Nothing says “breeder” like buying your local Dollar Tree out of their stock of pregnancy tests, just to be positive you’re remaining pregnant until the day you actually go in for your first appointment. Which, I’m confused about – not a new feeling in this thing. I’ve read you get your blood test, first thing. Then, you go in for your first OB appointment at 8 weeks. “Call your doctor,” I hear. Well, I did. I tried, and they weren’t open, I assume because of the blizzard. They’re not open on Fridays, either. So what does one do?

I’ll tell you what I wanted do, buy 8 pregnancy tests to take every day between now and the appointment. To make sure the line is getting darker with each test by studying them very closely against the others. Write the date on each test, take pictures, the whole shebang. But, that would be nuerotic, right? Nuts and overkill. That’s what Eric said. So I only bought one for every OTHER day. I think that’s a step in the right direction.

Yesterday we had an appointment with mortgage advisor in hopes of getting a pre-approval. We’d worked ourselves into a tizzy, expecting to get approved for $30,000 at most. We already were picturing having to live in the worst neighborhood in Denver, or, worse, raising our child in my parents house. Not that there’s anything wrong with my parents house…it’s just, you know, my parents house.

First, we got there late. We’re always late. Upon walking in, we got “that face” receptionists that just want you to go away give you. The what-the-hell-are-you-doing-walking-up-to-my-desk-like-I-can do-anything-for-you look. To his chagrin, we mentioned that we did, indeed, expect him to let the advisor know we were there then sat down in a very warm colored, freezing cold, distant corner. As if we weren’t nervous enough, a very thin, well dressed, young woman passed by us and flashed us her best million dollar smile. It looked as if she was going to eat my head. She did this three times in the time we waited, it scared the hell out of me each time. By the time the advisor stepped out to save us, I was convined we’d walked into a real estate version of The Titty Twister from “From Dusk Til Dawn,” and were about to be eaten alive.

The advisor was a nice young man with perfectly manicured eyebrows, that stared you in the eyes when he spoke. I’m not talking “maintain eye contact,” I’m talking ”staring to bore a whole through the back of your head.” I never thought it was possible to have an uncomfortable conversation about weather but, let me tell you, it is absolutely possible. After the 5 minute long, very strange weather conversation that did nothing to alleviate my fear of a heinous death by being eaten alive, we discussed our financing options and Eric’s credit score – something along the lines of, “I’ve never seen a score this high in any man under the age of 65,” came out of the advisors mouth right after an ear to ear grin spread across is face . We were luckily able to be pre-approved for much more than we expected, and are well on our way to finding the perfect, inexpensive home. We’re both really excited, about the house and, you know, that we weren’t eaten alive.