Quiz

Take this fun quiz, and find out how much you really know about pregnancy!

1. How many pairs of pants that fit comfortably does a pregnant person need?

a. Four or five; a couple of pairs for work, a good pair or two of jeans, and one for the weekend. Cute skirts will round out your wardrobe.
b. Comfortably? Well, none. What is this 'comfort' of which you speak?
c. Does a muu-muu count?

2. How many frozen treats should be in the freezer at all times?

a. Maybe some Lite ice cream: you don't want to pack on the pounds too fast!
b. Maybe some regular ice cream: Lite ice cream is disgusting and pointless.
c. Five: Fudgesicles, real fruit popsicles, two kinds of Ben & Jerry's, and some Girl Scout cookies.
d. Well, it was five, but the pregnant one ate everything but a few of the cookies.

3. Starting in the 7th month, how often will the baby kick you in the ribs per day (on average)?

a. 40-50 times.
b. I lost count when I started sobbing because she just. won't. STOP.
c. Once. It's a trick question: her feet are permanently lodged in your ribs!

4. How many jokes about how huge the pregnant woman is can the husband make?

a. A few, it's important to keep your sense of humor!
b. As many as the husband can while the pregnant one is sitting on his chest. (Zero.)
c. One. Then the pregnant one EATS HIM WHOLE.

5. What are Elena and Alex having?

a. Boy
b. Girl
c. An ultimate frisbee player
d. Monkey
e. b, c, and d

6. What will be the most precious thing in Alex and Elena's lives once Baby comes?

a. Baby, of course.
b. The wonder that they are now a real family of their own.
c. The money from selling Baby on the black market.
d. Sleep.

How did you do?
1. b, 2. c (but give yourself half a point for d), 3. b, 4. c, 5. e (half a point for everything but a), 6. d.

Zero to two points: You need to hang around more bloated people. Go buy Elena some ice cream to make up for your failure.

Two to four points: Pretty good, but you could use some work. Go buy Elena some ice cream so that you'll do better next time.

Four to six points: Great! You are probably pregnant or have recently been sat upon by someone who is. Go buy some ice cream to celebrate and then share it with Elena!

Climb that Inadequacy Ladder!

When Alex and I went to our infant care class, we got a book from the hospital called "The Joy of Parenthood." I think the publishers should be a little pickier about their typesetters, 'cause I'm pretty sure the title was supposed to read, "The 'Joy' of Parenthood: The Myth Revealed," because the book is actually about the different ways that having an infant will ruin your life as you know it.

The very first page, after a perfunctory congratulations, assures you that it's perfectly alright and even normal to have exactly zero maternal affection toward your slimy, bald, bluish howler monkey. Page two holds this quote, which I am not making up: "You may find yourself crying and feeling like you are climbing this ladder of inadequacy higher and higher with every cry from your baby." (My question is: if I decide to take a header off of the inadequacy ladder, will the fall be enough to kill me quickly and painlessly?)

There are pages upon pages describing all the ways that your baby will be hideous and misshapen, and warning you not to throw it away, as there is at least a 50/50 chance that your baby will not be permanently coneheaded and crusty. This is followed by even more pages about silencing your infant's incessant shrieking, or barring that, coping mechanisms that will keep you from shaking the baby. From there it's a natural segue into the many ways to fail at breastfeeding, and then onto post-partum depression. Because really, by now, how could you be happy?

There is, however, chemical help! No, not the gin, although that will be awfully nice after nine months of teetotaling. We're talking about Oxytocin, the hormonal fairy dust that will make you love and care for your baby despite the fact that it looks like a blotchy pink Yoda. This magical product of the pituitary gland is apparently strong enough to make new parents genuinely happy! I can swear to the power of this stuff. I have been known to tear up during fabric softener and life insurance commercials. Um, and yogurt commercials. And at blank walls and silence. Okay, so maybe lately I've been mostly running around saying, "Baaaaaaaabyyyyyyyyyy! Oooooohhhh!" and then trying to snuggle the dog, who really just wants to nap and drool on the rug. Anyway, goo-covered or not, bring on the life-wrecking infant! The joy of parenthood doesn't scare me one bit.

Week 34

A recent picture of me in week 34 of pregnancy.

I have the most amazingly awesome friends in history.

Saturday night was the Don't-Call-It-A-Baby-Shower, and people, the bar has been set high.

Instead of sitting around watching the mother-to-be awkwardly open endless pink-ribboned packages of booties and onesies, we stood in the front yard when 12 adult men and women nearly gave themselves aneurysms racing to drink beer from baby bottles. Instead of sipping tea while Great-Great Aunt Edna retold the story of how she gave birth to her eighth child out in the cow pasture, in a snowstorm, uphill BOTH WAYS, we drank home-brewed "It's a Girl Raspberry Ale." And instead of guessing how many safety diaper pins fit inside of a baby-wipe container, we took turns trying to bash open a papier mache baby bottle to get at the candy and nips inside. And you KNOW a baby shower has gone well when the police come to break it up.

In all seriousness, I can't think of the last time I felt so loved. Alex and I are incredibly lucky to have such great friends. Thank you, guys.

Fast Times at Pre-Pregnancy High

Lately I've been having dreams about running and playing Ultimate. It might have something to do with the fact that I like to bring my cleats to bed and lull myself to sleep by caressing them and cooing, "I miss you," over and over. I used to have a much healthier relationship with my athletic equipment. For example, last Thanksgiving I did NOT lick my running sneakers at all, and instead just used them to run the Applied Materials Silicon Valley Turkey Trot 5K. I'm hesitant to call it a race, because although some people thought of it as such, I think the rest of the 6,000 people who 'ran' it were hoping to rationalize eating three different kinds of pie later on that day.

I started training for the race a good seven weeks beforehand. It was my first 5K, so my main motivation was to avoid embarrassing myself. (Okay... it's also because I'm insanely competitive. To me, there is no such thing as a "Fun Run". Running is something to be done faster than other people, or at least as fast as you can go without puking.) I printed a calendar with workouts listed for each day. I slowly built up the mileage. I did sprints. I had time goals. I did longer runs once per week. I even tried to practice running the course once, although I ended up in a Target parking lot (where the race did not go, by the way) and eventually walked back to the car, but I tried.

This year, I have two goals. One: to finish without walking (maybe). Two: to not scream, "I could have kicked your ass a year ago!" at the octogenarians with walkers whose dust I'll be eating. I was thinking I could duct tape my mouth shut, but that might interfere with the whole breathing thing. Meh, it's a secondary goal anyway. They probably won't even be able to hear me, what with the wind whistling in their hearing aids and all.

Somebody call me an agent, cause I have the next best-seller.

You'd be surprised at the lack of literature on disciplining your unborn child. Nothing on the internet, and the woman at the library was NOT helpful at all. You'd think I had asked her when the next meeting of the I Heart Hitler Club was.

But guess what, Baby? You've got a clever Mama, and just because it hasn't been done before, doesn't mean it never will be. Especially if you don't stop kicking that one monkey-scratchin' rib within the next 20 minutes. I've been more than patient. I know you don't have a lot to play with in there, nor a lot of room to move around, but guess what? That's a bone. It's a permanent fixture in my body. And no matter how many times you pummel it with your tiny little foot, it's not going anywhere.

So we can do this the hard way, or the easy way. You've got to ask yourself one question. "Do I feel lucky"?

Well, do ya, punk?

I wish I was this funny.

http://www.lets-panic.com/