**Note: the pic to the left are bon-bons...for effect only.
Being pregnant is weird. Really weird. In mostly good but some not-so-pleasant ways. On the unpleasant side there's always the constant poking and prodding, the weird physical side effects (I'm not going to say constipation), and well, gas. Not to mention waking up to "pay the water bill" several times a night. I know, I know! It gets worse! It's just weird. Weird weird weird. The baby bump is the coolest awesome weird thing, though. There will probably be a whole post about that.
Even more awesomeness: I am feeling far more spoiled than I've ever felt in my life. Admittedly, I'm not good at being spoiled. I'm a do-it-yourself kind of girl. I broke my ankles several times (yes, both of them) growing up when I was playing sports and doing other silly physical things like that. Whenever I was stuck in a cast or hobbling around on crutches, I was horrible at asking someone to grab a glass of water for me or bring a meal to my perch. Horrible. I hated it.
Now I have all this unsolicited help that's weirding me out. And I don't mean to sound ungrateful, because IT'S FANTASTIC, but it's still weird. I'm just not used to it. Case in point:
Students do weird, nice things for me that are completely unexpected. There are always *some* students that do nice things all the time because they're just naturally nice people. Then there are students who would rather not move or speak unless they're directly ordered to. Since I've become a vessel for human life, the lines between these distinctive groups of students are blurring.
Before I left "way out there part-time" junior college to teach for "really close to home college full-time" I had one particular student that was a nut. He was former military, loud, somewhat obnoxious at times, but generally a good kid. He had my class in the Spring, before Baby Miller, and he came back for another class this Fall. While he's always been a crack up and a cutup and something of a smartass, he actually started being really sweet. Every day he would ask, "So, how's Baby Miss Miller today?" It weirded me out the first time, then I got used to it, and it was really nice.
I warned all my students last term at the new college where I teach full-time that I am pregnant. The warning went something like this: "If I unexpectedly bolt from this classroom it is wholly for your own good and your physical safety. I'm having a baby, and there's no need for you to experience my morning sickness with me. Stay seated, talk amongst yourselves (Linda Richmond/Mike Meyers/SNL/Cawfee Tawk-style voice), and I'll be right back."
Now my students are jumping in front of buses and leaping tall buildings to help me do things. OK, that's a little overdone, but they're still doing me a lot of favors. The other day a dry erase marker rolled off the desk where I'd put it, and one of my students (very reserved, that one) dove out of her chair, grabbed the marker, and said, "Don't want want you to step on that and hurt yourself or the baby!"
Finally, the atmosphere at home is different. Chuck is a great cook. He was a chef for 10 years, and his skills are STILL IN THE BUILDING. Thank God. He's taken a much more active role around the house. He's always been an equal opportunity helper kind of guy, but now it's just so cute. He's cooked TWO fabulous meals this week alone, and I could probably live off of the leftovers for another week. Wednesday night it was turkey meatloaf with a side of new potatoes and green beans in some sort of magical, buttery, white wine sauce. Last night it was stuffed pork loin with apple chili sauce and a veggie concoction of squash, zucchini, red onions, and sweet potatoes that almost made me cry. OHHHHH, and how could I forget?? Monday night he made New York strip steak, baked yams, and some other side that was delicious, but my pregnant braion has erased from my memory. Let me tell ya, on New York strip night, you've never seen an anemic woman put away steak like I did.
Funny story: And this has nothing to do with my being pregnant, really. Last night Chuck was making the apple chili sauce to go on the chops, and he put a boatload of boiling hot liquid in the blender. He knows better than to do this and plug the top of the blender, but he had a brain fart and did it anyway. When he turned the blender on, it exploded into a cloud of apple chili sauce that coated him, me, the walls, everything on the bar area, and Daisy--who was sniffing around the kitchen floor for crumbs. Of course, I helped him clean up the eruption, and I even mopped the kitchen while he was taking a shower and getting ready for class, but he snatched up Miss Daisy and took her to shower with him so I wouldn't have to endanger myself by sliding around with her or sleep with a sticky, apple-chili-coated dog. Awww!
So, yeah. Being pregnant and uber-spoiled is weird and wonderful. I haven't even told you about all the baby furniture (carriers, swings, playpens, more carriers, and swings, bouncy seats) that has appeared on my mother's porch over the last couple of months. Relatives are talking about bringing boxes of clothing out of storage. A master carpenter friend of ours told us to "show me the crib you want and I'll make it for you."
Everyone warned me about this. "Everyone loves a pregnant woman," they said. I just didn't realize! I'm loving it, and I'm soaking it all up while I can.