Wake up and find that what you're searching for has been here the whole time.

3 years ago today I became someone's girlfriend.

A lot has happened in just 3 years.

We fell in love, we moved in together, we got engaged, we got a dog, we planned a wedding, we got married, we got another dog, we bought the house we'll grow old in, and we had countless amounts of adventures (including high highs and low lows) in between.

And now there's a baby boy on the way.

On Sunday, out of the clear blue sky Weasel said, "I love you", and I returned the emotion. Then he continued the conversation with, "I'm really happy"...and I'm really happy, too. We DESERVE to be happy. It's not like it's all been cake. But everything has been worth it.

People are amazingly lucky to have someone to puke your bad days on, tell your good news to, just sit in confortable silence with. Someone who loves you whether you look like the hottest ticket in town or some form of sewer-life. Someone who knows your quirks and loves them. Someone who is your best friend that you can ALSO make out with! It's all awesome.

It's been an awesome 3 years and I know exactly how lucky we are.

I love you, my Weasel. Happy Girlfriend/Boyfriend Anniversary.

So I start a revolution from my bed.

I've rejoined the land of the living, if only in body. And the body part is pretty shaky. My mind is mush, like unused muscle. Everything aches and every breath feels like I'm standing in the frozen tundra attempting to enjoy fresh air. It's not refreshing. It's more akin to having my lungs grated.

But, even for me, there is only so much TV and napping one can do.

Spencer seems relatively unaffected by all this pneumonia/ear infection nonsense. And due to a week of doing nothing (and I mean NOTHING), I am really in tune with his movements. And we had a (one-sided) discussion about how awesome ice-cream is. So if I get nothing out of this horrific experience, at least I got some bonding time with my squirmy unborn...and Todd got an in utero high five. Awesome.

But that's where the awesomeness ends. I can honestly say that this is probably one of the worst illnesses I've had in the past 5 years or so. I just have to suck it up and keep on trucking. Pneumonia tends to hang on for awhile and I should know...this might be the 8th or 9th time my lungs have been ravaged. I'll have to sit down and really due the count sometime.

But for now...

Happy Birthday to my AWESOME MOM!!!!!!!

And Happy Birthday to my fav, Lady Gaga!

You're the fastest runner but you're not allowed to win.

Happy 32nd Birthday, bestie.

Monday was one of the most exciting days of my life as we found out we're having a son!!! But shortly after, I found out I was getting sick. We bought the little guy his first piggy bank (chrome!!) and BOOM!

Pneumonia and an ear infection.

I haven't been to work since Monday morning (which causes me stress...but eventually, I'll be gone for 8 - 10 weeks so they need to learn my gig) and I've barely been out of this bed besides to hit the doctor and then set $137 dollars on fire for prescriptions. I feel scummy, inside out.

But I've gotten to spend some time with my little man, feeling his every move. I like to think that his wriggles after I cough are meant to be comforting and his squirms after hearing Hall and Oates (Todd called when they came on the radio) meant he digs them. This is how I'm entertaining myself so I don't bawl about how much pain I'm in.

I know this isn't supposed to be the blog where I blather about my pregnancy but I am DAMN PUMPED. I always assumed I would want a girl but my heart did flips when we found out we were having a son. I love little boys (do not make that creepy) and little boys love their mothers. I'm swooning!

I'm also dying. It sure would be nice to breathe.

Back to bed.

Oh, Antonia, you were ROBBED!

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Goodbye gray skies. Hello blue.

First, I finally got my wig done. A foot of hair, gone. Something about getting a haircut just makes you feel like a new person. Post-haircut, I went to the hospital and had some 2nd trimester blood drawn. They weren't as vampire-ish as usual. Hopefully the results are A-OK and everything keep going swimmingly. Anyway, haircut = awesome.

On Saturday, I met Henry Winkler, which was like a dream! He kissed me twice, hugged me, held my hand...swoon. He even rubbed my belly and blessed the use of the name Fonzie! I. WAS. GEEKED. Super awesome.

And today? Today we find out if we're having a boy or girl. This will probably be one of the most awesome moments OF MY LIFE! I keep flip-flopping but as of this morning, I think it's a girl. I did listen to an awful lot of Lady Gaga, after all. In my mind, things like that can affect gender. Though with all the rumors about my beloved Gaga, we could be in for a surprise!

STAY TUNED...

And when she wakes up and makes up her miiiiiiiiiiind...

Additional info: 3 years ago today, I woke up with Todd in my bed for the first time. I (partially and fuzzily) remember it like it was yesterday.

I won't eat the ends. Not bread. Not bakery. Don't ask me to.

I'm trapped in Sick City and everything around me is hazy, kind of like "Yellow Submarine", 1960s type artwork that I despise. Too bright. Too hippie. I just want to put my hood up and sulk. I'm worried the little monster is having his/her way with my blood pressure again. Monster is GROUNDED. Everyone is grounded.

Paying bills relaxes me. Is that sick? I look forward to it every Wednesday.

Tomorrow is St. Patrick's Day. I am actually Irish, as is my husband and our unborn.

Things I LOVE about being Irish/the Irish/St. Patrick's Day = soda bread, whiskey and green beer, potato soup, Conan O'Brien, the abundance of green (holla, green Converse), PJ McIntyre's and their bartenders, Liam Neeson, shamrocks and shamrock shakes, hanging w/my family, bagpipes and U2.

Things I HATE about being Irish/the Irish/St. Patrick's Day = drunk hooch girls and choch guys as far as the eye can see, The Pogues and almost all Irish music, Jonathan Rhys-Meyers and Colin Farrell, Guinness (unless I'm already warmed up), corn beef, Leprechauns, Celtic tattoos, the Irish Curse (red cheeks when drinking), bagpipes and U2.

"Uptown Girl" is a great song. You can't tell me otherwise. And with that...

A COUNTDOWN
5 days until we know...boy or girl.
10 days until our Columbus weekend roadtrip.
17 days until I'm half way done cooking.
36 days until we leave for NYC.
73 days until the third trimester.
157 days until little monster is scheduled to appear.

Hurry boy, it's waiting there for you.

I had three nose bleeds yesterday. It was a total horror show. Bright red, clotty nastiness all over my face and running down my throat. Not what one would call glamorous, by any means. The volcanic eruption that occurred on my mug was followed by a mind-numbing, skull-crunching headache that made it difficult to focus. I was fairly certain I was going to stroke out but I survived.

Lived to bleed another day!

So another snow storm is heading this way, postponing further my dreams of wearing flip flops and listening to "I'm Easy" by Brendan Benson with the windows rolled down. That groundhog was a liar. He should get a nosebleed.

...

I actually feel bad for saying that. Yesterday I watched an adorable video of a Slow Loris with a paper parasol (a.k.a. drink umbrella) and was so irritated by this guy repeatedly taking the umbrella away from the Loris just to watch him grad for it again. He also tickled the Loris' armpits to make him raise the umbrella in the air. Just let the fuzzy little dude nap under his parasol and take a hike! Moving on.

Snow storm most likely means I'll be barricaded inside Castle Grayskull for the weekend, which is OK. I've been dying to do some painting and Todd and I have a Stephen King movie marathon scheduled for Saturday night. Movie marathons are perfect for snowy days. But I'm really hoping to make it out to the 5 O'Clock tomorrow to see a buncha one-man/woman bands and a buncha pals that I miss. I refuse to be weather's bitch.

Hot cocoa, cupcake, Swedish Fish and GOOD MORNING!

Take that look from off your face. Cause you ain't ever gonna burn my heart out.

My new TV could eat my old TV for lunch. 55" monstrosity, I love you.

Todd sells his motorcycle parts to a random yahoo for a healthy price and we get a ginormous new television, Japanese for lunch, and I even score a pair of green Converse! Just in time for St. Patrick's Day (and I actually AM Irish, FYI). Not bad. Not bad at all.

All the juicy parts of my life revolve around the little monster. Read here.

Taking bets on if I'm growing a penis or vagina in my guts. Vag is currently leading.

Received our first wedding invitation of the year. It's one of many that we're expecting. Everyone is getting engaged, getting married, getting pregnant. Maybe there's something in the water. Or maybe everyone is growing up and we all need to accept that we're not such spring chickens anymore. Though I probably will never accept that seeing as my dream job is to be a team mascot or character at a theme park.

Moving on.

2011, I really don't understand you. For once, I'm actually sitting pretty, surrounded by radness, rather than being puked on by one horror after another. But you're not being so awesome to some people that I care deeply about. Don't be a bully. Cut my pals a little slack and help them get through what they're going through and come out the other side relatively unharmed. I'd appreciate it. Thanks.

They Might Be Giants album and tour this fall. Life is good.

Don't get hot-n-bothered. Listen, I know I got problems. I also know just what this goofy world needs.

EDIT: New Bomb Turks at the Beachland June 11th. BE THERE!!!

Charlie Sheen, you're a fucking idiot and somehow, you'll become a hero to jackass men everywhere. You're a total junkie/alocholic, your career is circling the drain and no one will ever be able to insure you, the cops just came and took your sons away, and somehow, you're still better than me. Emilio Estevez should've been the star of your family. Ducks! Fly! Together!

Yesterday was a shit show. Just all around gross from the time I rolled out of bed until the time I rolled back into bed. I was trapped in stress shackles and basically barfed stress all over Tessa at a post-work, impromptu dinner. And then almost barfed my dinner. I need a temporary coma and a remedy to Round Ligament Pain that doesn't involve water as water is the devil in my world!

Check-up tomorrow. Hopefully hearing the little monster's heartbeat again will set things straight. And I know getting to schedule our ultrasound will be a healthy dose of excitement. And if I'm still wearing crabby pants after all that, I have 3 paintings I really want to do and brand spanking new supplies to do them with...maybe I'll just bury myself in art. Art or blankets, I'll be buried under one of the two.

It doesn't seem right that we fight so the party runs on all night.

First off, I think January Jones looks like she's probably a big jerk.

Secondly, Duran Duran's "Rio" is a fantastic album from start to finish.

Third, nothing is more awesome than finding out your finished basement has flooded after a night jam-packed with hardcore storms! It's 5:00am and Todd and I are sloshing around with shop vacs. It was an all-day ordeal but luckily nothing was totally wrecked, besides us. I almost tore faces off when woken up from an unexpected nap.

Luckily, we had a good weekend as a foundation for dealing with our foundation issues (we HAVE to deal with it since our insurance companies WON'T, jerkfaces).

Saturday Todd planned a date because we had only been seeing each other in quick flashes. Sunday we went to Home Depot (a.k.a. my nightmare, as I hate the smell of lumber) to pick out paint and carpet for our front room/dining room renovation and then stuffed our faces full of breakfast. Mass amounts of blueberry crepes and pancakes gave us the motivation and energy to tear down wallpaper while listen to malt shop oldies! "Not Me" by The Orions is on my list of jams to download.

Man, It just sucks to have 2 large areas of Castle Grayskull torn apart...and moist.

Round ligament pain sucks, too. Grrrrrr.

51 days to NYC. 51 days to NYC. 51 days to NYC. 51 days to NYC.