Friday, October 7, 2011

Da Belly: 36 Weeks

We went to the zoo this week.

It was pretty much perfect. The skies were clear and blue.

It was cool enough to chase away the crowds, but warm enough to ditch the jacket, but cool enough to put my child in real shoes, but warm enough to let him play with the water-ball, but cool enough to dry his hands when we were through because the water didn't evaporate on contact.

So Tommy played with the water ball and I admired my very pregnant self in the reflection.

I sent this picture to a friend to prove my enormosity and she responded as every person should respond to every pregnant lady ever. In the history of the world. She told me loves this picture of me and that she thinks I'm adorable. Go ahead. Write it down. In fact tattoo it on your arm so you don't forget the appropriate response to the large pregnant lady. I'll wait.

Last night I sat in a church meeting in which people from the congregation were invited to stand and share their experiences. One woman stood and apologized in advance for leaving as soon as she was finished because "the last month of pregnancy is incredibly painful" and she "just can't sit in these chairs any longer". We all giggled appropriately and my chair-neighbor and friend leaned to me and said "you're allowed to leave early too you know."

I wasn't allowed to leave because I was playing the closing hymn, but I also didn't want to leave because sitting in those horribly uncomfortable chairs was the best it was going to get for me.

Coming home means boys clamoring for attention and climbing on my lap.
Coming home means dirty dishes and smelly garbage to take out.
Coming home means getting my own drink & refreshments.*

Later someone commented that I have become all baby and I must be getting close. I responded that until my nose was dilated to a 10 I wasn't close enough. But the truth is I'm afraid my nose might not swell to the extent it did last time. And if the sign doesn't come, how will I know Little John is really coming?

*Also coming home isn't bad at all. It's just that laying down makes me puke, and standing up makes my feet hurt, and sitting requires abdominal muscles which I can only assume have flown south for the winter, and lounging in the love sac gets me tackled. At least until midnight when the love sac and I are all alone for a few hours.

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