I had a doctor’s appointment Monday. I’m just about 6 weeks away from the due date. Those appointments seem sort of pointless. The doctor measures my belly, listens to the heartbeat, asks me a couple of questions, and then moves on. But I guess that’s just a sign that my pregnancy is normal and boring, so hurray. Robin and I agree that the doctor is a weird little man, but he seems fully capable of pulling a baby out of me. I’m actually rather amused by him. Next appointment: 2 weeks. The end is nigh.
I’m growing out of my maternity clothes, which is depressing, because the media has ingrained in me the idea that thinner is better. It’s almost as bad as month 5 when I had to buy bigger underwear. That was a shock I hadn’t been expecting, and I walked around the store, holding up one pair after another, mentally comparing the underpants to that parachute from gym class (you know the one). I’ve mostly recovered from the underwear incident, reasoning that the bigger belly has to have a bigger base to support it. And I’ve likewise reasoned out the outgrown maternity clothes: I have a very long torso, so it’s not terribly surprising that the maternity shirts are starting to edge their way up. These clothes just need to hold up a little longer, because there is no way I’m buying anything new now.
I got home from my idyllic vacation in New Hampshire to have to clean the entire house in one day. Robin did a lot of the work, or I might have just taken a nap to avoid the whole ordeal or burned the house down. The good news is that our house is still standing and is now suitable for outsiders to see. The bad news is that we have animals, so there will always be stray fur balls collecting in corners. I’m officially lusting after Roombas. Fun fact: Stella (the dog) is terrified of brooms.
The cleaning was in anticipation of the annual ice cream social, an event in which new cadets (essentially the incoming freshmen) come to our house to relax, eat junk food, call their families, and use our internet. We bought lots of junk food, probably too much, though the guys did tear through that pack of Oreos with shocking speed. We’ll probably have a few new cadets hanging about our house off and on for the next few years because we’ll sponsor them. I hope the kids like infants.
We happened to have fresh cupcakes at the social as well because, the night before, I’d had a cake emergency. I needed some form of cake so badly that I ended up baking cupcakes at 9pm. I tried to color the icing a bright, pretty purple, but they ended up going a bit gray-ish. Meh, they matched the cadets’ uniforms, so it all worked out.
Unfortunately, the massive amounts of sugar that I consumed while the cadets were here resulted in a night of paranoia that I was possibly going into early labor. It’s okay. We lived through it.
I’ve finally got some freelance work, and it feels wonderful. In what must have been a fit of kindness, though it’s not out of his character, my old boss sent me what could, quite possibly, be the most exciting thing I’ve ever encountered at that press: literary analysis. Granted, it’s only about 40 pages and won’t pay that much, but MY GOD, it’s the best thing I could have encountered right out of the gate. In fact, it’s downright interesting. And so, I’ve been happily trying to figure out what the hell to do with a possessive appositive (rewrite the sentence to remove the problem) and referring to my handy CMS hyphenation chart. Don’t laugh at me, we all have our happy places.