Random thoughts at six months and counting…

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.

Maybe we should name the baby Barack?

Change the world? Heck yeah, we can. We just did.

I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome to Leroy’s first election.

When we voted on Sunday, I knew we were part of something momentous. Here in my little town in Southern Indiana, the line at the polling station wrapped around the block. In fact, we waited almost three hours for our turn at the machines. Long enough that I got a sunburn. In November.

But you know what? It was kinda fun. There was an almost palpable feeling of excitement in the air. Of pride. And of impending revolution.

The crowd, which seemed to be overwhelmingly full of Obama supporters, chatted cheerfully, soaking up the sunshine and listening to the local musicians who turned out to entertain us, like Joe the Accordion Player.

There were many topics of conversation, (and indeed, I was subjected to a lengthy lecture about the evils of medicated childbirth) but most people seemed to be talking about one thing. Change.

A lot of folks seemed to be afraid to hope too much. Scared that the Republicans would still find a way to pull the rug out from under us. Unwilling to believe that we would actually pull it off. I know that’s how I felt.

But we did it. We got Barack Obama elected and took the first step toward fixing everything that’s wrong with this country.

And, for once in my life, I am ridiculously proud to be an American.

Just a little bit giddy

I felt little Leroy move for the first time today. Actually, he was kicking the bejesus out of me – but he’s too little for it to hurt. Not that I blame him. I’d been ignoring my steadily growling stomach for over an hour. He was probably like, “Hey, Mom, could ya go get something to eat already? I’m going deaf in here!”

Yep. At -5 months old, he’s already being demanding. Must be my baby. Lord knows I’m no peach.

Although I’m told that pregnancy makes me a much nicer person. Seriously. When I first announced my news here at work, I quickly followed it up with an apology for being so grouchy and sick and miserable to be around.

To which my cube-mate replied, “Actually, I think you’ve been a lot nicer lately. You haven’t told me how you much you hate the world in weeks!”

And, as I blushed furiously, all the other writers agreed.

I have to admit, I do feel pretty darn good these days. All contented and mellow and glow-y. It’s positively unnatural.

All those extra hormones floating around must be drowning out my natural nastiness. I guess I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. If genetics are any predictor, I’ll get back in touch with my inner grump soon enough.

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