Pink and Blue BBQ


This past week at our ultrasound we learned whether we were to be spending our summers on the softball field or the baseball bleachers, and to celebrate the news, we threw a little party in our postage-stamp sized backyard. Lonnie was so excited to announce the gender (there’s even a Lebron James themed video, for your viewing pleasure), and he had been planning all the details for two weeks – and by “he had been planning” I mean he would email me midday with a new idea I was to execute upon arrival at home… I have never been to a craft store so many times. There are 1,500 miles on my car and I think 700 of those were from trips back and forth to AC Moore. Also, glitter has a habit of sticking to one’s unmentionables in a not-so-fun way.

The idea was this: invite all our friends in the DC area over for a summery BBQ. Require everyone to dress in either pink or blue, depending on what they thought we were having, then unveil the gender in some excitingly dramatic fashion. Turns out, nothing is more exciting and dramatic than cake pops (Google it. Cake pops = the most exciting thing ever), so that was the method through which we would convey the chromosomal identity of the little alien residing in my uterus.

Cake pops

It rained in the morning, and we freaked out about how we were going to fit people inside our tiny little townhouse. But nature had other ideas and brightened things up for us. It was beautiful, sunny, and pleasantly muddy by the time people started coming by.

We had so much fun (read, stress and panic) setting things up and getting ready. Lonnie iced down cases of St. Pauli’s Girl and Blue Moon (clever, eh?), I made a pink and blue pennant chain (as cutesy as I get), and we bought 900 pounds of fruit from Costco. Finding fridge space for 18 cantaloupes is really, really challenging and I feel like I should now be qualified to work as some sort of spacial engineer. Resume builder, check!

Pink Lemonade      Lonnie Grilling

Drink station   penants

Around 3 o’clock we were set for the big reveal. Everyone grabbed a cake pop and bit in to find out we were the proud, albeit terrified, future parents of a baby GIRL! Cue the special playlist Lonnie made (Beastie Boys “Girls” seemed appropriate at the time), jokes about a near-future trip to a gun store, and mazel tovs all around. My new job as a professional headband shopper has just begun!Jenny with Cake PopMe and Lonnie in front of tree


When you feel the baby move, it will feel like a unicorn farting into a pool of rainbows, and other lies

As I’m rounding the halfway mark of my pregnancy, I am being inundated by emails from Belly-Bumpy-Pregnancy-Tracker-Whoosie-Whatsies galore about feeling the baby move and the sensation I can expect on the receiving end. These sites and forums all promised me one of the following sensational (in the literal sense) options:

1. It feels like bubbles popping

2. It feels like a goldfish swimming around

3. It feels like butterflies

CORRECTION: It feels like a mini-human is inside my stomach punching me. Sometimes it feels like that mini-human has put on snowshoes and decided to forage around in my intestines searching for gold. But in no way does it feel like a goldfish. Or a butterfly. Or a bubble. Who makes this stuff up? This is the weirdest thing: it feels exactly like what you would expect it to feel like, so why all the weird analogies? How many of us have felt a goldfish swimming around in our stomach for that to be an accurate analogy anyway? Well there was that one time… but alas, I digress.

On a more nurturing note, it is like the coolest feeling in the world. That little mango moves All. The. Time. and it makes me oh-so-happy to know my baby is wriggling away the days safe and sound. But each time I get an email telling me I am going to feel a goldfish holding hands with a butterfly inside a bursting bubble, I have to laugh to myself.

On a fun note, we find out the gender in two weeks! I’m hoping it’s a dragon.

A Lesson in Physics

While grocery shopping yesterday, I was completely and utterly shocked, downright aghast, when I went to gracefully slide my oh-so-slender frame politely between two people also browsing for Double-Stuff Oreos in aisle 6, and managed to brush, nay, grind my ass against one old lady and my stomach against the display of Fritos cheese dip, knocking them to the ground. What the hell?! A polite “excuse me” hardly seems sufficient for what in some countries might constitute harassment. Oops. Grab Oreos and move on.

Hence we come to the subject of physics and the accompanying lessons learned while pregnant.

I’m in my fifth month and have managed to gain around ten pounds. I’m pretty sure it’s all in my boobs and butt, but those extra pounds have had a noticeable effect on things like my balance, and underwear drawer. Normal activities can suddenly turn in to something resembling the hula-hoop game on Wii Fit. Direct your attention to scenario A:

I’m standing around the work room, chatting with older colleagues who already think I should be on the next episode of “16 and Pregnant” (sometimes they forget I’m a teacher and ask me to show my student ID). There I am, filling up my water bottle and wearing the normal footwear of any high-school teacher: five inch heels. Also, it bears mentioning our school is pretty much made of tile mixed with mashed up Cheetos. And I’m pretty sure the cleaning team just started using castor oil to clean the floors. Suddenly, am I tipping forward? Are my boobs actually pulling me toward the ground? Why is the earth moving? Anyone else feel this? Cue the Wii Fit hula-hooping workout routine annnnd call it a normal day in the life of a pregnant person.

Furthermore, all previously adequately sized spaces immediately get smaller when you become pregnant. Each morning I pull into the parking garage at work and slide out the door with my softball bag, purse, and computer bag, all in the five inch heels and while managing to not knock a hole in the car door next to  me. These spaces got a hell of a lot smaller, and I’m pretty sure everyone got worse at parking because now when I get out I feel like a T-Rex playing dodgeball in a wind tunnel. Fun way to start the day? Mostly for the people who get to watch me get out of the car. So long pride and dignity! Fare thee well!