and so it begins.

i’m beginning to freak out about the impending doom of baby. could it be because i just hit the six month marker? could it be because i’m barely fitting into big jeans i bought two months ago? could it be because we’re looking at the outrageous daycare prices for next fall?

it’s enough to make me want to crawl into my own fetal position and suck my thumb. the whole thought of my permanent, life-altering, expensive body snatcher coming out to join us makes me a little nervous, understandably.

i think it’s the combination of things. i’m more than a little frustrated with my limited wardrobe choices. and when i go to look for maternity clothes, i wanna cry. i spent about two hours looking for pants last sunday. nothing. the pregnant woman store pants were too big. the non-pregnant lady store with the scant pregnant lady section pant’s were too long. nada. the other lame 4×4 maternity section in the department store had black pants and grey pants and overalls. gee, i’m overwhelmed with options. i’m beginning to think i missed my calling as a clothes designer. i could have cornered the market.

let’s see, what else is snicketing my wicket….oh, yeah. went to a party last saturdaynight. it’s official. i’m old. and pregnant. as if my thirtieth birthday party didn’t solidify my entrance into the “over the hill” club, this party sealed the deal. i was in the old person section while all the cool, young folk were playing drinking games, wrestling on the floor (ha, ha chris), and singing karoake. maybe it’s because i was stone cold sober, but being pregnant doesn’t help. hi, i’m the pregnant chick. it just doesn’t scream, “i’m cool. i’m hip. check me out.” it’s more like, “i’m old. i have a mortgage. i drive a subaru.” *sigh*

oh well. been there, done that. here’s to the future. the scary, poverty ridden, bad clothes future.

S-stalker of birds
I-independent
M-mama’s boy
O-outdoorsman
N-nuzzler

2001-2004