Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Bump Watch - 28 Weeks

Oh, week 28. Where did you go? What do you mean I slept you away?

Actually, it's not so much that I slept week 28 away... it's that week 28 started out well each day, until about noon when I ran face-first into a big wall and had to take a 90 minute nap. While drooling on my pillow.

This... this does not work well when one is being paid to actually work.

In a job.

That requires me to be awake.

Or at the very least, semi-conscious.

I mean, even if I wanted to pull a George Costanza and sleep under my desk... let's just say that my "svelte" athlete's body has officially LEFT THE BUILDING, and if I was actually able to get myself to fit under the desk, there is no guarantee that I'd be able to get out.

And then we'd really have a situation on our hands, wouldn't we? Because when the firemen came and cut the desk open with the Jaws of Life, I'd have to then move to Canada so that I WOULD NEVER BE HEARD FROM AGAIN. And DO THEY EVEN HAVE FACEBOOK IN CANADA?????

Last weekend, Benny and I hit the Farmer's Market on 25th Street. I've been going to this thing for years, and couldn't believe just how big it is this year. We wandered down around 11 a.m. Saturday... right about the time things usually start to thin out. Nope. Even by noon, there was barely enough room to maneuver the belly through the crowd and although I've been known to hyperventilate for no good reason in big crowds, that day it didn't bother me. Must have been the free samples of corndogs that melted in your mouth.

We also were in time to watch the Patriot Guard ride down 25th. They were in town last week after escorting a replica of The Vietnam Memorial to Ogden. Apparently, they ride all over the country doing this, which is very cool.


28 Weeks!

I would guesstimate that about 500 of the 5,000 bikes came downtown that day and the riders decided to take in downtown O-Town and the Farmer's Market.

Even this tough guy and his little buddy.












And yes... you are correct. Those are Doggles. THEY DO EXIST. Sersly, if you must have a teeny-tiny yippy dog, this is the only acceptable version.

Oh, and if you're a mean-looking Harley-riding Patriot Guard with a MOM tattoo by the name of "King".. you can pretty much have whatever size pet you want. The man could have been carrying a guinea pig dyed pink with painted toenails and people would have given him a wide berth.

Leave it up to Benny... the guy who just shaved his legs for a bike ride the day before and carrying a pink camera case to ask for a picture from King.

For his wife. That chick over there wolfing down a corn dog.

Speaking of which, week 28 also marked the week wherein I realized that I still have something like 12 weeks to go... and even though in the back of my mind I truly thought that this was as big as I would get... as big as anyone could possibly get... the hard truth is that it's just this week that Tweet is going to start gaining weight. A lot of weight. Perhaps from the corn dog? Perhaps from the zucchini bread that I made and ate in one night? You can never tell with these things. The point is, from here on out, the chub rub of the thighs will no longer be an occassional gripe. And the help I need from Benny to get off the couch? Not going away any. time. soon.

Shattered dreams, I tell you. SHATTERED. DREAMS.

Also last week, Benny and I got to experience the first time we actually saw the belly move. I was sitting in my office... as close to the desk as I can now get, which means that I need to put on my glasses to read email from a distance... and I actually saw the belly jump! I told Benny about it that night. I think he was a little bummed he missed it, but he happened to have his hand on the belly when she did it again! She moved his hand! It was amazing!

Also amazing? I used to have a deep, deep inny-belly that used to collect lint for me. Which was particularly handy when camping and I needed something to help start a fire with. But, I digress. The lint-keeper is no more. I can actually see the bottom of my belly-button as it starts to make it's migration outward.

I've also noticed a sharp decrease in my memory and an equally sharp increase in losing words while I'm speaking with someone on the phone. And then in my frenzy to find the right word for square or banana, I forget what we were talking about in the first place. I also can never remember whether or not I've taken my Zantac.... and in an effort not to OD the baby on it, I just sit tight and wait to see if I feel like I'm going to throw up for no good reason. That's the only way I know if I've taken it or not. Which has equated into a couple of sleepless nights where I realized I hadn't taken it but it was all the way out in the kitchen, and I'm all the way back here in the bedroom... and maybe if I just don't move the sensation that all of my stomach acid is burning a whole in my esophagus will go away.

Which is why I usually get up and stumble to the kitchen at 3 a.m. and down a Zantac. It's an awful, awful cycle.

Unfortunately, I'm not the only one responsible for keeping me awake at night. Because everyone's sweetheart Benny has taken sleepwalking to a whole. 'nutha. level.

Through trial and error of the six years of marriage, we've discovered that I can usually wake him up from a sleepwalk (which is much less walking and much more doing crazy stuff like trying to dig a hole through our bedroom wall) by calmly saying his name and telling him he needs to go back to bed. The only way I even figured this out was his former roommate from college told me that usually worked with him.

However, we've also discovered that there are times when he's panicked and cannot be talked down from the digging of the hole in the wall (because the bedroom was on fire and I was being a hinderence) and it's best to just let him do his thing. Even if that "thing" turns out to be him walking outside at 2 a.m.. Sans PJ's.

But last week, I was just too tired to A) notice his unusual uptick in episodes and/or B) if I did notice, have enough energy to do anything about it. Which is why Sunday night, when he turned on the light in my bathroom at midnight and I mumbled something about it, I didn't even bother opening my eyes when he started yelling that I WAS THE ONE WHO WANTED HIM TO FIX THE DAMN THING! SHEESH!

I do believe he ended up waking himself up a few minutes later when he went to his bathroom and turned on the light. But, I couldn't be bothered, because Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz......

So, that was week 28. This weekend, I have my very first baby shower... something that I never thought I would EVAH have. Just like I never thought I would have a wedding shower, or, you know... a wedding. I just wasn't one of those girls that ever thought about that. And now that I am thinking about it, I'm freaked out. Sersly. Showers like that are a rite of passage for women... am I really ready for this rite of passage? I mean, I've still got a couple months to prepare myself. A baby shower in a few days is a HUGE DEAL.

We also get to see some family who will be stopping by. Bart, Helen and the boys are taking a detour home from vacation and Helen will be able to come to the baby shower, which is nice.

Also nice is that we found out that the new Birch Creek Mercantile, which serves Farr's ice cream, is OPEN ON SUNDAYS.

This pregnancy? Now managable.

1 comment:

Wendy said...

Moving to Canada, not such a bad thing. ;-) Just sayin'!

Watching Tweet move must have been just wonderful!