Living in the Now
I’ve gone from zero to ninety in the Accrument of Baby Clothes department. I visited my folks this weekend and my mother, sister and I ventured over to Kohl’s to check out baby clothes. The summer infant clothes were 80% off, so there was no turning back for the three of us, especially my mother. She’s already dreaming of Easter bonnets and white lace socks. I now have a big closet full of baby girl’s outfits, with little matching hats and bloomers. I swear, the child will be able to wear a different outfit every day of the month and not duplicate it. She’s already much better dressed than me, and she’s still gestating.
My dog, Squirrel, is doing really well at my parent’s house. He’s missed me terribly, of course (or so I’d like to think), but it’s got a pretty happy existence over there. He has a dog brother, Ollie (or actually his “uncle,” if you are from a freak of a family like mine and refer to pets as brothers and sisters), and they enjoy chewing grass in the back yard and stealing each other’s Doggie Dingos (which are tiny rawhides that are like crack cocaine to canines.) He gets to go for a walk twice a day and has a little bed that matches Ollie’s. I still really miss him, but I think that I am okay with the current situation.
It’s hard not to want to get ahead of yourself with this pregnancy thing. You find yourself constantly focusing on a point in time that is months down the road. I never used to spend my Septembers concentrating on the next February. I was in September and that was that. In my first trimester, I was focused on making it to “the safe zone” (if there actually is one). Then I was wishing that I would hurry up and be able to find out the gender. Now I am staring at my belly and thinking, “Well, let’s see, my sister is getting married on October the 16th so I will surely be showing by then...” Looking at my winter maternity shirts, waiting for that first kick, wondering how big I will be at Christmas....
But I need to appreciate where I am now. I am getting regular sleep. I am still squeezing into normal pants. I have minimal responsibility in my life. If I want to go to read books at Barnes and Nobles and drink (decaf) coffee for six hours, well, I can technically do that. There will come a day, when I am as big as a house, that I will remember fondly the day of non-elasticized pants.
My dog, Squirrel, is doing really well at my parent’s house. He’s missed me terribly, of course (or so I’d like to think), but it’s got a pretty happy existence over there. He has a dog brother, Ollie (or actually his “uncle,” if you are from a freak of a family like mine and refer to pets as brothers and sisters), and they enjoy chewing grass in the back yard and stealing each other’s Doggie Dingos (which are tiny rawhides that are like crack cocaine to canines.) He gets to go for a walk twice a day and has a little bed that matches Ollie’s. I still really miss him, but I think that I am okay with the current situation.
It’s hard not to want to get ahead of yourself with this pregnancy thing. You find yourself constantly focusing on a point in time that is months down the road. I never used to spend my Septembers concentrating on the next February. I was in September and that was that. In my first trimester, I was focused on making it to “the safe zone” (if there actually is one). Then I was wishing that I would hurry up and be able to find out the gender. Now I am staring at my belly and thinking, “Well, let’s see, my sister is getting married on October the 16th so I will surely be showing by then...” Looking at my winter maternity shirts, waiting for that first kick, wondering how big I will be at Christmas....
But I need to appreciate where I am now. I am getting regular sleep. I am still squeezing into normal pants. I have minimal responsibility in my life. If I want to go to read books at Barnes and Nobles and drink (decaf) coffee for six hours, well, I can technically do that. There will come a day, when I am as big as a house, that I will remember fondly the day of non-elasticized pants.
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