Many fans (3 people I know) have asked me why there was such a huge gap in my blog posts recently. One loyal fan (not my mother) pointed out that until Sunday's installment, my last post was in mid-March.
The life of a professional blogger (pregnant actor) is a busy one, so I've compiled a quick list of all the things I've been doing while this blog has been on hiatus.
- Walking back from the grocery store
- Trying to get out of this sofa without assistance from Dean
- Reading about all the ailments that may befall our baby, like mad cow disease and colic
- Alphabetizing stuff
- Not drinking enough water
- Walking Hank. Again.
- Looking for panties that fit
- Pulling clumps of matted hair off Tater, our 20-lb cat
- Rearranging pillows around me as I sleep. As I try to sleep.
- Watching birthing videos through my fingers
- Thinking about cleaning out my closet
- Lint rolling things
- Watching Ellen
As you can see, there is a LOT to do to get ready for a baby. And some things take much longer now than they used to take. Like writing blog posts. And climbing the stairs to get out of the subway.
There really is a thing called "pregnancy brain," I'm not just making it up. During pregnancy, a woman's brain actually shrinks a little. Apparently, it has something to do with making room for all the new stuff we will automatically know how to do, like keeping the baby safe from lions and knowing the difference between the "I'm hungry" cry and the "I'm going to major in poetry" cry.
Is it possible "pregnancy brain" contributed to the giant gap in my blogging? Maybe so.
What were we talking about again?
Sunday, April 22, 2012
A lot of things have changed for me over the last couple of years.
Sure, there are the Big Ones that you already know about (turning 40, getting married, quitting my job, moving to New York, and having a baby), but there are other ones, too.
For example, the Old Me didn't go for many walks, unless A) the dog had to go out, and B) it was before I got a fenced-in back yard. But the New Me walks everywhere all the time! Granted, we no longer own cars, but even if we did, I'd still be a walker.
The Old Me was never stopped and asked for directions, but the New Me is always being approached by German tourists, guidebook in hand, asking how to get to Strawberry Fields. The Old Me never stood in line for cookies, but have often found myself midway in a 20-person line for warm chocolate chip walnut cookies from Le Vain Bakery.
And the Old Me rarely went to church, except on Christmas Eve Morning, when my entire family would meet at St. Peter's, and giggle through the abbreviated service until it was time to have breakfast at the Original Pancake House. But the New Me walks arm in arm with my husband (see paragraph one), usually every other Sunday, to an adorable church six blocks from our apartment.
And it's pretty great.
Dean is the son of a minister, so church is in his blood. I am the daughter of fun-loving non-ministers, so me...not as much. But I really like going to church with Dean. It's a guaranteed hour where I don't have a "to do" list, an hour of time spent right next to my husband, an hour of people watching. And sometimes theres a message, too.
Mostly, though, church is an hour during which I am supposed to be relatively quiet, and THIS is where I fall a little short of what's expected of me. When I am given an hour alone with my thoughts, hilarity ensues.
This morning, for example, I cracked myself up when I saw that the Anorexics Anonymous and the Overeaters Anonymous met at the same time, together. I imagined the anorexics' utter disgust with the "Mike and Molly" overeaters, and the overeaters' shared resentment of the rail-thin anorexics. I imagined all the Saturday Night Live skits that could come from this scenario. And- this is what gave me the Church Giggles- I wondered what sort of refreshments might be served that would be pleasing to both groups. Carrots? Ice? Certainly not doughnuts...?
Later in the service, at an inopportune moment, I leaned over to Dean and whispered, "Nachos." I'm pregnant, and think about food all the time, whether it's mentioned in the sermon or not. (Though, actually, food WAS mentioned in today's sermon, something about Jesus eating broiled fish.) This brought on more giggling.
I know I should behave. I should sit still (hard to do) and keep my very random thoughts and observations to myself until the service is over. I should be respectful of overeaters and old ladies with lighted magnifying glasses, and visiting choir directors who wave their hands all funny. I should be reverent, and NOT try to grab my husband's tush on the way to communion.
But what fun would that be?