19 Weeks is the New 30; and: Other Miscellaneous Drivel

Drivel?! Nooooo. Perhaps . . .  here and there-ish, but drivel? Certainly anything but.

As for 19 weeks. Yes. 19. Not nearly as exciting as 20 (what with it’s half-way-there-ness and all), but something all the same. Little She is still a she; I’ve finally begun feeling, if not kicks, then, at least, flutterings, bumps and nudges on a regular basis; and, after a slew of nameless-before-birth children, it has been quite fun to hear the kids mention Summer in their comings and goings and plannings – a tiny shadow, a small beginning, to her really being here and one of them.

Still, it stands that 19 weeks doesn’t look like it used to . . .

It looks oddly similar to what 30 weeks used to look like.

Strangers and acquaintances have been brazenly exclaiming things like, “You’re pregnant!” (If you can imagine.) For a moment I find myself squaring my shoulders, blazing defiant eyes upon them  and thinking, “The nerve! Calling me pregnant!” and then I remember that I am . . . actually . . . pregnant. Still, I’ve rarely been called that . . . so soon.

Disclaimer: I don’t actually know how to make my eyes blaze at all. And, actually, I quite adore when people exclaim happy things about my pregnant state.

Moving on:

The Sister’s Trip. Sister’s and Mom. Plus some nieces and nephews and a brother and sister-in-law.

It was lovely. We went for walks (what a pretty little lake my sister has in her neighborhood!); we ate foods at restaurants I would never think to go to on my own (Mediterranean and Vietnamese are rather delicious when the right people are there to order for you!); we talked, and talked, and laughed (very often, when we are together, we speculate on the scriptural injunction to avoid “loud laughter” and assure ourselves that it applies to a raucous and cruel type of laughter that is surely far different from whatever we are doing); we stayed up late; and watched period dramas; and visited with more friends and family; and shopped; and became simply, “The Aunts” (as in “When will the aunts be back from dinner?” or “Shhh. The aunts are still sleeping”).

It’s so great to have so many sisters. It’s so great to have people who are all different love each other so well. I’m glad I’m giving my own girls sisters, and . . . if they don’t make the most of it by being one another’s best friends, so help me . . .

Also, I had my first full-scale asthma attack last week. It was a good 24 hours before I was back to doing anything like breathing. And, it was only then because I’d finally forced my way in to see a doctor and had begun sucking in inhalers full of Albuterol. I don’t know what spurred the attack. I’ve known it was an issue for some time, but I think I was in a bit of denial – surely these strange little asthmas spells would run their course and leave me for greener pastures if I kept patiently wishing them away?

Maybe it’s good that it happened -- an episode serious enough to force me to find measures for dealing with it. Perhaps now I will quit having runs where, five minutes in, I am wheezing and gasping and willing my way through even just one more mile. What with foot and ankle problems, surgery and complications, it’s been a complete contest of wills – a battle – between myself and the universe to keep running as part of my life these past few years. I hope this will prove another mini victory.

I suppose that’s all for now. Jesse is asking me over and over to explain “the internet” and I am wholly unable. He wanted to know how I got these pictures on this computer when I never plugged my camera or anything else into it first. I tried to vaguely mumble something about “internet” but now I’ve got myself caught. He doesn’t seem to be satisfied with “magic” but, because I always have been, I find myself unable to explain anything well at all.

Wait. Not quite the end. I meant to mention a few things about my Mike. He handled my absence easy as pie. He, for whatever reason, has never felt unduly stressed or anxious about having soul charge of all the little people around here. He’s rather grand.

And, along with all his grandness, is an ample amount of smart alec. I overheard him talking to his mother on the phone the other day. It appeared she was asking after me – hoping I was improved from my asthma troubles. The response I heard on Mike’s end of the line was something pretty similar to this:

“I don’t know. I think she’s all right. It’s always kind of hard for me to tell because she always starts breathing fast and is subject to swooning and fainting when I’m around. She seems to be breathing OK around other people though, so she’s probably doing fine.”

Now really the end. . . . Except for whatever I might first find floating about on my cell phone.

* The moccasins from Blaire? Even if I’d been done having children, they would have induced me to try for another girl.
* That note? A small portion of what Penny would do if she were president.
* And . . . sometimes you just gotta create a makeshift pig costume and take a selfie (apparently).