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

I love Russell Brand, even in skinny jeans

Training is about a B- right now. Running has been minimal due to some calf issues. I blame the feet shoes. Boyfriend and I saw Get Him to the Greek last night and found it surprisingly good. (Unlike Hot Tub Time Machine , which we had high hopes for and was only ho-hum.) Laughed to the point of tears several times. Russell Brand can actually act and P Diddy is hilarious. If you like Superbad type humor, you will like this. I ranked it above The Hangover , though Boyfriend didn’t quite agree with that assessment. Followed movie with a scoop of chocolate-peanut butter from Baskin-Robbins. Perfect summer night.

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...

Bumper Cars

I hate bumper cars. Hated them the first time I ever tried them. I got in the little car, excited to get to steer. The signal goes off and all these people I don’t know are out to get me. One second I’m facing one way and the next I’ve been blindsided by some bratty ten-year-old, my car has done a 180 and the back of my head hurts. My life has been a bit bumper car-ish lately. If you’ve read any of my previous entries, you get the gist I’m a control freak, so quick directional changes are not my thing. But sometimes you don’t have a choice. Yes, this all sounds a little vague. Some of the changes I can put on my blog, others aren’t as appropriate. Appropriate changes: I’ve started in a new position at the college as a project manager. It’s challenging and fun, but the learning curve is steep and I still sit in many meetings taking notes about things I completely don’t understand. (PeopleSoft, anyone?) Secondly, I lasted through two sessions of my first grad school class. I’m em...