Groundhog

My birthday is February 2. And as all of you Bill Murray fans know, that is also Groundhog's Day. So it's safe to say that I've felt some kinship with groundhogs all of my life.

Right now, specifically this groundhog:

This, my friends, is my spirit animal.

I feel ya, buddy. The look in his eyes, the not-actually-sure-if-I-can-move defeat written all over his face. I have that. The decision to keep lying on the couch in the exact same position for three hours, even though I'm starving, even though I'm about to pee my pants, even though my back is killing me, still seems easier than making the effort to lift my own body weight. 

I think it's safe to say I've become pretty lazy in recent weeks.

And here's the kicker. I'm not even that big. Most people are shocked to find out I'm six and a half months pregnant. I'm still wearing my normal shirts about half the time. My belly is round and I would say I'm noticeably pregnant, but I'm not huge. In fact, I still forget I'm pregnant quite often--until I stand up, knock things off the grocery store shelf with my belly, or try to fit between the back of my car and the garbage can in our garage...and can't. A group of my friends has been playing volleyball pretty regularly on Friday or Saturday nights this winter and I've been so tempted to join in. I suppose I probably could, except that I'm really slow, incredibly out of shape, I can't jump, and no one would want me on their team. I would also be worried about my shifting center of gravity, as my balance has not been good recently. Since I've always been more on the athletic side, I'll admit that this is a little new to me. I never went through a gangly puberty stage where I was all limbs as many of my friends did. But I'm going through that now, and I do feel a bit like a stranger in my own body. I'm clumsier and my hand-eye coordination is much worse. It's very strange.

My best friend Emma came up for a few days around New Year's and we spent a few nights together, which was great. I know I was so jealous when she was pregnant and pretty terrible friend to her, but she was perfect. She asked about things, but I loved how careful she was in sharing her experience. Even when I would ask her questions, she was always so careful to word her answers in a way that didn't make her sound like an expert. She'd always be quick to add, "it didn't work for me, but you might be much better at it" or "this is what I did, but it's definitely not the only way to do it." I know she was trying to not make me feel like she knows everything and I know nothing, or belittle my experience even though I'm a year late--and I appreciated it. She also mentioned that she thought I looked great, like "one of those really athletic pregnant women." I'm pretty sure I laughed out loud at that. About the last thing I'm feeling right now is athletic--see above groundhog photo.

Overall, I'm feeling pretty blah. I haven't reached the point where I'm super uncomfortable, but I'm not really nesting or itching to get things done. I'd rather lie on my couch and watch hours of Call the Midwife (this is so far away from the kind of TV I normally watch, but I'm hooked. Emma recommended it to me and I can't stop watching. I hate Downton Abby, but I've become entranced by these 1950s British midwife nuns. It's my pickles and ice cream, I guess).

A few friends have stated they're throwing me a shower, even though I adamantly insisted on not having one (I also adamantly insisted on not having a bridal shower - I had three). There's a whole post coming on that eventually. The ladies at work have also begun telling me they want to throw a shower. Maybe I'll call in sick that day.

Not much else is new. My mom keeps buying me maternity pants, even though I've told her I'm pretty set. I borrowed everything from a friend, bought a few shirts, and plan to move on to Bobby's clothes once I reach beached whale state. I'm already stealing his flannel shirts. They're comfy and warm, and I can wear them with leggings and call them a dress--though to be fair, I stole his flannels long before I got pregnant (I know what you're thinking, why isn't this a fashion blog!? I could call it Below Zero Chic). We're right in the middle of putting a bathroom in our basement. Since I can't be around all the glues and the sealants in such an enclosed space, and my dad and Bobby are both overprotective and won't let me even help carry things downstairs (Bobby thinks the laundry hamper is too heavy for me), I'm getting out of doing pretty much any work. Which in my current lazy state, I'm okay with. More time for Call the Midwife!