The Nice Mom

Its amazing to me how quickly kids learn how to exploit their parents weaknesses in order to get anything they want. Today Elizabeth (who was very upset about me reorganizing her room) looked at me with malice and said, "Mom, you are not very n. . . Um, I mean, you are very nice. Can I have a popsicle?"

And here is the sad part. It is only 9:15 in the morning, and I said, "Yes." I know I'm being used. I know that we have eaten three boxes of popsicles since Saturday afternoon. I know that our garbage can smells like popsicles (a bizarre, and yet nice, phenomenon). I also know that it is 90 degrees today with 100% humidity. And lets be honest, if a steady stream of frozen sugar and artificial flavors can keep this swollen and cranky pregnant woman happy, isn't the world better off? Is it ever too early in the morning to do my part for world peace? And if Elizabeth learns this early that she can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, isn't she learning a good lesson? Speaking of sweet things, I think I need another frozen delicacy.

Too heavy for the pregnant lady

At church on Sunday, I went to go drag in my own metal folding chair. Since I am now visibly pregnant, a woman jumped up, declaring, "You can't bring in your own chair; you're pregnant!"

Yikes! Do you know what a folding chair weighs? 10 pounds. If you're dragging it? Probably about 2 pounds. So I have been thinking about all the other things that I shouldn't be lifting.
- Elizabeth
- a bag of flour
- more than one can of beans
- my bag
- books
- any chairs
- toys (you know, the heavy ones)
- baskets of laundry
- dishes
- a 1980's Walkman

I can see it now . . .

Sean: "Honey, will you hand me that wrench?"

Me: "Sorry. Too heavy for the pregnant lady."

Anna: "Mom, can you get me a cup from the top shelf."

Me: "Sorry. Too high for the pregnant lady."

Elizabeth: "Mommy, can you make me lunch?"

Me: "Sorry. Too much exertion for the pregnant lady."

Me (Thinking): "I should really clean something up."

Me: "Sorry. Too icky for the pregnant lady."

So, as appealing as this is beginning to sound, I think I should stick to a more practical routine of "if it hurts, don't do it." Unfortunately, this includes walking on occasion. Perhaps I need to reconsider my thinking. I know that pregnancy is different for everyone, and that some women cannot lift things. But there are so many "pregnancy precautions" that always make my OB/Gyn laugh. You know that ones. Everyone has their own. So far I have been instructed to not lift anything; to "Sit Down! for heaven's sake"; to give my children Benadryl so I don't have to exert myself on the plane; to "Don't eat Chinese Food!" (what, pray tell, do you think Chinese women eat when they are pregnant?).

Ah, so instead I'm going to Disneyland with the family. After being manhandled through security in the airport, I will probably walk (waddle), lift, run (waddle faster), eat, and enjoy myself. I might even pull a chair over to sit on. Scandalous.