I wanted the shower at a restaurant: throw $$ at the prob & let the waitstaff deal w it for between $5-12.00/person. BUT Jesus's gma was hell bent on having it at church. A-OK.
Shower was at 11, I arrived at 9 w garbage bags full of supplies: no clue what this room would look like. It was nice, small, & finished. Note: I know Jesus's entire extended fam really well. I spent many holidays & wkends w this godly crew. So there was somewhat of a reunion feel to the whole fiasco, unexpectedly increasing my level of enjoyment.
2 hours later, it appeared that a light blue monster had his way w the room. Perfect. My primary-colored, farm animal centerpieces did not clash w the light blue decor I selected. Nobody outwardly complained about my lame party favors (had I known the guest count would be 20 before 2 days ago, I would've been more creative).
A highlight: Jesus's bad jokes. Instead of "oohing & ahhing" at every gift, she attempted to incorporate humor. At one point she exclaimed, 'Yesssssssssssssssss: a rectal thermometer!' The awkward silence that ensued was PRICELESS. Tears of laughter stung my eyes.
A lowlight: I reached for a gift bag & ripped it. In front of everyone. I apologized generally to the crowd. Unfortunately- it was Aunt Edna's- who continuously demonstrated her inability to handle social interaction. Red-faced, she exclaimed, 'Well, it's [Jesus's] now!' Luckily I had reached my daily public lynching maximum at DD that morn, so her response phased me not. Later on, she was stuffing candy in Jesus's purse. Jesus caught her & joked, 'Are you stealing from me again, Aunt Edna???' Red-faced, Aunt Edna gave a serious testimony on how she'd never steal from anyone, let alone Jesus, blah blah blah. Awkward? Yah.
Jesus ended up getting a lot of stuff she needs, which is important. She wore a wretched pair of maternity mom jeans- I'm going to request that she sport them at my shower- as part of her gift to me. Stone-washed to perfection, pockets resting high & small on the butt, legs dramatically tapered - can't beat it.
Oh, another lowlight- she invited N- maid of honor- & another childhood friend of mine (Jesus was friends w these gals once upon a time, but not really since high school). Both of them declined bc they didn't feel like coming (Note: I do not blame them), but I didn't have the heart to tell this to Jesus. I tried to make up good lies. I again begged them both to come last minute, but they wouldn't. Jesus is one of those sentimental people who wants random ppl to come to things for moral support (a trait I find exhausting): She invited people from across the country & expected they'd come. I invited a bridesmaid from 2 hours away & wouldn't think twice if she didn't want to come watch my fat a$$ open up some bottles in front of a crowd. I bailed on Jesus's bridal shower 3 yrs ago bc I was poverty-stricken and living 5 hours away- the money I would've spent on gas & tolls alone would've cost more than her gift. She was upset. I attempted to buy her forgiveness a year later by purchasing her a pair of UGGs. I think it worked.
And, since this is the longest post ever- I FELL yesterday. SOBER. Please do not mention this to either my mom, dad, or MIL. Espcially MIL. I did not land on my stomach: my hands/knees caught my fall. And bricks. So my hands are scraped & my KNEES- Dude. I have a scabby knee. I haven't had a scabby knee since I was 6. J was obviously sick to his stomach w worry, I called the doc to appease him. The doc said she wasn't to concerned since I wasn't bleeding or cramping (yummy...) but go to Labor & Delivery anyway & get monitored "just in case." So last night J & I head to the hospital and I'm subsequently hooked up to all these monitors, pee in a cup, etc.. The *moment* I lay down on that bed, the baby starts kicking like crazy. As expected, all is fine- to my stomach, they attached a stethescope w speakers- it sounded like the Kentucky Derby. Thus, J finally got to hear the heartbeat (he's only seen the baby in ultrasounds). We could also hear the baby kicking.
Since this is the hospital where I'm supposed to deliver, we had to answer a million Qs that made us feel even less prepared than we probably are: Do I want a nurse to come visit me at home after the baby is born? Do I have a pediatrician? Have we taken birthing classes? Do I want an epidural? Am I planning on breast feeding? Does the baby have a place to sleep & food to eat? Do I feel safe? Am I abused? Do I have any food preferences for when I'm in the hospital? I responded with a vague, "I'm unsure.....", "What do most people do?" or "Umm..... I haven't decided yet." This morning, I remain couched comfortably in denial feeling as though I have plenty of time.
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