Sure, if the magazines are in front of me, I'll look at them. The chances greatly increase if Matthew Mcconaughey is on the cover. But I don't go to great lengths to seek out the info. (Although that was a nice interlude while I had to search for the PERFECT picture of him to include in this entry. I mean, I don't want to have any confusion out there of what he looks like. I'm glad I could help you better understand.)So anyway - I don't know what to do with this recent feeling that I, myself, have become a bit of a celebrity. Surely, you think, I must have done something worthy of such admiration, like discovering a cure for the common cold, or devising the perfect solution for new mothers wrestling with the thoughts and realities of working outside the home vs. staying at home, or developing the technology needed to simply transfer ones thoughts into instant blog format, instead of laboring for embarrassingly long stretches of time per entry.
But no. Like Hollywood celebrities, I am fawned over just for being me. Everything about me is SOOOO interesting and adorable. In my case, my rise to fame started when my belly started getting bigger due to the fact that I am growing a human being inside of me. I sport a "Baby Bump" if you will.
I notice the effects of my new celebrity standing most at work, since I'm at different sites on certain days of the week, so there are some people that I only see once or twice a week. I'm certain that these absences make the hearts grow fonder, so people are all the more smitten when they actually experience a "Nicky sighting".
The interactions usually start with a doe-eyed expression that takes over their face, a giddy smile, tilted head, and a musical ring in their voice, "Hi Nicky! How ARE you?" most often followed by a belly check that breaks eye contact ever so briefly. If it's more than a passing-in-the-hall encounter, there's usually time for Fashion Commentary, and the assurance to me that I am looking "Absolutely adorable" or that my belly, specifically, looks "Soooo cute!" And that I am "The Cutest Pregnant Woman Ever!"
People also go to great lengths to attend to my physical, nutritional, and personal safety needs.
I am not allowed to lift or hold any object weighing over 2.5 lbs., or stand for too long. I am usually offered healthy alternatives to whatever is being served, "So the baby gets the nutrients it needs!" but also am given the slack to indulge in anything that is less than Best Odds Diet approved, because they want to "Give the pregnant lady what she wants!" and to assure me to "Listen to my body!" I am even asked prior to social engagements where food is being prepared if I have any food cravings or aversions.
My sister Leigh commented that she feels like she needs to strictly adhere to the speed limit while I'm a passenger in her car. (I mean, not that she doesn't normally do that anyway, Mom and Dad.) She has done a good job at exasperating drivers following us by doing so. She takes her Auntly Responsibilities very seriously.
I'm just glad I got in some spackling from atop the refrigerator at Nate's family's cottage in Southport while I could get away with it.
MEANWHILE, my dear husband decided a few weeks ago was a good time to rip out the front steps because they were an eyesore (and rotting and getting a good layer of moss on the outdoor carpet that covered them). He determined that he really needed to do that - to rip out the steps and go WITHOUT FRONT STEPS before that he could properly assess what to do next. You know, REALLY think about it. Mull it over. Consider the possibilities. Plan to make a plan. Shop around. Look at other people's front steps.
Well, you say. He must have rigged up SOMETHING in the meantime until the rest of the plan was decided upon and executed, right? I mean, what with a pregnant wife and all, RIGHT??
We should be so lucky. He must have decided that we really needed to have a COMPLETE ABSENCE of front steps in order to best determine what to do next. So, for about a week and a half, we, and anyone who visited us, had to step up about TWO FEET and grab the porch door frame to hoist ourselves up in order to get into the house, and then JUMP out the door to get out.
So, you ask, WHAT WAS IT that finally motivated him to at least put a temporary step in the place of the old ones? His Hollywood Celebrity wife, right??
We should be so lucky.
No, what did it was the notice from the mail person stating that he would not deliver our mail until the safety hazard was de-hazardized. Well, wouldn't you know it, a make-shift step appeared within 24 hours. Because if there's one thing we value above all else in this household, it's getting our L.L.Bean catalogs and department store sale flyers on time.
I didn't write about this during the fact because I was certain that I'd get a really hilarious, blog-worthy story to tell about how his pregnant wife forgot about the lack of front step while rushing out the door in the morning after a sleepless, crazy dream-filled night, and wiped out, hot coffee scalding her previously glowing pregnancy face while twisting her not-yet-puffy ankles and bouncing off of her pregnant belly and rolling down the hill over her herbs and burning her eyes in the chili peppers that she so lovingly planted for her husband 6 weeks ago.
But no.
Instead I was able to use it as contrast to the extra-special treatment that I get EVERYWHERE else. Thanks for contributing in your own special way, Honey.
Okay, in case anyone's interested, I'm going to shower now that it's 11:45 and work my celebrity magic on this couldn't-be-a-mop-if-it-tried that is my hair, put together a deli-meat sandwich, take my prenatal vitamins with Britta water, and go see a movie with Aunt Punchy. I will not disclose what movie, since I'm just not up for the paparazzi today. Or however you spell that.
I'll most likely be wearing borrowed Old Navy maternity jeans, and layering an Old Navy maternity t-shirt with a non-maternity hip-length sweater that I'm determined to wear as long as I can.
Until next time,Nicky and Nate
22 weeks 6 days
Ciao, Baby
