Bust A Move

We went to Virginia this weekend for a belated Thanksgiving/early Hanukah celebration with Adam’s family, and let say that if you were anywhere in the range of Chesapeake during the hours of 6 and 10 p.m. Saturday night and you felt the earth move, it was me. More specifically, it was me, at 27 weeks’ pregnant doing Dance Dance Revolution on the Wii, which is not something I’ll ever do again. The thumping was unbearably loud, and I’m pretty sure I cracked the foundation, but more importantly? That shit is HARD, yo. I have a whole new respect and admiration for those who not only do it without dying, but use it as regular EXERCISE.

Perhaps the greatest pregnancy injustice, besides the inability to smell alcohol without barfing and the ongoing barfiness in general, is that I can’t eat junk food without getting sick. What IS that? Cookies! Cake! Ice cream! Anything lacking in nutritional value leaves me queasy and distressed, and I’ve taken to eating OATMEAL WITH MILK for my sweet fix. If that’s not the saddest culinary tragedy you’ve ever read, I don’t know what is. OATMEAL AS DESSERT. And not even this oatmeal. I’m talking QUAKER INSTANT.

I just need to interject with the news that it is, quite literally FOUR DEGREES outside right now. FOUR. It feels like NEGATIVE SIX, according to weather.com, which means that to normal people, it feels like NEGATIVE SIXTY. The dog wouldn’t even pee, for God’s sake, probably too afraid it would freeze outside of her wee little legs. Ah, Vermont. Your winters suck.

I’d also like to add that my baby kicks more than I ever imagined, and though there is the oft-discussed frequent kick to the cervix, there is a new kind of kick to the, uh, BUM AREA, which no one warned me about. It’s … well, it’s not pleasant, and we’ll leave it at that. But why does no one warn you of this? Why does no one mention the random BEHIND-Y VIBRATIONS? And how is it that a baby’s foot can hit … THAT AREA?

As Sundry said to me earlier today: baby kicks are magical at first, then quickly move into the realm of slightly creepy, painful and in some cases, a little gross (FOOT IN THE BUM. FOOT IN THE BUM. ALERT. ALERT. THERE IS A FOOT OR A FIST IN MY BUM.)

And finally, three things that are, as usual, in no way related:

1) Apparently I am married to an elementary schooler, as I spent the entire evening making a last-minute potato salad and chocolate chip cookies for a holiday potluck he’d forgotten about. And after standing on my feet on the ceramic tiled kitchen in the amount of time it took to prepare both, I was shocked — SHOCKED — at how tired I was. Oh, and how much my feet hurt. And my back, too. And once again, I was reminded of the poor pregnant Subway Sandwich Artist who spent the entire day serving people gross smelling sandwiches and being forced to smile at them.

2) We had a layover in DC sans plane change on Friday, but because of weird airline bureaucracy, we were forced to de-plane, take a bus back to the terminal, get off the bus, turn on our heels to GET BACK ON THE SAME BUS AND BACK ON THE SAME PLANE. IN THE SAME SEATS BOTH TIMES. OMFG.

3) Have I ever mentioned that I have a thing for John Malkovich? Even though he is so … totally creepy? And kind of gross? And super right-wing, which is only relevant because politically, we are opposites and I never wanted to be James Carville to anyone’s Mary Matalin. AND YET HE IS SO STRANGELY SEXY, EVEN WHILE PLAYING TOTALLY FOUL CHARACTERS ON SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE. See also: Gary Sinise. And Gary Oldman. And a variety of creepy, yet strangely appealing dudes.

And with that, I’m off to put my feet up, which are sore from what, two hours making POTATO SALAD? God.

Happy Tuesday!

*Young MC. And on beginner mode, was the only song I could rock on Dance Dance Revolution, if by “rock” you mean quite literally rocking the entire house.

31 comments December 8th, 2008