I can’t pinpoint the exact moment that this happened but I can no longer see my feet. When I stand still and look straight down, all I see is belly. This, of course, has me thinking a lot about Santa Claus. Whenever in the past I have seen pictures of mall Santas or children’s book illustrations of him, it has given me all the warm feelings. Now, I can’t help but wonder whether he lived in those boots of his because leaning over to tie them must have been a pain. Putting on and taking off shoes has become a small obstacle these days and I am convinced that flip-flops were invented by a pregnant woman.
So many people have told us that pregnancy goes “so fast.” I am confused by this because this has seemed the total opposite of fast. I feel like most days I think to myself, “23 weeks, 2 days. 23 weeks 3 days….” Although we have officially reached the point where we more often reference the number of weeks left (10!) rather than the number of weeks along (30). So I guess that’s something.
The necklace I’m wearing was a gift from Adan who says it was a selfish gesture on his part because it enables him to look at his two favorite things at once: airplanes and his wife. He’s such a charmer when he wants to be.
It makes up for those occasions when he is being anything but charming. Case in point, he will often go all serious and quiet and then look me right in the eyes and declare, “I need to tell you something.” And what follows is usually: “we’re out of milk,” or “I ran into our neighbor the other day and she said to say hi.” In short, information that didn’t need such a dramatic preface. I have told him on multiple occasions that he should only use that phrase when it involves a serious medical diagnosis or if he’s leaving me. But he still does it. (now, being out of cheese, that merits the equivalent of breaking in on live CNN feed in the Rosales Kim house and clearly, he should have me sitting down and with Kleenex on hand before telling me.)