This is your brain. This is your brain on progesterone. Any, um.. you know, thingys?

If you haven’t heard the news, and I’m sure you have because my fan base is pretty much limited to my Facebook friends and I’ve become rather obnoxious on there about this whole thing: I’m pregnant. Yay!

I have vowed that this will not become a Mommy Blog. Well, not a Mommy Blog in the sense that I shared the best homemade Play-Doh recipe (Just reuse it. Junior doesn’t care if the colors melded together. And if he does, then use it as a teachable moment about respecting one’s belongings or something. Chill, Mama, chill.).  It will become a Mommy Blog in the sense that The Child will probably play a fairly prominent part of the blogspace, as I’m really only creative enough to write about things that are happening directly around me.

One perk of this whole thing is that I walk a lot now, so that’s good.

I walk to the kitchen to get grub 6 times a day.

Walk back to the kitchen to put the fork I dropped on the floor in the sink.

Walk back to the table.

Walk back to the kitchen to get another fork.

Walk back to the table.

Walk back to the kitchen because I forgot the fork that I was going to get the first time around.

Walk back to the table.

Walk to the loo.

Walk to the table.

Walk back to the kitchen to reheat my food.

You get the idea.

I used to think this concept of “baby brain” (essentially when a knocked-up gal resides into early-onset Alzheimers, often times complete with a mild loss of ones faculties… apparently sneezing is dangerous business when there’s some major extra poundage sitting on your bladder) with utter and total bullshit.  It’s not.

I often forget those things that you use to describe things so people know what you’re talking about instead of staring at you as you snap your fingers and say “it’s um, you know, that thing, um. Damn. Um” until you give up and you’re left staring at each other, unsure of where to go from there.  You know, those things: words.

I can’t write anymore. Steel Magnolias is on and my tears are blocking my view of the screen and I’m starting to do that hysterical sobbing thing where you start to choke on multiple viscous fluids and can’t breathe. Why does she have to die? Why? And why does she have to look better in a coma than I do on my glitziest day? Why?

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