So, I don’t know what happened to this blog. I think I’ll just blame the lack of posts on pregnancy brain and my complete inability to focus on anything that isn’t completely necessary. But I’m never going to be able to quit my job and blog for a living like my idol over at dooce if I don’t get serious about this, so I’m making a New Year’s Resolution to make this a more regular thing..starting now.
To catch you all up, I found out a few weeks ago I’m baking a little girl. The ultrasound left no doubts on that score. But I won’t share the picture, ’cause even though she’s not born yet, I have a feeling she wouldn’t want her privates broadcast on the Internet.
She’s moving around a lot these days. Sometimes, I feel like I have a little acrobat in there. But that’s good, because if she’s capable of acrobatics, she’ll hopefully have an easier time with the whole walking/talking without falling thing than her klutz of a mom. Once she’s able to walk and talk, that is.
However, she likes to engage in her most vigorous gymnastics beginning at about 3:30, 3:32 a.m. So, because I’m a light sleeper, I tend to start my day at about 3:30, 3:32 a.m. This is not a particularly good thing (just ask my poor, long-suffering husband). But I do find that the more deliriously tired I become, the more creative my work gets, so maybe I’ll finally write that novel I’ve been meaning to start in the months after her birth. Who knows?
And because this is a completely random post with no real theme, I think I’ll leave you with a couple quotes from my husband that positively cracked me up.
On learning that I’d signed us up for a childbirth education class: “Really? What’s that? They can’t teach you how to push the baby out, can they?” And yes, he was serious.
On viewing the holiday photo we took just last weekend: “You know, you don’t really look pregnant. You just look heavy.” He really does know better. His brain just isn’t always connected to his mouth.
And on learning that he could probably feel the baby kicking me now: “That’s just scary. It’s like there’s an alien in there…” Ahhh, fatherly love.