It’s not writer’s block.
Because then, I’d stare at the screen and wrack my very soul for something to write…
No… I have TONS to write about. VOLUMES. ROOMS OF VOLUMES.
NEIGHBORHOODS, FULL OF HOUSES, FULL OF ROOMS OF VOLUMES… but, honestly, I don’t feel like it right now. I can’t explain it. I’m too……….tired… to write.
We’ve been invaded by mice – clearly, the Nihm variety, that seek only to outsmart the traps Kory patiently lays for them.
Chad, the squirrel, came back …. the nostalgia of Thanksgiving bringing him to our door once more (or mayhap the heady perfume of banana/peanut butter milkshake, but whatevs) and hilarity and squirrel growling ensued.
The Teen is back. Mostly. I mean, he’s visiting at the moment (wherein visiting= hiding in basement and eating an entire box of chocolate donuts in one night)… but there’s news on his front.
The Baby will be 2 ENTIRE years old on Thanksgiving and I owe that kid a blog in a major way….
I’ve had forty-billion “AGED MATERNAL SENIOR CITIZEN GOD YOU ARE TOO OLD TO HAVE A BABY TESTS” that mostly consist of me sobbing at my desk and then… everything turning out to be probably ok. There is also a lot of this:
Them: Oh! You’re 37!
Me: Yep.
Them: You don’t LOOK 37. (squinty eyes)
Me: Well, thanks. The chub helps. Makes one look younger.
Them: Hm. Well. Now that we know you are 37, please sit down so we can discuss at length the hundreds…no, THOUSANDS of ways everything can go horribly wrong with your unborn child, the birth, and you… all the many ways that you and your stupid ADVANCED MATERNAL AGE are going to screw everything up for anyone.
Me: Wow. I’ve never felt so old in my life.
Them: We haven’t even GOTTEN to your weight yet, sucker.
I’m losing weight, as I always do my first trimester… but otherwise, doing quite well despite my obvious need for a walker and an assisted living plan.
The holidays have snuck back up on me. I’m kind of looking forward to them this year. I’m hoping that I can avoid any horrible family fights and dramatic sudden escapes in tears this year… and have a Zen couple of days. I’m too tired to be outraged and too over it to stir up another pot, as I did last year.
I admit it, the holidays don’t always bring out the best in me. I get over-stimulated (oh, stop it) and cranky and mostly just want to be at home… so all the NOT BEING AT HOME starts to wear on me and sometimes, as a result, I act a teensy bit badly. AHEM. Several glasses of wine have been known to help this process along.
This year, I vow to NOT accuse my deeply religious father-in-law of having a Jesus Superiority Complex. I vow to not tell him that his church is a sham.
I vow to not compare my best friend to the Virgin Mary forced to give birth in the barn, after a miscommunication about dinner plans.
I vow to not say the words, “You are all against me!” on Christmas Eve.
Oh yes, I did.
Life… is just tripping along and I’m hoping this little update will act like a metaphorical prune and gets things moving along again.
Sometimes, a little nudge is all you need.
Oh darling…. pregnancy is both wonderful and awful at the same time. When I was preggers with Ms. Bean I was working in health law on THREE horrible-tragic-outcome-during-normal-routine-pregnancy cases, DEFENDING the providers, and I was convinced that Karma or whatever was going to get me for that. But it didn’t. You will be fine. Your beautiful baby will be fine. You have to just believe that and block out all the medical folks who are really just doing their jobs.
I can’t wait to meet The New The Baby (and see The New The Toddler again).
Comment by Krista — November 25, 2008 @ 5:58 am
Denise… Hug. Hug again, and HUG SO MUCH IT FILLS VOLUMES! Being one of those stupid medical folks who have to give a damn about your age, as well as a recently pregnant person who was forced to believe that any hiccup strong enough would tear my baby from her safe warm dwelling place and has now been SWORN OFF having other children arrive through her body, I offer you this… HUG!!!!!!!!
The cupcake will be adorable. You only make adorable. You are a gorgeous pregnant woman and sincerely one of the strongest people I know.
Be patient with yourself this holiday season. And if you blow, you can ALWAYS play the pregnant card and demand Chipotle immediately after ripping your beloved family’s collective head off.
*squeeze*
C
Comment by CaraLin — November 25, 2008 @ 8:43 am
I am so happy to see a post from you! I thought you had forgotten about all of us, and then I mentally slapped myself because, like you really need the guilt of that hanging over your head.
Yea, I find holidays go over so much better when I take a spare Vicodin left over from some injury. I tend to not say anything when I am super angry, because I save it for later when I can think of something really biting and witty to say inside of just calling everyone “Big Poopie Meanie Heads” which are words that come out of my mouth when I am really angry, and I sputter. So, I save it until I can be calm and then really nail them to the wall. But, all that saving and planning builds up noxious toxins in my body that float to my head and make it want to pop like a balloon. Which, of course, it never does.
Anyways, I have missed you dearly. Trust me, being prego means you can sit back and laugh at all of your ridiculous relatives, is a great excuse to not get up at 3 am on Friday and camp out side of Best Buy to get a camcorder for a nickel. The downer, no wine or vicodin. BUT, I am sure some pie (or a whole one) will do the trick.
Love,
Gabbi
Comment by gabbi — November 25, 2008 @ 9:35 am
Love ya, baby!
Comment by klasker — November 25, 2008 @ 1:55 pm
Krista – Can’t wait to see you and Lily on Saturday – thanks for the encouragement!
Car – Hug back to you. I only make adorable. I love that. It reminds me of the line from Kung Fu Panda when Po says, “There is no charge for awesome.” Also, now I totally want Chipotle!
Gab- Great advice – and yes, hopefully, I can just let everything roll off me. Also, now I totally want pie. And a camcorder for a nickel.
Kory – Right back atcha.
Comment by denise — November 25, 2008 @ 3:23 pm
i once had a friend who said that after that “advance maternal age” chat with the doctor, she couldn’t get the image of her eggs sitting like old ladies in rocking chairs with shawls. i thought about that for a while and figured my eggs were probably also rocking away, smoking cigarettes and yawning.
not sure what that stories worth except to say: i feel your pain.
Comment by ms picket to you — November 25, 2008 @ 4:35 pm