I wish I had some exciting news or interesting tidbit to share, but I don’t. I mean, I’ve already used the “I’m engaged! I’m married! I’m pregnant!” lines so I feel like I’ve almost peaked in the area of life’s big moments.

Yesterday I bought some curtains.

What’s sad is this really was a big moment because I had been talking about buying curtains for the last three weeks and four days and I finally did it. I had a surge of exhilaration after finally going grocery shopping the day before and felt like I COULD DO ANYTHING which is how I found myself in the Target curtain section. You know what’s overpriced? Straight pieces of colored fabric that hang on a rod over a window. You know what I bought eight of?  Straight pieces of colored fabric that hang on a rod over a window. The whole time I kicked myself for not being at the fabric store buying fabric at a fraction of the cost to make my own curtains. Then I remembered the washing, cutting, ironing, cutting, stitching, taking out of stitches, measuring, stitching, etc etc etc that goes into sewing and I got overwhelmed. I can only handle so much these days and trying to eat ranks slightly higher than handcrafting a masterpiece to adorn my living room windows.

Avoiding a kick in the stomach is also high priority these days. You wouldn’t think that would be a concern from someone who does not have a marital arts career, but it is VERY HIGH UP THERE. Every week I watch baby Freddy and every week he kicks me in the stomach. (Can we all agree that saying, “Are you ready, Freddy?” is infinitely more gratifying to say to a child named Freddy than to a child named, for example, Thomas? “Are you ready, Thomas?” just don’t have the same ring.) I can hold the child in 52 different positions, but each time he A) starts crying and B) connects with my stomach. I finally found a good position (no crying! no kicking!), but it gave Freddy the golden opportunity to play with the beads on my V neck shirt as well as happily pull on the shirt to peer down at my chest. I realize he’s only 6 months and all, but I’m trying to preserve whatever small amounts of modest I can in the coming months. I told Freddy that next week my outift will probably consist of a tshirt and he immediately started crying. Like went from laughing to bawling in 3.6 seconds. I don’t even know what to say about that except maybe his parents should start being concerned that he’s upset about not being able to peer down a lady’s shirt.

And to finished up this hodge-podge of unnecessary information, the special bracelets I bought in attempts to cut down on nausea cut off circulation in my wrists. I cannot win.