The Kids are certainly observant August 27, 2008

So we’ve been back at school for three days (feels like three lifetimes) and several of my kids have asked the inevitable question. By far the most amusing exchange happened this afternoon. Here it is, transcribed for your pleasure:

Student, staring intently at my midsection which is about eye level for her: Are you pregnant?

Me: Yes.

Her: Is it yours?

Me: ?

Her: Wait, of course it is.

Her: What is it?

Me: Hopefully a human.

I know people like to “joke” about paternity (as if implying that your hormonally-imbalanced coworker/friend/relative/wife might be sleeping around is in some way amusing and/or appropriate) but that’s the first time anyone has questioned my role in the proceedings.

Oh, I almost forgot. August 23, 2008

Today I woke up considerably larger. We think Lenny built an addition over his garage while I was trying to sleep.

Reality #1,545 About Pregnancy that I didn’t know

No one told me that getting pregnant was the fast track to very strange, very vivid dreams. Almost every morning I wake up having gone on a crazy adventure while the rest of the world was sleeping.

Last night I was a man who had to run from a rabid teenage stalker who wanted to sleep with me. We’re talking “lock yourself in the closet, climb out of the house via the attic” kind of craziness. Then, in another adventure, there was a crazy storm in which the wind was so strong it caused a crack in the bathroom wall and the rain flooded our house. I do remember thinking, “Oh well, we were about to get new flooring anyway.” There were more, but those are the only two that can be translated into some semblance of logical thinking. And those sentences comprise the only logic within the dreams themselves.

At least last night I didn’t have to kill anyone. My most common theme is having to defend myself from invaders, during the course of which I usually have to chop off some heads. It’s bizarre.

There’s a whole other genre of dreams that I’m also now prone to called “Mr. Aggie Leaves Me in an Extremely Callous Manner.” More on that one next time.

Baby’s Fine, Mommy’s fat August 19, 2008

We had our ultrasound today where we would have found out the sex if we weren’t so disciplined. It was amazing to see this baby (my baby!) swimming around on the screen. Lenny was moving all over the place, kicking and moving arms and legs and often staring right at the ultrasound wand that was compressing his home.  We got four pictures, three of which are skeletor-esque with Lenny looking right at us. We also got a cute profile shot that I enjoyed showing people at school. It was amusing because people would insinuate that they knew it was a boy from the photo, even though the male appendage they “saw” was the umbilical cord. If my baby has a manpart that is equal in length to his entire abdomen, I’m selling the story to someone right now.

So that sums up the baby’s fine part of the post.  As far as the other part, Mommy is gaining weight like no one’s business. Dr. Doom put me on a diet today that eliminated absolutely everything I ate yesterday (seriously). Here’s what’s out:

Mexican food

Ice cream

Cheese (even on pizza)

All beverages except water and milk

I’m not too upset about it. I like a challenge, and I know I can’t keep gaining weight at this rate. If I continue to gain ten pounds between each appointment, I’ll end up giving birth in my bathroom because I won’t fit through the door to go to the hospital.

Kids say the darnest things; adults the most inappropriate August 16, 2008

So I’ve been up at school every day for the last two weeks trying to get things ready for school since I’m switching from 5th to 3rd (not by choice). For the first week and half there were only a handful of people around, so all I had to do was let it slip to the secretary that I’m pregnant and everyone else knew within the hour. No muss, no fuss.

Then it got more complicated. With more people around, some started asking questions before the secretary could pass along the info. A few asked my best friend, a fellow teacher. My favorite quote from those nosy Nellies would have to be “Is Aggie pregnant? ‘Cuz I know she wasn’t that big when school got out!” Still, that is less awkward than the exchange when I told my 64 year old colleague:

Me: “So did you hear my news?”

Her: “No, what?”

Me: “I’m having a baby!”

Her: “[Excited exclamation]! That’s wonderful! I was just thinking you must have had a summer of good eatin’! Up here [gestures to her boobs] is a lot bigger, too. I mean, dang, girl!”

Me: “Umm, thanks?”

I’ve decided that telling people you’re pregnant is pretty awkward all around. Even if the conversation stays well within the confines of proper social etiquette, you’re still disclosing to someone that you and your spouse have sex and that said sex resulted in the creation of another human. If this is someone you interact with only infrequently, it’s even weirder. “Hey, Bob from accounting, just wanted to let you know that Hubs and I have been doin’ it like rabbits recently, and it seems his boys can swim. High five!”

So as you can surmise, I’ll be glad when I’m no longer at the in-between stage of “fat v. pregnant” that leaves people who haven’t seen me in awhile wondering if I spent the whole summer at Krispy Kreme. It would be nice if strangers could tell, also, but I don’t want to be too greedy.

Now I’m off to buy a baby name book, since I’m no longer confident in our two choices for boy names. Mr. Aggie really likes one name that I’m not sold on and I was championing another that he’s not too fond of. Now I’ve decided that I don’t like either of them so we’re going to play a little game of Baby Name Roulette later tonight. Wish us luck!

The inequality persists August 10, 2008

So I’m back from our luxurious overnight getaway, and the score remains 3-0 in Mr. Aggie’s favor in the anniversary score department. At least this year I got him a fancypants watch that he loves. He got me a night at the Ritz-Carlton and dinner flown in from my favorite Boston restaurant. Clearly, he wins again.

When we got to the hotel, I managed to ’casually’ mention that it was our anniversary and that I was knocked up. Five minutes later, we’d been upgraded to a Club Level Corner Suite (It’s even capitalized when they say it, I think). It was amazing. I could spend all day raving about the ‘extras’ they did for us (rose petals everywhere, additional food at  dinner, free gelato) but suffice it to say that it was unforgettable.

We spent hours yesterday lounging by the pool with drinks (virgin for me, of course) then dined in our suite with city views serving as two walls. Heavenly.

Everyone we met reminded us to enjoy our last child-free anniversary, and boy did we ever. Here’s a new picture from last night of me in my fancypants dress. I didn’t know where we were going for dinner (i.e. that we weren’t going anywhere, in fact) so I had to be dressed for whatever.

Don’t be alarmed by the seemingly much larger bump (and whatever you do, DO NOT ask if it’s twins and then stare in open-mouthed disbelief when I tell you that he/she is alone in there). The dress is designed to flaunt the belly and thus, a uterus in the image may in fact be smaller than it appears. Insist that it is twins, and I will throat punch you.

Happy Anniversary, Dude August 6, 2008

So today is our third wedding anniversary. It’s strange to think this is the last one we’ll celebrate without arranging for a babysitter. We’re not officially celebrating until Saturday, when Mr. Aggie is taking me somewhere in Dallas for the night. All I know is that I need to pack a swimsuit and fancy-schmancy outfit for dinner (He had to actually call the place to see if it’s ok for me to wear dress pants. Note to self: Google fancypants table settings after this.) Oh, and I know it’s seafood. He’s such a nice guy–he doesn’t really like seafood but Lenny doesn’t tolerate any other meat very well so he picked the place especially with that in mind. Swoon.

I, on the other hand, have nothing to offer him. It’s sadly reminiscent of our wedding, when I mentioned about three days before that I didn’t care about exchanging gifts. I assumed that he, as the guy, would be relieved since 1) he probably didn’t know that was customary and 2) if he did, he certainly hadn’t bought anything. I was surprised when he insisted on it, and thus found myself wandering the aisles of Bed, Bath, and Beyond the day before our wedding desperate for a gift. In the end, he presented me with a second wedding band, which we had planned to purchase at our one year anniversary, and I gave him a–wait for it–seat massager for his car. He still drives around with it in  back of the Explorer, but I’ve never seen him use it.

With that in mind, I’m running to the store for a card and then to an undisclosed location for a gift that will (hopefully) be a significant improvement over the seat massager.

Pregnancy as a magnifying glass August 3, 2008

I’ve heard of people having babies (or poking holes in jimmy hats for that purpose) in order to ‘save’ failing relationships. What a horrible idea.  My marriage is incredibly blessed and stable, but our current state is a magnifying glass (hence the title) for every difference between us.

Discipline? Mostly agreed, though it’s just theoretical and won’t come into play until Timmy throws a tantrum.

Routines? Agreed on the importance of, and since I’m a freak about them they’ll probably come to fruition-eventually.

Money? Even if you’re well-off you still worry about providing for yourself and your child. Every purchase now gets extra scrutiny. In this area we’re doing fine.

For us, the biggest concern is religion. I grew up in an incredibly small (and small-minded) town where the question wasn’t if you went to church, but where you went to church. You don’t see much of a difference between Church of Christ and Southern Baptists? In my hometown it was like Protestants v. Catholics. (Don’t even get me started on the actual Catholics…)

Since that time, I’ve adopted an “us vs. them” mentality about organized religion. My spouse, who was raised Catholic, has a more favorable attitude toward the institutions and would like to see us find some kind of church to raise the bambino in.  So we had a big discussion (discussion = mommy meltdown, par for the course at this point) and have agreed to find the most liberal Methodist Church in the metroplex and give it a try. Wish us luck.

Disturbing Thought August 2, 2008

So I was getting dressed this morning (not that you needed that information, but I like to be thorough) when I was struck by this thought: there will come a time, who knows how soon, when I cannot see my own feet. I will be stuck in that limbo until after Lenny is born.

Think about that for a minute. What if I suddenly feel a horrific pain in my right foot? I won’t know if I’m being attacked by ants, a tiny alligator, or if I’ve stepped into a rusty bear trap. I won’t know what’s going on with my own feet.

Disturbing.