I came to the conclusion this evening that if there are too many things going on to describe humorously in one Facebook status, it must be time for a blog post. Ah, how social technology changes things.
First - it came to my attention today that all the time I spend watching my belly, waiting to see if it will bounce again with Bean's antics, is an entirely new kind of navel-gazing. I quite like it. It is definitely difficult to combine with reading, however. Alas, navel-gazing has always been a consuming endeavor, right?
Second - I most certainly felt like a damsel in distress this evening. Not long after Wonderman left to attend to his evening studies, I looked across the room to see a dark shadow moving across my cupboard door. It was not a small shadow, mind you. I considered that it could be a lizard, which generally doesn't bother me, but those are usually essentially small if they're crawling around walls and cupboards. Then I, illogically of course, since they can't scurry across doors, thought that perhaps it could be a mouse (we have had rodent issues in the past). Goodness, for all I knew, the size and speed could very have indicated it was Spiderman himself scurrying across the cupboard door with such speed (I keep wanting to say
alacrity, but Dictionary.com says it's something done cheerfully, which I don't want to imagine this shadow doing. Still, know that
speed was absolutely not my first choice with regards to wording). As I got up and walked a little closer, I could easily see that I wished it was Spiderman. Instead, it was the largest roach I have ever seen. I dashed back to the other side of the room (as much as I can
dash these days) to grab a shoe which is, as everyone knows, the best weapon against roaches of all kinds. Upon my quick return, I saw the giant roach somehow get around the edge of the closed door and go
into my cupboard (shudder). This is where the girlish shrieking began. I gingerly tried to move the pasta packages to see where he was, but my tip-toes were not quite enough to put him in my line of vision. Then he magically appeared on the wall
above the cupboard. With another shriek (Ok, let's be honest, it wasn't just one more. They were more or less continuous.), I launched my turquoise plastic flip-flop at the wall, missing him entirely, but landing my shoe on the top of the cupboard. At this point I had to climb up on the counter to retrieve my shoe, which is no longer as easy as it sounds (it was one of the first times I have felt really pregnant). Then I just watched him bustle up the wall and onto the ceiling, traversing first one beam and then another. When I felt he was in a viable position, I lobbed my shoe at him once more. That time I hit him squarely (yesssss!) and my shoe fell nicely to the floor, but the roach DISAPPEARED. Now I feel even more creeped out than before. I don't know where the giant roach is, but he can't be far. He should be dead. I really wish that Wonderman were here to take care of these all important issues. Isn't that in the husband contract somewher? Disgusting. Shiver. (I promise, this
could have been a Facebook status, it would simply have been uber-truncated and not nearly as descriptive and fun).
Third - After watching the season finale of
Glee, I have decided that Queen should be my soundtrack for labor. Especially if it can make it all go that fast. I'm in. And shouldn't all life decisions be based on
Glee, anyway?
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Conclusion: Nice guys don't just make great husbands, they're good dads, too.
