Being pregnant is weird. I mean, it's a fantastic experience, sure. And I've been really lucky with both pregnancies so far. No morning sickness, vomiting, painful symptoms (beside my batshit emotions the first trimester). I have gas, sure, but that's because I'm not supposed to eat cheese (and man, do I love me some cheese!) so I can't blame the pregnancy on that one. I can, however, blame the dogs.
But yeah, being pregnant is weird. And even though I kind of enjoy it (when it's not 200 degrees and I'm not 200 pounds) it's sort of like purgatory in terms of getting anything done.
Twenty-two weeks pregnant and lazy as a muthafucka.
When I was pregnant with Archer my entire creative self was put on hold. Far too busy was I sitting on my ass reading US Weekly when I wasn't working to pay the bills, muttering to myself incoherently about Who Wore it Best.
I'm starting to feel the pull toward nothingness. I told myself I would finish my pilot-script and new book proposal by the time the baby came, which isn't actually that tough of a goal. Script is almost finished and book proposal is, well -- I
have a title started it.
It's just that suddenly I'm having a hard time concentrating on my work. My usual five-hour days at the coffee shop have in the last few weeks, whittled themselves down to two.
Two hours working at the coffee shop and all I want to do is go home and stare at the ceiling fan or my chipped toenail polish or the television. Seriously, though. How can one possibly get her work done when there's HGTV!? It's like porn for pregnant chicks! People nesting 24/7 --What more could I possibly want for my girl-boner?
Of course, by the time Archer comes home from school I'm wrecked and totally exhausted from my two-hours of work that I can't possibly imagine doing anything but sleep. Unfortunately, Archer has other plans for us. And they don't involve HGTV or trashy magazines. Bummer.
Of course, I should be enjoying every minute of my two-hour-work-day life while it still even exists. When this baby comes, I'm pretty sure it's going to be near impossible to get much of anything done. As for Archer-Mommy quality time? This is it for us and that's enough to get me off my tired ass for late-afternoon field trips but man if I don't collapse on the couch after tucking Archer in bed, ready to rock out with What You Get For the Money.
I'm sort of like a ticking time bomb, except instead of hauling ass to get my shit together before I explode, I'm, well, not hauling ass to get my shit together before I explode.
But man if it doesn't feel good.
In other news, how the hell does one explain to a child how to tell boys from girls at this age? And I don't mean "boys have penises and girls have vaginas" because at Archer's school, as I assume it is with most schools these days, everyone wears clothes. Seriously, I dare you to try to differentiate boys from girls without sounding sexist. I mean, shit, I totally can't.