I think the baby is trying to escape. I have told her we have eight weeks left, but she frantically kicks around in there like it's her own personal disco party. The party seems to go on through my work day and all night long. The only time it stops is when I ask Dave to put his hand on there to feel her.
Speaking of disco parties, I recieved an ironic text from some random person at 3:30 in the morning. Here is how it went:
Unidentified texter: So it's going to be a fun weekend
Tanya's thoughts: Who is this and how do they know it's going to be a fun weekend at 3AM on a Thursday. My Mother in Law is coming, that will be fun....I bet that's not the kind of fun they're talking about.....
Me: Wrong number?
Unidentified texter: Nah. Were the batchelor party group from next door.
Tanya's thoughts: I dont thing that is how you spell Bachelor ... and there is an apostrophe in we're
Me: Still wrong number.
Unidentified texter: I was saying we are the batchelor party staying next to you....we helped carry the booze up yesterday and saw you at the country bar yesterday...you posted your number on our door
Tanya's thoughts: Mmmm...booze....I miss that....well not really booze, but wine...I miss wine...country bar...haven't been to one of those since I lived in Texas, I like Texas.... I wonder if I can still two-step.....how many more weeks until I can have a glass of wine?
Me: Apparently the wrong number was posted. I am married, pregnant, and not too worried about booze right now. Have a great time though, hope you find her.
Unidentified texter: My B. Thanks.
Tanya's thoughts: My B? Oh, my bad...got it...hah...see...I am still cool...I know those abbreviations.
So besides pondering how the human race is going to continue without basic social and verbal skills (would you date that guy?), I realized something - I am not cool. My 'booze carrying' days are gone, or at least postponed. I guess they were really gone when I met Dave, but we had years of partying, bars, shots and late night taxis to disguise their demise. I cannot pinpont the exact date that I began to get excited about playing cards and eating cheese and crackers on the porch, the satisfaction of a clean house before the weekend or a fresh order of grass fed beef from our favorite farm. I am comfortable in this new skin, this 30 year old not-so-cool pre-momma skin. I am excited about this new chapter in my career, the challenges of parenthood and the changes it will bring to our relationship. Afterall, aren't all those unknowns just as exciting as wondering whether or not the girl whose booze you carried will text you back? I know that I can never get this moment right now back, and I am going to live it.
So...onto the pictures. First, at the hardware store the other day I saw this: a weimeraner (completely un-restrained!) laying on the tool box of this pickup truck. Out of sheer amazement, I took his picture, because my grey dog would sooner choke himself with his own leash or eat off his own paw than stay quietly in the back of a truck - I had to show Dave. As I got closer, I noticed that all of this big guys toenails were painted different pink colors, leading me to believe that life at home for him probably involved dress-up, tea parties and 'horsey' - so I understood. This ride was a break. That dog would no sooner leave that truck than clean off his own nails with polish remover. This weimeraner has become my new motto....when life gets tough, be like the truck-bed weimeraner and get away for a minute, an hour - wherever you can find it.
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| Truck-Bed Weimeraner |
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| Good friends make you owls when they're supposed to be on bed rest. Thank you. He looks fantastic in the nursery. More pics to come. |
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| Boxes have begun arriving from office friends ready to shed some girl clothes. Love it. Cannot wait to go through it. Looks like the ribbon aisle at Michael's threw up. |
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| 32 Week belly picture from my perspective. Regular pic will have to wait since we have company in town! |
:)
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