Saturday, March 14, 2009

Wet t-shirt contest for pregnant women

Saturday March 14, 2009

Good Morning,

Let me start off by saying - no baby yet. I officially have three weeks left, but am doubtful (as is everyone else in my neighborhood) that I'll make it that long. Attached is a recent picture, and in an effort to bring the group together, and make me feel a little more connected to friends and family, I am now accepting wagers as to when you think #2 will arrive. The winner will receive some fabulous prize . . . or not. Just depends on how I feel (nothing like being at the mercy of a pregnant woman).

Although my brain may have checked out as of late. Thankfully, I'm still able to channel Martha Stewart. After all, what does one do if they are unable to cultivate their most domestic instincts?

That being said, I have finally finished my quilt (after a long and arduous battle of wills), and even managed to bake three loaves of Friendship bread to put up in the freezer. As if those two feats aren't enough, I managed to bake and quilt at the same time. I know, I know, I very nearly put Martha to shame.

Never mind that I've only managed to make waffles and grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner . . .

We've had some mad weather here lately, and as a result, find it quite confusing to dress appropriately (of course, the bigger I get, the more limited my options are). On Sunday night we got six inches of snow, the temperature fell to 15 degrees, and then was up to 78 degrees by Friday . . . Fortunately, we got a great snow day, and Jeff got to stay home for a half a day (he actually worked from home, but we got him for breakfast and lunch).

As a result of some highly technical and advanced snowman building on Jeff's part, his status has been elevated among the neighborhood boys, and now when they know he's home, we have little knocks on the door, and request for Mr. Jeff to come out and play. Addie is also often included, and I, sadly, am last to be asked for. Oh well, I suppose if I have to choose between being domestically gifted, and favorite playmate, I'll stick with Martha. After all, I'm fairly certain she has never been asked to come out and play.

In the midst of our 80 degree weather last weekend (it is now 40 degrees and rainy), after Tom Sawyering the neighborhood girls into washing our cars (who says you can't buy labor with a juice box and snacks?), we innocently supplied them with 100 water balloons, and may or may not have introduced them to the concept of sabotage.

Needless to say, those poor boys never knew what hit them, and by the end of the fight, the smart ones were trying to defect to the girls' team.

Only one broke down in tears for being accused to joining the "girls team" (as we all know, there is no bigger insult for an eight year old boy than being accused of siding with girls). We were quick to inform him though, that he joined the winning team, girls or not.

Anyone who has been pregnant knows what and where the pregnancy stain threshold on your shirt is. For those who haven't experienced it, it's the place just below your chest where your belly sticks out that seems to attract anything and everything (normally the offending item would just fall to the floor, but because of the protruding plateau, all items stop mid-air). Sadly, most stains remain unseen until you've been out and about all day.

But I digress. Last week as Addie and I were going to Plaza Fiesta to meet some of her preschool friends, I managed to drop my mocha mid belly. Not only did it empty it's contents all over my shirt (thankfully midway between what would have looked like lactating leaks and broken water), it also managed to triple it's volume and cover our backpack and my purse. Needless to say, walking into La Plaza was a bit humbling. Fortunately, there is a great amount of sympathy for the pregnant and most people just gave me pathetic pitying looks. Except of course from my friends - they just burst out laughing.

It's times like that that those little hand dryers are useful (because we all know they're not useful the rest of the time). Too bad they were all at kid levels which required a complex and ornate bending and balancing act on my part (because after all, pregnant woman are really quite graceful and flexible). It's a wonder more pregnant woman aren't asked to participate in wet t-shirt competitions, because let me tell you, people couldn't keep their eyes off me.

Sadly, there are those out there who don't sympathize with pregnant woman, and instead try to extort their "condition". And by condition, I mean their inability to lift a full keg of beer
into the back of a car.

Since South Carolina has the Blue Law, and a variety of other confusing laws about alcohol, the Package Stores (aka booze emporiums) close at 6pm, so I (with my infinitely flexible schedule) have been elected beer schlep. On one of my trips to the package store to buy a keg for Jeff (don't laugh, it's a lot cheaper than buying cans), the man who wheeled my keg out to my car asked me if I had any cash to tip him for loading my keg.

After asking if that wasn't in fact part of his job, and he had informed me, no, it was not, I was left open-mouthed and flabbergasted. On my early trips to said package store, they (including this particular man) had loaded my keg without so much as a word. Had I actually been able to lift the keg on my own, I would have tried - after all, I have been known to do things in spite of my best interests. I was envisioning something like telling him off, then summoning up all the strength and energy that is normally directed at growing a healthy baby (and of course, bending at the knees), I would have hoisted the keg over my head, grunted like an Olympic power lifter, and gently place said keg in the back of my car. Then, just to make sure he understood that he was the one who forced this course of action, I would have gone into labor right there on the spot. That would have showed him.

Instead, after my dumbfounded silence, he told me that I had better bring cash next time.

I know you all look forward to our local news updates, so I feel like I should explain something about our little Rock Hill Herald. Only a few of you have had the pleasure of reading it, so the rest of you aren't aware that it only has two sections four days out of the week - the front page and sports. On Saturday, they expand it to three sections which includes the Religion section. I can only assume that it's size limits it's ability to report on world news, so they are forced to choose which stories get top billing on the front page.

That being said, here you go:

"Fort Mill man escapes burning tanning bed." Now keep in mind, this happened the same time as the shooting in Alabama and Germany.

If that wasn't tantalizing enough, the follow-up story (again, front page center) was, "Officials: Tanning bed fire was first on record in S.C." Well thank goodness for that.

As titillating as the tanning bed fire story was, I had to search further back in the paper for this one: "S.C. man cited for hyena in yard." Now the really interesting thing about this article was that he didn't get in trouble so much for having said hyena, but for "displaying a wild and exotic animal." So much for the wild and exotic animal peepshow I was planning . . .

Take Care,