26 weeks pregnant, and we have finally reached the point where I'm getting "The Look" from customers at work. The shocked look that tells me they think I'm too young to be having a baby... or the "look away- quickly!" reaction. That means that it is now clear to complete strangers that I'm eating for 2, not drinking 2-4's.
I haven't had any comments yet. When I was pregnant with Simon, I got all variations of "Wow... you don't look old enough to be pregnant!" I know I've said this before, but really, when would that statement ever be appropriate? I get off easy; I can say "I'm older than I look." I leave it at that. It's not their business, really, and I don't feel like defending myself by saying I'm 26, and I've been married for blah, blah, blah... What if I was sixteen? What answer would satisfy the person who said that? "Yes, I'm far too young. Others should learn from my example. This is the tragedy of my generation." I don't know.
I saw the OB a few days ago; she's scheduling a c-section for me the week of February 14th. Mom's waiting for a date so she can book her flight; I'm wondering whether it would be a good or bad thing if the kid ends up with the same birthday as her, my aunt Kathy and my cousin Faith. That would be weird.
The house has been sold. Hooray! We're done with showings. The home inspector has come and gone... he made a lot of notes. The appraiser came by, too. I guess it's all going well so far. In fact, it's working out VERY well for us. See, Clompie has agreed to get any plumbing or electrical issues taken care of before the final inspection. Whoopee! The plumber came by yesterday, and after a year and a half living here, we now have a faucet on the tub that doesn't leak. We no longer have to manually turn the hot water on and off when we want a bath or shower. And we're getting a new shower head, one that isn't held up with duct-tape. Oh, it's sweeeet. As for the porch roof... well, I really can't see the new owners getting that taken care of before the spring, so until outside temperatures start to stay below freezing, we have an entryway with a bulging ceiling, wet carpet and distinctly fishy odour. Eeeew! We keep that door shut.
I finally got my one year review at work. I started working for the company almost 3 1/2 years ago, so I guess it was about time. I'll be getting a raise; it was a good review. Actually, the comments made me sound like that kid in school who everyone hated because he/she makes the rest of the class look bad. That's OK. Actually, it was good to hear, 'cause I'm starting to feel useless at the store. I can't roll racks of clothes from the fitting rooms without it hurting my belly; carrying armloads of clothes is starting to hurt, too. I'm not supposed to answer the OSD door (on-site donations' also known as the SOB door or the OCD door) in case people have heavy stuff to donate- which they usually do. My back hurts after 3 hours standing on the floor, and bending over is... less easy than it used to be.
Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a very adorable boy trapped in his baby-cage who is not sleeping- it sounds like he's trying to escape. That probably means he's actually throwing all of his toys out of said baby-cage so that he'll feel justified when he starts crying in 10 minutes. I must go prepare.
No comments:
Post a Comment