The JOYS of Pregnancy

I’m tired of whining. Even when (I think) I’m being funny, I’m still complaining.

Well not today! Today I am going to share with you the WONDROUS WONDERS OF WONDER that are being pregnant. And I will conveniently leave out any complaining.

Joyous Wonder #1: Maternity Jeans

I’m a sweats/yoga pants girl at heart. I call my yoga pants part of my “uniform” for my “job” of writing during the first part of the day and taking care of Z during the second, rather louder, part of the day (and night). Sometimes I put my pajamas back on immediately after taking my shower. Yes, I confess all these things with absolutely NO SHAME. However, maternity jeans are the one thing other than sweats that I could wear around the house. I just told a friend that I may wear my maternity jeans in perpetuity even after the baby is born. For those of you who don’t know, maternity jeans look something like this:

I thought a half-naked blue, one-eyed alien woman would be preferable to a half-naked human woman. Let's see what kind of weird search hits I get on my blog this week.

Joyous Wonder #2: The Pregnancy Card

This is really just the special privileges a pregnant woman can get from her husband. Homes will go out at 9 p.m. to get food for me, or he’ll make special meals at my request (still waiting on those enchiladas, though…no wait, I had those. Well, I want them again. Must put in a request). Different husbands/partners may give the pregnant woman in their life different privileges with the pregnancy card. My privileges mostly amount to food and not lifting heavy things. I might get out of doing the dishes soon because my stomach’s getting too big for me to reach the faucet.

Joyous Wonder #3: Quickening

No jokes here. I freaking love feeling the baby move. And because I know this will be my last baby, I’m trying to memorize the feeling. Maverick’s more of a kicker/puncher than Z was. I mean, Z moved a bunch, but her moves were mostly stretches, like an alien foot arching across my stomach. Maverick’s, like, dancing in there or something. Anyway, it’s crazy cool, and I’ll miss it.

Joyous Wonder #4: No Dieting Allowed

I know things are different for women diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Thankfully, that’s not me (knock on wood. KNOCK ON WOOD!! I mean it. Everyone. RIGHT NOW). So if I want to have a teeny tiny salad for dinner, followed by a gigantic slice of chocolate cake for dessert, well. It’s not like I’m tracking Weight Watchers points or actually paying any attention to weight gain whatsoever. Until I start seeing my cheeks puff out (and I check, I admit, almost daily), I’m going to eat what I like. What’s amazing is it’s mostly salads that I want, not cake. (But yeah, if the cake’s there, I’ll eat that, too.)

So there you have it, The Joyous Wonders of Pregnancy. See, there are good things to it! And like I said with the fetal movement, I know it won’t last forever, and this is my last chance to enjoy it, so enjoy it I shall.

But I still feel like a Whoofle chewed up my pelvis and gave it back to me all mangled and crooked. Just sayin’.

The Cold – A Tragedy in Three Acts

Act I

The Ever-Suffering Mother isn’t suffering quite so much. She has a lifetime supply of peanut M&Ms in the cupboard, a loving husband (who buys her M&Ms) and a darling daughter, and lots of writing time during the day. But by the endof Act I, she develops a sore throat. This can’t be good.

Act II

Like any valiant heroine, she attempts to help herself through lots of naps, liquids (milkshakes count, right?), and more naps. (Medication is, given her pregnancy, pretty much out of the question. Further helping us define the meaning of “suffering.”)

Despite her valiant efforts, the sore throat has grown into a Sore Throat of Doom.

By the end of Act II the sore throat has gone away (hooray!) only to be replaced by copious amounts of snot. Act II is plagued with phegmatic and lethargic dialogue, lots of adenoidal voice-overs, mouth-breathing, and we’ll throw the World’s Shortest Rejection Time on a Short Story in there as a subplot (5 hours 11 minutes).


In Act III, the Ever-Suffering Mother overcomes the rejection, but not the snot, and the Cold replays itself for other beloved members of her family, compounding its effects through sleeplessness, irritability, and general malaise.

The End.

Maverick – Instrument of My Destruction

I don’t want to complain.

Why is it that whenever someone says that, they follow it with a lot of complaining?

So let’s talk, instead, of the third trimester of a woman’s pregnancy. The third trimester has a firm, distinct purpose, and it isn’t what doctors may tell you, some scientific mumbo-jumbo about the baby growing and developing. No. The purpose of the third trimester is to put the mother (or “host,” rather) through so much discomfort that she actually begins to look forward to, and happily anticipate, the painful ordeal of childbirth.

Welcome to the third trimester, sucka.

Two nights ago, when I tried to heave myself over in bed like the large sea mammal I am beginning to resemble, I felt a very intense pain in my pelvis. Later that morning, I had a conversation with Homes:

Ever-Suffering Mother: Homes, I feel like someone took a hammer to my pelvis last night while I slept.

Snarky Husband: I didn’t think you’d notice.

Ever-Suffering Mother: And then they pieced the bones back together with screws.

Snarky Husband: I used the tiny ones.

The pain could have been a hammer-and-screw-wielding Snarky Husband, or it could have been my new Just Dance 3 game. But more likely, it was Maverick.

About Maverick. We like to give our unborn children nicknames in this family. Before we learned Z was a girl, we called her Perry. Short for “Parasite.” And even though we know this one’s a boy, we still haven’t decided on a name. So for the time being, I’m calling him Maverick.

(Cue jet engine sound effects.)

Highway to the danger zone!

But after the broken pelvis incident he gets a subtitle. Now he’s Maverick: Instrument of My Destruction.

(It’s either that, or Renesmee, after the famous literary half-vampire baby freak who famously tore apart her own ever-suffering mother.)

Pandora’s Lunch Box

Since last week’s Momming Around post was abandoned in favor of self-congratulation, let me offer a few actual momming tidbits here.

  1. Baby-to-be is a boy! We’re all excited, even Z, who said she wanted a sister. I’d kind of enjoyed thoughts of two little girls with that sister relationship I never had, but I’d also wanted a boy, so…yeah. Happy either way.
  2. Z’s lunch box is absolutely disgusting. While my morning sickness is mostly gone, I still have gag-moments. Opening up her lunch box today was one of those moments. Her school has a policy of kids taking home their leftover lunch, so parents/caregivers can see how much their child is actually eating. It’s a nice idea, and gives controlling, obsessive parents one extra bit of control. However, the sight – and scent – of a day-old cream cheese-and-jam sandwich had me gagging. Z had to take a break from breakfast to dump the offending food in the trash. Note to self: deal with lunch box as soon as Z gets home. The problem is, I put it off because it’s disgusting, and I never know what I’m going to find.
  3. Next week, she’s off from school. But Homes still has work, and there are currently no grandparents volunteering to come ease my pain. Am I a horrible stay-at-homie for considering the option to pay extra for a day of childcare next week? $30 for one day really isn’t so bad. Today is the last day to sign up.
  4. I’m awful. We’ll do play dates and get the house ready for Christmas instead.
  5. We’ll hate each other by Christmas.
  6. No. I will a) go to bed early each night, b) plan outtings to friends’ houses, the grocery store, the library, and wherever else I can think of, and c) liberally self-medicate with chocolate ice cream in the evenings.
  7. It’ll be fine. Really.

Again with the random bits.

I am topic-less. So. Once again, a Friday Five!

1. Pregnancy update. I can feel the baby move now, and I’m getting BIGGER and BIGGER. I see the size as a mixed blessing. On one hand, being humongous has never appealed to me, and already I’m having an awkward time trying to give myself more room to slide sideways through the sliding glass door while keeping a ready foot for Clarkie in case she tries to make a break for it. Also on that same hand, I’ve started grunting every time I bend to pick something up, try to zip my non-maternity jeans, or tie my shoes. Or roll over in bed. On the other hand, at least now I am starting to look pregnant and not just overweight. Status of belly button (because this is important): it’s still an Innie.

2. Because I entered a past manuscript we shall never speak of again in the Amazon Breakout Novel contest a couple of years ago, I had a free proof copy from Createspace (Amazon’s self-publisher). So I uploaded a recent draft of le manuscript and made my manuscript into a BOOK! Not only is it nifty seeing it in book form, with a cover & everything (even an ISBN, which is pointless, if you ask me, because this copy isn’t going anywhere), but my printer’s broken and so this saved me from imposing on friends and/or shelling out dinero to get my printer fixed.

3. Husband will no longer be nicknamed “Husband” on this blog. For awhile now, I’ve been calling him “Homes.” As in, “True dat, Homes,” and “I don’t think so, Homes.” I am not sure where this came from, but it has stuck. Sometimes I picture the word as “Holmes” in my head, giving him a Sherlockian air. Does this make me Watson? I did read an essay once, an argument that Watson was actually a woman, so I guess it could work.

4. I cooked! Our CSA box has been heavy on the leafy greens lately. Other than salad, I don’t know what to do with these things. So I actually put forth the effort required to A) look up recipes and B) buy ingredients and C) try not to hyperventilate while operating the stove. Result: Hot Wok Bok Choy (say that five times fast) last week, and Collard Greens Sauteed with Garlic this week. And baked potatoes. I’d never baked a potato in my life. Decided to consult multiple sources – Homes, my mom, and the Better Homes cook book. I don’t know what potato out there can finish baking in 40 minutes, but it wasn’t mine, so we had dinner late that night.

5. Enjoyed a Thanksgiving feast put on by Z’s preschool class today. The kids even had cute little placemats and napkin rings they’d made. Food was delicious; I could have easily eaten six plates full. Should have gone back for more mashed potatoes and roast potatoes. There is something about the Glorious Potato right now that has me wanting them. All the time. That and loaves of soft Pugliese bread from the Nugget and tubs of hummus. If I don’t stop rhapsodizing about food now, I don’t think I ever will. So. The end.

I won’t be updating the blog next week, so have a great Thanksgiving! I hope your car rides are shorter than mine!