Glamour–I has it
Today was a rough day. As Baby-Daddy pointed out, I’m 9 months pregnant (okay, 8 months and 3 weeks, and BY THE WAY pregnancy is actually 10 months not 9 so before you go thinking you’re going to get baby pictures in a week just CALM THE FUCK DOWN), so I deserve to feel like I’m not capable of doing ANYTHING. But I am capable of doing things and a great many things, if I can distract myself enough from my ACHING ACHING PELVIS and Mysterious Leg Pain #9*. Like, for instance, entertain, which we did all day yesterday (though BD does all the work when we have people over, including shopping for the food, preparing the food, serving the food, wrangling the toddlers, setting up the Wii in the other room for the older kids, graciously offering up his Star Wars toys to their certain death, etc. etc. I just stand around and let people tell me how amazing I am, because amazingness is in proportion to size in pregnancy and the more gigantic you are the better of a person you are). And sell maternity shit I never really used on craigslist (because you know that involves taking a picture, posting it, and waiting for people to show up to my house with that cold hard cash). And pretend to work on my dissertation. And organize shit because I’m “nesting” but not actually make any real progress toward preparing the house for an infant or for the FILTHY FILTHY TIMES that will settle in when the baby gets here.
And, apparently, I can use the caps-lock pretty well.
So I’m having some trouble getting around today and now I have to drag my fat ass to week FIVE of baby-class.** Which means I have to get dressed and brush my teeth (for the first time today). Now, I will say that this is the first day in my entire pregnancy (and I am not lying) that I stayed in pjs all day. The first time. And NONE of my pregnancy clothes are jersey/velour or have an elastic waste UNLESS you count, which, yeah I guess you should, maternity pants. But my maternity pants are grey slacks, y’all! I’m not your dress-down kinda pregnant lady! And I know the secret to actually getting anything done when you’re hugely pregnant and work on the semester system (so you’re on vacation)–get fucking fully dressed when you wake up in the morning like a normal citizen of the fucking world, even if your plans for the day are to cruise blogs, make felt food, and maybe, you know, clean up after the tornado of children that went through your house yesterday.
But though I have no sweatpants in my wardrobe, I am not glamorous in general, and certainly not in pregnancy. I use Target brand 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, y’all. And as I was getting prepared for said baby class that BD is shouting at me to finish getting ready for (because I paused to write this), I realized I have no socks, so I decided to take the brand new socks from the hospital bag (that I started to “pack” but abandoned a few days ag0, that I had purchased knowing that it would be unlikely I’d have clean socks on “the day”) which I’d expressly forbidden myself to do when I placed them there. So in my head I justified “well, I should wash everything that could potentially come into contact with the baby, right?” because of course, my newborn is going to come into contact with my SOCKS.
Now excuse me while I run a brush through my snarly mane and oh–pick the “inspector 36″ sticker out of the crotch of these underwears that ALSO came out of the hospital bag (because I need not pre-wash things for MYSELF).
*Mysterious Leg Pains #1-8 have not been chronicled here but have all been re-classified as Non-Mysterious after some savvy interneting which may have resulted in too much time spent on the WASTELAND that is YahooAnswers. Of course anything that brings us “HOW IS BABBY FORMED?” has to be a good thing.
**More on baby class later, because you deserve it.
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