We've been married for almost seven years now, and I still never cease to be amazed by my husband. These last few days have driven that amazement up exponentially.
After being sent to bed for much-needed, but much-fought-against nap, I groggily came to, only to walk out and discover a candlelit dinner for two, actually, now three, waiting for me. Not just a candlelit dinner, mind you, but one with a linen tablecloth, a background serenade by Frank, cheese plate, salad, reheated but still just as tasty lasagna, and Key Lime Pie, all served on our good Waterford china and crystal, which he had to dig out of the basement to use. With bouncy seat parked on the other end of the table, I marveled over the candlelight at this guy who loves me almost as much as he loves he new son, and wondered how I got so lucky. We drank, we laughed, we even danced (much to the amusement of our neighbors in the post-college group house next door to be sure). I'm so very blessed to have this man in my life, and my baby is so blessed to have such a fantastic father. I can't wait to watch them grow together. I love them both so much.
Who knew Prince Charming could change such a mean diaper?
Friday, August 31, 2007
Monday, August 20, 2007
Is nothing sacred?
Seriously, now, it's bad enough that women have to try to live up to the images of models all over TV and magazines normally (which, by the way, have you seen those new Old Navy jeans adds for their three new cuts? The ones that I swear are spray painted on? Didn't The Gap learn this lesson with the whole "skinny pants" debacle of last year?).
Anyway, I digress...
As I sit here, one day past my due date, and feeling huge, puffy and otherwise unattractive, I naturally turn to that household crack known as daytime TV. Which is fine, especially when I come across Discovery Health's birth shows. OK, I think, some training and preparation for the kid's big arrival. Great.
But then what comes on next? A show called "Runway Moms." I look up from my frantic-thank-you-note-writing/e-mail-announcement-address-gathering/last-minute-list-making activities to check it out, thinking I'm about to learn about what all those wacky supermodels do (typo note here: I just wrote "due" instead of "do" - can't imagine what I've been thinking about... :)) when they switch from strutting runways to changing diapers. Should be amusing.
Um, no. It's a show about maternity models. As in, normally beautiful, skinny women who also happen to be beautiful, skinny pregnant women. As in, lots and lots of images of those lean, glowing, radiant women with the perfect little beach ball that you're sure you're going to look like when you're pregnant someday. That, when you're huge and bloated and feeling like the Michelin Man that you later convince yourself CANNOT TRULY EXIST IN NATURE. Sure, occasionally you spot one or two who come close to looking like that in the store, shopping in the "extra small" section of the maternity area, to whom any pregnant woman can tell you she silently sends mental daggars at as she sifts through the sea of mumu's that she's looking in (they don't come in XS, by the way). But really, those models are all doctored on the page, right?
No, they're not. Here's TV evidence of that fact.
Like I really need this right now.
P.S. And, oh, yeah, the model being featured succeeded in a total natural childbirth. For the love of everything holy...
Anyway, I digress...
As I sit here, one day past my due date, and feeling huge, puffy and otherwise unattractive, I naturally turn to that household crack known as daytime TV. Which is fine, especially when I come across Discovery Health's birth shows. OK, I think, some training and preparation for the kid's big arrival. Great.
But then what comes on next? A show called "Runway Moms." I look up from my frantic-thank-you-note-writing/e-mail-announcement-address-gathering/last-minute-list-making activities to check it out, thinking I'm about to learn about what all those wacky supermodels do (typo note here: I just wrote "due" instead of "do" - can't imagine what I've been thinking about... :)) when they switch from strutting runways to changing diapers. Should be amusing.
Um, no. It's a show about maternity models. As in, normally beautiful, skinny women who also happen to be beautiful, skinny pregnant women. As in, lots and lots of images of those lean, glowing, radiant women with the perfect little beach ball that you're sure you're going to look like when you're pregnant someday. That, when you're huge and bloated and feeling like the Michelin Man that you later convince yourself CANNOT TRULY EXIST IN NATURE. Sure, occasionally you spot one or two who come close to looking like that in the store, shopping in the "extra small" section of the maternity area, to whom any pregnant woman can tell you she silently sends mental daggars at as she sifts through the sea of mumu's that she's looking in (they don't come in XS, by the way). But really, those models are all doctored on the page, right?
No, they're not. Here's TV evidence of that fact.
Like I really need this right now.
P.S. And, oh, yeah, the model being featured succeeded in a total natural childbirth. For the love of everything holy...
Thursday, August 16, 2007
And so we begin
Maternity leave. Day One.
My belly is huge. I'm sitting on the couch in my little house. And I have no idea whatsoever what to do with myself.
My due date is four days away, this Sunday. I had originally planned to work right up until my water broke, both to stash some extra funds as well as to keep my mind sharp and working. And to avoid the uncertainty that I'm feeling right now.
I haven't not worked in 15 years or so. I'm not very good at being on vacation, especially a quasi-permanent one before a massively life-changing event. I'm not so good with change.
Part of taking these few extra days off was with the great intention of doing all those projects I always say I never have time to do. Organize all our finances. Clean the house. Finish the thank you notes. Learn to how to build a Web site. Figure out my next career goals. You know, nothing major. Just a few little things here and there.
But I'm facing the irony that with unlimited options in front of me, I'm afraid of beginning. I have no idea what to do first.
So, I figured I should at least write. Hey, that's what I do for a living. Maybe if I jot this all down, I'll start to figure out what this all means to me, and sort out some of these strange feelings. Or maybe help someone else to do the same thing.
And shower. Yes, that's probably a good first step, considering it's 1:30 in the afternoon. Yup. A shower's a good place to start.
No baby yet...
My belly is huge. I'm sitting on the couch in my little house. And I have no idea whatsoever what to do with myself.
My due date is four days away, this Sunday. I had originally planned to work right up until my water broke, both to stash some extra funds as well as to keep my mind sharp and working. And to avoid the uncertainty that I'm feeling right now.
I haven't not worked in 15 years or so. I'm not very good at being on vacation, especially a quasi-permanent one before a massively life-changing event. I'm not so good with change.
Part of taking these few extra days off was with the great intention of doing all those projects I always say I never have time to do. Organize all our finances. Clean the house. Finish the thank you notes. Learn to how to build a Web site. Figure out my next career goals. You know, nothing major. Just a few little things here and there.
But I'm facing the irony that with unlimited options in front of me, I'm afraid of beginning. I have no idea what to do first.
So, I figured I should at least write. Hey, that's what I do for a living. Maybe if I jot this all down, I'll start to figure out what this all means to me, and sort out some of these strange feelings. Or maybe help someone else to do the same thing.
And shower. Yes, that's probably a good first step, considering it's 1:30 in the afternoon. Yup. A shower's a good place to start.
No baby yet...
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