exhausted and comatose..that's where you'll find me

I spend most of my days somewhere being exhausted and comatose. Waking up tired is chic and my appreciation for all things take out has returned. My inner Martha Stewart folds and creases endless pages with great sales ideas and all the stupendous projects I am going to tackle..tomorrow. I have notebooks to organize my notepads and lying in bed nightly solve the problems of small countries . I condemn the laundry with a stern look and refuse to be lured by it’s continual growth, setting an alarm on my blackberry to check out full service wash dry fold places.
Daily I cart my gym bag to work, remembering how great I felt two months ago when I slipped on my Nikes. More energy, more stamina, and no droopy butt. However, lunch is infinitely more enticing and what’s 20 stinkin minutes on the bike going to do anyway? My body continues to shape shift in preparation for baby landing aka birth. Potato sacks and burlap soon will be my only viable options, as the breasts continue to make their case for soverign nation status. I spend whole hours staring at black and white grainy ultrasounds, fascinated by my baby boys face already. I cry for everything and nothing, laugh and talk to my stomach knowing I am heard.I dig in my daughter's ears in public, lick my finger to get dirt off her face, and just like that, I am my mother.
Pregnancy brain loss surfaces when I return to the parking garage clueless about my car's location. Sexy underwear left with my waistline and in it's place a worn Sox jersey and my used to be too big sweats. I'm officially hot.I scroll through my 12 year old daughter’s phone contacts and come across my own name saved under mom. And just like that, I am cured for the moment, from the over everything and underliving blues. At least until tomorrow.

"You're single and pregnant...so.....

“You’re single and pregnant…so…
”I’m single and pregnant. Translated means, not married, one name on my lease. And no, the father didn’t bronze my pee stick. He’s my hot friend that I’ve slept with, here and there, heavy emphasis on the here and there for the last fourteen years. We tried the traditional dating and never lasted for more than a month, yet have a definite bond.. That everyone else talks about even when we’ve been oblivious. The morning after the night of the “deed” (feel free to insert a more graphic term suitable to your imagination and taste) I called him and informed him that we had to cease and desist. (aka no more nookie nookie) He agreed and I called my best friend excited that we finally had agreed to leave each other alone.
A few weeks later the flashing preggers appeared on the digital stick. Contrary to what you might think up to this point, I don’t advise single parenthood as a first choice. Any mother will tell you motherhood is a dual position in an optimum environment. Going it alone requires a measure of insanity and fortitude not easily found in the female population, but readily available within me.
15 weeks into this pregnancy has been ideal and my emotions constant and cheerful thanks now to my love of everything food. Especially ranch dressing. I talk to the dad a little more often now, even discussing names and parenting styles. We don’t hate each other and he will be a present father, dare I say a wonderful dad. I’m not bothered by the stares or the silences that come with my announcement or the lack of real joy because of my single status. I’m 40 and thankfully haven’t worried too much about public opinion since tenth grade when I dropped the baton during the state championships in the 4 x400 relay. My exuberance doesn’t mean I lack fear or sadness, it only conveys what my mom has always told me..

”What you feel is most of what you are.”

And I feel blessed. Even single and pregnant.

dreamt oatmeal and woke up tired

...but no one ever said growing a baby was easy. I've pulled over into the exhausted lane of life, happily, and figure it's a prelude for the next eight years of life with boy. My obsession with all things food continues..as I type I am dreaming of the oatmeal and how yummy it will taste, picturing what is exactly in my frig now and looking forward to my morning scramled egg whites, grapefruit and toast with oj.

My daughter continues to lift up my superwoman cape for me when I am more content to shove it in the back of the closet, she hugs me and her baby brother more than usual, talks into my belly button and tells me what a great momma I am..

and I can't help but remembering the joy I felt when I first saw her face, how instantly i understood what uncondtional love was staring into her eyes..how in that split second how I wanted to be better and more....
I would rather walk blind with faith than eyes wide open with fear...I figure if I'm not a little scared, I'm not really human...

just makes me a parent...this is one of my favorite pictures of my dad and my brother..just because..

that wasn't gas! that was baby field goal kicks!

My eggs are old, I'm old, everything should hurt, I'll be outta breath, tired, crazy and did i fail to mention?

old.

If you want to get really jazzy add single....The warning labels are plastered everywhere.. " Be happy! ...as long as you are under 40...other wise...

"get your med alert bracelet and brace for impact.."

okay I am joking..kind of...but believe it or not, I feel BETTER with this pregnancy at 40 than I did with my daughter at 27 and with her I lost the 35 pounds in three weeks, she slept through the night from day one and never ever wet the bed...

Alot has to do that it's safe to say I am a wee bit saner this time around...more mature, less likely to give a flying ....about the blank amd silent stares directed to my empty left finger when I say i'm preggers...dare i be....

Happy?? and 40????

yep.

that's what I am..and so is my baby BOY!!!.

.he gives me baby field goal kicks at night and keeps me so happy the other 23 hours of the day that I imagine six kids..in another lifetime...( no Octo mom here..) I like being pregnant!...even at 40..Today my doctor is going to humor me and let me know if I have a linebacker or ...not..:)

Either way, I'll still be 40...and defintely...stillhappy.