So, I'm still pregnant. This is something I regularly explain slash text slash say on the phone to various people. As if I wouldn't be texting while tweeting while skywriting my labor news across the Los Angeles skies. FRIENDS. FAMILY. I will notify you with news! I will! You will know me by my trail of information!
In the meantime, this was one of the more eventful weekends. First off, I bought a diaper bag. You think I'm kidding but I'm not. I bought a mother fucking diaper bag. And it's adorable. And I will post about it later, when I can take some really styled-out black and white photos of the bag hanging from a tree covered in lights beside a birdcage filled with bacon. (I hate birdcages, by the way. And I don't eat bacon.)
We also bought a new car. Finally. We have been procrastinating like crazy mofos for months but we are now the proud owners of a Honda Odyssey (sans TVs). And I love it. I love that it's filled with car seats and holds six CDs, one for each family member so we can put that shit on random and mix it up on road trips.
Every time someone asks when I'm due I scream "RIGHT NOW, AHHHH!" and
run waddle briskly towards the nearest exit. I am so massively huge that people routinely gasp. This never happened with my other two pregnancies even though I was humongous (I thought) in the end. A dude at the car dealership Saturday went, "OH MY GOD NO," when I walked past him in the hallway. Blogging out loud much?
I was with the car salesmen at the time who immediately got defensive and was like, "who says that, Man?" and then dude in the hallway felt bad and then I felt REALLY uncomfortable and was like, "it's cool! No worries! Let's buy some cars, men! We're all friends here! Three vaginas!"
I mean... how could I blame the guy? I am hilarious looking even to myself! I can only imagine what it looks like to see someone this pregnant chasing around two kids at a car dealership. It's probably scary as fuck! I am the poster child for condom-usage and proper family planning skills!
And it's like that everywhere. At the Farmer's Market yesterday, I got an entire bag of pluots on the house. I mean, do you know how good pluots are right now? The man at the stand said he "hoped I felt better soon and PLEASE TAKE THESE OH GOD!" and then he hid his eyes behind his hands and did a thousand Hail Marys.
"I'm okay, friend! I'm okay!" I insisted but he was already down on his knees praying in Spanish.
Thanks for the pluots?
The other night at the movies, a woman insisted on letting me know that she was a midwife...you know, just in case you go into labor during act two of Our Idiot Brother (fantastic movie, by the way). I did not in fact go into labor. Nor have I this afternoon, which would be appropriate given today's moniker.
While I've been nesting, Hal's been researching television sets. Apparently ours isn't good enough because it's six years old and isn't the size of a California King. Apparently, because we were already spending a zillion dollars this weekend on a car, Hal figured, why not just rock some good-old-fashioned American excess? So after disappearing for four hours to "do some errands" he came home with fourteen boxes of Home Entertainment System including a fifty-five inch television set.
Eighteen hours after we purchased a car.
And a diaper bag. (Let us not forget the diaper bag.)
I mean... what the fuck is up with television sets and dudes? I liked our thirty-two inch TV. It was PLENTY big and it sounded plenty fine. Now? We have a television the size of our entire living room and I'm supposed to wear 3-D glasses while I'm watching it? I don't get it.
But here's the thing: I love Hal. And he's so excited about this idiotic TV so I have to be supportive. I have to say, "Awesome! 3-D glasses to watch Entourage with!" and sound like I mean it when I'm so full of complete and utter shit, you guys. Because the only thing worse than "E" getting out of his Maserati with suicide doors is seeing it in three dimensions.
I'm just going to assume that the man's form of "nesting" is stocking up on the essential items for never-leaving-the-house-again. Otherwise, why would he go out and buy a TV right now? I'm sure someone at Cambridge has done a study on this phenomenon.
Apparently, it is impossible to escape the allure of the television set. One must pick her battles in a marriage, one must. And I'd rather have one massive screen in our living room than a thousand tiny ones in my automobile.
Moving on... and Hal, if you're reading this, I love you. And I'm totally kidding about the TV. I think it's totally the coolest. High five. I love high definition blue ray 3-D 480 horsepower surround sound with dual impact 82PP.
At last week's weigh-in I was a lithe 202 pounds, which means I'm finally slowing down in the weight gain-department. I've gained a total of 64 pounds thus far which I'm pretty sure my body agrees is plenty-ish.
My belly appeared to have dropped last week but it appears to KEEP dropping... as in, "passengers, we are slowly making our descent. Please fasten your umbilical cords and put your placentas in the upright position."
Still, as of Thursday I wasn't dilated, effaced and the babies still had more than enough amniotic fluid to grow on with their badass selves. Apparently I'm better at gestating twins than I am singletons. Something about this being a third pregnancy and my uterus being totally stoked to grow exponentially beyond its former experience. That and the fact that doctors are starting to think my due date might actually be wrong considering their measurements.
Thus and henceforth, I left my doctor's office Thursday with the knowledge that I could go into labor at any time. So? for twenty-four hours I had myself convinced that every kick and cramp and pain was a contraction and oh my god, we don't even have our car yet! The house is a mess! There is a baby sock MIA in the laundry room and I MUST FIND IT OR ELSE I'LL SURELY DIE! (Meanwhile, in Hal's brain: OH MY GOD, I MUST BUY A NEW GINORMOUS TELEVISION SET AND FOUR PAIRS OF 3D GLASSES THAT NO ONE BUT ME WILL WANT TO WEAR!)
To prepare for my impending C-section I have been watching C-section births on youtube like it's my job. Basically, I am training myself to be my own doula. After watching fifty or so C-sections I am now perfectly capable of being involved in my own birth experience even if they hang that giant sheet in front of my face, I'LL KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING SO THERE! I highly recommend you do the same, those of you with breach babies in your last few weeks of pregnancy. At first, you might vomit. But over time, the procedure becomes highly entertaining and almost beautiful. Anyway, thanks to all of you who have written with C-section advice. I have a bag packed full of stool softeners, granny underwear and a giant pillow for the drive home. Who says childbirth isn't sexy?
Let's see, what else. Last week was kind of a bummer because I was on my pregnancy-period. freaking the fuck out over every little thing. Hal was working late nights (allll week) and I was left to fend for myself which (can I bitch for a moment?) is slightly shitty when you're this pregnant. I put the kids down and promptly burst into tears thinking there will be nights when I'll have four kids and be on my own and I don't know how I will possibly survive oh god what have I done with my uterus!
And then, because people are as good as angels, I opened my email to find the following passage from a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke, sent to me by a friend of my brother's named Mary. A woman I don't know personally but wish I did:
Here before you stands a full bowl of roses
which is unforgettable
which is unforgettable
And she's right on, that Mary.
And he's (always) right on, that Rilke.
This bowl of roses is indeed unforgettable. And brimming. And I'm a lucky, lucky lady to experience such a thing...
...even if it feels like tiny thorns are pressing into my sides.
The morning after I read Mary's email, I took this picture of my children. Two of the four. And then I asked Archer if he was ready for the babies to arrive. I told him I was getting nervous and wasn't sure that I was. His response, "Yeah. I'm not ready either but when they're born I will be. That's how these things work, mom."
I'm sure he's right.