I'm due a month from yesterday.

Random Fug

Dear Diary,

Here is a picture of the dresser in the nursery that the BHE painted and refurbished with new hardware. This dresser has somewhat of a colorful history that involves the house (affectionately nicknamed the "Shanty of Shame"-- or just the "Shanty" for short) where the BHE was living when I found met him, that was this close to being condemned by City B. Long story short: free dresser.

And this is a closeup of the fabric that I put on top of the dresser. It's sailboats!


AND here is a closeup of the adorable print you see there on the wall. It's from here, a little baby boutique in our neighborhood. I'm sure the baby will really appreciate the grosgrain ribbon that I used to hang it. Ha.

I've often thought that people do up their nurseries just to indulge their own decorating tastes and show it off to their friends and family, and look! I am no exception. It's the cutest room in the house, for sure. I just might take it over for myself.

And speaking of style. I cannot wait until I can buy some new fall duds after the baby is born (assuming I don't have two sizes of ass to lose, in which case I guess I'll have to wait until winter to look cute. Sigh.) So I went online to the Gap to see what their fall stuff looks like, and was assaulted with this image:



Um, no. What... is that thing? I'm sure the ladies at Go Fug Yourself could come up with a witty description of all that is wrong here, but all I can say is: DO NOT WANT.

Love,
Fluffy

Hoping For a Mama's Boy

Dear Diary,

Allow me to state for the record that I am generally anti-guitar solo. Unless the song is by Boston.

Let me also state that my love for the band Boston is perhaps not entirely ironic. Do I crank them in the car just to get on the BHE's nerves, or do I crank them in the car BECAUSE THEY ARE AWESOME? Not sure anymore.

Our poor son will be forced to be the family tie breaker on which bands are awesome or not: for example, Led Zepplin, U2, Foreigner, Oasis (and in case you're interested in my opinion, that would be awesome, not awesome, awesome, not awesome). Who will he side with? I've already been coaching him in utero. I have the current advantage of lots more alone time in the car with this kid than his dad does. So I have had several opportunities to mold his young opinion:

"Hear that, little baby? I'm sure you do; that whiny nasal voice is probably what's making you hiccup. That's Oasis. Your dad thinks they are good, but you and I both know that Blur is far superior."

And then he usually head-butts my bladder in agreement.

Love,
Fluffy

Dude, Abe Lincoln had the french pox.

Dear Diary,

I wish I had something interesting to say. But I don't. These days are all about the pregnant. It's hard not to think about constantly, when at this point in a pregnancy one's body seems to take up an entire room.

I am reading a good book-- The Lincolns: Portrait of a Marriage. Nutjobs, these two. I highly recommend it.

Heard about that book on NPR, which leads me to this next thought. Has anyone else noticed the increasing amount of awkward puns Steve Inskeep keeps throwing in on Morning Edition? What has gotten into him? If I want that kind of shenanigans, I will watch my local City B news, thanks. NPR should stay away from humor and sports, imo.

I have brokered a deal to come back to work part time after the baby. I have very complex and unresolved feelings about working and child-rearing. I don't really want to go into it, but let's just say that a therapy session or two probably wouldn't hurt. Anyway, part time seems like a decent solution. Less money, but less guilt. I guess I might have to clip a coupon or two, but that's what moms do, right? Clip coupons and shop at Costco and bake their own cookies? I can be down with that.

I keep having dreams that the BHE leaves me for another woman, and I am stuck trying to find a replacement husband at 8 months pregnant. I'm not sure which is more disturbing: the fact that I keep dreaming that he leaves me, or the fact that in these dreams my immediate thought is: OMG must go find suitable replacement, brb.

Love,
Fluffy

thirty three

What You've Always Wanted to Ask But Shouldn't

Dear Diary,

Let me preface this post by saying that I am a bit of a touchy person. Overly sensitive to nosy questions and personal space violations. I am well aware of this, as I'm sure are my friends and family. Let me also preface it by saying that I'm sure I have been guilty of all the violations listed below. But since becoming pregnant, I've encountered more nosiness than usual. So I've decided to provide some guidelines about things you should and should not ask or say to a pregnant woman. As a public service. So, here we go.

Were you trying to get pregnant? This is absolutely, positively, none of anyone's business. (THAT MEANS YOU, MOTHERS IN LAW. Yes, mine actually asked that when we told her we were expecting. What. The. Fuck.) Do not ask a pregnant woman this, unless you could be the father.

Do you know what day you conceived? I actually had someone ask me this. Get a life.

Do you know if it's a boy or girl? Asking about the sex is OK, in my opinion. What is not ok is telling your pregnant daughter that you don't want to know the sex, when the rest of the family and the entire world knows. Puts her in the awkward position of feeling guilty if she lets it slip, and having to worry about what she says around you. Just get over it or plug your ears, mmmkay?

Do you have a name? This is a bit of an awkward question for us to answer. We had a name picked out pretty early on, but we weren't revealing it. This required me to either 1) lie and say that we hadn't decided or 2) say that we had chosen one but weren't disclosing it, which just sounds... pretentious. But my family is totally weird and all oh my god, do not tell us the name. Fine, whatever. So I've told some people, and not other people, and it's just stupid. So I'm going to go ahead and advise not to ask about names. What's the point? You'll find out eventually, I promise.

How are you feeling? How's the (insert common pregnancy complaint)? I have close friends and family who are frequent offenders here. Basically, my advice is to not ask if you don't want to hear a negative response.

For many women (well, not Angelina Jolie) pregnancy is uncomfortable. There can be nausea, indigestion, heartburn, back pain, foot pain, exhaustion, headaches, shortness of breath, palpitations, craziness, general fatness, oh, and a rather large parasite thrashing about in your normally pear-sized uterus. I suppose people ask how you are just to make conversation. And granted, the polite thing to do as a pregnant woman, I suppose, is to simply say that you're feeling fine, thanks for asking.

But if I'm not feeling fine and I decide to be honest, please do not say something irritatingly positive like "It's all worth it" or "But it will be over soon and you'll have a BABY! Squeeeeeeeeeeeeal!!!!!!" Um, duh. You may think this makes me feel better, when in fact it makes me feel like an asshole for complaining. Rest assured I am very grateful for being pregnant and excited about becoming a parent. No need to point out the silver lining; I SEE IT. Doesn't mean I can't say that I feel like shit sometimes. And if you don't want to hear that, don't ask me how I am.

Also never, ever, tell a woman experiencing pregnancy nausea not to worry, that it will go away by such and such a week. Really? Thank you, expert on my particular pregnancy! True, for many women nausea abates by the end of the first trimester. Not for all women. And oh my god, please don't say, "Wow, I'm surprised you still feel sick." Um, SO AM I. What, do you think I'm faking? Pregnancy just doesn't agree with some digestive systems, nuff said.

Did you get genetic testing? I would advise against asking about this. I think it's a pretty personal decision and a possibly touchy subject.

Size/Weight Comments: Do not comment on a pregnant woman's size or how much weight she has or has not gained, period. Just say, "You look great!" even if she doesn't, and leave it at that. Trust me, you cannot win here.

Childbirth Methods: None of your business what kind of childbirth a pregnant woman is planning to have (midwife, hospital, squatting against a tree, ether, goofballs, whatever.) I'm sure you have an opinion on this, and rest assured she doesn't care what it is unless she asks.

Are you going to breastfeed? I'm not sure why this is anyone's business. Sort of a weird thing to ask; I'd stay away from this one. Future breastfeeding moms will reach out to those from whom they want advice on their own. In fact, pregnant women who want advice about anything will probably ask for it.

Are you going to have the baby circumcised? I suppose some people are genuinely curious about this issue. And I would like to ask those people to please stop thinking about my son's penis.

Love,
Fluffy

Peanut Butter Time

Dear Diary,

I'd like to take a moment and give a shout out to peanut butter.

Throughout my pregnancy, peanut butter has been a true and steadfast friend. In the early days, it was one of very few foods that I could contemplate without dry heaving. And now in the later days, when I am craving an entire cake I slap some on whole wheat crackers and eat that instead. A poor substitute for cake, you say? Nah. The satisfaction I get from eating peanut butter and crackers instead of cake is worth it. No nutritional guilt, no unnecessary pregnancy poundage. It is such a low maintenance friend. Doesn't need refrigeration or preparation. It's there when you need it. And if you're really in a bind, no utensil is necessary. Come on, who hasn't stuck their finger into a jar of peanut butter? I just can't say enough good things about it. Before pregnancy, I couldn't have cared less about peanut butter. But I will never take it for granted again.

Sweet Mary, who am I kidding? I STILL WANT CAKE. My birthday is next week and god DAMN if I'm not going to bake myself a cake and eat it.

Love,
Fluffy

Since when?

Dear Diary,

You know, I never thought I would ever, ever order anything from Country Curtains. The name alone makes me want to vomit floral chintz. But pregnancy does strange things, and I found myself ordering roller shades for the nursery from there. I know, I know. I was shocked as well. Don't worry; they are ticking stripe.

No flowers, no chintz, no vomit.

Love,
Fluffy

Tut tut, ribbit.

Dear Diary,

Some photos of recent activities to follow.

My girlfriends threw me a shower. Because I am a spoiled brat like that. It was so fun! Ladies only, catering by Mrs. P and decorating by Mrs. M.

Here you may recognize my bestie from college, on the left, and Mrs. M., on the right. College bestie broke her hand, and was waving that thing about in a rather menacing manner all afternoon.

Also recently, we went to Cape May to celebrate our 5th wedding annivesary. Here I am, in all my fatness, on the ferry.

Oh my god, the whimsy. THE WHIMSEY!

We stayed here, which, incidentally, is the place where my family and I stayed every year when I was growing up. There was this black victorian baby carriage on the landing of the stairs that was totally creeping me out. Very Rosemary's Baby. Other than that, it was cool. The best part was that the 2nd B of the B and B was totally manageable for us, since there were separate tables. Phew. No forced comradeship with fellow guests. "Oh what's that, you're going whale watching today? DON'T CARE."

In other news, I've been having a bit of a problem with a woman at work. We'll call her the unattractive Briton. Let's just say that she is under the mistaken impression that I took the last of the coffee and didn't make more. But she is wrong, and she also has a face like a bullfrog. So who wins? I do.

Love,

Fluffy