What I miss about the United States

I figured I would write down all the things I miss seeing/doing/eating in the US. These are in no particular order...and I'm really just complaining, which I need to do on occasion.

1. The people! I can't say that Hungarian folks are the most friendly bunch, as evidenced by the crazy looks and mumbling you often hear when going ANYWHERE. Then again, here, every national "holiday" is in remembrance of a failed revolution. I suppose I'd be a jerk too.

People in the US are generally fun, outgoing and would help a stranger if they saw them struggling with something. Ok, maybe I'm just annoyed because in the midst of moving in the snow, a man about 6'2" tall and 220 pounds, completely ignored the fact that I was a pregnant woman struggling to open the door and pull my suitcase into the apartment building.

2. In-n-out/Burger Lounge/Phil's BBQ, etc. We did find a steak place that's phenomenal, although pretty expensive. It's also generally more healthy here in Europe, but who gives a crap about that when you're 8 months pregnant?! I want a damn breakfast burrito!

3. My family and friends...that's a given though. Especially my niece, Riley (who threatened to not be my friend anymore after seeing I posted her picture on my blog).

4. Seeing hot military guys in flight suits driving their open top jeeps. Also a given.

5. Sunshine!!!!!!! Jesus Christ. Not one day of actual warm weather since I got here on February 21st! Thankfully I'm taking Vitamin D supplements to curb the inevitable depression! And no, I don't care about seasons! Snow gets old after about two days when you've grown up in San Diego.

Side note...

Peter is studying for his ATPL and just looked out the window and said, "I want to go to America," in the saddest voice possible. Yea, no kidding!! What I wouldn't do for all you can eat crab right now. Ugh. And it's only 10:45am.

6. Nice offices. Yes, you pay for them through unfathomable insurance premiums, but it's always nice to walk into a doctor's office to see plush chairs and a 100-gallon picturesque fish tank gracing the entrance. Half the time I sit in the chairs here, I'm worried my big butt is going to crack the plastic and hit the concrete floor. No expenses spared!

7. My car. That's 100% my ego talking, but I don't care. It's fast, it looks cool, and I don't have to worry about parking. Here, Peter pays 17,000HUF/month which is roughly $70/month and he has to take the tram back to the apartment, which takes 20 minutes. I used to complain about walking three blocks! Spoiled much?

8. Going to Vegas on a whim. Ok, so I suppose I can go to Prague or Croatia on a whim too...and being married to a corporate pilot has its advantages. If his boss hasn't changed his mind, we'd be going to Tel Aviv this week. Boooo. I guess I shouldn't be traveling anyway.

9. The beach. Even though I didn't go to the beach much, it was nice to drive by it on occasion, and to at least know it was there. I miss Coronado the most. Living there was awesome!

10. Ridiculous characters. Americans are nice, and also have a lot of character! People here just seem depressed and boring (which is curbed in the US by Prozac). Mental illness always leads to more fun, especially in the US where people mix their medication with alcohol.

Little Popcorn.

Little Popcorn turned into 4.2 pound Popcorn pretty darn fast. Peter and I went to an ultrasound place yesterday, and got to see exactly what she's doing to my body. Not only is my bladder "significantly distorted," she's pushing on my right kidney enough to distort that too, and trap fluid in it. I didn't need the lady to tell me all of that, I have zero problem feeling both.

It was pretty amazing to see how little space she has in there, considering at 5 weeks she was a little speck of cells fixed to my uterus without any personality or any signs of life. We could see her hair floating around, and needless to say, she got it from her dad.

I called to ask my insurance company, to whom I pay $600/month for services, if they provide coverage overseas. Apparently being stuck somewhere unable to travel due to pregnancy complications is not considered an emergency. Thank you very much, Blue Shield, you have put another tally in the column for why I probably won't move back to the US. The total cost of a c-section here at a public hospital will probably cost $1500. That includes an epidural, the surgery and the 3-4 day stay, albeit not a fun one. It's crazy to be so removed from the insurance system and see it for what it really is; a way to make money on people's illness. Here, people get into medicine and dentistry because they love it. There's certainly no way to get rich. That gives me even more confidence that Viper, my doctor, will do what's necessary for my health and not his pocket book.

The great part is, when I express this to my family and friends, the response is always the same, "yes, Kelly, we know, Europe is the best." I'm not trying to make a point or preach how wonderful this place is, because believe me, I hate quite a few things about it. I'm just trying to give people a little insight as to how things are done here that actually work. Trust me, if I had enough cash to raise a family in the US, I'd probably argue that position. However, the prospect of Peter working 60-80 hours/week flying, and me busting ass running my company doesn't sound like the American dream. In Budapest, Peter flies maybe twice a week, is home every night (except a few overnight trips here and there) and we make enough money to live pretty darn comfortably.

What I'm really trying to say is that there are trade offs for everything. I'm not willing to sacrifice my happiness, or my child's development for a few thousand extra dollars a month and a nice car. Crazy how my brain got re-wired so quickly. A year ago, I would have said I wasn't planning on ever getting married or having kids...let alone with Peter the Cessna pilot I met 7 years ago. Be jealous ladies, that Bud drinking hillbilly is all mine.

The joys of pregnancy.

So for all the women who say pregnancy is a magical experience, they are full of it. They must say that when their kids are like 5, and they've totally forgotten about the horrific gas, morning sickness (which I didn't have much of, thank god), back pain, and sleepless nights. Peter made a great point the other day, that I tend to make long term decisions based on how I feel that very moment. That makes sense, because I thought I'd be fine negotiating the 20 hour trip back to San Diego to deliver based on how I felt during my 26th week, and right in the middle of our trip to Nice for the honeymoon. Oops. Anyway, at this point, I can't walk up 20 stairs without needing to sit down with a large bottle of whiskey.

As of today, I'm 31 weeks and 4 days. Holy God, does time fly. Peter was playing harmonica last night next to my belly, and she woke up. I'm not sure if it's because he scared the crap out of her, or if she was searching for her saxophone to join in. Either way, she was dancing for at least an hour after his performance.

We are on our way to an ultrasound today for an update on her circulation and measurements. And guess what, all for $50!

Oh, as a side note, Peter had to go to a state clinic to get his ear cleaned out and it was, well, a state clinic. The crazy part is, in the US, they'd clean out your ears with sterile saline, give you a prescription for antibiotics and pain meds, and charge you roughly $1000 for your 5 minute visit. Here in Hungary, you show your ID, see the doctor, who flushes your ear out with tap water out of a germ exposed Home Depot bucket in the sink, and puts in a few ear drops to ward off an infection...all for free. Of course they pay taxes, but so do we. I'm pretty interested to see how intense my c-section is, and if they'll even consider giving me pain meds afterwards. I better find a dealer here, fast!

Back in the city! Thank you, Jesus!

After some adjusting to my new life, I was thrown a new challenge. Figures.

Peter's parents rented the home we were living in, so we needed to find a new apartment ASAP. Turns out, I sort of got used to living there, especially to his mom cooking some pretty awesome dishes twice a day. I have a feeling our kid ("Popcorn" for those of you who don't know her name) will be slightly less retarded thanks to both her grandma and great-grandma's cooking.

We found a great apartment in the city, with access to LOTS of food (my new favorite hobby), and grocery stores for emergency chocolate runs. Moving during the blizzard of the century was less than desirable, but hey, it's all about the experience...especially when you're 7 months + pregnant. It's a cool place, and I get to nest a little, so it will at least keep me semi-busy until the kid decides to make her appearance, which can't happen soon enough! I'm huge!

Most importantly, it's a two bedroom, meaning there is an extra room for visitors. Anyone is welcome, anytime, literally. Don't make me beg.

Went to the doctor, who looked exactly like Viper from Top Gun. I now understand why I was sitting up straight and answering "yes, sir," and "no, sir." The guy was freakishly serious, which I guess is pretty normal here. They aren't exactly friendly, by American standards.

It looks like I will be staying to deliver here in Budapest, via c-section, which is pretty terrifying considering he mentioned I may bleed out or wake up without a uterus. You have to appreciate their honesty here. Back in the states they'd maybe give you a pamphlet on side effects of fibroids, which I wouldn't read. Ignorance may actually be bliss after all. Oh, and the doctor told me to stop gaining weight. I miss the US, where it's MORE than acceptable to eat until you explode.

I am slightly more comfortable than I was even a week ago, and the prospect of living here for awhile isn't as scary as it was when his parents were waiting for us behind corners when we walked in the door. They really are great, I'm just being difficult. They were incredibly gracious to let us stay with them and give us their super awesome bathroom.

Well, it's almost 10am, and the cleaning lady will be here in a few minutes. Roughly $7.50/hour to have her clean the apartment. Uh, yes please!

Day by day.

I'm sitting here, in the lovely home of my new Hungarian in-laws, looking out the window and thinking about how warm it must be back home in San Diego. Ok, so I'm feeling sorry for myself, I get it. I'm trying to look at this new adventure for exactly what it is, and then guess who takes over?! That's right, my jerky ego. For those who can't relate much to that term, it's the awesome little voice in my head that keeps telling me how San Diego, and the good 'ole US of A, is really the only place that makes sense. I know that's not true in reality, which means when I'm exhausted enough to have perspective. It's just different. Not good different or bad different, just not MY cup of tea at the moment.

I find myself getting pissed off at Peter (the new husband) for being so comfortable here. I feel like I'm living his life. We go from bar to bar, then band practice, to the airport (he's a pilot), and back to the parent's house. What has eluded me thus far, is how to make a life here that's MINE. Back in California I was more than happy being distracted by a construction company, a dramatic business partner (who albeit was incredible entertaining), my family and awesome five year old niece, and the illusion that I was happy. I can't say that I was miserable, but I was certainly distracted. I never had to explore a hobby, because I simply never had the time to care about one. I was either working, going to school, spending money on meaningless material things, like my 5.7L sports car, or going on dates 5+ time a week (which is clearly the best choice given the aforementioned options).

Sitting with yourself is difficult. I mean, seriously difficult. You have to face all the crap that you've so conveniently covered up for years, and then try and make sense of it all. Oh, and I'm also super hormonal (which is always a go-to excuse when you're pregnant). No thank you, I'd rather be going on dates. Unfortunately, that's not really an option here, not to mention the fact that I'm six months pregnant and married (which I hear is a pretty serious commitment). I'm being sarcastic for those of you that just gasped in horror. So what's the alternative? Yep, jumping in head first over the cliff, HOPING you'll hit something hard enough on the way down to put you out of your misery.

So what's the first order of business? Accepting an invitation from my new mother-in-law to go shopping...even though I'd feel much more comfortable watching illegally downloaded versions of the Bachelor or Teen Mom 2. Don't judge me.