Friday, July 27, 2012
Now, I'll also admit I've been slightly stupid when it comes to my pregnancy. (Hence the drug use.) For example, a few weeks ago the husband and I went up to San Francisco for a long weekend getaway for his birthday. While we were there we decided to rent bikes and ride from Union Square (downtown San Francisco) across the Golden Gate Bridge, to Saulsalito and then back through Golden Gate Gardens. Now, I know what you are already thinking...this sounds amazing. Oh wait, were you thinking a pregnant woman should probably not take on such a ride? Then you would be right. About fifteen minutes into our ride we found ourselves cruising along with traffic along Fisherman's Wharf. As we were about to exit the traffic area, the husband yelled back at me, "Careful of the edges leftover from the old trolley systems!" Now, for those of you non-bike riders, edges can be really dangerous because your wheel can catch them and then slide. But, I've been riding for almost ten years, ridden thousands of miles and I've caught some edges so I knew what I was doing. However, after about two minutes of the husband's warning, I found myself catching an edge, screaming a small profanity and falling off my bike. Go ahead gasp.
Now, the worst part of the fall wasn't the fact that my hand got cut up, or the fact that my baby - in order to torture me, decided not to move until that night - but what happened when I rolled over and everyone saw me. Initially, everyone was like, "Oh, poor idiot, who fell off her bike," and then they were like, "She's PREGNANT! Call Children Protective Services!!" I have never felt worse in my life. My child isn't even born yet, and people are calling me an unfit mother. (I guess it's good training for when I leave my children at stores or forget to match their clothes...I'm kidding, I'll always match their clothes.)
Anyway, the baby is great. I promise. I was able to take the fall on my side, I've been to the doctor twice now and she's doing great. As for me, I haven't been on a bike since, and my social worker says I can be alone with my baby after a year of close observation. So, not all bad.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
You know you things have changed with pregnancy when:
- It's more comfortable to walk around the house with your shirt pulled up and your stomach completely exposed.
2. When you burn your exposed stomach while dishing up a pancake to your husband.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
As for Def Leppard, not only did this band teach me that you don't need two fully functioning arms to be successful, but "Pour Some Sugar On Me" (which according to Yahoo.com, is a subtle reference to sex) was indeed, the only fitting song for my lacrosse team to warm up to all four years of college. So, for you haters out there, don't mock because these bands brought it.
Now, outside of reliving my past, the best part of the concert was when I decided, between sets, to use the bathroom. After climbing down a series of stairs and weaving my way through some truly fantastic white trash outfits, I approached the line to the bathroom. To my dismay the line was at least forty deep, and I knew if I sneezed or laughed suddenly, there was a very good chance I was going to relieve myself in line. So, I did what any normal pregnant woman would do - I walked to the middle of the line, tapped on the shoulder of the girl and prepared my most desperate pregnant face. However, as I started to rub my protruding belly and explain my need to use the bathroom, the girl, who I tapped, turned around and was equally as pregnant as I was. And just as I was about to try another girl, the girl in front of the pregnant woman turned around and she was pregnant as well. So much for using the pregnant card!
So, people don't you see...Poison and Def Leppard is not just about big hair and hits in the 80's and 90's, but brings us all together. Two arms, one arm, pregnant or not...it unifies us all.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
So, I'm currently on bed rest...apparently my baby needs to gain some weight...so hopefully this means a little more blogging. What? What was that? A collective sigh of relief and a...what?...a small tremor of excitement? Yes, I'm officially an unemployed, soon to be mom, so it's on. Bring on the pictures of my new apartment, my baby, some more of my baby, my baby sleeping, my baby opening its eyes...oh it's on blogging world.
So, I'm going a little nuts. Can you tell? I'm five days into my bed rest and it's going really awesome.
Anywayyyyy....so, lately I've been having some very interesting run ins with drunks and not the kind that make me miss college. My first, was on my plane trip home from Cabo. Picture this, the husband and I enjoying our last few minutes of vacation and dreading the inevitable return to reality, when this gentlemen points to the window seat and says, "I think that's mine." At first I wasn't troubled by our airplane buddy, but when he sat down, I immediately caught an unbelievable smell of his drunken weekend and most likely his drunken morning, afternoon and current state. Now, I'm fine with a quiet and passed out drunk, but this guy was just getting started. As soon as he got settled he started to talk to me...and as we all know, drunken conversations are just the best. You know lots of loud outbursts, a slight difficulty with focusing, inappropriate comments like, "Can I touch your baby?" and general sharing of too much information, like his girlfriend didn't come to Cabo with him because she's most likely cheating on him. Finally, we ascended into the air, and after a few moments of reprieve, the forsaken complimentary drinks came around. Yep, things got worse. He started with some gin and then moved to vodka and soda. Once those kicked in, he put his earphones on and proceeded to pound on his pull out tray and dance around. Mind you this was not a small man and after awhile his moves began to encroach on my space. Finally, the husband hit him and asked, "Are you on something?" Again, a rational question to a dancing, drunk man on an airplane probably wasn't the best idea, and only encouraged him to increase his movements. Finally, we landed and after an awkward good-bye, that really should have consisted of me kicking him the shins, we parted ways.
Looking back on the situation I'll admit I have some regrets. One, I wish I had said, "Wait does your girlfriend live in Santa Monica? Yes, I saw her - she's definitely cheating on you. 100%." The guy was drunk - why didn't I prey on his inebriation? Two, I wish I had told the stewardess that the man next to me kept talking about a bomb. Sure, we would have been forced to land somewhere between Cabo and LA, but come on, I would have loved to see some police officers grab him and start yelling "terrorist!" (Because in my mind that's what police officers do with potential bomb threats.) And third, I wish, after he offered to buy me a drink, I had gone off about my ten years in rehab for alcoholism and abuse. And just when he goes to apologize for offering a recovering addict a drink, I continue with the time I killed someone with my car while I was drunk. Again, there's nothing more fun than messing with a drunk person.
Oh the regrets. When will I ever get this life right?