Rambling and Timing Contractions

Thiiirrrrrrrrrty eight weeks along today.

The hormones have hit the fan again today. Ironman, if for some reason you check this blog on your break, you might want to come up with another excuse to come home late. Or quite the opposite. I just finished cleaning up the kitchen, and it sure felt like I was having a lot of contractions. If they don't slow down now that I have my feet propped up, I think I'll start writing down how close they are together.

For quite a while now I've been getting those looks people give pregnant women. Men with children who are older tend to smile and tilt their heads to the side as if to say, "I remember that." So good to know God can make men forget how craptastic their wives were while pregnant. It's similar to women and labor. You remember you had it, but the intensity of the pain doesn't blast you away when you think back. Men with older children are the best because they're quickest to open doors for you or ask if they can help you with something you're carrying.

2:23--remember that--contraction

Women of child bearing years can go either way. You can get a look of compassion and sympathy or they completely ignore you since they know there's absolutely nothing unique about what you're experiencing. Or it could just be that I'm not the center of the universe and they didn't notice I was painfully pushing my overloaded cart around their cart parked in the big fat middle of the aisle.

2:28--another contraction but not very strong

Anyway, I was standing in the refrigerated section of the deli checking out pre-packaged (2:32--another weak contraction) salads and sandwiches when this older woman came by, rubbed my shoulder in circles, and asked me how I was doing. It was like a scene out of a movie. Except not a movie about a chick shopping for sandwiches. It was like someone had just died and she was asking me how I was holding up. Do I look that miserable? (2:37--another contraction, but that could just be the pain in my ass named Ironman who came home early and is griping at me for wearing his Speed Racer t-shirt. It happens to be one of the only things left in the house that fits me.) I was startled that she asked me how I was doing...and that she was touching me. I felt like saying, "I'm doing fine thanks to the labels companies are putting on their packaging these days. It makes shopping for food so much easier when you know what's inside!" (2:40--contraction. Wait. What happened to that five minute trend we had going?)

All that talk about sandwiches made me hungry, so I left for a while. Now I'm back and full of turkey sandwich. I've been attempting to pay attention to contractions. I think they were inconsistent, but now they're back to 5 minutes apart. Since Ironman is home, I'm going to wind this thing up.

Wish me luck. I don't know what that means.