Jan
10
I feel kind of bad for slagging JB about his Vegas trip and insinuating that he’s a heartless bastard who never gives me nice things, when in fact he’s a heartless bastard who sometimes gives me very nice things indeed (and not just Muhdik, JOSH) (PS: HAAAAA).
Witness:
Those are two pretty pretty bracelets I got at Christmas, one with Riley’s birthstone (peridot) and one with Smalltopus’s (amethyst). Sure, that amethyst might end up being not quite 100% correct, depending on whether Small makes an earlier appearance, but no biggie. Before Riley was born JB gave me a lovely necklace with a sapphire for Riley’s September due date, then of course the boy went and arrived on the very last day of August, so we have a history of children screwing up their father’s thoughtful gemstone purchase. Somehow I have managed to deal with the burden of having a beautiful necklace with a funny backstory, so if STP ends up being a garnet baby, that’s okay.
(Although, memo to child: you are supposed to stay put a while longer, dammit, so Mama can have her much-looked-forward-to pre-baby spa day. Don’t make me show up in the hospital with chipped toenail polish, kid.)
In other news, I keep trying to come up with something other than OMG YOU GUYS I AM SOOOO PREGNANT to write about, but I can’t. Maybe because I look like THIS:
No more room for brain and thinky-type activities. All is Belly. Must do what Belly commands. Must . . . get . . . Haagen . . . Dazs.
Jan
9
My mother-in-law sent me an email asking if I thought I was going to “make it” until Smalltopus’s birth date. “I’m having this feeling we should have our bags packed and be ready to go sooner than that,” she wrote.
Not sure why she’s having a feeling on this, but she’s not the only one. JB is convinced the baby is about to drop out of me at any moment, and when I mentioned the other evening that I wished it were summer so I could go for a walk, he practically crapped his pants right there and then. “You are TOTALLY about to give birth,” he moaned. “I mean, you want to go for a walk?”
I guess the fact that it was such an anomaly for me to be craving exercise is a sad testament to just how much slothing around I’ve been doing over the last few months, but at this point being upright is vastly preferable to sitting. Once I sit down, the baby smashes up half my body and I start getting the Heartburn From Hell along with the Jimmy Leg; at least if I’m upwardly mobile the boy has some room to stretch out in. I spent almost every evening of my last days of pregnancy with Riley waddling around the neighborhood with JB, but that’s not much of a viable option this time around: it’s dark out at 4 PM, the rain is endless and cold, I’d have to go by myself because the video monitor only transmits so far, etc.
I don’t personally have any early-birth feelings, other than the increasing disbelief that I can go on like this without erupting like a Gallagher watermelon. My actual due date isn’t until February 14, and the C-section is scheduled for February 4. At 35 weeks I am large, uncomfortable, and ungainly, but all systems are reading normal—no blood pressure problems, no signs of early labor.
What do you think? Will I make it until Feb. 4? Do you have a feeling one way or the other?
In other news, JB returned from CES with two adorable Las Vegas-themed toddler shirts for Riley. “I couldn’t find any onesies for Smalltopus,” he explained. Then, carefully glancing at me, “Or, um, anything in . . . your size.”
Yeah, I guess shirt sizes probably do stop short of XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXL. No problem, I didn’t want anything anyway, just the scintillating stories of gambling into the wee hours and eating Kobe beef appetizers cooked on hot rocks at the awesome Japanese restaurant and enjoying the bright Vegas sunshine while I stayed back here in Rainville eating Riley’s leftover chicken nuggets for dinner, hey you know what comes in all kinds of sizes? DIAMONDS.
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