It smells like a birthday in here. To me, any time candles are blown out, it smells like someone just finished singing "Happy Birthday." Because right now, it's nobody's birthday around here. At least, not quite yet.
No; it smells like a birthday because that's just what the doctor ordered: a bath by candlelight, a book on the side, and zero technology within reach. This is the prescription whenever I'm irrationally emotional, as I was tonight.
It was a good day. Well, mostly, the day was good. I have been sleeping okay - not great, but not horrible, either. We attended a newborn care class in Fresno this morning (only one moment of offense and annoyance at the teacher); it was okay, some good info, a little preachy, and just that one awkward offensive question, but whatever.
Then was lunch at PF Chang's (to expose baby to some Asian spices), Woodward Park (for a few maternity pictures before we got rained out), Barnes and Noble (to use a gift card from years ago that I'd recently found), Home Goods (where I kicked a puddle, which soaked my shoes and the bottom three inches of my jeans), Sam's Club, and Sprouts.
My back was miserable during the class, and it only got worse the rest of the afternoon. After I kicked the puddle, my shoes and pants felt so uncomfortable that I was just about ready to give up and go home. Because I'm difficult, I insisted on toughing it out. Have I mentioned that baby has dropped (not all the way by any means, but enough to force me to waddle)? That only made everything worse. By the time we got to Sam's, I just wanted to sit. I sat here and there, but always for 30 seconds or less (I've already admitted to being difficult, thank you). Even I have to admit: I shouldn't have walked all through Sprouts. But I did.
And then we started on our way home, which involves driving. On roads. With other drivers. In the rain. And the other drivers don't know what to do in the rain. So they just drive like jerks. Already, I don't enjoy cars or traffic - add rain and inconsiderate drivers? Just kill me now, you know?
Finally, we got home and started discussing what we wanted to do tonight. Movie? TV? Game? Tim said he would play a video game if I just wanted to do my own thing. And then he asked: so, what would you like to do? I let the question hang there for a minute, just as he had when I asked what type of movie sounded good (or was he not paying attention? or did he just not hear me? I'll never know, and it doesn't matter at all).
Then, I felt it coming on. A moment. I started to cry. (I know what you're asking: "Seriously? Over what? Why? Is she some special brand of crazy?" Because that's exactly what I wondered myself at that moment.) I had to pick myself up off of the chair (not an easy task, remember) and haul myself into the bedroom to really start letting the years flow, because I didn't want to freak Tim out.
True to form, the dogs followed me immediately, and Tim was only about five or ten seconds behind them. He found an ugly pregnant crying woman in the master bathroom.
"Okay, I get that it's hormones, but what's wrong? Did I do or say something?"
I started laughing. (If he had any sense, he would've gone running for the hills at that point. Crying. Hormonal. And then laughing. Not good.) I told him the only thing I can think that I really want to do is be comfortable for FIVE FREAKING MINUTES!! Just five minutes - is that too much to ask? Sheesh!
He had to smile (kind of a pathetic, I-always-knew-you-were-crazy kind of smile), then he hugged me. It was my second nutty-as-a-fruitcake pregnancy meltdown (the first was in a hotel room in NYC, and the reason I melted then was because my wardrobe want stylish enough). I think he was just relieved it wasn't anything he'd done; still, he asked what to do to help me: take a bath? relaxing beverage? ice cream? a one-day gym membership to relax/float in the pool? anything? I finally conceded to the bath (obviously), but I really hope this kind of crazy meltdown doesn't happen again. After all, this Sunday marks 37 weeks down, which leaves just three weeks to go, hopefully at the most, because if I feel this miserably uncomfortable at 37 weeks, there's NO WAY I'm letting this get out of control and going to more than 40 weeks.
Oh, no. We're NOT doing that. We're NOT going there. 40 weeks is when she's DUE, and I always stick to my deadlines - isn't a due date just another deadline?
No; it smells like a birthday because that's just what the doctor ordered: a bath by candlelight, a book on the side, and zero technology within reach. This is the prescription whenever I'm irrationally emotional, as I was tonight.
It was a good day. Well, mostly, the day was good. I have been sleeping okay - not great, but not horrible, either. We attended a newborn care class in Fresno this morning (only one moment of offense and annoyance at the teacher); it was okay, some good info, a little preachy, and just that one awkward offensive question, but whatever.
Then was lunch at PF Chang's (to expose baby to some Asian spices), Woodward Park (for a few maternity pictures before we got rained out), Barnes and Noble (to use a gift card from years ago that I'd recently found), Home Goods (where I kicked a puddle, which soaked my shoes and the bottom three inches of my jeans), Sam's Club, and Sprouts.
My back was miserable during the class, and it only got worse the rest of the afternoon. After I kicked the puddle, my shoes and pants felt so uncomfortable that I was just about ready to give up and go home. Because I'm difficult, I insisted on toughing it out. Have I mentioned that baby has dropped (not all the way by any means, but enough to force me to waddle)? That only made everything worse. By the time we got to Sam's, I just wanted to sit. I sat here and there, but always for 30 seconds or less (I've already admitted to being difficult, thank you). Even I have to admit: I shouldn't have walked all through Sprouts. But I did.
And then we started on our way home, which involves driving. On roads. With other drivers. In the rain. And the other drivers don't know what to do in the rain. So they just drive like jerks. Already, I don't enjoy cars or traffic - add rain and inconsiderate drivers? Just kill me now, you know?
Finally, we got home and started discussing what we wanted to do tonight. Movie? TV? Game? Tim said he would play a video game if I just wanted to do my own thing. And then he asked: so, what would you like to do? I let the question hang there for a minute, just as he had when I asked what type of movie sounded good (or was he not paying attention? or did he just not hear me? I'll never know, and it doesn't matter at all).
Then, I felt it coming on. A moment. I started to cry. (I know what you're asking: "Seriously? Over what? Why? Is she some special brand of crazy?" Because that's exactly what I wondered myself at that moment.) I had to pick myself up off of the chair (not an easy task, remember) and haul myself into the bedroom to really start letting the years flow, because I didn't want to freak Tim out.
True to form, the dogs followed me immediately, and Tim was only about five or ten seconds behind them. He found an ugly pregnant crying woman in the master bathroom.
"Okay, I get that it's hormones, but what's wrong? Did I do or say something?"
I started laughing. (If he had any sense, he would've gone running for the hills at that point. Crying. Hormonal. And then laughing. Not good.) I told him the only thing I can think that I really want to do is be comfortable for FIVE FREAKING MINUTES!! Just five minutes - is that too much to ask? Sheesh!
He had to smile (kind of a pathetic, I-always-knew-you-were-crazy kind of smile), then he hugged me. It was my second nutty-as-a-fruitcake pregnancy meltdown (the first was in a hotel room in NYC, and the reason I melted then was because my wardrobe want stylish enough). I think he was just relieved it wasn't anything he'd done; still, he asked what to do to help me: take a bath? relaxing beverage? ice cream? a one-day gym membership to relax/float in the pool? anything? I finally conceded to the bath (obviously), but I really hope this kind of crazy meltdown doesn't happen again. After all, this Sunday marks 37 weeks down, which leaves just three weeks to go, hopefully at the most, because if I feel this miserably uncomfortable at 37 weeks, there's NO WAY I'm letting this get out of control and going to more than 40 weeks.
Oh, no. We're NOT doing that. We're NOT going there. 40 weeks is when she's DUE, and I always stick to my deadlines - isn't a due date just another deadline?
Yes, it is asking to much. I haven't been comfortable for five minutes in about 3 years. Life changes when you decide to have a child, even before the child comes out. Hang in there, the pregnancy will be over soon and you'll feel 100% different. Perhaps no more comfortable but different is good too.
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