Since this is my blog and one gets to place a heavy editorial filter on how one appears to the internet, I try not to talk about all the stupid stuff I do (falling down a flight of stairs directly onto my firstborn not withstanding). I like to focus on my more highbrow, “Frasier”-esque mistakes like this one from a while back:
Tom: So my friend is taking Tigrinya…
Me: Oh, my God! I didn’t realize he was that depressed.
Confusing taking linguistic classes on the language of Eritrea with the name of an anti-depressant? Oh, the mirth! How foolish I am. Isn’t EVERYONE up on their East African dialects?
(Yeah, in case you were wondering, I find myself obnoxious too.)
But as the last few weeks of pregnancy wind down I find myself constantly forgetting things. Some random, some important.
The most recent incident was over a houseplant. (The houseplant was not me.) Tom made a lovely pesto sauce last night using the basil leaves from the pot growing above our sink. Tasted delicious. I raved about it and Maggie, ordinarily a boycotter of all green plant matter, gobbled it down over tortellini. This morning as I began the breakfast dishes I looked up at our plant and gasped. What had happened to it?! Where had the leaves gone?! Why was the basil so…so…so…NUDE?
Right. Dinner. Which was still giving me heartburn. Baby brain 1, me 0.
Then there was forgetting my purse and wallet at home and not realizing it until I had actually pulled in to park at the hospital for Maggie’s foot appointment. Luckily we only live ten minutes away from the hospital but STILL. Inconvenient! AND I had to give up a good parking space.
The hormones are ravaging me too. Tom and I sat down to look at some books on Amazon for Maggie’s fall reading pleasure–we have loads of spring, summer, and winter seasonal books but very few autumn ones. We happened upon the book Wild Child, which is a story about Mother Earth and her wild daughter Autumn. And all of a sudden, I was in tears.
Tom, looking alarmed: …Uh…
Me: I WANNA NAME THE BABY AUTUMN!
Tom: Do you want to name the baby Autumn that badly? [pause] Okay! Okay!
It’s worth noting that his face was indescribably hilarious in its expression of horror and concern and also because he was quite obviously trying not to laugh out loud. A few moments later I said we could use Autumn as a middle name instead.
“Really? It’s just…I really like it…” [moments later] “I’m just so PREGNANT.”
“…I love you.” Gentlemen, take note: that and a brownie are really the only acceptable crisis responses to third trimester emotional nukes going off in your living room.
So that’s where my brain is right now: everything I don’t completely forget makes me cry. I am still not entirely sure where Eritrea is in the Horn of Africa, though I feel confident that one can speak their language without fearing antidepressant side effects. I’m double-checking the car before I leave the driveway for my wallet, purse, and Maggie herself.
And I’m pretty sure we’ll stick with Autumn as a middle name if we have a girl…at least until I read something else that makes me cry.