So I've been totally cheating on my blog with Facebook lately. It's a great way to kill time and peek into other peoples' lives a bit. There's a thing going around where people "tag" each other to write 25 random things about themselves, and I'm finding it addictive to read other peoples' lists... Because I'm lazy and gynormous I'm posting mine here to double as a blog entry.

Otherwise, all is well~ I'm still somewhat comfortable. Yesterday the prenatal yoga teacher said I didn't look anywhere near miserable enough to be at the end of my pregnancy, so I might still have some time left. No likey.

1. My parents, brother and I were all born and raised in Alaska. I sometimes miss it like an old, bad, aching love affair.

2. I have monkey toes. These special digits can remove my socks and roll them up into a tidy ball without any outside assistance.

3. The first time I moved to Maine was eleven years ago. I was on a cross-country road trip and fell in love with Portland at first sight.

4. I am pretty cheap but splurge regularly on goat cheese and vanilla soy lattes.

5. I am ridiculously hard on myself. I need to work on that, damnit!

6. I love words and the only thing I’ve consistently wanted to do as a vocation is write.

7. I don’t spend as much time with my friends as I’d like to.

8. In past lives, I’ve worked for a professional hockey team, as a barista, a photographer for an insurance company, at a bookstore, at a women’s boutique, in a newspaper, and as a volunteer coordinator. I interned briefly at a film production company in L.A. and used to volunteer a lot at the local theatre in Juneau.

9. On my wedding day, it rained. Afterwards, gobs of thick orange light dropped down just in time for the photographs.

10. The only time I remember being put on restriction involved hijinx following a Quiet Riot concert.

11. The cat that I brought home when I was 15 lives relocated to Maine to live with us. She’s 19 now and my feline soulmate, despite the late night howling sessions and the time that she dropped a poo by my pillow.

12. My sense of humor never developed beyond that of a preadolescent boy’s. If you want to see me light up with glee, say “poo” or “weiner.”

13. When I was 20, I moved to Seattle to become a rock star. This dream was hampered by both my lack of musical ability and my lack of desire to leave my apartment. I did have cool purple hair, however.

14. I married an optimist. A study in contrasts, he still surprises me, makes me laugh, learn, and sigh. We seem to be growing up together a little bit every day. I can’t wait to see him as a father.

15. People often think I am laid back and shy, rather than the anxious freak that I actually am.

16. Several people I didn’t think I could live without have left this world much earlier than expected. Surviving missing them has taught me most of what I know to be important.
17. I have fabulous parents and in-laws.

18. In middle school I once tried to break my leg to escape gym class.

19. I am terrified of getting old and losing the people I love the most.

20. I am a total homebody but sometimes fantasize about running off to Spain.

21. I enjoy doing data entry.

22. I have recurring dreams about my teeth falling out, about realizing I am still stuck in high school due to a class I forgot about, and about being out in public with my blankie.

23. In middle school, I was briefly involved in an activity entitled “Clowning for a Cause.”

24. My thirties beat the hell out of my twenties, so far.

25. Last year, I faithfully watched VH1’s smutfest, Rock of Love 2. Sometimes I watched the episodes more than once. Or twice.

So I'm fighting this intense, extremely naughty urge to start messing with my loved ones-- calling them and saying "It's time!" when it's not. What's up with that?

Things are going pretty well. Our family threw us a lovely shower on Sunday, which despite the blizzard garnered good attendance. We felt very loved and supported, not to mention Max is going to be one well-dressed bebe!

Yesterday we did a "meet and greet" with a pediatrician. I knew Scott liked him when, at the end of our visit, he gave the doc a fist bump instead of shaking his hand. My only gripe is the pediatrician seems so young-- he's like our age! When did we get to be old enough that we could be doctors?!?

And today the midwife said she thought we'd have a relatively small baby, which me and my special parts are pretty psyched about.

So things are trucking along. I've been doing tons of loads of laundry-- and am realizing that the only thing more likely than big people socks to mysteriously disappear in the wash are little baby socks. Good Lord those things are small!

I know that in my last post I complained about being pregnant, but there are some positives. It's freezing here in Portland, and I'm still warm. I'm always warm now. Don't get me wrong-- I'm not going to go for a long stroll outside or anything, but I'm not bundled up in flannel either. And maternity pants! You don't have to unbutton or unzip them or anything~ I may just continue wearing them indefinitely.

Anyways. Those are my random ramblings for the day. Denis Leary is on Oprah, so I must go.

Yeah, I'm ready to not be pregnant anymore.

Don't get me wrong~ it's been an amazing process. Surreal, science fictiony, and amazing. I think I'll miss feeling Maxers kicking around in there. I'll miss my friends touching my belly with awe (I guess I could still ask them to afterwards!). And there is definitely something sacred about being a human incubation station.

But the heartburn that makes me throw up at night, the sciatica, the thighs squishing together and the I-thought-I-was-just-going-to-cough-but-I-just-peed-my-pants-a-little are getting a little old.

And did I mention the low blood pressure induced dizzy spells? After a recent eye doctor appointment at the mall (pleased to be reading my entry on ocular herpes), I found myself slumped over a table in the food court praying (out loud, I think) please do not let me pass out in the food court at the mall. Please do not let me crumple into a slick of cheese sauce in the food court at the mall. It was, by the way, at that moment that I realized how fine the line is between appearing sane and appearing like, well, someone hunched over a table in the food court at the mall praying. Perhaps a lesson in compassion for us all.

I really, really thought I'd love being pregnant. I thought I'd be aglow with the warm pulse of mother-to-be-ness. Connected to all living things, flaunting my roundness. I wanted to be pregnant really badly. When other people were getting pregnant, I was happy for them but also jealous.

Now? Not so much.

Now this doesn't mean that I'm ready for birth (can you ever really be ready for that?!?) or that our house is set up for a little one yet. I'm just ready for the hostile takeover of my body to be done. And I'm getting pretty curious to see what this little guy is like. What he looks like.

So. I said it. I don't really like being pregnant. I'm glad to be having the experience~ been there, done that, got the t-shirt, stretched it out. Peed in it a little.