A Drama in 3 Parts
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PART I - The Belly Monster
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The days are flying past now, the last few weeks have been nothing but a blur of Braxton Hicks, restless nights and infuriating conversation.
The thing is, I am no longer a person. I am a belly with a human attached to it.. and the only conversations I seem to have these days revolve around my impending motherhood. At first, I took it as being confirmation of the fact that there is this huge life changing thing happening, but it's increasingly frustrating when no one seems to want to talk about anything else. I wonder if it's simply because I am nothing more than a belly? Or is it just that other people are overwhelmed with my bellyness? Or that they think that it's all that I WANT to talk about?
Please don't think that I'm the one who is encouraging this, as I try to steer the conversation away from it as much as possible. Funny how an innocent conversation about time sheets or something else equally dull and work related can be turned into a discussion on mucus plugs within 30 seconds.
It all came to a head when my work christmas function was held on Friday night. As if it wasn't bad enough being unable to get completely pissed and dance on tables with my skirt hitched up around my waist (not that I'd do that sort of thing normally, mind you), the only conversations I entered into seemed to be based on The Belly. It got to a point where I was actively avoiding my workmates, because I was so sick of the questions.
"When are you due again?"/"How long to go now?"
"Do you know what you're having?"
"I bet you're really uncomfortable in this heat!"
"Wow, are you sure you aren't having twins?"
...and my personal favourite, from an old team leader of mine
"Just remember, when you push that thing out your fanny in a couple of months time, you'll feel like a size 6!"
Gee, thanks. I'll still look 5 months pregnant, but at least for a few hours I'll feel thin. Something to look forward to.
So, I left after about an hour. I didn't even bother waiting around for dinner. It was difficult extracting myself from the place, since everyone thought I was upset (which I was, a little) and that all I needed was a bit of baby talk to put me back in the mood. Thanks, but no thanks - I got a taxi and the hell out of there as fast as I could.
I know it isn't going to get much better. Once this baby is out of me, I'll cease being the incubator, and my only conversations will be around the best diapers to use, whether breast IS best, and how far I can squirt from my left nipple. I'm not sure whether it'll be better or worse, but I suppose at least there'll be a little guy to share my pain.
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PART II - The Generosity of Strangers
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OK, so this one might seem sillier, but I'm sick of people being so generous. Is it completely bad of me to feel like rejecting these offers of things for the baby? I know I complain that I don't have enough money to buy the things I really want, but why does this seem to be taken by others as meaning that I'll settle for the crappiest of crappy hand me downs? I'm not even talking stuff that was used briefly and is just taking up space in someones cupboard - I mean
the items that even the local op shop would reject on the grounds of quality.
It's awful. I feel bad for hating it so much, but with each thing that gets handed to me, and each offer of an item (circa 1985) from another one of my Mothers Friends, who used it on Baby #1 (now aged 19 and working in a stripclub), I feel like screaming a little bit more.
Being neurotic is probably just a part of being pregnant. Well, at least I hope so - I'm sick of feeling guilty for hating this stuff.
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PART III - It Was Beauty did Kill the Beast
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We went and saw King Kong on Saturday at the Embassy. I must say, it's a lot nicer than it was when I saw the 2nd LOTR there (and this is saying something, because it was an impressive theatre even then). The seats were comfortable, the sound brilliant, the snacks completely overpriced. The movie itself was a lot more enjoyable than I thought it would be, and I'm pleased to say that though I was prepared to put my teariness down to hormones, it turns out Carl got a little choked up too, so it wasn't just me.
Things I wasn't so fond of:
1. The constant camera action during the fight (T-Rex vs Kong) and chase (Dino's vs Explorers) scenes. It was so bad at one point, and impossible to focus on any part of the screen that I simply gave up and looked at my feet instead.
2. The vertigo I got at the end. I feel slightly nauseous during the ESB scenes. I suppose that's possibly a good thing?
3. The big damned dirty ape died :(
4. No Charlton Heston cameo
5. Clap happy theatregoears applauding at the end. Admittedly, this doesn't bug everyone, but it bugs the hell outta me
PART I - The Belly Monster
**********************************
The days are flying past now, the last few weeks have been nothing but a blur of Braxton Hicks, restless nights and infuriating conversation.
The thing is, I am no longer a person. I am a belly with a human attached to it.. and the only conversations I seem to have these days revolve around my impending motherhood. At first, I took it as being confirmation of the fact that there is this huge life changing thing happening, but it's increasingly frustrating when no one seems to want to talk about anything else. I wonder if it's simply because I am nothing more than a belly? Or is it just that other people are overwhelmed with my bellyness? Or that they think that it's all that I WANT to talk about?
Please don't think that I'm the one who is encouraging this, as I try to steer the conversation away from it as much as possible. Funny how an innocent conversation about time sheets or something else equally dull and work related can be turned into a discussion on mucus plugs within 30 seconds.
It all came to a head when my work christmas function was held on Friday night. As if it wasn't bad enough being unable to get completely pissed and dance on tables with my skirt hitched up around my waist (not that I'd do that sort of thing normally, mind you), the only conversations I entered into seemed to be based on The Belly. It got to a point where I was actively avoiding my workmates, because I was so sick of the questions.
"When are you due again?"/"How long to go now?"
"Do you know what you're having?"
"I bet you're really uncomfortable in this heat!"
"Wow, are you sure you aren't having twins?"
...and my personal favourite, from an old team leader of mine
"Just remember, when you push that thing out your fanny in a couple of months time, you'll feel like a size 6!"
Gee, thanks. I'll still look 5 months pregnant, but at least for a few hours I'll feel thin. Something to look forward to.
So, I left after about an hour. I didn't even bother waiting around for dinner. It was difficult extracting myself from the place, since everyone thought I was upset (which I was, a little) and that all I needed was a bit of baby talk to put me back in the mood. Thanks, but no thanks - I got a taxi and the hell out of there as fast as I could.
I know it isn't going to get much better. Once this baby is out of me, I'll cease being the incubator, and my only conversations will be around the best diapers to use, whether breast IS best, and how far I can squirt from my left nipple. I'm not sure whether it'll be better or worse, but I suppose at least there'll be a little guy to share my pain.
*********************************************
PART II - The Generosity of Strangers
*********************************************
OK, so this one might seem sillier, but I'm sick of people being so generous. Is it completely bad of me to feel like rejecting these offers of things for the baby? I know I complain that I don't have enough money to buy the things I really want, but why does this seem to be taken by others as meaning that I'll settle for the crappiest of crappy hand me downs? I'm not even talking stuff that was used briefly and is just taking up space in someones cupboard - I mean
the items that even the local op shop would reject on the grounds of quality.
It's awful. I feel bad for hating it so much, but with each thing that gets handed to me, and each offer of an item (circa 1985) from another one of my Mothers Friends, who used it on Baby #1 (now aged 19 and working in a stripclub), I feel like screaming a little bit more.
Being neurotic is probably just a part of being pregnant. Well, at least I hope so - I'm sick of feeling guilty for hating this stuff.
**************************************************
PART III - It Was Beauty did Kill the Beast
**************************************************
We went and saw King Kong on Saturday at the Embassy. I must say, it's a lot nicer than it was when I saw the 2nd LOTR there (and this is saying something, because it was an impressive theatre even then). The seats were comfortable, the sound brilliant, the snacks completely overpriced. The movie itself was a lot more enjoyable than I thought it would be, and I'm pleased to say that though I was prepared to put my teariness down to hormones, it turns out Carl got a little choked up too, so it wasn't just me.
Things I wasn't so fond of:
1. The constant camera action during the fight (T-Rex vs Kong) and chase (Dino's vs Explorers) scenes. It was so bad at one point, and impossible to focus on any part of the screen that I simply gave up and looked at my feet instead.
2. The vertigo I got at the end. I feel slightly nauseous during the ESB scenes. I suppose that's possibly a good thing?
3. The big damned dirty ape died :(
4. No Charlton Heston cameo
5. Clap happy theatregoears applauding at the end. Admittedly, this doesn't bug everyone, but it bugs the hell outta me
2 Comments:
sweetie, I can sympathize on all three points. No one will believe you are capable of conversation that doesn't revolve around your belly or baby until they are at least a few months old. The baby that is.
I hate to say it but I swear that as soon as you get a belly it becomes public property and that's all there is to it, nothing you do or say, short of being an absolute bitch, will change it.
The hand-me-down things sucks. I got it too. Being a single mom, everyone and their mother offered me stuff. Cribs, clothes, toys, half used bottles of diaper cream, you name it, they offered. I did end up turning alot of it down or throwing it away. I'm sorry, but there is nothing grosser than someone giving you a half used tube of nipple cream. Ew!
And I loved King Kong (I saw it last night, whoo a date!) I totally teared up at the end and so did my boyfriend so no worries. There definately should have been a Charlton Heston cameo.
Hey jayce!!
After reading the above post, just thought I should let you know if you want to talk about stuff OTHER than children, babies, mucus plugs, breast milk and diapers, feel free to msg me too :). I'm sorry to hear your work do sucked, and also never feel bad for refusing stuff. You didn't actually ask for it, you don't have to want it!
Cheer up,
karmy
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