The last two weekends I have been a productive little birdy. Some would say that suggests I've reached the (mythical) "nesting" phase of my pregnancy. Really? I think Ryan has reached his and I'm just ambivalent enough to trail reluctantly along behind him.
During this fruitful window of Ryan's transition into fatherhood, I have accomplished a great deal of yard work. When I tell people this, I'm universally met with, "WTH! You can't do yard work when you're almost 9 months pregnant and look like a boat!" Now it's even at the point where people see me doing yard work and report to other people who report to other people who end up scolding Ryan at school for something akin to spousal abuse.
As much as I wish I had a good excuse not to participate in the grimy hole digging that has comprised our weekend adventures, the fact of the matter is I don't. Usually he's the one with the shovel and I'm the one on my butt in the dirt pulling weeds within my wingspan. It's not labor intensive any more than it is entertaining.
I did, however, find a task this weekend that people should be appalled Ryan would let his wife do: Charades.
Never have I been worse at a game.
I'm the girl that always wins games. It's a kind of weird genius I have that I'm proud of. Some people (Lauren) think it's freakish. Example: While playing Trivial Pursuit, our team gets the question, "Which two countries' border was determined by the Treaty of Tartu in 1920?" My thought process would go something along the lines of: Hmm. Tartu sounds like Tartuffe which is a French play. French starts with f-r. So... Finland and Russia?
No joke people, I am freakish (and it has very little to do with intellect).
And charades? My B.A. major was theatre performance for goodness sake! But Sunday night? I lost BIG TIME. Monumentally.
I blame the belly.
In one of my non-scoring rounds (when the rest of the group was averaging 12 points a turn and I was lucky to get 4) the word was lion. Lion? For charades? Cakewalk. I hunched over, opened my mouth and roared. I even bared teeth and did an impression of wild hair. What did I get?
"Gorilla! Ape! Baboon!"
Yeah. Apparently, in order to fully imitate the king of the safari I have to convey that I'm not actually bipedal. Me? On all fours? No one would be guessing lion. I can see it now:
"Rodent climbing over a speed bump!"
"High-centered car that's really angry!"
"Kangaroo with vertigo!"
It's probably better that I left it at primates.
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During this fruitful window of Ryan's transition into fatherhood, I have accomplished a great deal of yard work. When I tell people this, I'm universally met with, "WTH! You can't do yard work when you're almost 9 months pregnant and look like a boat!" Now it's even at the point where people see me doing yard work and report to other people who report to other people who end up scolding Ryan at school for something akin to spousal abuse.
As much as I wish I had a good excuse not to participate in the grimy hole digging that has comprised our weekend adventures, the fact of the matter is I don't. Usually he's the one with the shovel and I'm the one on my butt in the dirt pulling weeds within my wingspan. It's not labor intensive any more than it is entertaining.
I did, however, find a task this weekend that people should be appalled Ryan would let his wife do: Charades.
Never have I been worse at a game.
I'm the girl that always wins games. It's a kind of weird genius I have that I'm proud of. Some people (Lauren) think it's freakish. Example: While playing Trivial Pursuit, our team gets the question, "Which two countries' border was determined by the Treaty of Tartu in 1920?" My thought process would go something along the lines of: Hmm. Tartu sounds like Tartuffe which is a French play. French starts with f-r. So... Finland and Russia?
No joke people, I am freakish (and it has very little to do with intellect).
And charades? My B.A. major was theatre performance for goodness sake! But Sunday night? I lost BIG TIME. Monumentally.
I blame the belly.
In one of my non-scoring rounds (when the rest of the group was averaging 12 points a turn and I was lucky to get 4) the word was lion. Lion? For charades? Cakewalk. I hunched over, opened my mouth and roared. I even bared teeth and did an impression of wild hair. What did I get?
"Gorilla! Ape! Baboon!"
Yeah. Apparently, in order to fully imitate the king of the safari I have to convey that I'm not actually bipedal. Me? On all fours? No one would be guessing lion. I can see it now:
"Rodent climbing over a speed bump!"
"High-centered car that's really angry!"
"Kangaroo with vertigo!"
It's probably better that I left it at primates.
