I was up far too late last night — AGAIN — and since today is Thursday, I had to get up early early (at least for me) to take Grace to school. As if that weren’t enough, I didn’t get a chance to snooze because I had to change the XM station I wake up to (DAMN YOU, XM, FOR TAKING AWAY MY U-POP!), and for some unknown reason as I was changing the wake-up station to the 1940s channel, I decided to turn down the volume a wee bit. And that wee bit was enough to make it so that I couldn’t really hear the alarm when it went off at 6:48am this morning. I didn’t hear it till 7:12am.
Grace was only five minutes late for school, so I had that going for me.
Everyone at the preschool took one look at me and said, “Uh oh!! You’re getting close!!” Well, no shit, Sherlock. I have three weeks to go, if my due date is any indication. But don’t tell me I have dropped (which three people told me) because people said the same thing to me three weeks before I was due with Grace. And guess what? I went two weeks late, people!!!
There is a possibility I can be pregnant for five more weeks, folks. Do not tell me I am about to pop. I know this. I feel it. But it might not happen! And I cannot bear to be reminded of it.
So! I had a lovely little chat with the school nurse today, about nothing, really, except that we both agree that Grace’s school is way better than having her in the daycare on base. I mean, there’s nothing wrong with the daycare on base if you just want your kids to be safe and looked after, but it’s not a learning environment. It’s a helluva cheaper to go with the daycare, but I wanted Grace in school.
The nurse was amazed that people will call the school and ask to enroll their kids, and the first thing that the teachers ask is, “Have you seen our facility?” The parents will say no. How do you know you want your kids there, then? It shouldn’t be a matter of first availability. Kurt investigated something like six schools while I was in San Jose with my Flickr group, and while some looked awesome on paper, they didn’t look so great when he went to look at them. There’s nothing seriously wrong with them; they’re just not the right fit for Grace.
I also peeked in at the baby room at Grace’s school. I can’t help it! I’m drawn to the babies like moths to a flame. They had a new baby in there, just two months old, and she was so beautiful with auburn hair. Her name is Ashley — and it’s a sorry state of the world when my first reaction is, “Wow, what a lovely, normal name.”
Then again, there’s an Angelika in Grace’s classroom, and my daughter insists on calling her “Gallica.” Now everyone in her class calls her that, even the teachers. I’m scared to think what her mother thinks of that.
Kurt and I managed to go to breakfast once I was done ogling the babies in the baby room, and afterward we went to Wal-Mart. We didn’t need anything; we just basically wanted to kill time. Our Wal-Mart is being remodeled, which is awesome since our Wal-Mart is old and sketchy and dirty and gross. It will probably be dirty and sketchy and gross within a year, considering who shops there, but at least for right now it’s beautiful.
What thrilled me today was I found out that they had even remodeled the ladies’ room! That place was nasty just a few weeks ago, with graffiti all over the walls. Few of the toilets were clean enough to use; I don’t know if the employees simply do not clean them, or whether the clientele realizes that smearing waste around a restroom isn’t considered good manners.
So imagine my shock and surprise when I walked into the restroom, expecting to find a nasty, disgusting place (but when you’re pregnant and you gotta go, you gotta go!), only to see shiny! stainless! steel! fixtures! Brand new sinks! New toilets! New stalls! Even new walls and mirrors and faucets and paper towel dispensers! It was so lovely. I was so impressed I told Kurt he had to go to the bathroom to check it out. The men’s room isn’t quite done; I peeked in as another gent entered to see how far the remodel had progressed. But it was finished enough that Kurt could get a good idea of where it was going.
It’s going to be awesome when it’s totally completed.
I had to grab some makeup while I was in there, and I was so sad to see that someone had already cracked open several bottles of nail polish and smeared it over the nail polish display and the floor. These are brand new fixtures, people! Couldn’t they have waited at least another month so we could pretend that we were shopping in a nice store? Yes, yes, I know it’s Wal-Mart, but still. Sheesh.
But then the inevitable happened on our way out of the store. A Wal-Mart employee came up to me as I was exiting the store and grabbed my belly. Not once, but twice. She grabbed me!! My belly! My distended womb!! Where is that okay to do? Who gave her permission? I was in such shock I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to punch her in the neck, but I was so taken aback that she would have the audacity to touch me that she got away without my inflicting any bodily harm.
I went my entire pregnancy with Grace without being touched, at least by strangers. If I know you, and I know you are interested in feeling my belly, I will most certainly offer or give permission for you to touch my belly. But if I do not know you, and I did not know this Wal-Mart employee, DO NOT TOUCH ME.
I need a sign. “HANDS OFF THE BELLY! DO NOT TOUCH UNDER PAIN OF BEING PUNCHED IN THE NECK!”
So for future reference, dear readers, it is always best to ask a pregnant lady if you may touch her belly, even if you know her. Even if you are a family member!! We are a sensitive and easily irritated people. It’s not a good idea to piss off a pregnant woman.
As Kurt’s co-worker keeps saying, “Respect the belly!”