Drained...Literally.

Although I could NEVER watch, I'm sure my face looked a lot like this.

At my very first OB appointment with baby 2.0, my good ol' doctor wrote me up a big ol' order for prenatal bloodwork.  The thing with prenatal bloodwork is that they take a TON of vials; not just one or two little ones.  Although I can manage tattoos (have four of them) and piercings (x7), something about getting stuck with needles and emptied of my blood is a wee-tiny-bit creepy to me.  Since my pregnancy with Adam was so easy, I self evaluated that I did not need the blood work because nothing is wrong with me.  I figured they could just use my bloodwork from baby 1.0 and copy/paste the results.  They can do that, right?  Well obviously not, because my favorite nurse calls me every other week asking about them.  It's been ten weeks.  Now that hubby is all union-ified (unified?), our insurance covers everything 100% with no deductible or co-pay.  I had no excuse anymore.  I dragged my ass into the office and prayed to the Vein Gods that mine would cooperate today.  I have had horrible experiences in the past, a combination of the person drawing the blood and my shitty veins, and I thoroughly hate having it done.  Luckily the person who called me back was very nice and while niceness never is a guarantee of anything, she found my good vein and was able to access it on the first try.  I was staring out the window focusing my attention at anything except for what was going on.  I struggled to keep up with the small talk she was making because I was freaking out like a weirdo.  I waited and waited while she switched vial with vial and FINALLY she was finished.  Part of their procedure is that you have to verify the labels on the vials to make sure you're name is on them, which requires me to look and the vial and the contents (EW).  Eight vials later, I was SOOO ready to get the hell out of there.  I don't think I'm in the minority of thinkers when I say that that experience is just awful.  My arm is sore and bruised and it better not impede on me being able to dunk my cookies in my milk.

In other news, I took the initiative today to purchase a new bathroom vanity/sink and new floor tile for my bathroom.  Our place was built in 1982 and I am pretty sure most of the contents are original.  My bathroom is fugly.  It's taking all of my self control (and I don't have much) to not go in there RIGHT NOW and start tearing shit apart.  I'm impatient.  Speaking of impatient, we find out the gender of baby 2.0 in a little over a week and I can't wait to start creating that room either.  At any given time there is like nine projects going on in my house, clearly.  After talking with a mommy friend and fellow DIY-er last night, I have more drive then ever to finally bring our place into the current decade, regardless if I am all super pregnant and shit.