As in, WEEKS.
Work has been KEEEEELING me lately. This baby has dropped fo' sho', so I spend my time waddling like there's a watermelon lodged squarely in my pelvis and trying not to pee my pants. It's pretty much awesome.
I did have a few good laughs today, mostly because I was teaching about Teddy Roosevelt's "Big Stick Diplomacy." Because you know what? That phrase might have worked in the early 1900s, but it really doesn't translate well into 2010. Especially if you're 16.
Uh, huh huh. Huh huh huh. She said, CARRY A BIG STICK. Huh huh.
Then, when teaching about the annexation of Hawaii, I put a picture of Queen Liliuokalani on the board and asked the kids if they could tell me who it was.
"Queen....oh, wait!....Queen somebody."
Come ON guys, I responded. You're getting close. Queen L....?
So that made me laugh.
I'm excited to find out if this bean is a girl or a boy. I'm excited just to not be huge and round, and to drink beer again, too. But finding out if it's a girl or a boy is what is really keeping me motivated. I know some think I'm crazy for NOT finding out, but for me it just seems to make these last 2-3 weeks of sheer uncomfortable hugeness much easier to deal with.
I do have to admit, though, that I am a little nervous if it's a girl. I am so in "boy mode," and just having a blast playing with cars and remote control dinosaurs and trains and getting dirty and stuff. I don't speak pink. I never have. I don't even really speak doll that well. What on earth am I going to do if it's a girly girl?
I am sooooooooooo not a girly girl.
I will say one thing: there will not be an overload of pink. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. A little pink is fine, but not every single thing. I might hurl.
It's not as much that I'm scared to have a baby girl, as I am scared to have a girl from age 14-16. Because I see that every day. Most of the time it's fine. But sometimes girls can be so mean and nasty. Like in seventh grade, too. Ugh. That's not a good year, either. Mean mean MEAN and nasty passive-aggressive UGH. And I feel like it's all gotten way worse than when I went through it back in the dark ages before the intarwebs and facebook and all this other stuff. Some of the stuff I hear that goes on is just so mean. Good thing that wasn't around when I was all awkward with bad 80s bangs and a horrible fashion sense.
(Although, seeing as I'm carrying most likely close to 60 extra pounds right now I am quite awkward. And am lacking in the fashion sense department, as I'm down to about 3 pairs of pants that "fit" me now. And "fit" is in quotation marks for a reason.)
So if this is a girl, I will have some learning to do. First lesson: how to survive aisle after aisle of pink stuff and toys that are all about dolls and clothes and stuff.
Or not. Right? Because girls can play with cars, too. And dinosaurs are totally unisex.
I picked up Bug at the sitter's yesterday, and she said, "Shhhhh...." and pointed to the corner. Bug was carefully "feeding" a baby doll that he had put in a toy high chair. "Baby want milk? Baby want egg?"
So my boy can be a caring little Bug that plays with dolls. And if I have a girl, she can play with trucks and dinos, too. This is 2010. There are no rules anymore, right?
So perhaps I need to not worry as much about what happened to ME or what I was doing at age 12, 14, or 16. Because chances are the technologies that this potential girl will have aren't even a blip on the sci-fi radar yet.
If I raise them to care about others, then it doesn't matter what color they like to wear or what toys they play with. Or, later on, what music they listen to and what color their hair is.
I just hope I can at least learn to tolerate some pink.