“My ankle is a little sore but I’ll be fine now that he is dead,” I replied as I thanked her in the same breath.
And then it hit me that I was four and a half months pregnant.
“What did I just do?” I squealed. “I forgot there for a moment that I’m pregnant.”
My stupid super-woman dash over the sofa could have cost me much more than a sore ankle.
I guess I’m also too busy with Colum to think about the pregnancy. He has us on our toes, that’s for sure.
It’s 5.30 a.m. and I’m writing this. He has me up bright and early this dark Monday morning. Pre-Colum days the last time I saw 5:30 a.m. on the clock was probably coming home from a night out on McLean Avenue.
The only thing that will keep him away from my laptop this morning is the vacuum cleaner. Who would have thought?
Colum gets hours of entertainment out of it. He even tries to mimic the movement of vacuuming the floor. He’ll be handy yet! Hopefully trained by February all going well!
Colum also has no inhibitions and doesn’t mind too much embarrassing his mommy.
We were in my local deli last week picking up some bits. He was up in my arms looking cute and smiling at all the customers.
“Oh he has lovely blue eyes,” said an older Irish woman.
Proud as punch I thanked her and saluted a younger man I know to see from the neighborhood. He was there with his young daughter and we exchanged pleasantries about each other’s kids.
Mid conversation my “adorable” son decided to fart, a loud-as-hell rasper that turned heads. But the worst part is because it was so loud it could have come from any of the adults in the store. Only the Irish dad knew it was from my direction.
In an embarrassing effort to make sure he knew it was from my son and not from me I began loudly and jokingly patting my son’s bum and saying stupid things like, “Oh Colum I shouldn’t have given you all that fruit for your lunch, you can’t be making stinkers like that in public” (insert nervous laugh here). I went on and on like someone with verbal diarrhea.
There is no question in my mind now that this man thought I was blaming my 10-month-old son for something I did. I swear it was him!
On another public outing over the summer Colum thought it was perfectly okay to pull down my t-shit exposing my undergarments to the world.
I guess it’s just the start of it and in a few months I’m in for double trouble so now is the time to begin paying attention of my second pregnancy, possibly dealing with my fear of creatures (I think I’d need counseling for that one though) and doing my best to keep Colum out of the local deli.