It's the end of a decade, and I'm ready for 2010. What a ten years it's been- things were so different in my life ten years ago, I don't even know where to start. Or if there's a point to listing all the differences between 19 year old Jackie and 29 year old Jackie. Suffice it to say, though, that I remember 19 year old Jackie quite well, and she'd be please to know thing things are pretty damn okay with 29 year old Jackie.

Chris got into a car accident earlier today. Thankfully, he's okay, the repairs should be covered by the other drivers' insurance company. It wasn't his fault; he wasn't even moving when the other car slammed into him. He called to tell me. "Hello! Sooo... I got into an accident." And my heart dropped into my stomach until I realized that Chris must be okay, since he was talking to me on the phone and he had started out with such a cheery "hello." Chris is, of course, the most major development of the last decade- Chris and all the things that followed. There were three years before I met Chris, though, and those years were significant in their own right. Dicking around through and after college while I wondered what to do with myself. The couple of boys before Chris. The drunken, self-proclaimed superstar nights with Carole. The writing, the crying, the fears, the days working at the optical- still most fun I've ever had at a job, those years in the Orland location- the driving around aimlessly. Did I mention the dicking around? The copious amounts of dicking around- oh, the freedom of all the time in the world. Of the lack of rent/mortgage/car payment. Even though those years were sometimes fraught with misery, they were also some of the most hopeful, unfettered years of my life.

But, for the first time in maybe forever, I'm not interested in reminiscing, at least not that much. I have so much to look forward to, and I'm thrilled for 2010 and the years that are to follow. I'm even excited to turn 30, even if the number feels surreal.

Chris and I are headed out tonight for a nice dinner, and then back to the house where Chris will drink champagne for two and I will sip tentatively at the bottle of non-alcoholic wine he bought for me. To 2010- I'm ready, bitches.

WOW. Just got back from my doctor's appointment, and they surprised me by doing an ultrasound. At 12 1/2 weeks, my little baby... looks like a little baby! Arms and legs and wiggling around and curling up and turning over- I can't even get over how amazing it was to see this, how incredible to know that this little precious PERSON is inside me right now moving and growing and... becoming. I am so glad Chris came with me to this doctor's appointment. We both just stared at the screen, in a state of near disbelief. Now it feels so much more incredibly real. To think this is how we all came about in this world. Absolutely amazing.

And now I am at home waiting for my other favorite pregnant person- that would be Heather- to come over for a visit. Tonight's topic of conversation? Probably the economy or something. Or the Kardashians. I'm embarrassed to say, but I've been keeping up with them.

It's not only Christmas, but that time of the week when I check out what kind of food my unborn baby is as big as. Today, on the first day of week 12, baby is a plum. Thank heavens I'm past the tenth week when baby was a prune. Couldn't these people think of a cuter food item other than a nasty, wrinkled prune? I mean, seriously. We're an emotional bunch as it is, don't compare our kid to the ugliest piece of food out there.

One other thing bothers me about the food size progression list. Baby manages to go from a cantaloupe to a banana between week 20 and 21. Does that make sense to you? Isn't a cantaloupe a lot huger than a banana? Oh well, what do I know. I'm just carrying the kid, I'm not dictating how big/tasty he/she is.

Merry Christmas!

Today is the seven year anniversary of when Chris and I had our first date. Chris, being a non-romantic piece of crap, seems to think that this date no longer holds any importance because we are married, but I tend to think that this day TRUMPS the wedding anniversary day. Wedding dates are contrived things that you set up in advance and tediously plan. Meeting the person you will spend the rest of your life with? You can't plan that date, it just happens. And that's why it's more special.

But, whatever. I guess having two important dates to remember is just too much for him.

We were talking the other day about couples. About how some couples seem like they were born to be together and then, on the other end of the spectrum, some couples are so completely opposite and mismatched that how they manage to stay together at all is a real head-scratcher. We know people who run the gamut on this one. Then Chris had the nerve to ask me where I thought we were on this spectrum. He had the nerve to ask this while we sat at TGI Friday's eating identical plates of their gourmet mac-and-five-cheese with chicken. He had the nerve to ask this when just recently he was complaining that nobody "gets us," that when something super hilarious happens, it's oftentimes just the two of us laughing. He had the nerve to ask this to me, his motherfucking soulmate. If such a thing actually exists.

Obviously, you can tell where I think we are on this spectrum. But if Chris had to ask? Maybe I was mistaken.

Anyway, it's been seven years. Seven years of mostly love with a healthy dose of disdain mixed in just to keep things real. I think we will honor this evening tonight, a Monday, with one of the more relevant TV shows on this general topic concerning me and the cheese. It's called, "How I Met Your Mother."

Today I am ten weeks pregnant. I have to say, I wish I could go to the doctor every couple days or so, because I am so terrified that something is going to go wrong. It would be nice to be able to pop in every third day, have them do a quickie ultrasound or whatever, and just plain reassure me that everything is fine. I guess, though, insurance probably wouldn't cover that. I'd be willing to pay out of pocket.

It would probably be cause for alarm if I wasn't anxious about this whole thing, though, knowing as we know that I am no stranger to paranoia. I will say, though, that I have great moments of confidence, of looking at my profile with my little protuding baby bump (I have one now! It's small, but it's there!) and just feeling like everything's going to be a-okay. I am waiting for my next appointment, which is after Christmas and after my twelve week mark, before I sing the news from the roof tops, so to speak. I'll be honest, most people do know, but it's still under wraps at work, and I know leaking out the news is going to be kind of a big deal. So, before I do that, I want that 12/13 week appointment to confirm that all is on track, and then I can breathe an extra huge sigh of relief and spill the beans.

It's very boring to be pregnant, though, especially if drinking normally factors pretty heavily into your extra-curricular activities. I will say, though, I barely miss my nightly /semi-nightly glasses /bottles of wine. I've gotten into a routine that involves replacing a glass of wine with a mug of milk. It sounds like it wouldn't even be close in terms of satisfying me, but things change pretty quickly when you have the fear of God injected to you. I guess you should probably replace the phrase "fear of God" with "semen of husband." Anyway, you know what I'm getting at.

I love how boring life is, though. It's a good kind of boring, a boring with a purpose. Plus I'm exhausted by eight pm anyway, so it's not like I'm super antsy and wanting to be out and about. It's nice, too, to be pregnant during the winter months when everyone's hibernating anyway. The timing of this whole thing? Must say, it couldn't have worked out any better.