Dear Cupcake: Thanks for the Cankles

Dear Cupcake,

I am often flooded with moments of pure adoration of you even though you haven't made your official appearance in the world just yet. Even when you have your little bum up under my rib cage, and I can feel you boxing my bladder, I am in awe of the fact that you're inside of me. A growing person. Woah!

I do have one bone to pick with you, though. That bone is cankles. Never before in my life have I known what it felt like to have my calf merge seamlessly with my ankles until now. I look at my swollen piggies every night, and I have to remind myself that all of this fluid retention is going to go aways once you get here. I try to remind myself of what my feet used to look like. Thin. Veiny. Small. I have gone up a shoe size to accommodate the swollen features of my new appendages. Sad news.

So, amidst all the wonder and joy and kicking and fluttering and awesome that is you, I have found myself looking down in total shock as my ankles have earned themselves fat wrinkles by the end of each day. Cankles are one of the few things I would give back. I'd give them back before I gave back 6-weeks of 24 hour a day nausea. Now that's saying something.

xoxo,
Mommy

Building a Registry

For a really long time, something like, say, six months, I thought that building a baby registry was going to be simple. We'd go in, scan our items and be out the door in a snap. I fantasized about how easy it was going to be to the point that when the scan gun was finally in my hand last night, I had truly convinced myself that I would be back out of store numero uno in less than an hour.

How wrong could one gal be?

Two hours after our arrival at Target, we were still stumbling aroun the aisles looking at the overwhelming number of items and wondering to ourselves if it was possible to be so utterly confused about what seemed such a simple task. I mean, how hard can it be to pick out bedding? What exactly is so compicated about identifying and selecting swaddling blankets? Is there really a science to picking out the onsies that you want?

The answer to all of those questions quickly became apparent. It is difficult. It is challenging. To be honest, I have never felt quite so overwhelmed in my whole life. And why? Because what if I forget something important and remember something useless? The pressure was (is) fairly high. If I didn't know better, I would have thought that I was trapped in some sort of high-stake, life-or-death battle. As it was, I left the store with a copy of our partial registry in hand and a feeling of certainty that I forgot something huge.

I mean, I'm well aware that I didn't register for a breast pump or a bottle system, but I also know that I need to attend a breastfeeding class before I can make an educated decision. Hence while I'll be checking out the schedule for said classes and registering for one today. Even things as straightforward as breastfeeding become terror-inducing when I'm given the right combination of time and pregnancy hormones. And, trust me, right now I have the perfect combination of both.

Scary Movies Aren't My Thing, But I Watch Them Anyway

Paranormal Activity 2

I need to learn my lesson and stop watching horror movies. I say this over and over to myself after every scary movie I watch, and I still manage to watch another. It's as if the mere fact that I mention that I won't watch another one increases my likelihood to do so.

Case in point? I watched Paranormal Activity 2 twice in the last week.

The first time, I was with my students. My college-aged students. It was part of a conference experience. It was also an intiation right of passage for one of our newbies. We called it the "BIBO" initiation. Blood in. Blood out. But we're not a gang, I promise. We did cause the newbie in question to almost wet his pants, though. There may have been some hiding and jumping out at an appropriate scary moment.

I am still laughing to this day. Priceless.

The second time I watched, it was with the hubs. We had been talking about how we wanted to see it - primarily because we weren't too thrilled with the first - and I felt I'd betrayed our pact by seeing it on my own. Thus, we watched it a second time last night.

Can I tell you something? It was a bad idea. A really bad idea. I had nightmares all night. I kept waking up expecting to see someone standing over my bed staring and rocking. Bad news.

So why would I put myself through it? The nervousness. The paranoia. The inexplicable feeling of being eight-years-old and afraid of the dark. I have no idea.

But I know that in a few weeks Shannon will say something about how he wants to see such and such scary movie, and I'll ultimately say "sure" without a second thought.

I think I have a problem.

Gaggity Gag Gag

Corn and pea salad - gag

Lately, a lot of foods have made me a bit gaggy. I attribute this to my changing palate in the winter months as well as my sensitive digestive system. Maybe sensitive isn't the right word.

I think the word I'm looking for is volatile.

Or maybe hateful.

Word choice not withstanding, my digestive tract often rebels. Lately, it's been rebeling when it comes to all forms of vegetables. The picture above was enough to send me into spasms of disgust. I mean, it's not a pretty dish to begin with, but there was something about the combination of corn and peas in a liquid that's cold.

*Shiver*

It brought back memories of my fascination with aspic. I'm still fascinated. I'm just not as eager to make it. Go figure.