Lent coinciding with the end of an increasingly difficult pregnancy has given me some significant spiritual insight into my character flaws. I think it goes without saying that I'd rather that Lent gave me significant spiritual insight into something else, but you take what you can get. Like I told the nurse who measured my belly last week:
"Ma'am, the baby's in a funny position and I read that you can move them by standing on your head. So that's what I do every day. I stand on my head. At 32 weeks pregnant I'll take all the excitement I can get."
But back to Seven Quick Takes.
1. I often have this terribly weird moment when I'm lying in bed on my back but I want to turn over to my side, but instead of just doing it, I imagine myself turning to one side, and then the other, in a bid to pre-determine which side will feel better to lie on, thus, I dunno, saving myself from the horrifying prospect of choosing the wrong side? I think this qualifies as over-planning...
2. If I could give unmarried Amy one piece of advice from married Amy, it would be this: The things that you think are going to drive you crazy aren't the ones that actually will drive you crazy. Be on the lookout for hidden crazy-inducers. Mine right now? Curtains that are not all the way pulled or all the way drawn. These floppity bits of fabric that hang like a dead rat over my livingroom window are making me yell.
4. We're ready for the baby. No kidding. If she came today I would completely have stuff for her. I have a place for her to sleep, clean clothes in drawers, a carseat, blah blah blah. However, if she's anything like Samuel she will still spend the first few weeks dressed in socks, a diaper and a swaddling blanket and attached to my breast 50 gajillion hours a day, so who cares what her clothes look like.
5. As I type, two burly looking men are wrestling windows into holes in the side of my rented apartment in a bid to make the place more energy-efficient. Now, I'm no contractor, but I'll tell you that my livingroom is so cold you could safely keep meat in there. Samuel's bedroom window is a depression-era sash style, except it's actually depression era, which is, ironically, pretty depressing. But are they changing either of those windows? Nope, they're changing the three newest windows in the house! Hurray for incompetance!
6. I've officially entered that stage of pregnancy where people are pointing out clothing flaws to me. "Darling, there's a giant hole in the side of your shirt" my ever-so-sweet husband declared this morning. Some kind soul mentioned that you could clearly see my underwear through my leggings the other day, and I have now on multiple occasions taken off my shirt at the end of the day to discover exuberant mustard stains all down the front like some sort of grade school collage gone horribly wrong. You have to wonder "how long has that been there?" Or maybe you don't. Maybe you don't.
7. And this, I think, adequately sums up what I feel like right now.
As always, thanks to Conversion Diary for hosting Seven Quick Takes!
4 comments:
I realized today that every single one of my maternity shirts have a hole right over the navel.
It's pathological and inexplicable. And I don't care- I'm not shopping for new clothes in the last 8 weeks.
You had me laughing all the way through this! So funny. Visiting from Cari's blog (fellow pregnant blogger feeling like a manatee :) ).
#7 reminds me of how I felt before I had my son at 29 weeks. (HELLP Syndrome sucks. I don't recommend developing it. My son was teeny but he survived.) The night I was in the hospital before it went into "we-need-to-get-the-kid-out-RIGHT-FREAKING-NOW" stage, I also had bronchitis and the nice man from radiology had to figure out how to protect my baby belleh from the radiation from the x-ray. It took 4 lead aprons and almost a full row of medical tape. I'm apparently still a legend almost three years later.
I feel for you. I wake every morning bleary and grumpy but SO SO grateful not to be pregnant anymore, even if it means nursing a million times a day and waking every hour, because I can wear real clothes.
Okay, real-er clothes. By the end, I had about two outfits that sort of fit, and I loathed both of them.
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