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Baby Evan went to his first concert last night. He seemed very very excited, kicking and rolling for almost three whole hours of music. (Slightly) Unfortunately, it was a 3 Doors Down concert. Hey, at least it wasn’t Britney Spears. Her concert is still sold out, dammit.
If it helps, I did not intend to go, it was a really last minute “discount tickets have suddenly become available and you better go out and do stuff now before you have a baby and it’s too damn late” situation. And they were really good seats, less than 20 feet from the stage but still in the raised section so the chairs had padding. Thank God. Once we were at the show, I realized I knew quite a few 3 Doors Down songs – there’s that one about being here, and the one about being gone, and the one about missing you, and the one about Superman. Oh, and that one they play during the movie previews to get teenage boys to enlist in the National Guard. But they were really energetic and the fans were totally into it and as long as the baby stayed away from my bladder his “dancing” was adorable. It was a surprisingly good time, especially when the drunk women in front of us realized I was pregnant and started offering labor advice. The one who was NOT a mother said I should totally get a mirror and watch the baby come out because it was the most beautiful thing in the world. The one who WAS a mother suggested getting all the drugs possible and totally ignoring her idiot drunk friend’s mirror suggestion. Guess who I’m gonna listen to.
THAT’S SPRING, Y’ALL!!!
We have a window open, I can hear the birds singing, and my Spring Baby is kickin’. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and it is BRIGHT.
I am nesting. Baby clothes are washed and folded, curtains are up in every room, my books have been sorted by author, and the guest closet is ready for long-term guests. Not that I haven’t always loved painting and moving furniture and hanging crap on the walls – I just currently have an OVERWHELMING NEED to get it done NOW. Despite my various pains I managed to finish almost all my out standing projects today, including rehanging the two dozen pictures I had taken down in my first trimester because I no longer liked how they were arranged. And some of them were crooked.
The next step is cleaning, which I don’t enjoy nearly as much, but it desperately needs to be done. I have my mother and sister coming in a week and another dozen people coming for my baby shower on March 7th. My friends and family do not need to know just how lazy I am when it comes to most household chores. It’s funny to say “Oh haha, I can’t remember the last time I vacuumed the bedroom!” but in reality, I do remember. Never.
And on the subject of arranging things (specifically books), here’s a message from E: When are you going to put a picture of my bookcase on your blog so your friends can stop bitching about it? I think he imagines y’all think about him a lot more than you really do, but here it is honey!
p.s. If you say one thing judging my books, I will SIT ON YOU.
I think I sprained my hand. I did it during one of three things:
1. Carrying heavy stuff
2. Painting the guest bedroom
3. Playing Rock Band
Since pregnant women aren’t really supposed to do the first tw0 and I am too embarrassed to admit the last one to a doctor, I’m hoping some Tylenol and a bag of frozen peas corn blueberries carton of ice cream will be enough to make the pain go away. If it still hurts at my next OB appointment I might ask the doctor to take a look, but I really don’t think hand sprains are her area of expertise.
That’s…a lot of weeks. Baby E weighs about 6 lbs now and is still trying to kick his way out through my belly button. If you have not been pregnant, you cannot possible understand how weird it is to have something that is not you moving inside your body. Sometimes I can feel specific baby parts, like a foot or a hand, and depending on how he’s lying I can tell you exactly where his head, shoulders, butt and legs are. Luckily Baby E spent most of today hanging out back by my spine, which is much much more comfortable. When he pushes against the outside my stomach gets really hard and I have to poke and yell at speak nicely to him until he turns. If you are one of the people lucky enough to visit me in the next few weeks, be prepared to have me grab your hand to feel the baby move. The only really charming thing about it anymore is letting other people share the fun.
Pregnancy still isn’t all that bad (probably a seven out of ten), I’m just so ready to meet my kid. Anything after 38 weeks (for me, March 17th) is considered full term, and even though my mother’s not coming until just before my due date I’m going to start trying the tricks to induce labor as soon as I get to 38 weeks and 1 day. The more, uh, family friendly ones include drinking raspberry leaf tea, rubbing your ankles, and eating spicy food. I won’t make you think about the rest of the techniques unless they actually work, in which case you can be damn sure I plan to traumatize my child with THAT story.
I’m watching the horrible fourth hour of Today, which I would like to stop doing but cannot reach the remote. I am obviously not the target audience for this show. The commercials are all for cleaning products and air fresheners because God forbid you actually take out your disgusting trash when you can just buy some sort of scented oil candle spray crap to hide the smell. That’s almost worse than letting your feminine pad spill blue liquid everywhere. One of the commercials stars that horrible Glade woman who spends all her time lying to her friends about baking, when she should really be lying to them about what kind of prescription drugs she mixing to make herself so insanely cheerful. ANYWAYS, this particular air freshener promises to hide the stench of your ass for 60 days! OMG!!!!
And it occurred to me: If I bought one of those right now, I’d have a baby before it stopped stinking up my house.
Hi there. Thanks for reading my blog. I can see you, and knowing you take the time to visit makes me ridiculously happy. Please feel free to tell me how smart and funny you think I am in the comments. You may also tell me I’m deluded and totally unprepared for motherhood. I don’t mind. And for my lovely friends (both real and interweb) who do comment, kisses.
P.S. Here’s an amusing anecdote for your Sunday afternoon:
I almost punched E in the face this weekend. It was not when he refused to pick someplace to eat. It was not when he decided he wasn’t really hungry so maybe we’d just go to a bar instead. It was not when he wouldn’t let me watch Step Up 2: The Streets, even though it looked TOTALLY AWESOME. It was not when he laughed when I started freaking out that the baby was trying to kill me, Alien-style. It was not when he made another dismissive hormonal-pregnant-woman-joke. It was not when he told me he had to work all weekend. It was not when he “forgot” to clean out the fridge.
It WAS when I woke up for the fifth time in two hours with incredibly painful heartburn and a horrible back ache and saw him sleeping peacefully. On his stomach.
Being pregnant IS like being drunk:
1. Both can make you puke
2. Both can make you fat
3. It can lead to poor decisions – example: “Why, yes, I think Zoolander is a great name for my baby!” or “Dude, watch me jump off this balcony!”
4. You may crave Taco Bell at 2 am, but will probably regret that decision in the morning
5. You think and talk about peeing a really annoying amount
6. Both can make you forget where you parked your car
7. You walk funny
8. You have an immediate love for other people in the same condition
9. You become completely overemotional and may cry in public
10. Both happen quite often at high school proms
Being pregnant IS NOT like being drunk
1. More drunk is fun. More pregnant is not.
2. Drunk can lead to pregnant, but usually not vice versa (although there is this)
3. Even a really bad hangover does not last 9 months
4. …Or 18 years
5. When you drink til you puke, you feel better, but when you puke because you’re pregnant, you still feel like crap
6. There are no drunk preparedness classes (besides college)
7. Your mother is usually happy when you get pregnant
8. Although both can lead to drugs, I hear the kind you get during labor are waaaaay better
9. When you are drunk, a table is a place to dance. When you are pregnant, a table is a place to sit down.
10. No one throws you a party just for getting drunk
I totally forgot to mention the World’s Worst Husband from my doctor’s office today. I can only hope he was just a boyfriend, so it will be easier for his girlfriend to leave him once she comes to her senses. I noticed this douche-bag in the waiting room, complaining that it was quarter-after and their appointment was for 10 am, so why were they still waiting? Because babies are unpredictable, genius. Sometimes the doctor you’re supposed to be seeing is bringing a new life into the world two floors up. Keep your pants on. No, really, get a belt, you’re way too old for that look. After I was examined I had to wait for the nurse to give me a Rhogam shot so I was counting ceiling tiles when I heard the yelling. Apparently, WWH’s very pregnant wife was annoying the crap out of him. He didn’t give any details as to what was so annoying, but screaming “SHUT THE F*CK UP YOU ANNOYING BITCH!” made his feelings pretty clear. He ranted for a few minutes before one of the nurses decided that wasn’t really the appropriate way to talk to…anyone, and asked him to please knock it off. WWH didn’t really appreciate that, but screaming about how it’s “HIS DAMN BABY” didn’t do any good once the very large male doctor came to see what was wrong. I felt like applauding when they threw him out.
Seriously dude, I don’t care if your wife just called you the ugliest, stupidest, most worthless man-child on the planet, the OB’s office is not the right place for all that noise.
Since I was so brave at my 8 am lab visit AND my 10 am doctor’s appointment – both of which involved very large tiny but still painful needles – I treated myself to a mani-pedi. It was heavenly, especially the part where my nail tech put my shoes on for me so I didn’t have to bend over. I wanted to offer her the job long term but can’t afford to match the benefits she gets now.
My appointment was very unexciting. The doctor poked me in the stomach and said it feels like the baby is already head down in preparation for birth. She could hear his heartbeat the loudest below my belly button which is also a sign he’s facing the right way. I feel like he deserves a reward for being such a good, smart baby who is NOT going to make his mommy have a c-section. I think he’d like ice cream.
I also got a gold star for my weight, which is holding steady at about 210 lbs. God bless my nurse though, who sets the scale at 150 every single time and acts surprised when she has to bump it up another big step. I’m hoping to be one of those women who loses 20 lbs when the baby (and the…other stuff) comes out. I will feel more hopeful about losing the cheeseburger-related weight after one big drop at the beginning.
Tonight we going to an infant-care class at the hospital. I think E and I are severely lacking in baby experience and we will both feel better after a little refresher course. Babies are complicated – when you’ve got stuff coming out every hole, how do you know which end the diaper goes on?