I think I recall people saying how horrible it is to be pregnant, but I don't think I really comprehended or gained a firm testimony of what they said. I thought that I would probably just be like my mother, who thinks being pregnant is the best thing since sliced bread. I have even heard her say things like (and there are other witnesses), "I loved being pregnant!" and "Giving birth is wonderful!" and "Pushing's fun!" She is one of those special people born on this earth who is capable of making a football team out of their children.
I have yet to decide on whether I am one of the said "football team moms." Right now, I'm thinking no. I don't know if I've ever been nauseated for this long before in my life. Looking at food makes me angry. I resent it for making me sick, and then making me and my baby dependent on it. Rude! Then everyone from my husband to the mailman order me to eat more of it. Why don't they eat more of it, if that's what makes them happy? I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep until the baby's born. Wait, make that--I just want to curl up in a ball and sleep until after the baby's born. That way I can just hold it and smell it all the time and not think about how horrible it was to carry it in my whom for 11 months, or whatever.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
My virgin blog
Ah...
I'm here on a tropical island, drinking coconut juice almost every day, and sitting on my bed while my husband plays me love songs on his guitar. Jealous? You should be.
But sometimes, this being a tropical island, there are lots of bugs, the coconut juice is rancid, and my dear man is tired of playing his guitar. Then it's time to wash our clothes. By hand. Then I cook, when my man lets me (he usually cooks for us). The outlet on our 20 x 40 inch counter doesn't work, so we do our cooking on the floor until we can find an extension cord. We're planning on getting chairs as soon as we can find something that won't break after a year. In the mean time, we eat on the floor, or on our bed, which is hard because it is two bunk-beds stuck together.
And why am I happy? Because I'm with my man. Things are a little weird right now as far as living conditions go, but we're good. We're happy. We're in this together. Does that sound extraordinarily corny? Did I spell that right? Anyway, I feel like I'm living a life out of a novel. Not all roses...it's a very realistic novel, but with a surreal quality. I'm content, at last.
Until the next adventure...
I'm here on a tropical island, drinking coconut juice almost every day, and sitting on my bed while my husband plays me love songs on his guitar. Jealous? You should be.
But sometimes, this being a tropical island, there are lots of bugs, the coconut juice is rancid, and my dear man is tired of playing his guitar. Then it's time to wash our clothes. By hand. Then I cook, when my man lets me (he usually cooks for us). The outlet on our 20 x 40 inch counter doesn't work, so we do our cooking on the floor until we can find an extension cord. We're planning on getting chairs as soon as we can find something that won't break after a year. In the mean time, we eat on the floor, or on our bed, which is hard because it is two bunk-beds stuck together.
And why am I happy? Because I'm with my man. Things are a little weird right now as far as living conditions go, but we're good. We're happy. We're in this together. Does that sound extraordinarily corny? Did I spell that right? Anyway, I feel like I'm living a life out of a novel. Not all roses...it's a very realistic novel, but with a surreal quality. I'm content, at last.
Until the next adventure...
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)