Guest Blog: Ch-Ch-Changes, Turn and Face the Strain |
Ch-Ch-Changes, Turn and Face the Strain
My lovely basket bursting with diapers arrived last night. (Thank you, Mommy.) 100% organic cotton diapers, all 36 of them. Six diaper covers – 2 decorative, 4 white. Some with snaps, some with Velcro; I’m starting to get excited about these miniatures. Biodegradable diaper liners and an organic toy – a cute little lion – rounded out the goodies filling the basket made of natural woven fibers. I’m tickled green.
Changes, lots of changes are happening. Yes yes, my belly protrudes and I actually have cleavage now. But these aren’t the only changes. Some are physical, some spiritual, but all are – well – interesting, let’s say.
1. Where oh where has my memory gone? Lately I seem to be surprisingly forgetful. Take this blog post, for instance. While showering today I wrote out the entire piece. It was hilarious and I couldn’t wait to dry off and dress myself so I could scrawl out my comic brilliance. But when I sat down at my laptop to type, it was gone. Completely. *sigh*
2. You put your right knee up…Up…UP!!! Just last week shaving my legs was a breeze. Today…another story altogether. I lifted my leg to place my foot on the same tiled shelf I always anchor myself on, but for some reason I couldn’t lift higher than the side of the bathtub. I tried again. And a third time, until I realized my thigh and belly were colliding. A little creative positioning was needed to complete the job.
3. Sit down, Waldo. (Please tell me somebody will get my Van Halen reference.) OK, so this one’s about my toilet seat. It’s cheap, it’s plastic and it’s unstable. Every time I sit on it, it shifts. That could be mighty dangerous for regular old non-pregnant people, but imagine what it’s like for a clumsy, anemic-dizzy mommy-to-be. We’re renting, or otherwise I’d rip that bad boy off and replace it with something heavy. Something not even my expanding butt could move.
4. They’re coming to take me away, ha ha. You think this is going to be about hormonal surges, right? Not on your life – it’s my irrational phone phobia. My disdain for that ringing, ringing, ringing in my ears has reached new a new high: I hid my cell phone in my purse in my closet. And closed the door. For two days. When I found it this afternoon I was dismayed by the number of missed calls and, anyway, how in the world did it get in there?
5. True colors. I’m deviating from my normal ‘voice’ in these blog posts. I need to loosen up a little, not worry so much about silly things, like regional dialect (I vow to throw in a “y’all” now and then.) Most of the stuff I write and speak about is Chicken Little-esque: the sky really is falling, you know. Well, maybe not the sky, but definitely the polar ice caps, lake levels, number of native species of plants and wildlife…but you can read all about that in another column. This is the fun stuff. This is where I get to laugh at myself and, I hope, give you the green light to laugh at yourself. Or you can just laugh at me. Whatever, I’ll lean back and throw my cowboy boots onto the coffee table.
6. Pg in Zen. My customary need-to-know-everything personality is on hiatus for the duration of this pregnancy. I don’t know why, she just is. Symbolically, as my body has become invaded by this growing alien, my usual self has been hijacked by some carefree, peaceful woman. Who is she? I feel like I’ve been taken over by a female Obi Wan Kenobi: “You don’t need to see my identification.” And just like that, the Real Me was supplanted by Zen Mama. People and situations that ordinarily needle me to the core now are no match for the brilliance that is my Inner Light. (Go ahead and puke.)
7. It’s my prerogative. Baby comes first, then me, then hubby and Folsom the wonder doggie, and finally the rest of the world. Yes, in that order. I don’t make a big deal about my priorities to anyone, I just know their order. Some people close to me have yet to accept some of decisions; they will come around, eventually. But I’m not waiting around for their epiphany. I surround myself with warm and supportive people and limit my interactions with negative or otherwise destructive ones. I minimize baby’s exposure to harmful chemicals and toxic situations; stressful thoughts only put unnecessary strain on both baby and me. Those who don’t accept my baby-centric decisions will not be invited aboard my Love Train.
Changes are in the air…or water or soil or…
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Christy Ilfrey |
| About the author: |
| Christy Tinsley-Ilfrey is an entrepreneur, gardener, eco-goddess; a wife, mother-to-be, daughter, sister; but mostly she sees herself as a writer. Someday, she hopes to become a really good one. Read more about her and by her at http://greenqueendom.blogspot.com or contact her at
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