Thursday, August 20, 2009

I mean, it's just one finger, right? There's nine more.

So if I'd been thinking about it, I would've clued in when my favorite peep-toe heels got tight. Or when all the other shoes got tight and I had to buy a larger pair of sandals with arch support to do something about the foot aches. Or, I dunno, when I remembered that this was the third trimester and that swelling was normal.

But nooo. Why remember to take the rings off? That would take brains and I am obviously fresh out.

Not even when my hand started to ache a couple days ago did I figure it out. Until I looked down at my hand and realized what was on it. Oh no, I thought, because the rings suddenly seemed carved into my finger and in no way coming off without the assistance of a blowtorch.

Honestly, like I hadn't been through this drill before. I was way more on the ball with the first pregnancy, what with the reading and the classes and interviewing a dozen doulas (this time? two) and constantly pestering the OB's office with questions. Also way more neurotic about every little thing (might have been all the reading and the classes and etc.). But this time I've been so laid-back about the whole thing it's like I only remember I'm pregnant when I catch a glimpse in the mirror and think, Man, when did I swallow the bowling ball?

Really, really didn't want to cut the rings off. The wedding ring especially, since it has a pretty Greek key pattern and is engraved on the inside.

"Cut the rings off," said the OB. Thanks, that was helpful. Although he did suggest soap.

The Interweb proved more interesting reading. Lots of sites say Windex. (What I want to know is, does that advice predate or postdate "My Big Fat Greek Wedding"?) Others say shampoo/conditioner or vegetable oil. Several suggested this method: Slip dental floss under the ring, then wind the other end all the way up the finger. Start unwinding it from the bottom and it should push the ring up and off, assuming your finger doesn't fall off first. I found this intriguing and also scary.

We used a combo of Seventh Generation spray cleaner -- hey, we don't have Windex -- and Vaseline, along with icing down/elevating the finger beforehand. It was a two-night process, since the finger swelled up in the process of yanking the engagement ring off and I figured we should give it some recovery time in between. But they're off and staying off, and I expect the circular indentation in my finger should go away in a couple days. Yay.

So it's back to the unwed-mother look for me. I suppose I could stick the rings on a chain and loop them around my neck, but boy, that's a little high school. If I were going to do that, I might as well haul out a class ring and stick it on for good measure. And wear DH's varsity jacket, assuming he had one.

Ah well, at least nothing had to get cut off -- the rings or my circulation.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Gasp! Is that pregnant woman entering a liquor store?

Yes, she was. She just wanted some empty boxes. Liquor stores are great for that -- they always have a ton and the boxes are pretty sturdy. On account of they have to hold heavy glass bottles of liquor.

But oh the fisheye I got from the two employees I approached to ask about the boxes. They looked a little relieved when I explained what I wanted. One of them walked me over to the bin where the empties were piled up, then asked if I needed help with them, since I was "in the family way and all." I politely declined. Cause if I can tote around my 28ish-pound kid along with the big belly, I can handle some empty boxes, Sir Galahad. And all.

Really what I should've done was walked up to them and asked where the Boone's Farm was, just to watch them have vapors.

The best was the day before, when I brought kiddo into a different liquor store for the same reason. Now you've got a preggie lady and a small child surrounded by liquor. The humanity! But the nice man behind the counter seemed completely unfazed and cheerily pointed out the corner where the empties were. He was amused when I convinced kiddo to help out by carrying a box; by "carrying," of course, I mean lifting the box, plopping it on the ground, lifting it, plopping it, in a more-or-less forward motion. Until kiddo spotted the movie playing on the mounted TV and yelled "Cool bus!" meaning school bus, because all buses right now are school buses, and plop-walked his box over to the other end of the room so he could watch the cool bus on the TV. Man at the counter found this hilarious.

I do occasionally wonder whether I'm setting off pregnancy alarm bells in anyone around me. Whenever I walk in a room with a Dunkin' Donuts cup I have the urge to announce "It's decaf!" so no one freaks. In fact when I order said coffee I always make a point of saying, "You heard I wanted decaf, right?" which is as much for the benefit of the other people on line as it is for the counter folks. And just because I've been eating lunchmeat this whole time, doesn't mean I touched any at the baby shower I went to recently.

But hey, when you're sporting a belly the size of a basketball, you ought to be able to have some fun with it.