Thursday, November 10, 2011
I am NOT the one
I am the slightly cantankerous, somewhat snarky, mildly uncomfortable lady who will cut you if you look twice at her snacks. Seriously.Yeah I'm that pregnant lady.
Not to say that I'm a witch or anything I'm just not the most pleasant lady day in and day out.
I'm not running through wheat fields and smilingly jubiliantly at the camera while my husband looks on lovingly and our Sweet Pea smiles angelicly. More like I'm waddling through Target on a mission to get more snickers while Sweet Pea stops in the toy aisle and Babe sighs heavily when I get distracted on my way to the checkout.
My husband just laughs at my attitude and rubs my feet in hopes that will make me feel better. He thinks I'm nuts. And he knows better than to mess with this feisty mama bear.
I was the same way with our daughter except then I thought I was supposed to the be other way. All sunshine and roses and love.
Now I know the truth: not all women are joyous when they are with child. And that's okay.
Yes, there is beauty in it. The wonderment of creating a life and watching as it grows inside of you, feeling all the movements as you shovel ice cream into your mouth while catching up on 'The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills'. It's all fabulous and quite magical. Watching your feet slowly disappear from view and getting up to use the bathroom four times a night - not so much.
And I love the idea of making a tiny human, the one child mutiny happening from within I could, however, do without. But that is a small price to pay for what the end result will be so I guess I can deal for the next 16 odd weeks.
The upside to all this is that my creativity is through the roof. I have a million ideas all floating around in my head and on my Pinterest boards. From the baby's room to sprucing up the house to how I'm going to get back into my skinny jeans. I've got it all planned out. The amount of inertia it would take for me to get off the couch and get it all done is the only thing holding me back.
But pregnancy has been a wonderful boon to my creative process.
Writing has increased tenfold as well, however, usually while I'm trying to get comfortable and fall asleep I find myself mentally writing essays that are full of wit and candor. Getting up to put on glasses and jot down these witty phrases and brilliant essays is a whole other story.
I know that this time will be over all too soon and then I will be obsessed with my tiny little man and his poop and that will be all I can talk about and I'm okay with that. In fact I'm kind of ready for that. But I will miss the ability to sleep late, take several naps and still have the energy to write, cook and create.
I realize that I am not one of those fabulous earth mamas that gets "the glow" and is brimming with love. I am not really interested in having strangers touch/rub my belly (let's be honest who is?). I don't want to discuss cloth vs. disposable diapers, breast milk vs. formula and my delivery decisions.
Nope - I really just want to put my feet up and relax with a margarita, but we all know that's not going to happen.
In the meantime I will settle for a second slice of cake even though my last one was less than 30 minutes ago and I haven't had "real food" just yet. Don't judge me.