betterbutter

watch me try and string sentences and thoughts together

Still here. Still pregnant. Still growing boobs and belly at speeds as high as 10mph.

I had another appointment with Dr. Bytheway. I PREPARED for this appointment with some intimate and awkward moments involving a shower and a new razor blade.It's just that  I see this man's wife every Friday and I cannot risk the possibility that there be some behind-the-scenes discussion about my lack of personal upkeep. All was for naught. I disrobed nothing. And that Group Strep B Test that you get at 36 weeks, well, he handed the testing apparatus to me while saying I could administer the test or he could if I wanted him to. Obviously he didn't want to. And the chances of me handing over the tube and asking him to do what I assume is a doctor's job was also not going to happen without tears or some unpredictable but surely embarrassing outburst. So there I sat with the longest ever q-tip trapped inside a test-tube just like those ships in a bottle souvenirs. As I stared at the equipment he explained how I would test myself. There was mention of the vagina and the rectum involving the same q-tip. In what I suspect he thought was a reassuring tone he told me that I needn't stick the entire q-tip inside either entrance. Good gracious.

So then that happened.

Other fascinating bits of nothing are happening as well. Behold.

1. Eli grunts in exasperation which was precious until I realized he was mimicking me. Now I'm mad at him for exposing my stellar parenting skills. I prefer to believe that other people believe that I am a radiant and endless beam of patience and adoration. Little punk called my bluff.

2. He's also developing a fine palate that favors the likes of cucumber lotion directly from the bottle and frozen peas. And yet he hates a Popsicle. HATES.

3. On Tuesday I will be 37 weeks pregnant which is full-term which is also the time at which Joe and I are meant to do our homework. According the the nurse, our homework assignment from Tuesday until delivery is sex all day every day. Some hormone in the semen has ripening properties that frighten me. Or I'm just frightened at the prospect of all the jostling involved in our homework assignment. I prefer to be still with my mammoth-ness.

The emotional side of life is topsy-turvy of late. I have a sense of not being able to turn back more than I am filled with excitement. The familiar shower of questions and doubts have returned and I find it impossible to even just make a list for Joe about what to do with Eli should labor kick in within the next minute. I am ashamed to admit this.

And oddly, I'm even more preoccupied with all the friends I have lost touch with and how I can get back in touch and when will I ever have the time to really do that and I need to just pick the ones I love the most and pay them good attention but still I miss those other friends and don't want to cast them aside but haven't I already done that? On my list of things to do this weekend is to make a list of all my lost friends so I can write them a short e-mail saying that I miss them and can we be friends again starting now and forever.

My mind, it is a muddled puddle.

and joe was voted most likely to be a talk show host

1991. New Hampshire. High school. A girl named Isis. Pet rat in pocket. Mohawk on head. Piercings galore. Senior superlatives. NOT VOTED MOST UNIQUE.

I was. Me. Meredith.

Okay, I did use Manic Panic for a spell and in junior high I did once attach a padlock to the shoe lace of my Chuck Taylor but, come on, there were obviously more worthy candidates (Isis!#*!) for the title than myself. My classmates had voted me into this position and had I been Isis I might have felt deserved or honored or entitled. But I was more on the side of confused and vaguely hurt and insulted and even oddly proud. I would have described myself as someone who more or less tried to remain an inch above invisible. Others didn't see me, feel me, hear me that way. Twas puzzling for me then.

I had a flashback of that feeling after my last post. Bear with me while I do a poor job at making this connection.

I blogged, I stopped blogging and now I blog again. Old blog feelings are flooding back. Yes, this feeling. I've felt this before. There's the self-imposed urgency to tune back in to all of your lives and get in touch PRONTO. I want my attendance to be counted. Meredith? HERE! There's also the constant sorting of daily experiences into bloggy or non-bloggy categories. Is this too mundane? Is this even true? What's my point? And such. Of course, there's also the general flurry of curious thoughts about who reads and what do they think and will my in-laws find this site and do I care and should I and do I do this for me or why do I do this or how many times can I blame other people for losing my keys and on and on.

Then there's that feeling that the mood or tone or image of myself that I think I'm portraying is not at all received. And an entirely different message has been sent. Like instead of invisible you're the most unique? Or like when I wrote the other day about how Eli peed on my bra and I wore it wet because I didn't have another one I meant for the story to come across as a light statement about the indignities of motherhood. I certainly didn't sit down with such a mouthful of intention but as I read your concerned and maternal comments and e-mails I realized that there were miles between what I thought I said and what you all heard. At times I seem to depict myself as borderline incapable of taking care of myself in a socially acceptable fashion. While that is unfortunately true I don't EVER mean to let on to that side of me. I just don't hear it in my own voice the way you all do. On one hand, I am embarrassed to be coddled when I meant to be silly. But also, I appreciate it because I genuinely don't know sometimes how askew my take on the the world is in the eyes of others. I sincerely thought I would get comments about how you all would have done the same thing or have been in the same situation or sentiments along those lines. Yet many of you kindly, worriedly, quietly offered to buy and send bras. Hark! No need. In the wake of your gentle prompting, I closely followed Lady Grace's advice and bought two bras that should do the trick well enough.

If only I could control my voice just a wee bit better as not to unintentionally expose my flaws to you.

(bows head and sheepishly exits stage left)