random updates, the I'm-so-tired-I-can't-see-straight edition

I'm beginning to realize just how difficult participating in NaBloPoMo is going to be, particularly when I (and Baby Acrobat in Utero) wake up for my third exhausting 12-hour shift in a row - a shift where I run around like a maniac and get my rear-end kicked - and realize that I need to blog something that doesn't just say "Yo. Here. Now go away." Sigh...

I'm trying to cast aside my need for new technology, new playthings, new stuff I probably don't actually need... but heaven help me from skipping work and making a beeline to the Apple store for this. Twice as fast! Half the price! How can I resist? All it needs is to come in a pink version, and my willpower is GONE, people.

Hormones of pregnancy at work: I'm know my last name isn't Dinglehead, Birdypoopy, or Tootlemuffins... but last night at work after having my last name badly maligned by yet another co-worker trying to pronounce it - someone I've known for almost a year now, I might add - I began to get a little paranoid about my son's first day of school and what he's going to hear. Will he grow up thinking he's a "Vermillion"? Is there any way I'm not thinking of that you can make that name into something funny and tauntable? Is it too late to change our last name to "Jolie-Pitt"?

She's called me a good writer before, but sometimes I think that's like Ernest Hemingway saying Danielle Steel is talented: my amazingly talented friend Kelly updates her blog pretty much every day, and she's both funny and thoughtful in her posts. Go check her out if you haven't already. (PS - Ernest Hemingway is dead. Kelly is not.)

Speaking of the hospital, work has not been easy lately. At. All. My husband, however, deserves the biggest shout-out of all for loving on me and taking care of me when all I can do some days is wake up in a stupor, throw my scrubs back on, and stumble out the door (and blog, of course). Cooking dinner, doing laundry, cleaning up after everyone, AND taking time to rub my back and tell me how proud he is of me. My cup runneth over.

And on a happy note: when I sit, you can watch my stomach bubble and jiggle all by itself these days. It's pretty amusing, and it looks a little like Alien. Kudos to my sweet yet-to-be-born son for adding humor and levity to almost any situation just by moving around.