Tuesday, March 11, 2008
And, yes, Anne—"induction" does sound a bit like a senior-year ceremony that we had at our beloved alma mater. Unfortunately, mañana's induction may be more painful (albeit slightly), but at least I needn't wear a plastered-on smile or a cardboard key around my neck (or much of anything, for that matter), and I won't hear any tedious speeches (or much of anything, for that matter). And if I throw anything or yell during, fewer people will cast aspersions upon my moral character or sanity.
A disturbing thing about Rob's baby counters: some are now counting UP. Now what does THAT mean?
Sunday, March 9, 2008
Saturday, March 8, 2008
Also: If my water broke AT THIS VERY MOMENT, we couldn’t possibly leave until I filled the dishwasher, vacuumed the rugs, sent some e-mails to coworkers about stuff that I planned to tackle on Monday or on half-day Tuesday (yes, unless otherwise diverted, I’m planning to work both days next week), washed our bedding, and did something—anything—to tidy that repulsive bathroom. Perhaps I should start now? Maybe after the leftover Thai that Big Daddy is reheating… At least Speck’s room is clean: floor swept and mopped, extraneous articles removed (and resting comfortably in hallway), tags cut off, and diapers and clothing washed, dried, and somewhat organized.
(And additionally: I know we’ve eaten a lot of crap in the last few weeks, but isn’t a pizza or some other celebratory meal in order for marking the occasion of a due date? Particularly if it’s delivered and we needn’t traverse the snowy, blowy terrain?)
We're ready. Bring it on.
Wednesday, March 5, 2008
- "Are you still pregnant?" (Uh, my OB said that Monday, actually.)
- Any variation of "How many babies are you having?" "Are you having twins?" "One or two?" "Oh, you're having twins!"
- "You're huge!"
- "You've dropped a lot in the last few days." (This, rather disturbingly, from a male, middle-aged patron, not the same one who gifted the elephant.)
- "Why are you still working?"
- "Are you coming back to work?"
- "When are you coming back to work?"
- "What babysitting arrangements have you made for when you come back to work?"
- "What hospital are you delivering at?"
- "Are you dilated at all?" (This, at least, was from a fellow pregnant gal.)
- "Is this your first?"
- "Boy or girl?"
- "Have you picked out a name?"
- Labor advice and stories, such as: "Drink tons of water." "Don't get an epidural!" "GET THE EPIDURAL!" "Try the breathing exercises--they really give you focus." "Breathing exercises don't do anything." "I was completely naked during delivery." Etc. Etc, etc. etc.
- "You're probably sick of answering all these questions!"
GAAAAAAHHHHHHH. In all fairness, people just seem to like the pregnant ladies. (Can you blame them? Especially if they don't live or work with us or otherwise see us for long periods of time? [My poor family and co-workers.])
And there is some stuff--true or otherwise--that I certainly don't mind hearing:
- "You look good!" (Probably because of the smile glued to my face.)
- "You're glowing!" (Probably because of the sweat beads oozing from my face.)
- "You'll have so much fun!"
- "Enjoy every minute!"
- "Good luck!"
- "Best wishes!"
- "I'm so excited for you!"
- "I hope I don't see you next time I'm in!"
- "I think Miss Jamie is really pregnant!" (This from the preschool-age sister of a child in my toddler program to her mother.) / "I think that girl is pregnant!" (This from another preschool-age kid to his mother.)
And my co-workers? Are in another class altogether. Like family, they pretty much say anything they want, and I don't (can't?) really mind...
Obviously, camera is fine, but I haven't seen him so upset since he found out I was pregnant. (Ha.)
And the real reason I wanted the camera:
And a slightly more flattering shot than the last of the enormous baby dwelling:
Monday, March 3, 2008
In other news, I just accomplished something from my pre-Speck list of hopeful feats: Knitting! Yay! Sort of...I needed a bit over an hour to do this, complete with mistakes and having no idea how to finish it off:
I am rather irrationally proud of my half-coaster/half-Barbie-blanket, as my co-worker alternately termed it (being unsure of its most functional function); she was content with her "knitting needle cozy" of 20-odd cast-on stitches. (Listen to me: Am old pro at something crafty!) Boys and girls, support your local libraries: they offer fun and/or educational programs such as knitting classes, in addition to a wide variety of books and audiovisual materials, among other stuff.
In other news, all is just about ready for Speck's arrival, including the nursery, notwithstanding lack of curtains, leaning of stroller on crib, storage of bathtub in crib, and omnipresence of fat cat in glider:
In other other news, could this be the last photo of me pregnant with the Speck? Or at least one of the most unflattering? Perhaps.
Indeed, I am "all baby," as I've heard a bit too often in the past few weeks, most recently from the OB's assistant this morning, who "just can't get over it. You're all baby!"
Two weeks ago or so, as we were entering Babies 'R' Us for the 437th time this month, I told Rob that he could divorce me if ever I wandered around like one pregnant chick we saw: she had about five inches of bare belly peeking from between top and bottoms--and this on a 20ish-degree day while she wore a coat. And here I am, posting something similar on the Internet. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.