Here is my requisite late-pregnancy drastic haircut. I chopped off enough to donate, even. That was fun!
Last time the requisite late-pregnancy drastic haircut was bangs. Bangs were not the smartest as they require lots of maintenance. When Evan was 6 weeks old I took him in the stroller to my hairdresser’s to have my bangs trimmed and I had to stop halfway there, on the sidewalk, to breastfeed him, because he was screaming so much. It was November and it was dark and cold and I stood on a city sidewalk, breastfeeding my newborn son. And then he screamed the whole time I was at the hairdressers. I had to frantically text Billy to hurry there to help me, which required him riding his bike as fast as he could over Winter Hill in Somerville, which is a big hill, if you’re not familiar. Anyway, long story medium, bangs were probably the wrong choice, but they did make me feel like a badass.
This haircut doesn’t make me feel like a badass, but I do think it’s going to make my life significantly easier.
It might be a mom haircut. I don’t know yet. Jury’s still out. I am a mom, after all. Just gotta be careful with the jeans. JK I love mom jeans, I’m already on board for that. Not elastic waist or anything, but I like a high rise.
So what is going on with you this week? Things are going pretty well for me. I think 27 weeks is kind of a magical time for my pregnancies. I kept having these moments of bliss this week, of thinking, and genuinely believing, that I am very lucky and things are going really well. And then Evan would scream-cry through dinner because his spaghetti noodles were too long and the bliss would fly right out the window. But there are moments!
Also, pro tip: if you are pregnant and your stomach sucks at digesting things, you’re allowed to take Zantac, the high dosage, twice a day, which I now do, every single day, whether I have heartburn or not. It’s been a game changer. Feel free to pay me to talk you up, Zantac. I don’t do that normally, because I have a readership of somewhere around 37 people, and Zantac doesn’t care about me, but it can’t hurt to float the idea. I will accept your money, Zantac. Also I will do it for free, that’s how much I love Zantac. ZANTAC!
Also Metamucil. Same. Hit me up, Metamucil people!
Haha, I don’t know, this has been a pretty good week. Evan pees and poops on the potty at home and when visiting his grandparents and he uses a fucking diaper at daycare but whatever, that won’t last forever, it’s fine, I’m fine with it. I can only control what I can control. Zen. I’m gonna write a book called Zen and the Art of Potty Training and it’s going to be all the mean thoughts I have about Evan’s daycare followed by me feeling guilty about using so much profanity and then being like “no, they take good care of him and he’s safe, I should calm down” and then getting riled up again because of the grave injustice of it all. It will be a number one bestseller!
So by some estimations I’m in the third trimester now. Or I will be next week, I don’t know and I don’t really care. I’m 6 months and 5 days in, I will probably deliver in early December because I’ll be induced (thanks chronic high blood pressure!) so I only have 11 weeks to go, pretty much. I can’t wait to go to the hospital. It’s crazy how nostalgic I am for labor. I obviously hated being in pain, like I was in more pain than I ever even imagined, but once I got the epidural it was straight-up fun. It was fun! It was a little bit like going to the space museum with school and doing the pretend mission control thing, did you guys do that? There are all these beeping machines around you and you’re like WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN NEXT?! And then you get a baby! And somebody helps you take care of it for two whole days and lets you lie down! And there’s unlimited juice!
The scary part for me will likely be going home from the hospital and being like “oh fuck, now there are two of these.”
So the only thing I have to focus on for the rest of this pregnancy is not adopting any more animals. If you see me with any animals that don’t already live in my house, please stage an intervention.