Today marks the halfway point through this pregnancy, which is crazy. Twenty weeks is half of forty weeks. It takes forty weeks to fully cook a baby. I feel like with Jacob it took forever to get this far into things. This time I feel like I must be counting wrong or something.
My time-space continuum is off kilter. Time seems to go faster the more space my body seems to be taking up.
I had an ultrasound this week, and the baby is measuring perfectly in there. My belly is measuring perfectly too, whether it looks like it to the outside world or not. Sometimes it's flat, sometimes it sticks out a little. I guess it has to do with how the baby is laying. When I was pregnant with Jake and people would say things about my size I got really offended and hurt. This time around I just tell them that everything is fine and I've clearly hit some sort of genetic jackpot and silently will the naysayers straight to hell.
I did hope to be up to 130 pounds by today, but I'm only at 127. Commence bedtime snacking.
I'm not quite sure what my start weight was, but I'm going with 125, since I usually hover within a pound or two either way of that mark. So two pounds up. With Jake (you have no idea how obsessed I am with/hard I try not to compare these two pregnancies, but I can't help it) I was up a pound at twenty weeks, but I started out about ten pounds heavier than I did this time around.
Quote from an old blog post dated 11.08.05:
"Official weigh in yesterday 136.5- I gained a whole pound. But, I haven't pooped in 6 days. I'm no mathematician, but I think I know where that pound came from." (in regards to my 20 week weight)
Quote from an old blog post dated 07.19.12:
"I really didn't come here to talk about poop. I don't start my days thinking "I'm going to talk about poop five times today", but in a typical day I end up talking about poop five times. At least."
There is this new bathroom spray at work that smells amazing. It's one of those trendy retro looking Glade bottles and it is called something like Blah Blah Sherbet. Sherbet Blah. I'm not sure. I have about three weeks with a bathroom air freshener until it stops smelling good and I just associate it with the smell of other people's poop.
I used to work at Baskin Robbins in high school, and if anyone ever asked for "sherbeRt", I'd stealthily stick my finger in their ice cream as I was putting it on the cone.
Where I grew up we used to sound like "shur" when we said "sure", and where I live now people sound like "shoe-er" when they say "sure"
I'm not shur/shoe-er which is correct, but every time I see Suri Cruise's name I wonder if it's pronounced "Shury" or "Shoe-er-y". Or neither. I'm guessing it's somewhere in the middle. Maybe "sewer-y"
My brother never returned the library book "The One in the Middle is the Green Kangaroo" and they tried to slam him with a 20 year old late fee when he tried to renew his card after my niece was born. He said that it's not possible, that his grandmother was a librarian and there is no way he would ever not return a book. They immediately dropped all charges.
I know exactly what happened to the book. He checked it out while we were with our dad and took it to our mom's house for a weekend read. It was the summer before I was in 9th grade. He set it on the divider upstairs so he wouldn't lose it and then my stepsister told her dad that it was her book that her mom bought her and she took it. I tried to tell the truth, but my mom told me to drop it, that it didn't matter and there was enough fighting in the house without bringing stupid books into it.
One of the bad things about coming from broken homes is that your shit gets strewn all over the place until you turn 18 and then you think you're out of the house and past the crap and suddenly someone tries to slap you with a decades-old mark against your character and it all comes flooding back and has some sort of star-crossed influence on your current life which now involves your own child and directly causes you to somehow do something to them that seems like it is minor at the time but will totally blow up in the year 2035 and you inadvertently cause your grandchildren to be delinquent.
It's a cycle. Like the seasons.
Glade Sherbet Sunshine. I knew it would come to me if I didn't think about it for a few minutes. It smells like orange creamsicles.
Orange creamsicles remind me of the time that I found my grandfather's wedding ring on the edge of the counter and put it somewhere "safe from the babies" without telling him where I put it while he was out working on his Studebaker. He tore up the house and garage for three days looking for it, and was a total mess because he couldn't find it. My grandmother had recently died, making me 5ish and the babies way too little to reach the countertop. When we went back over to the house later that week, I gave him the ring and he let me eat a whole box of orange creamsicles as a prize for "finding" it.
I got really bad diarrhea a few hours later.
That smelled like creamsicles.
I'm not too sure how I feel about that Glade spray anymore.
Rated G picture from this morning:
Rated PG picture from this morning: