Monday, June 30, 2014

dressed for success, or, why I'm not wearing pants

When I was a naive 20 weeks pregnant I went out and bought some maternity jeans and a few shirts. Perfect, I thought, maternity clothes aren't so bad. Now at 32 weeks, I laugh at that preggo so smug with her handful of Gap Maternity.

I'm over 5'9" and all torso. I know, I know, stop bragging! It's a enviable build. All the height and none of the legs. People are like, that girl has torso for days! And check out those monkey arms! Bow chica ow ow.

As my belly grows straight out it's becoming impossible to dress. All my shirts hit my belly button then tent out a couple inches from there. Yes, my maternity shirts. I bought an adorable maternity dress online, on the model it hit maybe an inch above her knee, on me it's obscenely short. I can't move without showing the world most of my arse.

Before you say it, yes, I have that belly band thing. But between the elastic band on my jeans, the elastic belly band, a shirt and the nearly 40 extra pounds (yes, really)... I'm ready to claw my way out of all the layers around 3pm. When I get home there are no longer just shoes by the front door. is coming off before the door even swings shut.

This nearly nude dresscode at home means once I'm there the motivation to put real clothes back on to do anything is completely gone. This is how husbands end up doing errands for their pregnant wives. It's not that pregant women are too tired, or lazy, it's because we aren't wearing pants. And new episodes of Wilfred and Orange is the New Black are on Netflix. Pass the Lucky Charms. 

This is the situation... basically. 

Monday, June 23, 2014

31 into 32

31. The number of weeks this little girl has been growing. The age I'll be when she arrives.

It's been a busy 7 days. It's been a busy month. Honestly a busy 3 years if we're counting. And so much change ahead.
Down in front, belly! (29 weeks)

A couple weeks ago we flew redeye to Boston to celebrate my father's 60th birthday. I didn't sleep a wink and my eyes lived up the name. Owen didn't fair much better but had the advantage of Tylenol PM and not being 29 weeks pregnant. Also I was in the direct firing zone of a 90 something year old woman who used the 4.5 hour flight to leak a lifetime of farts while sleeping and blocking all hope of using the bathroom. It was a long night.

We spent the weekend in Rockport MA, what I would call one of my spirit homes. We moved a lot when I was growing up. Every four years. The summer I turned 10 we were in Colorado but my father spent a summer working in Boston. The family followed, but instead of setting up in the city we rented a house in Cape Anne. I remember that summer as one of the best of my life. 

We eventually moved to western Massachusetts (for good) when I was nearly half way through 6th grade. I found my way back to Colorado for college, but came back 2 summers to be a live-in nanny in Rockport. Living with my parents on the weekend and on the coast all week. 

I love the north shore. It's a place where my family is from, but not from. I think when you move often you attach yourself to places by heart not obligation. As soon as I could I found my way back to the places that felt most like home. Testing them out. 
Mama(s) (30 weeks)

It was a great weekend, too fast. I hadn't seen my family since being (maybe, barely) 8 weeks pregnant. Watching them all feel the little girl kick and jab was the best. Hugging my mama good night every night. Hanging out with my brother and sister, acting like big little kids. It's been two decades since we all walked down the beach at Good Harbor, the three of us, over to the island at low tide. So much has changed and hasn't. It's hard to be far away. 

Time is flying by at hyper speed now. We are less than 8 weeks out from her due date. I'm excited but mostly completely overwhelmed right now. Not only is her little room a complete disaster, the list of things that need to be done at work seems insurmountable at times. I have my head down, checking things off, while trying my best to take moments to absorb this time I have with my little one. That I have with my husband. Before everything changes again.

This weekend we headed on our first and last camping trip of the summer. Over the mountains to Maryhill. Another adopted spirit home. I love the hot wind, watching the trains so small across the Columbia, driving through the endless sea of fields and canyons. All in all it was a restorative weekend, aside from having my iPhone walk off with a new owner. And Monday morning, as suspected, all my to-dos are still here.

looks like I could have used a little more spf...(32 weeks)