Homemade Cheddar Bay Buscuits

I’m completely becoming one of those people that talks about being pregnant on the internet because I feel weird talking about it when I’m talking to people. One of the things that has been most affected by the current state of Beastly is my food desires. Fortunately, it hasn’t been too serious monetarily but the saddest thing that happened was the sudden nausea from any sort of sugar intake. It’s been waning a little recently (I was even able to taste the rainbow the other day!) but mostly I’ve been wanting red meat, salt, and a little tang. Today that translated into one of my favorite items, cheddar bay biscuits!

I found a recipe for homemade cheddar bay biscuitson Pinterest last year. It’s super easy to make, there are 4 ingredients in the biscuits and 3 in the topping. The whole process takes less than 20 minutes. Delightful, and definitely one of my favorite things!

The most delicious biscuits I’ve ever made, recipe & image from Gimme Some Oven



The semester air gets heavier.

From what I can tell my first hell week at school was unsuccessful. I think I failed my Metabolism exam spectacularly. Which could be seen as a good thing (if you’re going to fail, fail with gusto), but in the interest of passing my first year of grad school it clearly is not a positive step. The first cume looks like it should be better, but only time will tell. I take that test on Wednesday at three. Friday morning is my inorganic test, Monday is the day my second analytical paper is due. Frankly, it sounds like I have a second hell week next week. I’m hoping it goes better than the last one. I’ve started keeping lists of appointments on my school calender to keep myself straight.

Picking an adviser has been causing all kinds of stress. I love so many different things about chemistry that I’ve gotten my brain all tied in knots over how and who to choose. I think the two best pieces of advice I got were 1) I’m being too nice. If I want something I should fight for it, and 2) I need decisions too early. I need to talk to lots of people and get lots of opinions before a decision should be made. I’m still going to be much calmer once I have a lab group. Everything is so exciting and new, which is really awesome. It’ll still feel a lot better once things are established and research has started.

I’m really grateful to have my medicine back, That should help my concentration. On top of that there will be a super strict schedule starting. This needs to be treated like a job, and that means 8-5 and overtime. I really missed the ball on that in the beginning, but I hate to fail and won’t make that mistake again.

Pregnant and medicated. What’s wrong with you?!

I’ve had no time to prepare anything for my students, but I did finally learn how to balance equations, so that was helpful. Not for Wednesday’s students, but today went alright. And tomorrow will be better. Because tomorrow is always better. At least that’s what I tell myself.

Tomorrow I start medication again. Every person on the street that overhears me speak has some sort of opinion about psych meds while pregnant and I always get to hear them. Most of the time they tell me I’m a horrible person for even considering harming my baby like that.

Don’t you know that is a harmless, sinless, pure life inside of you? How could you even THINK of doing such a thing to that precious life?!

The answer I want to give, that is obviously inappropriate in conversations with strangers, is If I’m hallucinating and believe I need to rid myself of the parasite that is sucking the life force out of me how does THAT affect your precious, harmless, sinless, pure alien life force you believe is so vital that I must go without healthcare?

But that makes people angry and uncomfortable so I refrain from being a complete jackass. Normally I nod my head politely and thank them for their contribution to a stranger’s life and continue about my day. Until the end of the day arrives I can usually keep it all in check. The real problem happens when I get home and reflect on my day. Then I think about my carefully weighed consideration of my health over the last 30 years, and my decision to take medication listed below a class B for pregnancy, and all the danger poor beastly is in already, and I feel like I’m a horrible person. I cry over the heartbreak this decision is causing. I cry over the misunderstanding and the stigma attached to mental illness normally, compounded by the tsk tsks of should you even consider parenthood in your condition?

It’s a lot to handle. Too much to handle. In fact, the hallucinations did lead me to believe for a short time last week that I should abort the baby. If I can’t get treatment, what the hell am I doing in the first place? Fortunately, when I expressed that thought in the ER I did get help. I got admitted, and I didn’t even have to go to the psych ward, I got to be in a cushy bed with a sitter in the OB wing. Much more pleasant surroundings.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter how great your support system is, the disease reminds you that it’s still stronger. At least for the moment.

Life goes on. and on. and on.

The last time I blogged was July. It’s now nearing the end of September. Actually, the last time I logged in was July. I completely forgot my tweets come here, and there was 4 spam comments mentioning that I will be a famous blogger someday, and if I work with their websites I could increase my traffic significantly. I find that hilarious, because my very own husband keeps asking me to get back on this thing so he can start to increase the traffic. I’m definitely not ready for more traffic, particularly because I have just started a whole new chapter of my life. A completely ridiculous series of changes that can never be undone.

First, I started grad school in the middle of August. I have three classes of my own and get paid to teach 82 of Wayne State’s finest undergrads general chemistry. Every time I deal with freshmen it amazes me how much they are capable of and how much they love to be lazy. This is not just about my undergrads either. I’m guilty of it as a first year grad student, too. Evidenced by my restart of blogging on day one of hell week one, year one of grad school. Regardless, I have a test, two papers, and one presentation all due by Friday, not to mention next week’s two tests and the test the week after that. Plus I get to spend 10 hours grading on Tuesday because my students have their first test on Monday. Which, frankly, I feel horrible about because of the second huge change that happened.

In July I got pregnant. My insurance kicked in September 1, and I have now been to the ER four times and admitted to the hospital once. Because my little beastly loves to live up to their name. I’m officially off my psych meds, which caused a massive psychiatric migraine. Honestly, I don’t know if that is even a thing in the medical world, but I’ve read enough studies and can speak intelligently enough on the topic that when I’m in crazy psycho hallucination mode the doctors don’t question my diagnoses. They just go in the hall and make fun of me the way they should. They prescribed me Abilify, but my insurance doesn’t cover it. Back to square one, with high hopes the headache doesn’t come back. I can handle a whole ton of crazy, but if it involves pain I’m done.

Terry had a job and lost it, mostly because the company he was working for grew too fast, then lost their CEO. Right now the huge hope is he gets at least a few weeks of unemployment to find something new and work on growing his business. In the meantime he’s having all kinds of fun working on his websites ( http://drinktothecredits.com/ , http://freemancomputer.com/ , http://dtownwebdesigns.com/ ).

The bottom line is that I am not a reliable blogger. At least not at this point. Also, I feel like crap. Pregnancy blows chunks. Literally. Especially lacking medication. After hell week #1 is over for me I am going to re-read Heather Armstrong’s posts about being pregnant. Because I love her writing and she’s more witty than I could ever hope to be, maybe I will laugh about this instead of being miserable.