2001-06-19
Tonight is the second meeting of the friendship circle of pregnant women. Last week was okay. I feel like this pregnancy thing kind of points out to me--yet again--the ways in which I don't fit in. Perhaps it's living where I do, but I generally sense the existence of two camps: the conventional, traditional, chipper people and the--for lack of a better term--hippies. This is a gross oversimplification--what I really love about the pre-natal yoga teacher is that she defies categorization--but these women whom I met with last week, well, on the whole they kind of push my grooviness tolerance. But I'm trying to keep an open mind. (Sorry to be so vague but I don't feel like venturing into mean-spirited territory. Not at the moment, anyway.)
I talked the other night with my friend Nan who lives a couple hours outside New York. I don't think we've spoken since last July when I visited her. She runs an antique store and tends to get so much socialization during the day that she doesn't answer her phone at home. And since she periodically drops her computer, email contact isn't much more reliable. It's really unfortunate that we don't communicate more often, for talking to her is the most fun and energizing way to spend a couple of hours.
The good news, though, is that we can pick up just where we left off. She was thrilled to hear about the baby, thrilled at the thought of me as a mom and B as a dad. (Of my friends, she definitely gets B the best and vice-versa.) She also shared the exciting news that she expects to be adopting a Guatamalan baby around January--in all likelihood a boy--so we had great fun imagining going through similar stuff together and our kids being long-distance friends.
I told her about the pregnancy circle, drawing the predictable hoots, and bemoaning my eternal outsider status. It's because you're not in New York! she said. She is, of course, right.
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I'm reading a book that's quite good: Otherwise Engaged by Suzanne Finnamore. She's very smart--a little too smart, frankly. But it's good. I've been checking out dozens of library books, lots of chick lit. I haven't done anything in the agent department, despite a vague nagging sense that I SHOULD.
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While walking on my treadmill the past couple evenings, I've been watching The Philadelphia Story for the first time since I was a teenager. Wow, what a masterpiece. The bit where Cary Grant as C.K. Dexter Haven tells Katharine Hepburn as Tracy Lord that she'll never be a complete woman or person until she develops a tolerance for human frailty--well, that struck a very deep and resonant chord for me.
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I've been going crazy buying maternity clothes on eBay. With few exceptions they are all black cotton-lycra blends. I'm getting great deals--nice quality stuff for the same price I'd be paying new for things at Target. I'd heard great things about Target's maternity line and was eager to check it out. Sorry, but it's pretty much dreck.
And no, I'm not actually wearing maternity clothes yet, though every weekend I pack away for the attic yet another few items that I've outgrown. I'm in that awkward in-between phase. I have a maternity dress I'd like to wear--I put it on yesterday morning then took it off. It's not terribly obviously maternity, but I figure I should wait until I officially spill the beans at work. I had planned to do so this week but one of the key individuals to whom I must spill has been out sick. Kind of frustrating as I'd gotten geared up.
I've gained eight and a half pounds so far (yes, my scale measures to the half-pound). I guess this is no cause for alarm though the books generally recommend 0 to 5 for the first trimester. My latest food desires center around whole wheat pita triangles, hummos, and baba ghanouj. I could eat this stuff all day long but I don't.
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I've discovered a journal I adore: Cubicle Girl. However, she linked to a site that may well be my downfall: JigZone. Online jigsaw puzzles. I keep telling myself, Just one more.
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