But seriously, where has the time gone? WHERE? I’m kind of freaking out a little, considering I have approximately 9,034 super important things to do and only a few months to do them. Nesting has currently taken over my life, and if you’ve ever gone through it you know that it’s nothing to be taken lightly. You get something in your head and it has to be done like, yesterday. My brain is going crazy with planning right now and it’s like a swirling, raging tornado-of-a-to do list up in thurr.
The kids’ room needs to be redecorated! Jack needs clothes! Sheets! Blankets! When was the last time I cleaned the baseboards? I need to organize under the sinks! That stain must be scrubbed out of the carpet or I will die. Sweep the patio! Clean out the fridge! Buy new storage bins! LABELS! ORGANIZATION! NOW! LABELS! ORGANIZATION! NOWWWWWW—
My belly doesn’t seem to be showing any signs of growth in these photos, but I swear it is! To be perfectly frank with you all, any sort of bump I had during the first few months was solely due to the fact that I was eating too much bloaty dairy. Dairy and I have an interesting relationship. I love it, yet it tries to murder my insides. But I still eat it. All the time. Because IT’S JUST SOOOO GOOOOOOOD.
Anyway. The other day I got my first Oh you’re pregnant?? We thought you were just gaining a lot of weight! comment. Those are always jolly good for the soul! This person went on to say that she and a coworker were noticing how I had put on some pounds when I was walking by the other day and that they were trying to decide what was up with me. I was like, Yeah, I’m five months pregnant… remember I told you a few months ago? She apparently did not remember, and looked over at her coworker with an AHA! expression. Really? Was it that big of a mystery?
I’m really not that bugged by it, surprisingly. I had a lot of that stuff flung my way when I was pregnant before and I realize some people just don’t know what to say or how to say it. That’s coo. I’ll just keep on scarfing down cheese and chocolate, stick out my lactose-belly and hope for the best.
Something I had forgotten since I was pregnant with Madeline is how a lot of what you go through makes you feel like you’ve rapidly aged 60 years. I fully believe that I am now an 84 year-old woman in disguise.
It started out quite subtly, this whole being old thing. At first it was just the going to bed at 6pm, which really wasn’t all that bad except I ended up missing all my stories. (THANK YOU, DVR. My heart belongs to you 4eva, xoxo.) But once my energy returned, my body was still on the earlier mealtime clock, which meant I was wanting to eat dinner at 4 in the p-m, and well before I was off work.
The cycle continues with me ravenously scarfing down my food the first chance I was able and cursing anyone who got in my way, and thus being plagued with heartburn. Let me tell you, there’s nothing that makes you feel quite as old as having to take Tums after every meal. No wait. There is…
…Having to take more fiber. Oh yes. I’m chomping on breakfast bars that are the consistency of tree bark and eating Activiaaaaaa to help me poo like a normal person. It’s a glamorous life.
Oh, and as your belly gets bigger, you start complaining about your achin’ back. You can’t sleep very well because of this and you desperately need relief. At the drugstore, you search high and low for medicine that can knock out a horse while also being safe to take while pregnant. Just to be careful, you ask the other lady in the aisle what she thinks about your situation. Before you even realize it, you are talking to a stranger about your personal medical problems. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, WOMAN!
I could really go on and on… the big ugly bras with big ugly straps that feel SO much better than cute little lacy ones, the Dr. Scholl’s shoe inserts, the hot flashes… it’s bad. Earlier today, I stood in the birthday card aisle at Target for about 15 minutes pretending to laugh at the cards, when really I was just hanging out under the air conditioning vent and smiling with delight at the coolness and relief. It was the best I’ve felt in years.
I really don’t really mind all this old stuff so much. I mean, it only lasts for 9 months and old people are pretty cool when you think about it. They carry candy in their purses. Old crappy candy like Werther’s Original, but still. And they do kick major butt in Wheel of Fortune. I will openly state right now that if there was any way I could spend the next 5 months of my life eating old caramels, watching Wheel of Fortune and going to bed at 6:00, I would do it.
Well, as long as I had someone to rub my sore feet for me. Any takers? I’ll pay you a whole quarter…
Sooo, as much as it pains me to admit it… the majority of you were right about it being a boy. I was wr-wr-wr-wr-wrong.
Okay. NOW what?
I’m completely lost! I’d be fibbing if I said I was confident in my ability to mother a boy, but I do know that I’m excited to try. Dirt and cars and questionable odors are going to be a new experience, but I recently realized something very important: I can still buy ridiculous things and force him to dress HOWEVER I WANT. BUAHA!
Little Jack, I promise I’ll never make you wear a pink bunny suit. But I am picturing some miiiighty adorable big boy shoes in your future.