At 28 weeks pregnant, I am starting to feel CRAZY. I tend to have decent control over my emotions, but lately, I feel weird. I’ve been extra irritable and extra emotional. This morning, listening to NPR, I started tearing up when they were talking about Sally Ride. (Today is the 30th anniversary of her flight into space). It reminded me of college when I went to my college boyfriend’s parent’s house for Christmas (did you follow that?). His mom told me that she cried when the pope died when she was pregnant. The best part of that is that she is an atheist. Typically, pregnant or not, my NPR tears are reserved for Friday mornings during Story Corps. Because that shit tugs at the heart strings.
Mr. Adventure told me over the weekend that he appreciates that most of my irritability and rage are directed at other people and not at him. Like my coworker who is always in my f-ing way. She has gotten soap in my water bottle on more than one occasion because she couldn’t wait two minutes until I was done filling up my water bottle before squeezing in next to me at the sink to wash her stupid hands. Or the guy who tried to switch lanes in to my car on Friday and then proceeded to stare at me at the subsequent stop light, where I was turning left. His light turned green, but he was too busy staring to notice. Luckily, even though the lab group I work with has four other people, we have six rooms down here at the end of the hall and I can easily spend most of my day alone.
I think I may need to start meditating. Find my zen or something before I stab someone and wind up giving birth in prison.
Or I need a slingshot and some rocks.
People keep asking me what I am going to name the baby. And by “people,” I mostly mean my dad. So I keep telling them I am naming the baby Hamburglar. Maybe Hamburglar McGrimace. I wonder if McDonald’s would pay all my birthing costs if I actually did that?
According to the internet, at 28 weeks, Hamburglar McCloud is the size of an eggplant. I wonder if he is just as purple? Apparently at this stage, babies start experiencing REM while sleeping. And, just to be clear, I mean Rapid Eye Movement, not that shitty band from the ‘80’s.
I hate cooking with eggplant. It’s a pain in the arse. But here is a recipe for eggplant parmesan if you want it. Last time I made eggplant parmesan was in college and I peeled the eggplants, thinly sliced them, and salted them to get out excess moisture. Or is that what I did when I made cucumber sandwiches? I don’t remember. I could blame the lack of memory on the pregnancy, but I think it is more likely because I drank enough whisky in college to support the entire state of Kentucky. Because Kentucky straight whisky bourbon is the best whisky in the Western Hemisphere. Screw Tennessee. And Canada. Jack Daniels? Crown Royal? Seagram’s? No thank you.
My pregnant friend who is slightly less pregnant than I am (I’m winning! :D) sent me a link she read about her pregnancy the other week. She was 23 weeks at the time, and the website compared the size of her baby to a Harry Potter book. “Your baby is about 11½ inches long and weighs 1 pound, or about the length and weight of a Harry Potter book.” Ridiculous. The same website, for 28 weeks pregnant, had this to say: “Your babe is downright chubby compared to a few weeks ago. She is about 15 inches long, about the length of an amusement park cinnamon-sugar-coated churro (yum!), and weighs 2 to 3 pounds.” Why do these people want to eat babies?
I guess if you are going to be ridiculous, go for the gold. The people at 3d pregnancy also made an REM reference, which made me want to go back and delete mine, but I think it is important for everyone to know how I feel about their shitty music.
My midwife asks me for my “word of the day” when I go in for appointments. I see her tomorrow for my 1 hour glucose screen. I think I may have two words tomorrow: fat and irritable. I’ve always been a big girl, but I’ve also always had an awesome figure. I feel like my belly has doubled in size in the past two weeks. I know it is normal, but I felt like the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man when I put on my lab coat before I went and found myself in a family way. Now that my lab coat is getting a bit more snug around the belly, I am pretty sure that I will need to go up a lab coat size before the end of this pregnancy crazy train.
I don’t know if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I started walking the dogs a couple of miles a day in the evenings. So now, come 8p, if I haven't walked the dogs yet, they get all up in my grill until I take them out. I was using pregnancy as an excuse to be super lazy and do things like watch all 3 seasons of Pretty Little Liars on Netflix and rewatch The Walking Dead in preparation of the third season coming to Netflix at some point, although I’m pretty sure it is going to suck. Most shows take a turn for the shitty about halfway through the third season and, with a baby on the way, I doubt Rick and what’s-her-name-who-was-way-better-in-prison-break are going to be able to maintain their awesome. Much like me. But maybe, just maybe, if The Walking Dead can stay interesting and relevant post-baby, there is hope that I can as well.