Before I begin this entry I would like to share the news that one day of sitting on my ass and merely walking the dog for exercise has either flipped my little baby's ass back the way it should be, or it died in there for the 3rd time now. The pain from being repeatedly kicked in the lady parts has gone away. Yahoo!!
Sweet Husband and I decided early on that we aren't going to find out the sex of the baby. We figure we started on this train completely blindsided by the element of surprise, we might as well finish it that way. But I know the sex. I don't know because I saw something on the ultrasound or the doctor said anything (she doesn't know yet either) I know because I KNOW. Remember the voice that told me I was pregnant? I figured once it started, I might as well ask it a few things. Like;
"Oh god, is it twins?"
"No" Whew, though I didn't quite believe it.
"Is it a boy or a girl?"
Am I going to tell you? Of course not! You're just going to have to wait like the rest of us. But I can tell you, there is no way I'm wrong. I know it! Now, if I can just remember.
I used to say the word "preg-nesia" to my pregnant girlfriends all the time. They would forget where they put their shoes, what time they made dinner plans, etc. I thought it was just a cute little phrase everyone used, but honestly didn't think there was much merit to it. Well my dears, either preg-nesia is for real or Alzheimer's is setting in at a really early age. I can't remember shit. And it's not that kind of forgetting that just takes someone to say "Remember? You were wearing that red shirt and we were on the bus to San Pedro!" to jog the memory. It's hazy. You're not sure if it was a dream or real. Sometimes it feels like you drank WAY too much and are suffering from a black out. "Remember?? You told the guy you came with you go suck it and went home with that girl from Detroit! Right before you left you took a shot of Southern Comfort." You're blank. Then the shot of SoCo comes back to you and little by little you start remembering parts of the evening. THAT'S how it is. Except no boyfriend is sucking anything anywhere, you have never met a girl from Detroit and the night before was spent staring at yourself in the mirror to see if that tank top can still be worn with pride before going to bed at 8pm.
Case in point, I sent my sister-in-law an email yesterday asking about some baby stuff. She replied this morning in answer form, like we all do, and I had no idea what the hell she was talking about.
"A kidoppotomus? What the hell does that mean?"
Furrowing my brow I read it again,
"I can have one? Have one WHAT!? What is she talking about??"
I then had to retrace my email steps to realize I had emailed to get her opinion about some swaddling thing for newborns. I don't even recall sending that email. What time was it? What was I doing? Where was I? The whole memory is gone. I forgot my PIN the other day and I've had that same number for 14 years!
I'm sure Sweet Husband will find a way to exploit this in a particularly vulgar way (hey, he needs to get his laughs in too, it hasn't been pretty around here), but I'm warning you all out there! Don't be all sensitive if I forget your name/birthday (I never remember those anyway) or something we did recently. I can't help it. I'm suffering from...
What's that word again?