One of the things about pregnancy that continually takes me by surprise are my emotions.
Pregnancy has made me a total, scary lunatic. This is beyond feeling physically like I have a hangover every single day. I’m all over the place and my pregnant rages can strike at any moment.
Here are a couple of subjects and situations that have gotten my blood boiling:
The Kindergarten Birthday Date Cutoff BS
One of the age old debates that I have been dealing with is my son’s September 11 birthday. If you have never had a child in September, then you’ll never have to understand what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the dumb date cutoff for Kindergarten being a “strict September 1.” So you are telling me that a child who was born maybe weeks prior to my son is more developmentally, socially and academically ready for Kindergarten? Why the “strict” cutoff date? He had to go through testing (seriously, the kid is reading and doing math at a 2nd grade level) and certainly has the ability to control himself in the classroom. Basically I think the date cutoff is the dumbest thing ever.
I’ve said a million times over that I love (LOVE) my son’s school. We have been there for 5 years since he was a wee 3 month old and even though we have never been named the family of the month (seriously… how does one achieve that level? I’m not sure), we truly believe in the curriculum. We have never felt like my son was “overexposed” to education at an early age. He’s always had fun at daycare without having education shoved down his throat. We chose to keep him in at this school for their private Kindergarten program. He adores his teacher and is rocking the program right now. We couldn’t be more proud of him! We don’t regret for a second the move to Kindergarten even though he is a whopping 11 days past the cutoff date. We intend at this point to continue moving him into 1st grade next year despite many parents who are having their children repeat Kindergarten who are in the same situation as Jack is with the age cutoff. Sure, he won’t be in the same class as many of the other kids he’s known for years, but if there is anything we know about our son, it is that he can hold his own.
Please stop this mad debate! You worry about your child. I’ll worry about mine. Ok? Thanks.
The Blood Pressure Raising Email
In the early evening on Sunday, I received an email from my son’s school’s owner (actually signed, “The Management Team”) that inspired an anxiety so deeply in me that I pretty much tossed and turned all night because of it.
It appeared to be a blanket email to all Kindergarten parents (however… it did look like it was sent specifically to me). It basically said that if your child is not part of the before and after school program that you are NOT to drop off before 9:00 am or keep your child there later than 3:30 pm.
It immediately triggered a fear deep in me… did we mistakenly register him wrong? What if he isn’t part of the before and after program? What if we try to get him in and there is no room for him? What will we do?? WHAT WHAT WHAT???!
I was ready for battle. We’ve had our child at this school for almost 5 years now with basically the same drop off and pick up time (that we have to enter electronically every time we drop him off and pick him up). Why would this have changed just because he started Kindergarten?
I put my husband on “Find out what the hell this is all about” duty. Turns out there were 2 other parents waiting in line with the same question for the school director. She basically said “You’re fine. You’re fine. And you’re fine. You shouldn’t have received this email.”
For the love of all things holy. I know these are new owners and I am trying desperately to cut them a break. If my husband hadn’t dealt with it, I would have gone all pregnant crazy woman on their asses. I hope there was a valuable lesson here? Don’t send out blanket emails unless it applies to EVERYONE.
So, Yes. I am Crazy. Be Careful
As my poor, darling, wonderful husband has learned, there is no way to know when my pregnant crazy will rear its ugly head. Some suggestions…
- Do things for me without having to be told. Chances are if I have to tell you, it isn’t going to be pretty.
- When I say, “Ugh. I’ve gained so much weight thanks to all this constipation, gas and bloat.” You do NOT say under any circumstances “Yeah, I thought you looked a little puffy.” True STORY. Simply tell me I look glowing and beautiful. Period.
- If you cut me off when I’m driving? You will be honked at, screamed at, flipped off, cursed at… etc etc. If my darling newborn doesn’t come out saying the word “fuck” I will be shocked.
- If you park so close to me that I can’t get out of my car, you will get a nasty gram (one of the pleasures of working Downtown).
- If you criticize my daughter’s beautiful, chosen name Mackenzie I will likely disown you and rip you a new one.
- Do not touch the belly unless I physically place your hand on it myself.
- If you witness me dropping something, please, PLEASE just help me pick it up instead of watching the hilarity that my attempting to bend over is.
- Just because I bitch about how much being pregnant sucks doesn’t mean I do not feel overwhelmingly blessed and grateful for the insane miracle growing inside me. If you insinuate otherwise, I will destroy you with my evil glare.
- I cannot walk fast. Skyway and escalator tailgaters beware (and I’m talking to the jerk who had to RUN down past me and was still waiting at the elevators when I walked up 30 seconds later). If you want to understand why I can’t speed up or run stairs, simply take a baseball bat with a blowtorch attached to it and hit yourself in the crotch over and over. You could also toss a bowling ball in your shirt and carry that around for awhile. That is what it feels like for me. As my husband learned, I got all PDA with him and took his arm in public *gasp* (he loathes PDA). I did this so he would walk WITH me and not 20 feet in front of me. Because, you know, walking 20 feet in front of your date and not together is super romantic anyway.
Your best bet is to just say “I’m sorry” and give me a hug. And probably a tissue. And slowly step away.
So although I’m not “technically” in my 3rd trimester, given the very real possibility of an earlier birth, I feel like I am there already. I am BEYOND excited that I could be meeting my daughter in about 10 weeks!
I have acquired some new, fun symptoms this past week- leg cramps, braxton hicks and hot flashes. The leg cramps come without warning and I’m pretty sure the first time it happened and I screamed out in agony so loudly that I freaked out my husband. The hot flashes come without warning and a bottle of ice water is always on standby. Not that anyone in my house is complaining, but the AC is still going full blast despite the fallish-like weather. The braxton hicks of course freak me out a little. They are weird and uncomfortable. Not painful. I might have a couple a day, more if I don’t stay hydrated. I also think my skin sensitivities have multiplied- if any fake jewelry or metal touches my skin, I will most definitely break out. So much for the super sized fake wedding ring I bought myself. Is the green finger and bubbled up rash a giveaway that this thing is not real?
Thankfully, despite my growing belly, my weight seems to have steadied off (for now). I’m seriously trying not to worry about it anymore. My SPD (symphysis pubic disfunction- which means that the hormone relaxin which makes a preggo woman’s ligaments stretchy works a little bit too well causing imbalance and a shit ton of pain) seems to be okay for now; however, I’m sure the pain will start to increase in the weeks to come. I seem to feel better the more I move around, so I make a very valiant effort to get up and away from my desk at least once an hour (which usually isn’t hard given my bladder implications).
Jackson finally SAW the baby move for the first time- I don’t think Mackenzie cares too much for her big brother trying to snuggle with her mama. I seriously thought that foot was going to come out of my belly- biggest kick I have seen and felt yet. Jackson thought it was the most hilarious thing ever.
Being Wednesday and traditionally hump day, I am declaring it BUMP day for me! I have recruited my dear husband to take my professional maternity photos. I did not do this with Jackson and always kind of regretted it. As soon as I have them, I will post them! For now, it will have to be hideous bathroom selfies.
27 Week Belly Pic
Interesting that last week’s size comparison was a head of lettuce… which I feel is bigger than a rutabaga? Maybe I just don’t know my rutabagas very well?
He might be a big, tough 5 year old now, but he still loves to snuggle with his mama before bedtime every night. Best. Part. Of. My. Day.