Pardon the absenteeism....

This blog has been temporarily been interrupted by the extreme fatigue and dizziness caused by the final weeks of pregnancy.

But here are a few things that are on my mind. Because I know you care.

1. I've been increasingly nervous about becoming a capable mother. Then I found out that Kendra Wilkinson of The Girls Next Door fame is pregnant.
She announced the news a few days after the premiere of her new reality show, Kendra, during which she installed a stripper pole in her new house before even thinking about getting furniture or groceries.
When she finally did hit the grocery store, she exclaimed, "I love Rice-a-Roni, but I had no idea it was Mexican food!"
Suddenly, I feel slightly better about my own situation.

2. I went to a labor and delivery class at the hospital last week, which is designed to be educational and make people feel prepared. It scared the shit out of me.

3. I know soap operas are ridiculous, but there are two knocked up women on The Young & The Restless right now, and both of them claim that they can already feel their babies kicking when they're, like, two months along. Give me a fucking break.

4. Why, why, WHY am I watching I'm a Celebrity ... Get Me Out of Here!???? Perhaps to see Janice Dickinson pee in the campsite and steal other people's food? Or is it to see Stephen Baldwin's awesome (read: worst I've ever seen) tattoos?
I mean, American Idol castoff Sanjaya Malakar is by far the most likeable person on the show. I'd rather have him and fellow contestant John Salley live in my guest room for a month than share a one-hour meal with any of these other assholes.

5. I am going to have fondue next week with my friend Javacia and I can't wait. I love her, and I love dipping things into melty goodness.

That is all.

... And she had rage in her eyes ...

I woke up in a really good mood today. I got to sleep in, the house was totally clean, I received all my new nursery stuff yesterday, and my mom sent a gift card to buy our new crib. (Thanks, mom!)

So I headed over to Target with my gift card and a big smile. While I was there, I saw the cutest little baby outfits on sale for $5, so I grabbed a couple. It just kept getting better.

I got up front and paid for my stuff, and then had to wait while they brought the crib from the stockroom so I chatted a bit with the teenaged girl at the register.

She said she loved baby clothes, and proceeded to tell me that she had a newborn daughter and a 3-year-old son. Of course, I congratulated her on her newborn and she talked a little more about her kids.

There was a pause, and then she said to me, "So are these things a gift for your new grandchild?"

And at that moment, I had my first bout with pregnancy-induced rage. There was no gradual stewing that happened... I went from cheerful to GO FUCK YOURSELF in .5 seconds. I think I have only ever been that pissed off/hurt three or four times in my life, and they all were results of too much alcohol consumption.

Maybe to her young ass, I looked like an old hag. Or maybe in her redneck yokel family, everyone is a grandmother by their mid-30s. But neither of those things changed the fact that I wanted to CLIMB OVER THE COUNTER AND CRUSH IN HER FUCKING SKULL.

But in my pregnant state, I was not agile enough to reach over and JAM THE HANGERS FROM THE BABY OUTFITS INTO HER WHORISH EYE SOCKETS.

I know, I'm not 25 anymore, but a grandmother??????

So I just replied, "No. And I think I'll wait over here."

See? I'm already a good mother. Holding my temper means that Nicholas will not be born in jail. But I better not see that girl later this summer...

Extreme Denial

You know how you denial works. It can make you think ridiculous, often deranged things, like:

-- These Easter-sized candy bars are soooo small; I might as well eat 5 or 6 of them. I'll just walk an extra 10 minutes on the treadmill. Or not.

-- Watching Rock of Love Bus and Bad Girls Club is a totally worthwhile use of my time.

-- I might as well buy this expensive handbag because I'm totally going to win the Powerball on Wednesday, so I'll be able pay it off immediately.

But my biggest, most recent denial has beeen in regards to my shoes. Many of my child-bearing friends have said that at some point in my pregnancy, my shoes would probably stop fitting for a while.

Fuck that, I thought. My feet know better than to deprive me of my very favorite accessory in the world. All my baby bulkiness has thankfully gone right where it's supposed to (belly) and nowhere else. I wanted to at least keep wearing cute shoes. A girl has to feel fancy somehow, right? I could even live with wearing my fun, colorful flats/sandals for the sake of comfort.

So I was unprepared yesterday, when my black patent strappy sandals were too tight. And by tight, I mean after three hours (of sitting at my desk, not even walking around), they were buried in the top of my feet.

I changed into my sparkly flip-flops for the rest of the day. And then when I got home and wanted to walk the dogs, my freakin' tennis shoes felt snug.

What the fuck is this?, I thought. I've been walking and drinking water and doing yoga, partly for health, and partly in hopes that this would not happen.

I'll tell you what this is. It's the beginning of me wearing Mary Jane style Crocs and sandals -- I bought them today -- for the next three or so months. Flip-flops are OK, but they don't have enough arch support for all the running around I do for work.

See ya later, pride.