Dear Falcone Baby,
I realize there are women out there making me feel awful as they’re writing pregnancy journals and registering everything that happens. So. Since only nerdy brain surgeons and archeologistsspecializing in Egyptian hieroglyphics can understand my handwriting, I decided it’d be way easier to post this blog.
Seventeen years from now, I’ll say, “Hey kid, want to know what it was like to be in your mother’s tummy?” and you’ll say, “Eww. No.” I’ll say, “Go to blogger.com.” You’ll say,“What’s blogger.com? Dad, Mom has been drinking again.” There.
Still. Just so I won’t forget.
I’m 23 weeks pregnant and just yesterday, someone said, “Oh, but you don’t look pregnant.” I don’t know if I should be flattered or insulted. Does that mean that person just normally thought the bump I’ve been carrying has always been there? Or worse, has it really been there and I just lived in denial, buying tops from Lane Bryant and avoiding mirrors? If this seems silly to you, well, I gave this conundrum a good 17 minutes of reflection. Then, a pretzel stand at the mall got my attention and I figured I had other things to worry about.
I’ve also been having very realistic dreams – sometimes three different ones each night. Last one I remember, I was being interviewed by three different people for a job as a GM in this paradisiac resort in Aruba. Then your sister poked me because she’d had a bad dream of her own…and I still have no idea if I got the job or not. I suppose it was better this way; I don’t really want to get caught up in the corporate culture again, right?
And now, well, you do your thing, which at 15 must include several suspicious minutes alone in the bathroom and going out with your friends from school – none of whom I will approve.
Okay. Let’s go back to when you were a cute baby inside my womb. I’m sure I’ll resort to that image several times in the future – especially when we don’t see eye to eye and your teen years bring me to my knees.
Gosh. Now I know why I kept away from very personal blogs when I was pregnant. I get too emotional and carried away – of course, this never really happens, as I’m sure your dad can attest. Anyway… Before you go to college, why don’t we all go on a family trip together? How about Aruba?