Finally, the weather has turned into something more reasonable for yours truly - something that actually represents a normal temperature for this season. Greg is reluctant to remove the A/C unit even this late in the game, because the weather has been so freakish this year. Bring on the cold: I am equipped with my personal toaster device (aka Rebecca).
Now a word about things said to pregnant women. Lately, everyone I see (barring friends and relatives) feels the need to say one of two things (sometimes both): (1) You are looking really good (2) Wow, you are so small/you are so big. I almost forgot - the perpetual (3) when are you due? I think people feel they have to say something about the pregnancy to the pregnant woman. Suggesting they look healthy is about as meaningful as "how are yous?" that don't really expect an answer beyond "fine". As for statement #2 - this is never said by a pregnant woman, because they know how much variation there really is between individuals. I really don't know where people who have never experienced or had direct exposure to pregnancy form their opinions of how big a woman is when. Frankly, I was completely in the dark about the size over time thing. And the more I know, the less I would presume about it. At any rate, interestingly, the women in prenatal aquafit don't actually bother to learn each other's names. They just learn their due dates and bathing suit colours. For example, I know that the girl in the other turquoise bathing suit is due at Christmas, and the friendly girl in the navy suit is due at the end of March. And everyone knows me as the girl in turquoise due at New Year's.
I used the expectant mother's parking for the first time at the Blablaws. Awfully convenient. My increasing girth has made manoeuvering in some small spaces annoying and nigh on impossible. I can no longer nimbly weave my way through large crowds. This was most obvious on an unfortunate trip to Ikea with Greg (NB: every trip to Ikea is unfortunate in my humble opinion). I decided we finally needed to pick up the change table/dresser to accomodate the influx of clothing for Rebecca. Ikea is always crowded, but Saturday is the worst. I hate going there - maybe even more than Greg does. Thank goodness we had a very well defined "mission" (although somehow we acquired a plush bat on the way). Ikea on a Saturday is ten times worse than the Blablaws on a Saturday (also a mistake). The Ikea parking lot alone is motivation to perpetuate violence on your fellow human being. Anyhow, as Greg and I travelled through the imposed Ikea maze, I would get stuck behind wandering couples arguing over colour schemes and directionless vagrants, while he could easily slip past or between them. I just wouldn't fit. It was infuriating for two reasons: (1) I had to wait until these brain dead meanderers moved out of the way (2) this situation is actually a direct result of my own actions. I should make it clear - I am not claustrophobic. However, when I am in close quarters with a very large number of stupid people, I have an overwhelming desire to flee or express myself in a physical manner which is not appropriate for civilized society. By the time I leave, I have decided that civilization (as we know it here), is a blight on the planet. When at long last we pulled into our driveway, Greg and I tried to remember the ridiculous name of the design line for our Ikea purchase. I came up with "Dik-vAHd", and the conversation when downhill from there. I think I had ten solid minutes of the sillies, complete with tear-inducing laughter. The actual name is "Diktad". All this to say - pregnancy is a long and heavy trek, so you have to be prepared to enjoy the lighter moments when you can.