This week has been rather a busy one, with most mornings taken up with an appointment or meeting or somesuch thing which caused me to arise to greet the morning early. I say "greet" in a decidedly sarcastic tone, as this earlier rising brought with it the usual feelings of general resentment of the universe and grumpiness and the dawning realization that the horrible feeling of less sleep is one I should get used to. And then I thought about how I always tease Joshua when he is acting grouchy and say, "Are you Mr. Grumpypants?" which sometimes brings a reluctant smile to his face. So I started praying one line upon getting out of bed, "God, help me not to be Mr. Grumpypants today" and for some reason, saying that to God makes me smile inwardly just a LITTLE bit - but enough to put a small crack in the pall of gloom. Either that or I think about chocolate - and that helps too. But I'm afraid those little tricks will probably fall impotently by the wayside in the first weeks of taking care of an infant - I will have to be on the lookout for new strategies.
SO yes- back to this week being all busy and such. I went to a chiropractor on Wednesday morning with Nate and Penny. This lady was recommended first by the Adams' family, and then my father went to her, and then Nate and Penny...and now I have joined the bandwagon. Supposedly she is going to help prepare my back for labor and delivery. Anything that helps, sign me up! She's located at a bit of a distance, but the good part is that there's a Panera Bread right near her place...and I was SO excited to eat lunch there. But back to the chiropractor.
She's a very positive person and in fact, the first thing she said upon clapping eyes upon me was, "You're so BEAUTIFUL!" Yes- she is one of THOSE types. I was a little embarrassed but immediately I decided I liked this lady. But at the same time that I appreciated her positive outlook and was comforted by the things she was saying about how she knew I was going to have a good labor and delivery, my natural negativity and skepticism leapt to the fore. I was thinking," REALLY? Can I really believe this lady? How can she tell I'm going to have an "easy" time from looking at me and touching my back? What IS an easy delivery? An 8 on the pain scale, as opposed to a 10? How can she promise this to me so blithely? Well, perhaps it will be easy because I'm planning on drugging myself to the hilt...but will my hip bones being properly aligned really contribute to an easy birth?" Call me Doubting Claire. Sigh. But it was nice to be so swathed with reassurance, even if I doubted some of it. And I forgot how weird it feels to have your bones crunched into place; it's been a while since I've been to a chiropractor. My startled reaction was to laugh nervously at the crunching. And then afterwards, you feel like you want to wrap yourself in bubble wrap to make sure you don't undo the adjustment.
And then...on to Panera. MMMMM. A turkey artichoke panini awaited me and it was like meeting an old friend. Sigh. *sinks into blissful remembrance*
I also got my hair cut and restyled (!) this week. ( Thanks for the J.C. Penney coupon, Mom!) It was fun and I was happy with the results but it's always intimidating to me to go into a salon because they automatically make me feel like a cavewoman. ( I wait too long between visits and my hair grows into this gargantuan, wild mess.) " Me want hair looky nicer!" No, I've never colored my hair. Yes, I know I'm a martian. No, in fact, I've NEVER had success in making my hair look normal. ( Okay- I did not actually say that and that was not a question they asked me but that's how they make me feel.) I ended up spending WAY too much on hair product...Argh. So I swore off yardsaling for this week and cut back in spending on other areas of the budget. I didn't even get all the stuff she recommended! It amuses me because they always straighten my hair within an inch of its life and I end up not even looking like myself. And Brad doesn't like me with straight hair. Okay- he likes me - he just prefers the curly haired version of me. When I came home, he looked at me doubtfully and I assured him that I was really his wife. When I asked Philip what he thought of my new look, he went to his animals page and said, "Monkey." I died laughing - again. That boy is cracking me up more and more these days. I don't look that different - I just got a more layered look.
Oh yes, I've also been watching a great deal of the Red Sox recently. I figured this is probably a good way to inaugurate our son to the vicissitudes of his future favorite team - start from the womb. ( He has no choice in the matter. He WILL be a Red Sox fan. It is already in the blood coursing through his miniscule veins. It is part of his heritage. And his nursery is going to have a Red Sox theme - and he already has two Red Sox outfits.) I introduced his Uncle Andrew's famous saying to him on Tuesday night, " Good old Red Sox- stinkin' their hardest." But Thursday night made up for Tuesday night's downer. Hope springs eternal...or infernal, depending on how you look at it. Tonight we shall psyche ourselves up to be hopeful yet again.
That and I have an itchy pregnant belly. Weird. I didn't even know such a thing could happen.
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3 comments:
Dear, dear Claire. Thanks for the entertaining read during my Sunday lunch!! :D And what is it stylists have against naturally curly hair, anyhoo!?
Way to train him up right! :)
It's funny that you mentioned the ring made out of a quarter...it came up in my last class period when one of the girls was trying to do something artistic with a quarter. I totally want to figure out how to do that now. :)
I don't remember if I put this in my blog or not, but when Russell came home on the day I dyed my hair brown, it took him all of .2 seconds to hate it. Evidently when I said brown he was picturing my real hair color. He said he *likes* my natural color, that if I'm going to have it brown, why can't I make it my color of brown? Because why pay to make it brown if it already comes that way... Whatever. Silly boy. But yeah, he hates the dark brown on me. Which is funny, because he had no problem with cherry lollipop red. And now he doesn't want me to grow it out because every day I look less and less like me...
It's very traumatic around here.
As for your itchy belly, I've heard that the "Udder Cream" they sell at the Walmart pharmacy counter works wonders for itchy pregnant belly (which evidently is not uncommon). I imagine that, if it was me, I would not feel happy about rubbing cow moisturizer on my burgeoning belly, but I really hate itchy skin, so I might be willing to do anything, even liken myself to a lactating bovine. Delightful.
And my mom called me in a panic yesterday because her computer wouldn't wake up. She said that she kept poking the power button, and the button on the keyboard, and she tapped the spacebar a few times, and poked some more buttons just for good measure... There was nothing wrong with it that a calm, controlled, singular poke on the power button couldn't fix.
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