I took 4 different pictures in 3 different bathrooms of myself today and they all looked terrible so this is what you’re getting. It’s actually pretty accurate.
24 weeks is when, mostly for the purpose of arguing about abortion, people say that it’s possible for a fetus to survive outside the womb. So this week is a little bit of a milestone! Viability! I mean, it’s highly likely that the baby wouldn’t be able to breathe and would have severe mental disabilities, but still, it’s a pretty okay milestone. Feels like a bit of a benchmark. Survival and all that.
A real thing I said to Billy this week: “The greatest trick the devil ever pulled is making it impossible for me to eat pie while lying on the couch because of my severe indigestion.” But seriously, I can’t fit much food in my stomach and when I do eat, it comes back for a visit many times over the course of the day or night. One night recently, I woke up from a dream in which I was swimming (drowning?) in stomach bile. My mouth tasted like barf when I woke up and I feverishly chewed 2 Tums and went back to sleep but yowza that was unpleasant.
What else stinks? I’ve been getting some feedback lately that my attitude is way too positive and not fun to read (haha) so I’m trying to think of things that are bad.
I can’t think of anything else bad. I’m fat and I also can’t eat, that’s some real bullshit, but that’s pretty much it. Oh here’s something: I finally unpacked all my clothes and wore a cute pair of sandals to work this week. I walked down to the ocean to sit and stare out at it and breathe the air during my lunch and as I walked back up the stairs toward my office, I tripped on the cute sandal I was wearing and fell forward and bumped my knee and it was embarrassing and then that leg hurt desperately for two days. Stupid sandals. You stay in the box where you belong!
I don’t know, that’s it. My life is great. I watched a really good movie this week, called Brooklyn, about a woman from Ireland who moves to Brooklyn in the 1950s. It’s kind of about nothing, but is somehow very beautiful and engaging and well-acted and I love little tiny stories of normal lives. Highly recommend. I’ve also been watching old seasons of Veep, catching up. Boring! This is so boring.
Here’s something fun that you guys can have opinions about! We are going to try to potty train Evan over Labor Day weekend. We are going with the Oh Crap Potty Training method (OCPT on the internet), which suggests that you have your kid run around your house naked and watch their business end like a hawk for a long weekend, and every time they start to pee or poop on your floor/couch, rush them to the potty and after a few days, they get it. For some reason, this method makes a lot of parents super mad because they want to follow their kid’s lead and let them take their time, and I get that, but also last week Evan pooped through his diaper and out the bottom of his shorts onto the floor, and I would super love for him to be potty trained so that doesn’t happen as frequently in the months to come. Also he is very large and wearing the biggest diapers they make and he is too big for his changing table and I’m tired of having to fight him to get a diaper on, because he is so big! Sometimes he wins the fights. Let’s just get it done, shall we? I’ll let you know how it goes!
Maybe it will go so bad that we have to go back to diapers for a few months and try again after this baby is out of me. At least if that happens I’ll be able to drown my potty training sorrows in buckets of wine.