friday afternoon I received a phone call from my friend Gina, who informed me that I would have a very special interest in the issue of OK! magazine "with Larry Birkhead on the cover." Turns out the last page? Features a Q-and-A with my buddy Jason Chambers--you all remember him, right?--who cohosts a relatively new show on the History Channel called "The Human Weapon."

Since Luke and I don't have cable, I have yet to actually see the show. And not living in Chicago anymore means I also missed his one-page write-up in the Sun Times (though it's plastered to my parents' refrigerator for all to see). Missing his debut in a national celebrity publication--no matter how questionable its content--is something I simply cannot allow to happen. I must've visited eight stores yesterday looking for that damn issue, but all they had was the one with Angelina Jolie.

So, dear Internet, I turn to you. Tell me one of you out there not only HAS the issue in question but is also willing to mail it to a random-but-would-be-totally-grateful stranger. Please? I promise to reimburse you for the postage.

Fall was made for pregnant women; also, I just picked up a Twizzler off the floor with my toes and ate it

The last couple of days have been absolutely beautiful. Sunny skies, cool breezes--perfect for a 27-weeks pregnant woman who, by the end of the night, is lounging around her apartment in a tank top and undies. I knew this baby business would crank up my temperature a bit, but holy crap, people, I am hot all the time. The air is on 24/7, I need a fan to sleep, and it's probably time to abandon my tanks altogether, seeing as there's no possibility of them covering my belly now, so all they do is get tucked beneath Thing One and Thing Two like a second bra, thus showing off the glorious stretch marks currently spidering below my belly button.

I know what you're thinking, and yes, Luke is quite lucky to be married to a sexpot like me.

As usual, the level of activity in our household is high. This weekend was spent running errands, cleaning the apartment, and making another trip to Babies R Us to change our registry a bit. After reading your comments and doing some research, I decided to remove the Medela pump and all its essentials from my registry and instead rent a hospital-grade pump for the first few weeks after the baby's birth, while I'm getting used to the whole feeding-a-person-with-your-boobs thing. If all goes well and I need to buy a pump, I'll probably go with an Ameda one, which seems to be a favorite among online moms and is also not three hundred and twenty dollars. Always a plus.

However, now I'm confused about whether or not I'll even need something as efficient as a double-electric pump, because due to lack of space at the lab, I've been given permission to work more from home. (Translation: good-bye, spacious office, hello, cramped cubicle.) This arrangement will stay in place after my maternity leave, so I'm left wondering how often I'll need to pump to begin with. When I do make an appearance at the office, it'll probably just be to attend a meeting, interview someone for a story, or take care of paperwork; under those circumstances, there's no reason a manual pump wouldn't suit my needs just fine. It's not like I'm this hot-shot executive who puts in twelve-hour days or travels outside a twenty-mile radius.

And...that's enough about my breasts for this week, thank you very much.

Everything else is going well. Tomorrow marks week four of my class, which seems to be moving along at a strong pace, even if I still feel out of my element sometimes. Last week we focused on the idea of community, how communities are built online, and possible issues such communities face. I will be forever indebted to Liza for passing along the link to BlogRhet, a site maintained by women eager to explore issues like identity, inclusion, gender, race, culture, and a slew of other topics that affect us both in the blogosphere and beyond. Students were instructed to select an article from the Web site and talk about it in class, an exercise that turned out to be much more capable of inspiring discussion than the assigned reading. In case you're interested, here are the articles they chose. Some of them are quite lengthy, but if you have the time to go through them, they make for some juicy reading. Especially the comments.

and now for something completely different...

more facebook, with class

Blogging: redefining friendship in the 2.0 world

To Market, To Market We Go

What I Write is Mine, Isn’t It? Blogging, Intellectual Property, and Identity

Race and Ethnicity: It Matters

Lifting the Veil of the Inner Blogologue.

Does Blogging Help You As a Writer?

Am I In, or Am I Out?

I continue to enjoy the writing I do for Parents.com and hope you guys do, too. It's a bit different from my style on this blog, more column-like, I think, but it seems to work well. Whenever I feel guilty about not posting here as much as I'd like, I remind myself that at least there's another place on the Internet where you can subject yourselves to my delusions of grandeur. I am very interested in holding on to this gig after Freka's born, so cross your fingers that my editor ends up feeling the same way.

In other news, Luke and I aren't the only ones in high gear; this baby has stepped it up a notch (or SEVEN) with her movements, and while watching O Brother, Where Art Thou? last night, we spent a good ten minutes just staring at the ripples she made as they rolled across my stomach. She's gotten more active at night, specifically on whichever side I happen to be sleeping on, and throughout the day I'm constantly being jabbed, poked, kicked, etc. Therefore, it's no surprise to me that I'm more tired than ever. It's like I'm reliving my first trimester all over again, when even the simple act of blow-drying my hair left me winded for a good hour afterwards. Working from home is extra delicious right now, because on those days, all I do is shower and throw on pajama clothes. No mousse, no gel, no make-up, just tied-dyed shirts, a comb-through and a ponytail--you know, to really show off the pimples taking over my neck--and I'm good to go.

I know, I know, again with the hotness.

If the physical toll of carrying this child weren't enough to knock me out, sorting through our finances as we get ever closer to losing one of our incomes would definitely do the trick. Last night I took a quick inventory of what we had stashed away in the bank, money that was on the way, bills that need to be completely eliminated before December (GMAC, I'M TALKING TO YOU), and expenses our savings account will be responsible for, like life insurance and cloth diapers and eye exams and a Roth IRA for Luke and possibly our wedding photos because if we don't order them now I'm afraid we'll never do it and holy crap, I guess we won't be getting that 3D ultrasound after all.

Parents editor, did I ever tell you how pretty you are? Your hair, it is like gold!

Opinions are like...well, you know

A big thanks to everyone who had encouraging words to say about my expanding waistline in my last post. I realize I'm quick to let off-putting comments get to me, and that none of those remarks matter in the long run, but hearing them several times a day every day makes it difficult to let them roll off my back. No matter how well meaning a person is, I don't want my reaction to imply that poking fun at my size is ever acceptable. Unless you're telling me how fabulous I look, which, in that case, thank you very much.

It was also quite interesting to read the comments about various baby-related items. I had to laugh at how conflicting it all was. Four-ounce bottles are all you need! Eight-ounce bottles are all you need! Everyone's view of what's essential is based on their own children's experiences, which is exactly how it should be. I'm just not sure how that helps me. I love hearing your stories, though, and hope you'll continue to share what's worked for you.

Also? I know you were trying to reassure me when you said babies don't really need a lot of stuff, but dude, babies need a lot of stuff. They really do. And I'm not talking about the rocking chair footstool or tummy time Boppy pillow I registered for. They need thermometers and butt paste and gas drops and clothes and a place to sleep and car seats and something to catch the shit out of their asses when they go number two. And in all of those instances, you have to make choices about which product might best fit your baby, only when you don't have that baby yet, it's pretty damn frustrating to figure out. Luke and I spent ten minutes in the safety aisle debating why three types of thermometers exist for infants, and oh my God, do we really need all three?

(Don't worry about jumping in on that one; the gang over at Parents have it covered.)

About the boob machine: I'm still debating. I registered for the Medela pump because of its excellent reputation, but I may still look into less expensive ones. The idea of renting one from the hospital before I open mine is a good idea, since it sounds like the parts that'll make actual contact with Thelma and Louise will be new. Luke and I start child prep classes in two weeks, so that'll be an excellent time to explore my options surrounding lactation.

Lastly, I don't think I can express how excited I am about this baby coming. It may sound like I'm spending all my free time hyperventilating over minor details, but I'm actually already imagining life with our new little girl. She's having a grand ole time in my apparently roomy uterus, because I'm constantly feeling her body bump against mine, rolling around like a bowling ball, even giving me a few playful shoves as if to say, "Get ready, Mom. I'm on my way."

I like to go into her room and place my hand on the crib's mattress pad, picturing her sleeping amongst the "Under the Sea" themed bedding Luke and I picked out, her chest rising and falling as she breathes. I think about holding her in the rocking chair my mother used for me when I was first born and stroking the wispy hairs on her head. I think about taking her hand and massaging it with my fingers and marveling at how wonderful she is.

Because she is wonderful, already.

Things that make you go SOB

Since last Friday, I've been subjected to the following delightful one-liners:

Coworker: Look at you! I'm gonna have to start calling you "Big Belly."

New Hire: So, our interview's on for tomorrow? You won't have any labor stuff happening?

The Cash Register at Cracker Barrel: December? You sure there's not two in there?

To top it all off, Luke and I went to Babies R Us to register last night (it's one-thirty in the morning; I can say "last night," right?), and I sat next to a woman with a December 26th due date whose belly was equal in size to my 19-week bathroom snapshot.

Are those good enough reasons to cry into your husband's shirt sleeve? No? How about this?

I'm completely overwhelmed by all the crap we'll need for this baby. I'm not talking about yuppy things like shopping-cart covers or wipe warmers, but actual essentials, you know, like the three-hundred-and-twenty-dollar breast pump that I'm praying to God will allow me to maintain an adequate milk supply once I go back to work, and the bottles necessary for Freka to eat in my absence, and good God, how many bottle sizes are there?

I'm worried that I'll fail at breastfeeding, so no, Similac, I don't want to sign up for your free tote right now, can you give me a chance to at least try the boob before you bombard me with advertising?

I'm amazed at how quickly money is about to run through our fingers. New car for Luke? Ha! We'll need that dough for leftover registry items, maternity leave, extra life insurance, and last-minute hospital expenses, because even though I think we're all set, you never know with insurance companies. We'll also need to pay a lawyer to establish official guardianship for our baby in the event of our untimely demise, because rumor has it babies are totally co-dependent and won't lift a finger to sustain their own livelihood. Good luck finding someone to take you in with that attitude, kid.

I'm obsessed about my size (thank you so much, coworkers and RANDOM STRANGERS) and convinced that I have gestational diabetes or a womb filled with multiples who were somehow clever enough to avoid the scrutiny of the ultrasound camera.

I'm nervous about preparing for my three-month hiatus from office life. Is there some kind of maternity leave etiquette that dictates how often I should communicate with coworkers? Do I have to check my e-mail? Show my face under the guise of a social call? Pretend I'll miss my job and be super-dee-duper excited to come back?

Before you call the suicide hotline on my behalf, know that it's not all gloom and doom around here. Luke and I had a great time this weekend checking out the Real Pirates exhibit on display at the Cincinnati Museum Center. We also took a boat ride on the Ohio River, visited friends in Kentucky, and went fossil hunting at a state park on the way home. The closer I get to losing my DINK membership, the more grateful I am for moments like these. Even if they involve watching visually horrific clinkers like The Hills Have Eyes and Saw III and begging my husband to walk me to the bathroom at two a.m.

Me in my 26-week glory. You'll notice my belly button decided to host its own "coming out" party, and those track pants? Are my favorite pants in all the world. Most elastic irritates the hell out of my stomach these days; either the bands are too tight or too itchy or too...too. Can you believe they expect pregnant women to wear clothes for the entire nine months?

Shit. Maybe I'm having twins after all.