- I hate that being pregnant makes me feel like such a GIRRRRL. I prefer to be a person, or a manager, or myself, but I’ve always loathed admitting to being a girl. I know, I know, I am one, but I don’t like admitting it. The hormonal extravaganza and being faced with a body that’s undoubtedly doing female things means I can’t avoid it. It makes me short-tempered and grumpy, a connection I finally figured out this weekend.
- We eat fast food. More than once a week. And sometimes it’s (gasp) McDonald’s. We don’t overeat (combos? Who can eat all that food, never mind having a gut that can handle all the greasiness) but it’s far too convenient, consistent, and bland for us to not swing by on busy days. That said, I swore off Taco Bell when their
- I’m still not exercising. Mornings are busy, evenings are nauseous, and late nights last all night (hello, insomnia). I should walk but I hate walking; I should do yoga but I’ve not found a prenatal class that’s not on Tuesday afternoons (do pregnant women not work?). I’m just not getting around to it. I will. Really.
- I’m probably gaining more than the “recommended 25 pounds of weight gain in a pregnancy” guidelines. All in my boobs. The rest of my body is pretty normal, but my honkers weigh a ton and are overflowing the bra I just bought two weeks ago. I hear they get bigger. The first sign of weight gain in my previous Normal Me life was growing boobage, so watching this elicits all sorts of uncomfortable body images for me. Yech, cleavage.
- The nursery looks like a storage room, we haven’t signed up for any kind of birthing class, and I’m semi-committed to a non-epidural birth… but I’m not freaking out. I guess I can admit this, but it’s unusual for me. I can tell when our little dude shoves his head up along my belly (“Little dude, you have a big head!”) and when I poke him, he pokes back (my husband hates that I do this so don’t tell him), so the idea of a real kid of our very own is overwhelming any birth-related concerns right now.
- Our nursery is unlikely to be blogger-worthy in terms of design, but it’ll be mostly clean and well-furnished. Hell, it might be overly-furnished if we’re not careful, given our propensity for keeping furniture because it’s cool, not necessarily because it’s functional there.
- We’re rehoming a few cats… not because the baby’s coming, exactly, but because it’s been a good impetus for us to deal with the parts of our lives that are overwhelming. We have a pair of cats that we’d been meaning to find homes for but hadn’t, and they harass the crap out of the only female animal in the house who then pees on my husband’s stuff. Not fun for her, despite probably being fun for them (and definitely not fun for Joey). So the pair of brothers is doing a trial run at a new home starting tomorrow; Snickerdoodle will meet a potential future owner on Wednesday. I’m a little nervous for them all, but excited that they’ll have homes less frenzied and harried than ours.
- I have a really expensive camera I neither use nor love. I bought a D90 last year but tend to not use it because it’s heavy and makes me feel self-conscious. I’ve been debating selling it to trade to a micro 4:3, but suspect I’ll not like the shooting speed once I have a mobile baby to shoot.
Whew. Okay, I think everything’s off my (way too bodacious and heavy) chest.