A Looming Reality

As of this past weekend, I'm officially in the third trimester of this pregnancy, which means I'm two-thirds of the way there, WHOO-HOO! Up until now, I've mostly been focusing on how excited I am that in about three months, I'll get to meet this grouchy person who constantly kicks me and how cute and cuddly babies are and how much fun it is to have an entire closet in our apartment dedicated to tiny little outfits that all invariably seem to have bears on them. I was even okay with the idea of changing horrifying diapers and waking up at night and dealing with a teething child around the clock. And then, I realized that babies? They puke.

I mean, there's the spitting up of the early months, which is bad enough, but the part I'm concerned about is AFTER the spitting up, when they start eating actual food that they then throw up. That part freaks me out. Granted, the animals sometimes have similar problems, but in all honesty, the way I handle that particular issue is to pretend not to see it. Then, McMoose gets home and says "Oh, didn't you notice that one of the animals threw up all over the living room carpet?" And I say, "Really? Someone threw up? In the living room? Where I've been sitting for the past three hours? Huh! I totally didn't notice--how weird!" And then, he cleans it up and I get to avoid the unpleasantness entirely. See, this WORKS for us because when he cleans up this nastiness, he's more concerned about the well-being of the offending animal, whereas I would be more concerned about how best to get RID of the offending animal as quickly as possible.

But I'm thinking that with the baby, I probably can't just ignore the vomit. I'm probably going to have to clean the floor and the wall AND the child, and I'm probably going to have to be calm and loving while doing it and honestly? I don't think I can. I really just don't think that I have whatever gene it is that allows you to be all "Oh, it's okay, honey, don't cry," while cleaning what used to be inside someone's stomach off my carpet. My BEIGE COLORED carpet. So. If this pregnancy were to stretch out slightly longer than three more months, like say, three more YEARS, I think I could be okay with that.

Crazy Talk

I fell asleep last night, woke up this morning, and completely lost the ability to have thoughts that stay inside my head. I've been saying random things all day because I just cannot censor myself--at all! For example, when I walked into the bathroom at work this morning, there was a really tall girl standing inside one of the stalls--I mean REALLY tall. As in, you could see her entire face over the stall door, which would make her at least 8 or 9 inches taller than me, I would think. And instead of just noticing this fact to myself, like I would have done on any other day, I actually said OUT LOUD, "Wow, she's really tall!" And then, I didn't know whether to be more embarrassed because I was talking to myself or because of what I was talking about. I'm still hoping I said it quietly enough that she didn't fully hear it.

And then, at the grocery store this afternoon, some woman ran into me with her grocery cart, and I mumbled something about her needing glasses. Again, I'm hoping she didn't hear what I said, because she was simultaneously trying to apologize, but still--what is WRONG with me?!

I can at least take comfort from the fact that apparently, I'm not the only one suffering from this particular problem right now. This morning, one of my co-workers grouched at our advisor about how she (the advisor) changes her mind too often about protocols that we should follow--mind you, this is something we've all said to each other, but to say it to the advisor's face? Probably not the greatest plan. And another co-worker saw me and informed me that I must have put on 8 pounds over the weekend because I looked "like a house."

There must be some truth serum in the water supply or something because subtlety and tact have just flown right out the window today.

A Letter to The Growing Bug

Dear Bug,

How's it going in there? Good? Awesome. I'd like to start by saying that I'm really enjoying being able to feel you moving around right now. It's a super cool feeling and part of me is sad that you'll never get to experience this particular feeling, what with you not owning a uterus and all (assuming the ultrasounds are right!)

That being said, I think it's time that we had a little talk about you and me and some of the space issues that we are currently experiencing. Look, kid, I think it's great that you're so active and that you enjoy moving around. I think it's really interesting that Yellow Cat annoys you so much when he sits on my lap that you kick at his head, but that you're willing to let Black Cat stay for as long as she wants. And I think it's hilarious that you kick at your Daddy whenever he has the audacity to touch my belly. Seriously, I'm loving all of this.

But. When you stretch out your entire body and then hold that position for a full five minutes? That part is not so much fun. I understand that no one likes being all curled up like a shrimp for 9 months, but dude! It's called the FETAL POSITION for a reason. And that reason might very well be that you're living inside another person right now, and that person does not have an unlimited amount of space in which to house you, so if you could kindly stop trying to rearrange my ribs, it would be greatly appreciated.

Love,
Mama

Sadly Snowless

I can't believe it's already Thursday again--this past week flew by on gilded wings! And that right there is the beauty of not being in January anymore.

• It's COLD outside right now. Which might help explain why there's a gas station on my way to work that is currently having a special on plastic sleds and gliding saucers. Except that they seem to be forgetting the fact that in order to use sleds and gliding saucers, you need SNOW. Which we don't have. Which in turn explains why there was a very forlorn looking kid sitting in a sled on a patch of ice at the side of the road this morning. He was the saddest human being I've ever seen in my life.
• I went to the post office yesterday to mail a package and the options they gave me were: (1) use regular, first class mail, which takes three days and costs $2.36; or (2) use the super-duper, overnight mail, which takes under 24 hours and costs $31.55. Which means that I could've chosen to pay more on shipping than I spent on what was inside the package. Yeah. Makes sense.
• Somehow, I managed to shatter a highlighter this morning and spill fluorescent yellow ink ALL OVER the carpet. Luckily, the carpet is all dark and multi-colored, so you can't really see the stain under normal circumstances, but it does kind of glow in the dark now. I'm going to choose to be an optimist about this situation, so instead of saying, "Oh, no! I've damaged the carpet irreparably!" I'm going to say, "Hey, I've added glow-in-the-dark components to the carpet and made it easier and safer on the first person into the office in the morning AND the last person to leave in the evening."

My Tangled Web

I just had a 1-hour meeting with my advisor. It's the chance I've been awaiting for MONTHS because I really need to remind her that after I finish my master's thesis, I'm not coming back for the PhD. I know I've had this particular conversation with her before, but apparently, SHE doesn't remember it because she says things like, "When you come back next year, you'll have to remember to do x, y, or z." And in my head, I say "Um, I'm not coming back next year." But somehow, that message never quite makes it to my vocal chords, so instead, what I do is smile and nod. Because technically, technically, I'm not actually lying to her about coming back if I just smile and nod. Right?

So I had decided that at this meeting today, I would remind her of my plans. And then, I got to the meeting, and the perfect opportunity came up and my vocal chords refused to listen to my brain. And then the second perfect opportunity came up and my vocal chords STILL weren't ready. And finally, at the end of the meeting, when she said, "Is there anything else we should talk about?" I meant to say "Yes!" and instead, my vocal chords said, "Nope. Nothing!" I'm a bad, cowardly advisee. I fully acknowledge this. But right now? My advisor LIKES me. She thinks I'm productive. And motivated. And a good student. And I KNOW that I have to tell her, but it's just so NICE to be liked.

Okay. I'm done whining. I'm going to get control of my vocal chords. I'm going to be brave. I'm going to tell her. Next week.

Roast Beast

Since the only food I have in my fridge right now that doesn't require further cooking and/or preparation is half a container of hummus and enough rice to feed a small nation for a year, I decided that today would be a good day to stop by Arby's for lunch. And in an attempt to compromise between my current, somewhat inexplicable love of Arby's and my midwife's stern admonitions that I'm eating too much, I decided to get just a sad little sandwich with no fries to keep it company.

As excited as I was about my sandwich, I decided that I would act like a reasonable human being instead of a half-starved warthog, so I put the sandwich into the fridge until noon. What I failed to consider is that by noon, I was so crazed with hunger, that all the things I know about microwaves and metal just flew right out of my head. As a result of which I put my ALUMINUM FOIL WRAPPED SANDWICH into the microwave for a minute. And realized my folly about 11 seconds later, thanks to the Very Strange Noises that the microwave was emitting.

As it turns out, aluminum foil? Totally catches on fire in a microwave. If I were thinking like a reasonable human being, I would've thrown the sandwich away because burned metal + roast beef + cheddar? Not so appetizing. But since I was thinking like a half-starved warthog instead, I just blew out the flame, made sure there was no foil burned onto the sandwich, and then ate the thing anyway. It was surprisingly good. Kind of barbecue-y. And now, my office smells like it survived a forest fire.

My Agenda for Change

I'm doing a little happy dance today because AT LONG LAST, JANUARY IS OVER! I don't know why, but January? Always the longest, most boring month of the year. After all the excitement of summer and then the holiday season, which for me starts with my birthday in September, January is just one long series of cold, gray days that blend into each other. And even when there actually is a lot going on--like this past January, when I had the excitement of snow and a thesis proposal--it STILL seems to drag on. For. Ever.

Now that it's February 2nd, I'm thrilled to have gotten out of another January. And I think half my excitement comes from the fact that, I don't know if you've noticed, but February? Only has 28 days. It's EASY to get through 28 days of cold and gray, once you've already gotten through 31. Plus, there are actual events in February. Groundhog day. Valentine's day. About 18 different birthdays. And sometimes, the sun actually comes out and says hello.

So I propose that from now on, we just abolish January and skip straight ahead to February. And then, we could take the extra days that we gain from January and we could put half of them in June and the other half in December since those are the two months that always seem to race right on by. When I become the Dictator of the Universe, that'll be the first change I make.