Week 20 - A Pregnancy Continues
We all know that a watched pot never boils, but does a blogged pregnancy come to term?
I really really hope so, because I'm gonna blog about it (it's a surprisingly handy way to keep friends and family updated on the little details of pregnancy, and I get to write!). So, let us get started!
I am currently 21 weeks pregnant, but I thought (and my mother suggested) that I write a weekly post describing the events of the past week, so... Week Twenty Of My Pregnancy, here we go!
Fun facts: during Week 20, the baby is about the size of a banana (in length). She's also starting to stretch out and take up some room where previously she was curled up. This is both excellent and slightly distressing. Also, we had our ultrasound, and she's a very healthy girl! We're excited and thrilled.
But, on to the events of the week:
April Fool's Day happened! It wasn't even that terrible. I have excellent friends who don't believe in crushing their loved one's hopes and dreams by posting fake engagements or baby announcements. However, I did get some actual real baby announcements from my family, which is exciting, and also caused me to ignore them, as I thought they were fake, until it turns out they were real! So, my daughter will have friends her age at family reunions!
I Killed A Wasp By Myself. I need you all to be very, very proud of me. Some history on this: I don't kill bugs. It's not something I do out of a moral feeling that killing bugs is bad, it's something I do because if anything is going to suddenly give me a panic attack, it's a giant bug in my house. So I opt for the pretend-the-problem-isn't-there-until-someone-else-deals-with-it solution. (I cannot tell you how many dead and dying cockroaches I left for my mother to find when I lived in Hawaii because the last thing I wanted to do was clean them up.)
Unfortunately, it's not a good solution when one's husband is at work. This problem was exacerbated by the fact that I discovered the wasp was hanging out in the window less than two feet behind my unguarded body while I was ironing. Upon hearing that distinctive and panic-inducing buzzing noise, I realized two things: 1) I probably shouldn't attack the wasp with the hot iron, as that would probably hurt me more than the wasp, and 2) I need to find something to kill it with, but I also can't let it out of my sight.
Luckily, my husband had left his slippers (flip-flops for those poor souls who never lived in Hawaii) in the middle of the living room, so they were close by (one good reason to not put your shoes in the closet, I suppose). I grabbed one, and carefully unplugged the iron and moved it away from the window so that in the case of the wasp flying out and me having to dodge out of the way of it's deathly stinger, I wouldn't also knock a hot iron on my head. (My mother taught me to always be careful around hot irons. Apparently that lesson has stuck well.)
Now, there were only two obstacles between Isaiah's slipper and the wasp. The blinds and my inability to hit flying objects. I opted to ignore the blinds, maybe try and stun the wasp with a good whack so that it wouldn't fly away before I opened the blinds to finish him. So I whacked him, and the wasp did nothing. (Apparently the blinds were an effective shield.) Kept flying, kept buzzing, didn't even flinch. I freaked out at the moment, thinking OH NO IT'S ANGRY I'M GOING TO DIE and proceeded to wrench the blinds open and beat the probably unsuspecting wasp to death with Isaiah's slipper, all the while whimpering.
Finally, the deed was done. Almost beaten into two separate pieces, a dead wasp now lay on my floor. I knew I had to clean it up (my husband would never forgive me for leaving a dead wasp on the carpet, and also WHAT IF IT CAME BACK TO LIFE), so I bravely grabbed a napkin (they're thicker than tissues, you see) and went to go pick it up. The moment my fingertips touched it's crunchy dead body I screamed and dropped it, so I had to woman up and pick it up once more and throw it away. And thus ended the saga of the first wasp I ever killed by myself.
5 Guys - Another milestone for me, both in pregnancy and in life. I went to 5 Guys for the first time (in my life) and ate a burger without throwing it up (for the first time in several months). I'm pretty proud of both of those, as I had really began to miss eating hamburgers.
I have accepted my role in life as a human punching bag. Now, surely, some of you are thinking, what do you mean, you're a human punching bag? Who's punching you? Why are you just taking this aggression passively? Well, it's my daughter and I can't really punch her back. Also, she's not just punching. She's also kicking, and flailing, and doing flips, and rolling over, and sometimes she's even doing all of these at once. While I have sort of become used to the idea that there is a tiny human in my body who moves and sometimes I can feel it, it's also really distracting when I'm just trying to scroll through Instagram and she's beating me up. Now if she could only perform for her father when I'm trying to get him to feel her move.
Pregnancy Crying #14720: As many of you know, I'm a big fan of Hamilton the Musical. I made the mistake of listening to "Dear Theodosia" a few days after I got my ultrasound, and promptly starting crying in the middle of wiping off the table. So, you know, pregnancy hormones are up and running as per usual.
Surprise Confession: One morning I woke up, snuggled next to my husband as usual, when he notices that I'm awake. Sleepily, I hear him say, "Carina... I've done something horrible." Assuming that he didn't murder someone in the middle of the night, I asked him what he did. "After you went to bed, I ate all the leftover french toast. I'm so sorry."
Now, Isaiah having eaten all the leftover french toast from last night meant that I wouldn't get delicious french toast for breakfast. But, looking at his cute little sleepy puppy face, I couldn't even be mad. He was so sincerely upset that he'd eaten all the leftovers and left none for me! It was positively adorable and any anger or sadness that I felt wouldn't serve any purpose (he already felt bad enough) so I just laughed and told him it was okay, and I wasn't mad at him. And then I ate cereal for breakfast.
I really really hope so, because I'm gonna blog about it (it's a surprisingly handy way to keep friends and family updated on the little details of pregnancy, and I get to write!). So, let us get started!
I am currently 21 weeks pregnant, but I thought (and my mother suggested) that I write a weekly post describing the events of the past week, so... Week Twenty Of My Pregnancy, here we go!
Fun facts: during Week 20, the baby is about the size of a banana (in length). She's also starting to stretch out and take up some room where previously she was curled up. This is both excellent and slightly distressing. Also, we had our ultrasound, and she's a very healthy girl! We're excited and thrilled.
But, on to the events of the week:
April Fool's Day happened! It wasn't even that terrible. I have excellent friends who don't believe in crushing their loved one's hopes and dreams by posting fake engagements or baby announcements. However, I did get some actual real baby announcements from my family, which is exciting, and also caused me to ignore them, as I thought they were fake, until it turns out they were real! So, my daughter will have friends her age at family reunions!
I Killed A Wasp By Myself. I need you all to be very, very proud of me. Some history on this: I don't kill bugs. It's not something I do out of a moral feeling that killing bugs is bad, it's something I do because if anything is going to suddenly give me a panic attack, it's a giant bug in my house. So I opt for the pretend-the-problem-isn't-there-until-someone-else-deals-with-it solution. (I cannot tell you how many dead and dying cockroaches I left for my mother to find when I lived in Hawaii because the last thing I wanted to do was clean them up.)
Unfortunately, it's not a good solution when one's husband is at work. This problem was exacerbated by the fact that I discovered the wasp was hanging out in the window less than two feet behind my unguarded body while I was ironing. Upon hearing that distinctive and panic-inducing buzzing noise, I realized two things: 1) I probably shouldn't attack the wasp with the hot iron, as that would probably hurt me more than the wasp, and 2) I need to find something to kill it with, but I also can't let it out of my sight.
Luckily, my husband had left his slippers (flip-flops for those poor souls who never lived in Hawaii) in the middle of the living room, so they were close by (one good reason to not put your shoes in the closet, I suppose). I grabbed one, and carefully unplugged the iron and moved it away from the window so that in the case of the wasp flying out and me having to dodge out of the way of it's deathly stinger, I wouldn't also knock a hot iron on my head. (My mother taught me to always be careful around hot irons. Apparently that lesson has stuck well.)
Now, there were only two obstacles between Isaiah's slipper and the wasp. The blinds and my inability to hit flying objects. I opted to ignore the blinds, maybe try and stun the wasp with a good whack so that it wouldn't fly away before I opened the blinds to finish him. So I whacked him, and the wasp did nothing. (Apparently the blinds were an effective shield.) Kept flying, kept buzzing, didn't even flinch. I freaked out at the moment, thinking OH NO IT'S ANGRY I'M GOING TO DIE and proceeded to wrench the blinds open and beat the probably unsuspecting wasp to death with Isaiah's slipper, all the while whimpering.
Finally, the deed was done. Almost beaten into two separate pieces, a dead wasp now lay on my floor. I knew I had to clean it up (my husband would never forgive me for leaving a dead wasp on the carpet, and also WHAT IF IT CAME BACK TO LIFE), so I bravely grabbed a napkin (they're thicker than tissues, you see) and went to go pick it up. The moment my fingertips touched it's crunchy dead body I screamed and dropped it, so I had to woman up and pick it up once more and throw it away. And thus ended the saga of the first wasp I ever killed by myself.
5 Guys - Another milestone for me, both in pregnancy and in life. I went to 5 Guys for the first time (in my life) and ate a burger without throwing it up (for the first time in several months). I'm pretty proud of both of those, as I had really began to miss eating hamburgers.
I have accepted my role in life as a human punching bag. Now, surely, some of you are thinking, what do you mean, you're a human punching bag? Who's punching you? Why are you just taking this aggression passively? Well, it's my daughter and I can't really punch her back. Also, she's not just punching. She's also kicking, and flailing, and doing flips, and rolling over, and sometimes she's even doing all of these at once. While I have sort of become used to the idea that there is a tiny human in my body who moves and sometimes I can feel it, it's also really distracting when I'm just trying to scroll through Instagram and she's beating me up. Now if she could only perform for her father when I'm trying to get him to feel her move.
Pregnancy Crying #14720: As many of you know, I'm a big fan of Hamilton the Musical. I made the mistake of listening to "Dear Theodosia" a few days after I got my ultrasound, and promptly starting crying in the middle of wiping off the table. So, you know, pregnancy hormones are up and running as per usual.
Surprise Confession: One morning I woke up, snuggled next to my husband as usual, when he notices that I'm awake. Sleepily, I hear him say, "Carina... I've done something horrible." Assuming that he didn't murder someone in the middle of the night, I asked him what he did. "After you went to bed, I ate all the leftover french toast. I'm so sorry."
Now, Isaiah having eaten all the leftover french toast from last night meant that I wouldn't get delicious french toast for breakfast. But, looking at his cute little sleepy puppy face, I couldn't even be mad. He was so sincerely upset that he'd eaten all the leftovers and left none for me! It was positively adorable and any anger or sadness that I felt wouldn't serve any purpose (he already felt bad enough) so I just laughed and told him it was okay, and I wasn't mad at him. And then I ate cereal for breakfast.
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