And I haven’t posted. Yeah, I know. Between growing a very hungry fetus, my allergies, moving, working f/t in a strangely competitive environment, having clients who define the word crisis and life in general-I’m busy.
I’ve wanted to blog more. I’ve thought about what I’d write. I think about the little day to day things that I’m worried I’ll forget or lose. I think about how cool it would be to show Cheeto this blog when he’s older and go-see, you totally were a pain in the ass, but like so worth it, so there, eat your damn burrito and do your homework or I’ll post another photo of your in your diapers and tell your Grandmother Charolette you want to move to NM and herd sheep this summer.
This morning, via email Michael said I hadn’t blogged in a month. I teased him that every time I thought of it he was on my laptop. He’s not always on it, but I find more reasons to crawl into bed and watch House reruns or Law & Order SVU than anything else. Besides, watching tv helps me pretend I’m normal.
- Bending over is now optional. If I drop something I think about how much I really need it. Then I wait for people to walk by to pick it up. Medical records has taken to loading the copier paper and letting me leave things in higher areas rather than have me bend over. Even with my “small” belly I think they’re afraid I’m going to tip over.
- Sneezing is annoying.
- My bladder sometimes feels like it has a new master.
- My breasts are starting to also feel like they belong to someone else. I look at them sometimes in the shower or when I’m getting dressed and think, “what the hell is going on here?”
- My feet are getting wider. Certain favorite shoes don’t feel as good as they used to. Other shoes haven’t been worn a week or two and they’re crying in the closet right now wondering what they did wrong. I’m hoping I get to keep my shoe size, but it may not happen. I might have to have a wake for my former shoes.
- I sometimes fanticize that I’ll win the lottery and Cheeto won’t have to go to daycare and instead can stay home with me and we can watch tv and eat hot dogs at least for the first year of his life. That’s not going to happen, but it sounds charming. (I don’t even play the lottery.)
- I’ve been assured that babies who go to daycare adapt. I haven’t had the heart to see if there’s a correlation between serial killers and day care.
- Mood swings: they’re real and they suck. Ask Michael.
- Related: Evidently the other night I almost smothered Michael in bed. (He takes way too much relish in retelling the tale. On second thought, as far as near death experiences go, that may rank really high up there.) Really, I thought I was trying to hug him. I didn’t quite realize my full body pillow was hugging his face. I then launched into a crying fit because I thought he was mad that I was pregnant and hogging the bed. Read that twice, see how logical it is?
- I’ve had one night since becoming pregnant where I slept all night. It feels like a dream-like one of those yummy dreams where you realize you’re standing in front of the house of hot dogs and get to eat the whole house. I keep hoping it’ll happen again.
- I feel way to emotional most of the time. Usually at work in the morning when it’s the most problematic. Imagine it: a pregnant therapist doing a substance abuse group and wanting to cry or yell at people. Fortunately, I can usually keep myself contained, but there are times when it’s pretty difficult.
- Cheeto has some fairly distinct patterns of movement. From what I can tell, he sleeps through most of the night, minus a midnight kick fest and has a few very active periods during the day that correspond nicely to my work schedule. I’m hoping he continues on this pattern, but time will tell.
- I’m still eating hot dogs like nobody’s business. I’ve also been drinking root beer and eating grapes on a regular basis.
Other random notes (not neccesarily related to pregnancy):
- The next time we move I’m hiring movers or paying my lazy but able bodied brothers to move my/out junk into our next place. Michael did a wonder job, but I’d like him not to have to be a one man mover this time. We appreciate the friends who were able to come by for a few hours and help Michael. I am especially appreciative to dear Lisa who unpacked our whole kitchen, cleaned our old apartment and generally offered support to a distressed pregnant woman post move. Big hugs.
- I still want a pet. I think a rabbit or kitten is the perfect creature for me. But we’re both allergic to cats and I’m told rabbits stink. Also, way too many people have used the term “nesting” when they hear my argument for getting a pet. I got the green light on a hamster, but we haven’t unpacked and I’m not sure where we’d put the critter.
- Never ever wash your car when pregnant. It seems like a great idea at the time, but you’re better off staying inside, watching tv and eating bon bons. I’m tired today and I think washing the car was a major contributor.