Blogs

I grew up in a family of superstition. I can remember being a little kid and thinking that every time something good happened to someone, it was because they were “lucky.”

Most mommy bloggers love to talk about the stuff that makes their lives easier.

Well, I don't know much about what I actually need for the baby right now, but I do know all the stuff that made pregnancy easier...and all the things that I was just really excited to get for Harrison. So here they are!

1) The Britax Chaperone Travel System in Cowmooflage

Every mom has her own story for how it happened. Water broke in the grocery store…contractions started at the movie theater…had a scheduled induction…ate some spicy food…you’ve heard them.

But where’s MY story?

Here it is, up to this point…

The facts: I’m actually only 38 weeks pregnant. The baby is finished cooking, but Mommy is just the most uncomfortable she’s ever been in her life. Technically, I’m not due until August 5th.

I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about women who are nine months pregnant. We’re evil, irritable, waddling trolls who can invoke fear with one single Look.

Yep, that’s pretty accurate.

I sat down to write my blog yesterday, and I swear Satan was shooting outta my fingertips. I tried to conjure up images of sweet little baby-powdered infants and happy days, but my brain was not cooperating with any of it.

Let’s face it - those of us from the Deep South lead the pack in feeling a need for privacy. We prefer acreage to luxury condos, private swimming pools to gym memberships, and we keep those curtains closed pretty tightly when walking into the voting booth.

So as a somewhat-modest (I said SOMEwhat) couple, the hubby and I were not really looking forward to childbirth classes. I get embarrassed watching “True Blood” in front of other people, so I couldn’t really imagine watching the Dreaded Labor Video with a room full of strangers. That just seemed a bit…barbaric.

Getting adjusted to a new computer is my first excuse, the rest are too trivial to post. Having the computer crash was such a wakeup call. I am so grateful for a son who has the skills to avert my panic attack and capture all my files - translate RECIPES - into this little box that now sits behind my new computer. Fortunately because of Scott I didn't lose much. Unfortunately my husband finally got thru my stubborn head that I need to organize my info which, although not all that hard, is time consuming.

I am so over it.

The bliss of pregodom has worn off, along with that shiny happy “glow” of happiness-inducing hormones that made me feel oh-so-fantastic.

Look, it’s freaking hot. Like maybe the hottest summer ever on record in the state of Alabama. And the mosquitoes are bigger than ever…just like my booty and my bump.

I love love love what’s in this bump ‘o mine, but I’m really ready for Harrison to just come on OUT. I want to run 5ks and go to Body Pump and eat sushi and drink wine and take the stairs three at a time.

As a hospitality instructor and true Southern girl, I’m familiar with lots and lots of different types of etiquette…I know to hold my wine class by the stem, I refuse to discuss politics in front of certain family members, and I am all too familiar with the fastest ways to get the house “ready for company” when it’s least expected.

This morning, my hubby took off before the sun had risen to get to work. Call it hormones if you want, but seeing him working so hard and doing whatever it takes to keep us OK just makes me warm and fuzzy inside.

My hubs is a masonry contractor…that’s right – go ahead and call us if you need an amazing fireplace, patio, or outdoor kitchen.

And the housing industry, if you haven’t heard, has crashed. It’s like a tornado whizzed right on through the Land of Builders, picked us all up, and now we’re all roaming around Oz trying to find the Yellow Brick Road.

Throwing a freaking shower ain’t easy. Tonight, I’m doing one of the bridal variety at mi casa for a friend, who I am so happy is getting hitched to a great guy. Not to mention I really love throwing parties.

But I didn’t count on how much hosting a darn shower can exhaust an 8-month prego woman. I’m exhausted.

Which is precisely what was running through my head yesterday evening, after baking a zillion cupcakes, going to five hundred stores to find the perfect decorations, getting 8 last-minute regrets, and still trying to develop a syllabus and write a proposal.