Friday, May 30, 2008
Husband shoots me an icy stare as he chases a dust pile across the floor.
"What? I grew a baby today. What the heck did YOU do."
I love being pregnant.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Bringing him to Chicago was like sharing a final secret part of myself. We stood there, thousands of miles from home, quietly facing each other. His hands gently clasped mine. We gazed at each other, the water that collected in his eyes made my own tears heavier. Slowly, one or two broke loose and fell down my cheeks. Although a handful of people collected on the grass ten feet from where we were standing, we didn't seem to notice. We barely even noticed the short wrinkled man standing before us in his jet black robe, solemly sputtering words I can't remember.
It seemed that it was just the two of us. Promising to love each other for the rest of our lives. Offering our strength, companionship, and futures. Offering up our very selves. I knew when I said the words that I meant them more than anything. I had never spoken more truthfully. I knew that even during the inevitable times that it might seem hard, I would consciously make the effort to love him.
That night we shared our first married meal at the top of the Hancock Building. Being up so high, it was as if we were taking our bodies physically closer to the elevation where we emotionally felt. We ate our fancy dinner, breathless from our own happiness. Below us, the city carried out. The Navy Pier ferris wheel spun slowly and a trail of headlights crawled along Lake Shore Drive. The beach park where we had just been standing stood out like a bright green and yellow portal, connecting the endless flat lake to the jagged, grey array of buildings.
I had always loved that spot, the space between the horizontal lake and the vertical city. The space where nature gently met the capabilities of mankind. Where waves lapped the shore as if offering a handshake or a nod to the bustling city. The space between two worlds. The perfect spot to exchange vows and transition from old to new.
I can't believe it has been a year already. At the same time, it feels like our lives have been entwined forever. I can't imagine life without him or how I got along without sharing his daily presence. I loved him a year ago, but now I don't just love him, I live him. We now embodied one unit. A unit that is love-giving and life giving. A unit that will soon expand to include one more. The simple creation and formation of a family is something I never thought twice about except to realize that it existed. But it's an incredible thing to experience. My favorite adventure yet.
Monday, May 26, 2008
Seriously, after a nine mile workout I have a lot of calories to make up. 900 calories for the 9 miles and 300 calories extra for the baby. That's like two Dairy Queen blizzards, 8 fudgcicles, 6 ears of corn, 6.6 bowls of Cream of Wheat, 4 bowls of cereal, or one whopping Red Robin Hamburger. So much to eat, so little time. :)
It's interesting that there is not much info out there about what happens to your body and your baby when you run through pregnancy. It would be nice to find out more than the usual "don't dehydrate, don't overheat, don't hold your breath while running." Well, duh, who holds their breath when they run?!?
I recently came across some interesting information published by a doctor who actually STUDIED the effects of running during pregnancy. His findings are definately encouraging
- Women who exercise deliver babies 5-7 days earlier than those who don't.
- Babies of runners are slightly lighter- they are just as fully developed just not as fat. I'd definately rather push out a 7 lb baby than an 8 lb baby!
- Runners have larger placentas, so if you stop running halfway through your pregnancy, you will have the fattest baby possible (more than a non-runner) because a larger placenta gives the baby more calories. Note to self: can't stop running now!
In fact, I don't have any real pregnancy complaints. After my morning sickness completely wore off in week 17, I haven't been bothered by anything else. No heartburn, no aches, no ligament pain, no headaches. If it wasn't for this big kicking belly, I wouldn't even know I was pregnant.
I do tend to get weird looks from people I pass on the trails. They see me running towards them and we exchange smiles. Then my profile angles into view as we pass each other and I see their smile fade to a look of either confusion, astonishment or something that says "what the hell is wrong with her?" But rain or shine, I will be on those trails. Running helps me feel constant and sturdy. It's a piece of me that never changes. As my life transforms, my role changes, my daily routine begins to center around a new being, running is the one connection that I will have to my old independent self. I cherish it so much.
Now time for 5 and 1/2 ice cream sandwiches.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
This weekend, my husband went on a camping trip to Canada with "the guys." He was only gone two nights, nothing like his week long trip to Mexico, but I didn't have school or work to distract me from missing him.
Usually, every eight hour work day that we spend apart, the only thing on my mind is the second that I get to walk in the door and be with him again. After a year of marriage, it amazes me how I still get excited when I see him and how essential he has become in my life. Missing him is so awful because there is no parallel to the feeling that rushes over me when he softly kisses my shoulder, reaches for my hand or rests his palms on my knee. It's just scary and tormenting to think how devastated I will be if he is ever gone.
When he came home tonight, I followed him around the house. Like I could somehow make up for all our time apart. When we sat down and watched a movie, I wrapped myself around him, appreciating his presence and purposeful reciprocity more than usual. We watched Ghost because I had never seen it before. The theme of the movie only accentuated my gratefulness for the present moments I have with him.
Someday, I wont be able to trace his rough cheeks with my finger or rest my head against his chest. The thought kills me. Resting side by side in bed after the movie it hit me how precious one individual human life is. Anything in the world can be replaced if lost. Ipods, goldfish, and other belongings can be bought anew. Even fine art can be reproduced and replicated. But human life...each one is different. No one can replace or duplicate another being.
I don't know if there is some grand "purpose" of life and if there is, I have given up ever figuring it out. But tonight I realized the importance of each irreplacable human life. I think discovering that is almost purpose enough. Because if you truly understand the value of each person- including yourself- you can't take anything for granted and you develop persective of what it is that is really important.
Realizing all this, I am breathless by the enormity of my current task: creating a brand new life. A new person who will be shaped by his environment and his experiences as he grows. A person who will seek love, feel love and be loved. A person who will develop his own personality, habits, and likes. A person who will not only mean the world to me and my husband but to the other people who become a part of his life. Someone who will miss and be missed and who can never be replaced.
I'm awestruck that humans are not only given the valuable gift of life but also the amazing ability to create one. The key is to keep myself reminded of all this- not just when my husband goes away for a weekend- but constantly.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
I can't believe what some people will do at the work place and in front of employees. There is a case of one guy who told a woman that no man in his right man wouldn't rape her. There is a case of a guy telling his employee, whom he had been trying to date, about his sexcapades with prostitutes- yeah, because that will win her over.
My favorite case, however, is a case where a man repeadetly refers to his wife as "Astrobitch." I read this and shrieked with laughter. The paralegal outside my office started giving me weird looks. She probably thought I was watching a Youtube video. Who knew studying case law could be so entertaining.
It's awful what these people do, don't get me wrong, sexual harassment is so intolerable and just reading about it gives me chills. I almost can feel the sting and embarassment of the words. However, I have to give some credit to the term "Astrobitch."
Astrobitch. It's ingenious. It gives the impression of a snarling woman with a temper of galactic proportions and the stinging bite of a parana. I can think of a few people that this word describes perfectly.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
With all my energy focused on my new job and the hundreds of research assignments I've already been given, I haven't had much time to think about being pregnant. Except for every time I go to the bathroom (I have to walk out of the office and around the elevator to get there and I swear, the receptionists keeps track of how many times I go during the day), or whenever a volley of rough kicks erupts from my belly, or whenever sudden immense hunger strikes out of nowhere, or when I see people pushing little babies, or when I get asked for the hundredth time how I'm doing.
Ok, so it's never far from my mind. Especially now that I have less than a hundred days before this baby comes and I haven't even STARTED the nursery. I haven't bought a crib. Haven't decided on a stroller. Haven't picked out a rocking chair. I haven't decided what color to paint the walls or figured out where to get new curtains. Oh well. It doesn't matter, because I'm less than 100 days away from tossing back an entire beer! Oh yeah, and holding Baby Palmer.
Tonight, riding home from Olive Garden with the leftovers in a paper bag on my lap, the most unusual thing happened. I was sitting there and absentmindedly looking out the window when I caught a whiff of the best scent to ever reach my nose. It was vaguely familiar but I had never smelled it this strong before. It smelled...delicious. I wanted to eat that dang smell. But what was it? I looked down at my lap and realized that it was not coming from the leftovers but from the PAPER BAG!
"This is the best smelling paper bag in the world!" I shouted to husband. He shot me a crazy look but I continued to shove the bag in my face and breath in it's crispness. Believe me, I would have eaten that paper bag whole if I didn't know better.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
I went from a firm of two attorneys in a run down town to a firm of fifteen attorneys in the heart of bustling Seattle. The differences are night and day. Instead of twiddling my thumbs waiting for new assignments to come my way, I am juggling four research projects to be completed ASAP. My boss, Managing Partner, throws out f-bombs like they are going out of style. When I was receiving an assignment from an associate, I noticed a draft document on his desk that had been revised by Managing Partner. His thick, red sharpe scrawl was unmistakable. It red "Are you kidding me? F--- you." across the page, following by a smiley face with additional notes in the margins. Interesting way to revise your associates' work, I guess.
On my first day they threw me a welcome party. Twelve employees gathered around me and a large plate full of celebratory bagels and spread. With all eyes on me, the dreaded question came, "Tell us about yourself." That has to be the WORST question in the world. I never have a good answer. Two jobs ago, before I knew better, my interviewer asked me that question and I blankly answered, "uhm, well, I'm a nerd." After I barely squeaked by on that question, Managing Partner told me I had to reveal what my nickname was or else they would be forced to create one for me. I have until the next all-attorney meeting to come up with something. Do I really have to admit that my college roomates called me "Cheep" because I reminded them of a bird?
Anyway, there are pluses and minuses about my new job (although, the pluses far outweigh the minuses).
+ Fancy building on the 22nd floor (just walking through the pretentious building is enough to encourage me to come to work- I feel so important)
+ Fancy new paycheck-- omg, if they pay their INTERNS this well, I'm excited to find out how much they pay new associates
+ Right across from Nordstroms and Cheesecake Factory (where I can blow my fancy new paycheck)
+ Everyone is friendly, good-humored and laid back.
+ The office fosters a "balanced" lifestyle. Very family friendly.
+ Many coworkers are new parents
+ My own little office (yes it's small and bare- but it's mine. AND it has an outside window).
+ I get to devote 2 hours a day to reading during my ferry commute.
+ company reimbursement for travel
+ millions of fun lunch options within walking distance
+ learning how to practice law from some amazing people: former Federal Intelligence Officers, Attorneys who have litigated cases in Federal Court, etc. All geniouses, I swear.
- keeping track of my billable hours, EW. So much work.
- having to worry for the first time about incurring Westlaw charges for the company (I used to use my free school log in).
- commuting by ferry
- walking a mile to work and a mile back (its much better than waiting for Seattle buses)
- having a ton of coworkers around to watch my belly get huge this summer
- The office doors do not have names on them- I awkwardly stumble around poking my head into offices until I come across the person I'm supposed to meet with.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
He's also obsessed with ironing. He irons everything from his work pants and shirts to his jeans to make that nice crease in the front. In order to keep his pants looking newly pressed, he takes them off the second he walks in the house and switches to sweats. Sometimes, there is a window between the time he takes off his pants and puts on his sweats- you know if he gets too caught up doing the dishes or reading car websites and blogs.
Sometimes I walk into the living room to find him sitting at his computer or doing various other things wearing a t-shirt, socks and his boxer briefs. I know wearing socks without pants is supposed to be a major faux paux. But I can't help thinking he is the cutest person alive in this rather strange assortment of clothing.
Friday, May 16, 2008
I slacked off so much but the ironic thing is that I think this will be my best semester. Maybe law students just get more efficient with each semster. Or is it that we have greater ability to bullshit?
It feels great being an official 3L! One more year and I'm done with law school. Oh wait, then there's the bar prep course. Oh yeah and the bar exam. The only other profession that has it this bad is the medical profession. My brother just graduated from his undergrad with a degree in mechanical engineering. Right out of undergraduate school he was offered jobs everywhere-- like CAREER jobs (unlike lawyers, engineers have a job outlook). He is going to be making big bucks right away.
Lawyers have to slave for an additional three years, take a big nasty bar exam and even after that, landing a job is a tough thing. At least where I live. But I think maybe it's because we have greater power to change the world. The more I learn about law, the more I realize how powerful the profession really is. The country we live in, what we can and cannot do, the definition of our very "fundamental liberties" is shaped by lawyers and judges. Do people go to lawschool for power? I did it because I had nothing better to do.
Anyway, I am taking next semester off to just be a mom. I'm really excited to pursue the domestic life for a while. Cooking like Martha Stewart, watching the Food Network, spending time with my baby and *cough* dropping him off at my mom's to run and shop. But it's so hard to believe that I wont have another law school class until next January or that my next final is not until a year from now. I hope I don't forget how to be a law student. I hope I don't lose my momentum. As silly as it sounds, I already am excited to chose my next classes.
Here's to summer, and leaves of absence, the sun that is finally out, and miles and miles of running trail ahead of me.
Monday, May 12, 2008
For example, the life of my Ipod. Today, eight miles of sweat killed my Ipod. I explain:
Since I got pregnant and my boobs grew three sizes (kind of like the Grinch's heart in "How the Grinch Stole Christmas") my sportsbra has been kind of too small in the front and if I don't wear two of them the Ipod can slip out under the elastic band between my cleavage. Today, I forgot to wear my second sportsbra and my Ipod kept creeping out of its spot. So I slid it over under my armpit where there was no cleavage to set it free.
This worked great for seven miles. By mile eight, the music stopped. I pulled my Ipod out (attracting some strange looks from passerbys who thought I was groping myself) only to find that the Ipod was drenched in my sweat. My sweat seeped into the little screen which displayed nothing but a huge sweat puddle. I tried to resurrect it. I let it dry overnight, but it would not come back to life.
So that's the story of the death of my Ipod. I sure hope that economic incentive check comes soon, I need to go shopping for a new Ipod. I might just get one of those tiny shuffles. I only played my old Ipod on shuffle anyway. It's like listening to a radio station that only plays your very favorite songs, and without commercial interruption.
I have to figure something out quick though, otherwise during tomorrow's run, I'll have to pay attention to my aching body instead of concentrating on Beyonce, Chris Brown, Alicia Keys, Rihanna, Timbaland, Akon and Gwen Stefani.
Did I mention how much I love stretchy maternity pants? Every pair of pants should have a stretchy elastic panel! No more buttons, no more zippers- just pull them up or down like sweats! It's imposssible to get a "muffin top." And when you eat too much- they expand with you! Uncle Beer Gut really could use a pair.
My belly is getting bump-licious. I'm actually starting to enjoy it. It looks so funny! I look like a normal skinny person who swallowed a small soccer ball- not a full sized one yet. I'm the same everywhere else, but I have a very spherical waist. It's so alien-like to me. Especially when the baby kicks and I can see it. When he kicks it looks like those big bugs that crawl under people's skin in the movie The Mummy.
This week I will be 25 weeks- almost my third trimester. My gawd, it's gone by so fast! So far I have almost gained 14 pounds- some of that is extra leg muscle from running- but I'm hungry all the time and I eat like I've never eaten before. Husband and I were watching a movie and 25 minutes into it he had to pause it so I could get a snack. The snack consisted of: a blueberry toaster waffle covered in syrup, vanilla yogurt, and an apple. He looked at me like I was crazy, eating a waffle at 10:30pm.
My belly is almost getting in the way of certain hygene tasks. Shaving my legs isn't bad, but my belly is obstructing my view of certain other areas that I probably shouldn't mention. It's almost time to get a hand mirror...
A couple times this week, one of my boobs leaked a little. Not a lot- in fact, very very little. But it definately caught me off guard and it kind of freaks me out, just because nothing like that in the history of my boobs has ever happened before. It reminds me what they will be used for in a couple months and that is a difficult thing for me to grasp right now, without a baby in my arms. Still, if this pregnancy has taugh me anything it's how amazing our bodies really are and the fact that they can do incredible things to sustain life- in my case, two lives.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Since I saw those positive pink lines on my pregnancy test, every waking thought has been consumed by the baby or pregnancy in general. It's as if when you become pregnant, you also become obsessed and possessed with it. My husband can resume his normal routine and his life and not be constantly reminded of his impending parenthood, I cannot. The knowledge of a baby growing inside you is something you take with you everywhere. It's the elephant in the room of your mind. In class, at the movies, on dates, hanging with friends, grocery shopping. Being pregnant is something I am always aware of and thinking about. It's not a bad thing, in fact, most of my thoughts are happy ones. It's just exhausting sometimes.
During this time of preparing for finals, I have been so worried and caught up in doing well (and so freaked out about the many classes I skipped and the many assignments I purposefully neglected) that I have occassionally let pregnancy slip from my mind. After a two hour power study session I suddenly realized I was hungry. "Oh yeah, I'm pregnant." I realized that for the first time ever, I had just been pre-pregnant me.
In completing my public benefits take home exam, I was in the middle of formulating a due process argument when I read a case about a woman qualifying for Medicaid for maternity care. It hit me again, "oh yeah, I'm pregnant."
While thinking about exams and reading case law isn't THAT exciting. It has been nice to take a mental break from pregnancy and let something new consume my thoughts. On the other hand, I can't wait to turn in my final exam so that I can start painting and shopping for the nursery.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
This recipe involved pan roasting- a technique I have never used before- but it yields the most AMAZING, tender and juicy steaks ever! It's so simple and requires only an oven with a stove.
First, mix the spices:
1 Tbsp cumin
1/2 Tbsp ground peppercorn
1 Tbsp smoked paprika (I used regular)
1 Tbsp garlic powder (I used garlic salt)
1/2 Tbsp kosher salt
1/2 Tbsp cinnamon
1/2 or 1 tsp cayenne pepper (optional)
1/8 cup (maybe 2 Tbsp?) powdered hot chocolate
Take the spice mix and rub it into your rib eye roast. I first brushed olive oil on it, then rubbed the spices in and let it sit for an hour- I don't know if this made any difference.
Then you take the meat - still heavily coated- and cook it in olive oil over high heat on each side for about 1.5 minutes each, just until each side is brown. Finally, stick the whole pan with the steak in the oven for about 15 minutes at 350 degrees. Turn the steaks over about halfway through. The steak is done when it reaches an internal temperature of about 155.
The best steak ever- so juicy and tender and full of flavor. My husband thought I marinated it for days.
Previously in this pregnancy I had been using running as a tool to stay healthy and active and to cure my exhaustion- it really works, I swear. But running became more like a chore this way and less like a passion. I was always worried that I wasn't getting enough oxygen, my body was over-heating and that I was dehydrated. This became a huge mental block. I didn't feel I could run as freely as I used to, forget ever experiencing the much missed runner's high.
As classes ended and I have been preparing for finals, I felt the desire and the need to get lost in running again. Not as a restricted form of exercise that is just another thing on my "to do" list, but as an indulgence in a passion. I miss racing and I decided to register for a half marathon for the end of the month. Of course I'm going to be careful and cautious but my body can handle a lot and I know this is something I can do.
So I've been starting to build up my mileage. And I've been running more like a free empassioned soul and less like a hampster in the running equivalent of a wheel- the treadmill. Yesterday, I went out for what was supposed to be my six mile run. I indulged myself and drove 30 minutes to my favorite park and- gasp- ran OUTSIDE. This change was INCREDIBLE. Birds, sun, trees, fresh air, nothing but trails ahead of me for miles. I popped on my ipod and I was in another world.
Feeling soft grass, hearing the crunch of gravel, my legs propelling my body further. Lungs filling with sweet, crisp air. I felt so in control and yet so carefree. At mile 5.5 my legs became heavier and my lungs felt a little sore. I knew as soon as I stopped running, my legs would feel like bricks and every muscle would ache. But as long as I kept going, the pain just felt good. The runner's high must have kicked in just then because I couldn't stop. I couldn't imagine ending my workout at 6 miles. There was so much left to experience and feel and think about.
I extended the run to 8 miles. I wanted to keep going and I think I could have done 10, but I decided not to over-do it. I began to feel paranoid about depriving the baby of oxygen or over-heating. Plus, it's not really good to increase your long run by more then 10-15% at any time. I decided this was a good enough taste for what was to come in the half marathon.
The euphoria that hit me after the workout was undescribable. I felt so calm and relaxed. Mentally and emotionall sedated. I was so...happy. I realized that anything could have happened right then and I would have been so cool, calm and collected about it. This is what I have been missing for the past five and a half months.
There is no way I can go back to the stuffy gym and the controlled treadmill now. I've rediscovered the explorer-adventure runner in me, the destination distance runner. I can't wait for my next run. I'm addicted again.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
How does my professor do it? Pick out the ONLY chapter that I did not read with full attention and make it the majority of the exam material? Conspiracy I tell you, that's how! I would be very happy with a B. I already know of a handful of multiple choice questions which I got wrong- thank you to all the dumb asses who decide to violate the first rule of law school exams: talk about the test in the hallway RIGHT after the test. There is no greater way to make the people around you feel like complete f***-ups.
For the rest of the day I get to: have lunch, take a nap, study for four hours and then take Exam #2 at 6:30. Oh my. What a wonderful day.
In an unrelated topic (my brain is finals mush and cannot talk about something for ten minutes without deviating from the topic) and to ease some of the pain of finals for all fellow student bloggers: I just came across a list of the top ten insults. These are GOOD- even the runners up that aren't in the top ten are good- or maybe I'm just so beyond help that anything will entertain me. My goal today is to use my angry pregnancy hormones as an excuse to lash out at someone with one of these insults:
1. Your birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory
2. It looks like your face caught on fire and someone tried to put it out with a fork
3. We all sprang from apes but you didn't spring far enough
4. Yo mama so fat she’s got more chins than a chinese phone book
5. You're so ugly, Hello Kitty said goodbye to you.
6. Yo mama’s so fat that she’s got smaller fat people orbiting around her
Ok some of those are dump but they made me laugh out loud in the law library. You can check out the full list at http://www.the-top-tens.com/lists/best-insults.asp
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I didn't really mind, but I don't think I've ever yelled the word "what?" so many times during the course of one meal.
Halfway through dinner the mariachi band music was suddenly replaced by a familiar sounding pop beat. My husband and I looked at each other like, "what's this?" Then Fergie and the Black Eyed Peas started booming "My Humps" into the quaint Mexican atmosphere.
I took a big bite of my Super Burrito. "My humps, my humps, my lovely lady lumps." Delicious. It didn't take long to discover that it was the unedited version. The word "ass" blared into our ears a handful of times. I was kind of embarrassed for all the parents with their young children seated around us.
The three minute song seemed to last a life-time. I've never been so happy to hear Fergie's voice go away. Thanfully, the mariachi band came back. I don't know what it is but a burrito just doesn't taste the same without the sound of violins, trumpets and maracas in the background.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Seriously. My husband's eyes will light up to the magnitude of a comet when he sees that the big stainless steel kitchen sink is empty. I will enjoy a full sixty seconds of praise and thanks before he grabs a cookie and sits his butt down in front of the computer for the rest of the night.
He never gets that excited about sex. Unless its been unvoluntarily withheld from him for too long.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
It's amazing how my interest in course material exponentially increases a week before exams.
I've noticed that my method to finishing all my readings is similar to my method for completing a running workout. First I use goals to break up my big task. Ex: I will read Chapter 7: Responses to Domestic Producers in Import Competition before I can have lunch before I move onto Chapter 9. I break up my workouts in a similar way by telling myself that I will run three miles on the indoor track before having a five minute walk break and moving to the treadmill.
I always retain ultimate discretion in deciding when these goals need to be altered. I'll skip righ to lunch when the hunger pains become so great that I keep reading the same line over and over again. And I will prolong my workout if I need to showup a cocky highschool boy on the track.
Another similarity is my generous reward system. If I finish all my reading goals for the day, I get to roam facebook, check the weather outside, watch clips of my favorite American Idol, or blast Chris Brown and booty dance in my underwear. If I finish my six mile workout goal, I get to eat an abundance of powdered donuts, an entire bag of microwave popcorn or the remaining half of the box of cheezits I started this morning.
There's one difference though, when I start a workout it's virtually impossible for me to not finish it. There is no use in completing half a workout. To fully benefit, reach maximum sweat capacity or reap the runner's high, I have to do the entire thing. My body doesn't even finish warming up until the end of mile 2.
When I study for exams, it takes an incredible amount of will power to force myself to the end. Getting to the end of each page requires an incredible amount of mental self-mutilation. And sadly, I've been known to quit a measly three pages from the end of a chapter or throw my chips in early for an ice cream sandwich.
Friday, May 2, 2008
First, I have to say that I can't afford to NOT love my stretchy pants. Why? Because they cost me $200. BELIEVE ME, I did NOT want to spend that much on jeans I will wear for three and a half months. But I had no choice if I wanted to wear anything other than sweatpants throughout this pregnancy. I went to Gap, I went to Old Navy, I went to Kohls, I went to JCPenneys, I went to Sears, I went to Motherhood Maternity and it's many affiliates. I did not find one pair of pants that fit me.
Old Navy jeans came close, the one pair that did fit were straight-leg jeans. I refused to buy the frumpy straight-leg maternity jeans even if they only cost $24.95. I just don't feel comfortable in straight-leg jeans. All the rest of Old Navy's jeans (even the x-small) were too baggy in the ass and the thighs. The only part of me that is growing is my belly, why do the jean manufacturers assume that my ass and thighs will explode in unison? It still baffles me how difficult it is to find maternity jeans in my size. I live in ghetto-ville where there seems to be a mysteriously large number of teen pregnancies. Why don't maternity lines cater to pregnant teens because I could probably wear those clothes.
After trying on my fifty-third pair of jeans that made me look like Granny Ass or Cool Pants Sagging Male Teen, I got desperate. I made the long trip to Seattle to the store that sells designer maternity jeans. Even those were mostly too big for me (darn hipless body), but I did find one nice pair of Sevens with a lovely price tag of $200. You know what? I felt guilty for ten minutes. Then I put those amazing Ass-defining jeans on and I felt like, well, $200. Feeling just a little bit sexy with a baby belly is worth every penny.
You know what else I like about those pants? They STRETCH. I can eat an extra dessert and not feel the pinch of the waistline. Plus, I don't even need to button or zip them, I just have to pull them up, so convenient! All I have to do is get pregnant seven more times and I might get a return on my denim investment.
I had a feeling right almost from the beginning that I was having a boy. I don't know what made me think that way, it was just a compeltely unfounded gut feeling. I took the Intelligender test at 10 weeks and it said we were having a boy. I took the results with a grain of salt because the product reviews weren't that great but still...I just knew it was a boy.
The week before our 20 week ultrasound, I started to second guess myself. I was thinking how sweet it would be to have a little girl. Until she beame a teenager and started to hate me, we could do fun girl things together. She would have all her friends over for fun girly sleepovers. But then she would probably be a tomboy like me and I would once again miss out on all the girlie things in life. Oh well.
I was ecstatic when I found out Baby Palmer was a boy though. I really didn't care the gender, I just wanted to know. In my experience, all the first born boys that I know are sensitive, caring, creative and deep thinkers. I wonder if ours will be the same? Now, whenever I go shopping in the baby aisle, I can't help but pass by all the cute pink, ruffly baby girl dresses with longing. They are way too adorable. Oh well, maybe baby two or baby three...
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Being weighed at the doctor's office every couple weeks is absolutely THE WORST. I don't want to measure my pregnancy in pounds. I don't want to be reminded how big I might get. And I don't want to know (or anyone else to know for that matter) how much I gained since last time I was in. Sometimes, my weight is the same. Sometimes (the weeks that I eat the healthiest, of course) my weight sharply spikes upward.
Anyway, an hour before I had to leave for my appointment, I was thinking of ways to make myself seem lighter. The following is the list of a crazy person, driven by desperation, of ways to lose a couple ounces before meeting the Big Bad Scales:
- Toss aside sneakers and socks for a pair of lightweight crocs. I usually let them weigh me in my shoes because I don't want to make a big deal about taking them off. I don't want them to realize how anal and obsessed I am over pregnancy weight gain. But, who am I kidding? Let them know that I'm desperate for some false sense of control and normalcy.
- Get a haircut. I mean a couple inches of hair can really add up right?
- Try to poop.
- Crank up the bathroom heater and sweat out the excess moisture.
- Go bra-less. Who needs a bra anyway? It's the OB, there's nothing she hasn't seen.
- Remove extra hair accessories, watches and jewelry.
So I rewarded myself with a big, deep fried, powdered donut. :)