My "official" bump

You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests that you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment. ~Dave Barry, Things That It Took Me 50 Years to Learn

The media lies! I'm sure this is nothing new to the average person, but can be very disheartening for a person doped up on hormones. They portray pregnant women as this beautiful existence, covered in an enlightening glow, floating on a cloud for 9 months until this sweet, perfect bundle is handed to you after one slight push..never even breaking a sweat. Are you freaking kidding me?!?!?!? They failed to mention that the glow is called acne-causing GREASE, 40 weeks ACTUALLY calculates to 10 months, and what they hand you is actually a sad bluish, grey hue, but by the time you get him, you are so tired, you couldn't care if it was a baby monkey (the words of my wise mother...who sometimes forgets that honesty isn't always the best policy).

I was lucky. These bad boys didn't kick in until recently and I have taken pride in the fact that I was a normal human being for 20 weeks. All of this has come to a screeching halt! To poor Richard's dismay, I have become a lunatic.

My first run in with the personality altering culprits was at the Grove Park Inn just 3 weeks ago...so if we are counting correctly, I was "a delight" for 21 weeks ;) This beautiful resort in the North Carolina mountains, outside of Asheville, where people go to get away, relax, and rejuvenate...just happened to be the sight where we had to receive Continuing Professional Education for our blasted CPA license. So while others were soaking at the spa in a cavern covered jacuzzi tub, I was stuck in a very large, very cold conference room, listening to Ben Stein from Ferris Bueller's Day Off ramble on about how the federal updates on Corporate Tax have affected our industry...... for NINE hours a day...YAWN. Obviously, it didn't take long for me to snap!

"WHERE ARE MY SOCKS?" I'm sure vacationers staying 15 rooms down heard me ranting about Richard putting my socks away after I purposely (or randomly) put them on the bed (not made) so I could wear them. "And why doesn't anything fit? I hate maternity clothes! This stupid band gets tangled every time I move. DAMN IT, I can't reach my shoes to tie them. GRRRRRR!" Any normal, sane, person might realize that when you get pregnant, it is common knowledge that your belly grows. This had not occurred to me during my outrage. It might also be the cause of things "not fitting" and me not being able to tie my shoes...which, may I add...to the normal, sane person may be common knowledge that this is only going to get progressively worse. (Good luck, Richard). My dear, sweet husband sat patiently, while I threw things like the crazed lunatic I had become, and waited for the right moment to interject. He found that moment, told me I was beautiful, and all seemed right in the world.

This peace lasted all of about 15 minutes..give or take 10 minutes...OK, it lasted 5 minutes. The next thing I know, I am waiting patiently in the bagel line while Richard found us somewhere to sit, since my tirade caused us to be late to the conference. Low and behold, this wench decides to take her life into her own hands and steps right in front of me in line....picks up a bagel....and drops it into the toaster when it became available. WHO DOES THIS?!?!? Not only did she cut someone off...she cut off a PREGNANT woman. And seeing as my clothes seemed to be suction cupped to my body...obviously pregnant! I felt steam bellowing out of my ears, nose, and eyes...slowly raised a fist to pummel this selfish, self-righteous biatch...when I realized having a child in prison could be slightly uncomfortable. I settled for walking around her, rubbing my belly, and slyly smiling at her as I waited for my bagel to toast. I think she got the message, but I, of course, fumed over it all day.

There have been a few psychotic moments since this fateful day when I became the stereotype of all child-bearing women everywhere. Some for good reason (like paying $175 for someone to make my hair look exactly the way it did when I walked into the salon) and some for no reason (like arguing with my wise mother about whether a man has the right to take the last sausage biscuit from me in a buffet line...ps - it was on my side of the tray!).

But I recently read a quote that helps me through these glimpses of insanity. Sadly, it is by Dolly Parton and while I'm sure she is a very intelligent woman, the triple D...possibly triple Z...breasts she's lugging around do not help her cause. She said..If you want to see the rainbow, sometimes you have to live through the rain. For some unknown reason, this struck a chord. Why would this transition be any different from the ones that came before it? And with that being said, this has to be the biggest transition I will ever face. But something keeps telling me that this is what I'm meant to do and where I'm supposed to be. It's the same reassuring feeling I got sitting across from Richard on our first date. No matter how big the fight or how hard the challenge, from that moment, it could never shake that foundation. I may give up my body and my SANITY for a relatively short amount of time, I may turn my life completely upside down, but this is my fate. These aren't my decisions. This is just the ride I get to take and the next turn is the best of all! :-)