Skip to main content

Six down, three to go

It's the start of the third trimester and more musings have been gathered.

1. I am aware that I will give birth during the hottest part of the year. I'm a native Kansas Citian so there's no need to point this out to me. I get it. August sucks. I'm going to be huge and miserable. Thanks for pointing out something I have no control over. However, if you'd like to be helpful, you can bring me a ice cream cake in late July. I like mint chocolate chip.

2. Do not touch my stomach unless you are comfortable with me karate chopping your wrist. My friends understand this, as I'm not a touchy-feely person. However, acquaintances seem to think this acceptable. It's not. You should approach a pregnant woman as you would a dog - ask if it's okay before putting a hand near the bathing suit region.

3. Let me be the initiator of my pregnancy concerns. There's enough to be worried about without someone throwing in additional items. "Have you had hemorrhoids yet?" Really? No, I haven't. But now I can worry about possibly having them. Thanks.

4. There's no need to point out body parts that look different. Again, I'm well-aware. My favorite was a co-worker who said she knew I was pregnant because of how my neck looked. Huh? I have pregnancy neck? That was one area of my body with which I was not concerned. But now I have to add it to the list. (She sometimes reads my blog, so she'll remain nameless. Although she would also vehemently defend her opinion and probably provide before and after photos.)

5. I now understand why some pregnant women don't share their name choices. When people ask me  and I tell them, they give me an opinion. I don't want an opinion. I don't want to know the name I'm considering is the same name of the girl who stole your bomber jacket in high school. (Actually, that happened to me. Her name was Gretchen and I'm not considering that name.) So unless you can fake it and say you love the name ideas no matter what, don't ask. I don't need anyone raining on my naming parade.

6. Finally, a note to Gap Maternity. Any clothing item that has a nude-colored belly band should not be marketed as "sexy." My "sexy boot cut" white jeans would be an excellent form of birth control for young girls. I laugh every time I see the tag because in my third trimester, I've never felt less sexy. But thanks Gap for trying.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

White Elephant Gone Wrong

I don't like white elephant (WE) gift exchanges. Yes, they may include laughter and good-natured teasing (I prefer bad-natured teasing), but they include the stress of finding the perfect gift. Plus, I don't believe in re-gifting trash. A box full of old magazines is not a good WE gift. No one wants it. Therefore, you are done with the exchange if you pick this gift, which is what happened to Husband. My viewpoint is not shared with most people. One of those people is my stepmom who in recent years has included WE exchanges at our family Christmas.  However, this year I was excited. If you have read my blog, you will know Husband is a saver. (We do not use the word hoarder.) We're also trying to get rid of stuff we no longer need. Husband also has friends that give him funny, ridiculous items that he saves. You can see how all this would add up to somehow already having the perfect WE gift.  So there was hope. I'd already identified it - the velvet picture of a ...

Get This Party Started

So what do you do when you're reclining in a hospital bed, Olympic beach volleyball on the TV and watching petocin slowly drip through an IV into your arm? You blog. As of 3:32pm, all is manageable. Ask me in an hour or two and the tune will most likely be different. Petocin scares the crap out me, but as long as it gets the baby out of me, I'm trying to not freak out. I woke up this morning and greeted the day as a normal Monday. After walking Trudy a few miles and spending 40 minutes on the elliptical, it dawned on me I felt a little crampy, for lack of a better term. And without getting too graphic, I started to wonder if my water had broken. (It was nothing like it's portrayed on television.) So I called a handful of friends and my sister to get some feedback. All signs pointed to yes, so I called my doctor's office which said just go to the hospital. I took Trudy for a second walk while waiting for Husband to get home and try not to overreact. At the hospi...

Nothing A Chicken Bone Can't Fix

Last night, Husband, Charley, Trudy and I ventured out for a family walk. This wasn't the first family walk that we've taken. However, it was the first walk where Trudy has been, well, Trudy. Bringing Charley home and combining baby with an overprotective dog gave me pause. Fortunately, things have gone well. We've been consistent with T's walk schedule and she gives Charley lots of sniffs and licks. T has taken to napping under the crib, which is quite endearing. But now I'm getting off track. As we're finishing the walk, Husband makes the mistake of unclipping the leash before getting in the house. That one nanosecond was all it took. T pulled her fake out move and was in the neighbor's yard in a blink. She paused, looked back at us with the distinctive "eff you" expression and took off. Baby was hungry, so I was off the hook for chasing, which left Husband. I settled on the couch to watch whatever Gordon Ramsey show is on at 8pm. (The man ...