Aye, and then this happens. And he is so big that I choke a little on the emotion.

Lateness is a date I have every Thursday night. We walk into Friday morning, not really tired. It'll be some time before my eyes are heavy enough for me to drift elsewhere.

I'm hungry, in more way than one.

because heather sparked my curriosity...

i did three old-wives tales prediction things to "see" what the spy's gender is. heather is so excited and can barely wait til monday. barely wait. so for her sake, and for my own increasing curriosity, i did these:

the chinese lunar calander predictor:

this one somehow balances the age of the mother, and the month the child was conceived, and vwalla! baby is boy! at least in our case, it's apparently a boy.

the 15 symptoms questions predictor:

this one asks 15 questions about symptoms which range from how big my ass is getting, to what things i'm craving, to which direction the baby is kicking which i don't know yet, so i'm not sure how accurate my 15 answers were. but. per this test, we're having a boy.

the pendulum predictor:

this one you tie your wedding ring to the end of a string and let it dangle above your belly. jesse held it for me, in my case. and then you watch to see if it moved in a circular motion, or a back and forth motion. jesse really wants a boy, but i didn't tell him which motion correstponded with which gender. he just held it, and within a few seconds it started to slowly swing back and forth. which suggests we're having a boy.

so heather, these few tests all suggest a Mo. but i'm thinking the ultrasound will give us the best information ^^

i'm so giddy to find out.

excerpts...

never mind.

mine pregnancy two

i wore my first pair of maternity jeans yesterday, and they were great. i got a lot of compliments on them. i also got a lot of remarks about how i finally seemed to be showing.

while they (the small group of women i work with) chattered about this, and about how big my boobs are (not that they were small before. booo.), blah, blah... all i could think about was how maternity pants rock. you don't have to button them at all, apparently. it's like pulling on a pair of p.j.'s., and while they're blathering on i'm thinking, "hey, if i get to wear pajamas for the next six months, and have people comment on how nice they look, i suppose the whole bulbing-thing won't be too bad."

granted, tying my shoes is getting harder. and my tiredness is, at least for now, returning. but pajamas are never a bad thing, regardless of how dressy they look. comfort, man. comfort.

and now i'm going to nap.

while eating cheesy mac...

today there was a round table, no one sat at the head. i headed the discussion, but not much was said. reading. a handful of teenage boys laughed at the part where the woman had her baby in the kitchen, bare bottomed. first they laughed that a birth would happen in a kitchen. then they laughed because the boy reading couldn't pronounce "bottomed". i don't think he understood what the word meant in that context. i'm not sure he even knows what context means.

i didn't know how to laugh.

the story is about a family who lived during the Great Depression. one boy likened our economy, our times, to theirs. i almost know how to laugh at that, which only makes me wonder about my own disconnect. do i understand the context of this economic situation? do i know what all this means?

mine pregnancy one

The things I miss:

breathing in swirls of blue, tasting my breath as sweet or bitter.
clothes that fit.


The things I wish I could do without for good:

emotions that choke, that lurch up out of no where.
lack of olfactory function.


The things I am grateful for:

apparently women usually get sick? but apparently i don't.
people finally don't care whether or not i'm skinny, or at least they keep their comments to themselves.


The things I'll be ready to let go of:

the need to sleep for 8 hours, not including a nap.
my heart beating faster than normal (or so it seems) and having a harder time breathing (or so it seems).


That's all for today.

But

(because i wanted to say something, but can't center enough, so borrowing from the other day when i could: this will do for now)

You have?
Sure, hasn't everyone?
Well. Confused. I don't know.
I didn't think so.
I don't know you. Not that
well.
How can I believe you?
You look like a pothead.
Whatever that means.
Aparently everyone has their
secrets.
My eyes are generally red.
What does that mean?
Especially in a world where
God is dead.
Whatever that means.
"With greater power
comes greater responsibility."
Age is power, supposedly.
I don't have to eat the spinach now --
not if I don't want to.
Limp. Soft.
It will not go inside me.
I can choose this time.
Supposedly.
An old man sits,
soft and limp.
Not one, but two,
strong young men stand.
Circling him, surrounding him.
Hovering. Heckling.
Leave him alone!
Two shout, as we drive by.
Too afraid to stop.
Or careless. Maybe carefree.
He's not our old man.
He doesn't belong to me.
I have other problems,
on this side of my white-picket
balcony.
I'm suppsed to write this book,
a precious look.
All I can think is:
What the fuck does it all mean?