The Meat Helmet and Other Oddities

I know, I know, it’s been weeks – weeks! – since I’ve posted, but I assure you that I’ve been hard at work doing things like growing a baby and navigating the final, whale-like weeks of a damn long pregnancy.  In addition, I’ve been busy taking notes on the oddities that arise on this adventure, and would like to present to you a few of these observations.  These are discoveries that require me to form entirely new words.  Based on your feedback, I’m considering submitting them to Webster’s Dictionary for inclusion.

Insomniman.  You know the man – he’s dressed in a filthy, tattered overcoat with sunken eyes and a nappy beard down to his testicles.  He’s usually standing on a milk crate spouting scripture from Revelations and raving about the Apocalypse.  We’ve all seen him, usually in person while getting lost in a major city.  If someone were to slice open my head at approximately 3 am each morning, that’s who they’d find marching around, pumping a crayoned The End Is Near sign into the air.  Because it is.  It is near.

I believe this is a common phenomenon among women in their third trimester (at least I’m hoping it’s common).  When we are not fretting about being sucked into a black hole before dinner, we lie awake imagining all the terrible things that could go wrong while driving a car, eating a salad or even emptying the dishwasher.  Frightening.

The Meat Helmet.  This is a new word I coined in response to seeing a photograph of myself last week.  The Meat Helmet is secured to the head during the late stages of pregnancy with a Meat Strap that wraps around one’s chin, and yes, you have my permission to use this terminology.  Still not clear on what a Meat Helmet is?  Think Drew Barrymore’s chins (I love you, Drew) before she began her running routine.

The Nesting.  Kind of like The Shining only tidier.  My husband has always appreciated the fact that I keep a clean house, but when I greet the day by scrubbing the baseboards and shining the stove before even brushing my teeth, he begins to question my sanity.  Truth be told, so do I…

And now I will tell you a secret.  A secret so shocking that even I sometimes do not believe it.  It’s called spreadsheets. Yes, spreadsheets.  I am that much of a nerd that I have created spreadsheets to get me through the next few weeks.  I don’t know how any new mother-to-be could do without one.  So I am learning that The Nesting does not apply just to the physical environment; apparently it’s meant to organize my interior landscape as well.  Fine.

Mensitivity.   This is the compassion displayed by a man in response to a woman’s escalating experience of discomfort.  Let’s use it in a sentence.  My husband shows a lot of mensitivity these days, which is good because sitting, laying, standing, eating and breathing all cause me to either a) whimper or b) literally attempt to jump out of my skin.  It’s sweet.

Crapality.  As in, Oh Crap, Reality.  This is the phrase uttered during natural childbirth classes while watching graphic scenes of babies crowning.  It is far too early in the morning to go into any further explanation.

I am still developing new terminology and theories as the days progress, so check back again.

Coming up later this week… stay tuned for High-Maintenance Granny!