April Fool Memories

I stink at playing jokes on people.

In fact, I stink at telling jokes to people.

I often don't get jokes that are told to me.

However, I was part of a really cool April Fool's joke once upon a time.

Come with me down Memory Lane. The year was 1999. I was in Advanced Placement 11th Grade English. We had an incredible teacher and a great group of kids, so while we were doing very challenging work, we mostly had a good time about it. On April 1st, the class walks in to the room to find a copy of The Grapes of Wrath on every desk. (For anyone who hasn't seen a copy of The Grapes of Wrath, it's quite a tome. A very large book. Quite intimidating. Even for 11th Grade AP English students.) Our usually sweet, kindhearted teacher informs us that starting today, we must read this new book, and that our assignments involve a complete outline of every chapter. One outline is due each class period, meaning reading 2 or 3 chapters a week. (We were on an "alternating block schedule," so depending on the week we would meet either 2 or 3 times.) These chapters were LONG. And there were a LOT of them.

Our countenances fell. How could we, even as super 11th grade AP English students, accomplish this monumental task? Our teacher, who is usually so sweet and kindhearted, has turned into a monster!! How could she do this to us? Of course, we completely believe her.

She got us good.

Real good.

After explaining the new "assignment," she asked a student to look at the board and read out loud the date.

We finally got it.

She got us so good, we decided to get her back.

During our lunch period, the entire class went into the guidance counselor's office. We selected a particular counselor who is known for having an excellent sense of humor. We explained what we wanted to do, and she was happy to help us.

She withdrew each and every one of us from 11th Grade AP English and temporarily placed us in the "regular" English class.

She even printed out new class schedules for us, reflecting the changes.

One by one, we went into our English teacher's room and told her we were dropping out of AP English because it was just too hard.

Her countenance fell. She didn't anticipate the ramifications that her little joke would have on her otherwise intelligent, creative 11th Grade AP English students. How could they do this to her? Couldn't they take a little joke?

We got her.

We got her good.

Baby Shower !!!

Yesterday afternoon, my very most dearest friends in the whole wide world, Damselfly and Roo, threw me the most fantabulous, spectacular, incredible, marvelous baby shower that the world has ever seen. At this most fantastic event, there was no sniffing of baby food jars to determine what flavor of baby food was contained therein, nor was there measuring of my stomach with toilet paper. (Hallelujah!) Instead, my friends decorated onesies using fabric paint and markers, and we played "The Price is Right" with a number of baby items. (I LOVED "The Price is Right" when I was younger! I watched it all the time! lol!) Additionally, Roo made her famous Oatmeal Carmelitas (which are little pieces of heaven, I must say,) and Damselfly invented a brand-new ice cream flavor just for me with her ice cream maker. She created "Raspberry Mocha Latte Teddy Bear Ice Cream" and it was delish.

Here is a stunning photograph of the lovely Roo, Guinevere, and Damselfly. (Would you believe that Damselfly had a baby just 7 weeks ago??!! I hope I lose my baby weight as quickly as she has...)

I received many, many wonderful gifts at the shower, but more importantly than that, I was able to celebrate the coming of my little one with the women who are closest to me.

A Strange Sight

I was taking a walk this afternoon along my canal. (I say "my canal" as if it belongs to me...lol!) As I strolled along the sidewalk, taking in the scent of the water and the sound of the birdsongs, I looked up and saw something strange.

Someone had hung a bird cage up in a palm tree. With a parakeet in it.

Isn't the purpose of a bird cage so that one can keep a bird in their home? This cage was hanging up very high, so whomever owned the cage would have to climb up on a ladder to put food and water in there.

I called my friend Damselfly, who is well versed in all things wildlife. She informed me that in our region, we have non-native birds that have made it into the local ecology, and that the powers that be have decided that if people can catch these birds, then it is perfectly legal for them to keep them as pets. I guess these birds are a threat to native plants and animals since they have no natural predators in the area or something. (I can't remember. Damselfly can tell you more about it!) Anyway, she put forth the suggestion that maybe someone hung up the cage there to lure one of these birds in an effort to catch it. And if that is the case, the cage ought to be gone tomorrow, since there was clearly a bird in there today. Or, she said, maybe they left the cage door open and the bird is free to come and go as he/she pleases. I would hope that one of her theories is correct, because how sad would it be for a bird to be trapped in a cage while it can see and hear all of its birdie relatives flying freely? That just seems downright cruel to me. Also, if someone is keeping their pet bird in a cage hanging from a tree outdoors, then the bird is at risk to predators-- racoons could come and get it, a snake could crawl up the tree and into the cage, all sorts of things. So I have made it my mission to check on this bird cage every day and see what's going on.

If something seems to be amiss after a few days, Damselfly knows someone I can call who will come rescue the bird. Hopefully, I can find out who the owner of this cage is and find out what's going on for myself.

Seclusion

(photo from Ads of the World.)

I think I understand now why women in days of yore went into seclusion when they found out they were pregnant.

It was so they would not have to answer stupid questions, and endure the ridiculous comments of the blissfully ignorant.

I say "blissfully ignorant" because to the one who is ignorant, it is blissful to be so. However, to the person upon which the blissfully ignorant chooses to bestow his or her blissful ignorance, it is not so blissful.

I really hope you understand that last sentence because I can't think of any other way to explain it.

These blissfully ignorant souls really have no idea how much damage they are inflicting upon the mother-to-be. Bless their little hearts, they don't mean to be insulting and/or aggravating. They just can't help it because they haven't been there yet. Or they HAVE been there, but it's been such a long time, that they have forgotten.

Here is an example of a recent (ACTUAL) conversation with someone of the blissfully-ignorant persuasion. This is a person I had never previously met, but found myself working with in a volunteer effort at my church.

Blissfully Ignorant: "Wow, you look REALLY pregnant! How pregnant are you?"

Guinevere Meadow: "I'm 31 weeks pregnant."

B.I. "What does that mean?"

G.M. (thinking to herself, it means I've been pregnant for 31 weeks, you twit.) "It means I have 9 weeks to go because 40 weeks is considered full-term."

B.I. "So when are you due?"

G.M. (Duhhh...if I have 9 weeks to go, then it must be sometime near the end of November. I guess B.I. just really can't do math.) November 29th.

B.I. "Are you SURE?"

G.M. (No, I'm not sure, as it goes. You see, my doctor is a complete quack and doesn't know how to calculate due dates. I've had three sonograms and about 15 bajillion office visits, and STILL she can't tell when the baby's coming.) Yes, I'm sure.

B.I. "Wow, it looks like you're having twins. Are you?"

G.M. (I don't think I'll EVER get tired of that question.) No, there's just one baby in there!

B.I. "Are you SURE?"

G.M. (Again, my doctor's a total quack. Three sonograms and 15 bajillion office visits have not yet confirmed how many people are currently residing in my uterus.) Yes, I'm sure. By the way, that's really a rude question.

G.M. leaves the room so as not to perpetuate any further sarcasm and to prevent B.I. from further embarassment.

End scene.

This is a conversation I have had with multiple people, most of which are people who do not know me well. (These are the same people who feel obligated to come up and rub my tummy. Why? I just don't get it. When did it become socially acceptable to put your hands on a person that you don't REALLY know all that well? Sigh.) I came home that day disgruntled with people in general, and decided I wanted to go somewhere where there were no people.

So I went to a scrapbooking workshop with some people I didn't know, and went to watch my husband's softball game afterward, among lots of people, some of whom I knew and some of whom I didn't. Thankfully, everyone I encountered that evening was very respectful of boundaries. The women I met at the scrapbooking workshop were all women who had given birth, so they knew better than to ask me if I was having twins. I was able to tell them about the conversation with B.I. and laugh about it with them.

It was balm to my soul.

I guess I don't totally want to be away from people. I just want to be away from the blissfully ignorant.

A teeny-tiny wrinkle in my plans

Gestational. Diabetes.

That's the possible prognosis. I failed the one-hour glucose test, so now I get to go do the three-hour test. Yippee. Hooray. Joyful. (By the way, I'm anemic, too. Why couldn't they have found this out sooner, like when they took 5 gallons of blood from me at my very first visit??!! No wonder I've been so d*** exhausted for the past 6 months! Arghhh!)

My grandparents are diabetic. My mom had gestational diabetes when she was pregnant with my sister, and every so often I can just tell when my blood sugar is low or out-of-whack. Never bad enough to require a doctor visit, but folks, this tells me that there's a pretty darn-good-tootin' chance that I indeed have gestational diabetes.

I know that of all pregnancy complications, that GD is fairly common and the most easily treated and really isn't a big deal. But I'm still freaking out a little bit! See, I have all these hopes for a nice, natural childbirth free of monitors and IV lines, and I'm afraid that if I have this complication, that will be immediately taken away from me. I'm such a wuss. I realize that if there is a problem, it's in my best interest to be hooked up to all of that techno-stuff. I'm also afraid I won't be able to have a waterbirth, because again, if I'm hooked up to monitors and computers, the last place they'll want me will be in a tub full of water!

My doctor's office just told me that I should avoid sugars and carbs until gestational diabetes is ruled out. It doesn't help that I just finished drinking a chocolate milk shake right before I got the phone call!!

I know I just need to chill out. I can't do anything at all until Monday, anyway, so for now I'll just watch what I eat and take some extra iron.

I guess my husband will have to finish off my Starbucks Latte-flavored ice cream.

Sigh.

The Best of Times and the Worst of Times

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...

If ever I write a book about my pregnancy, that is the sentence I will use to open the first chapter. What a roller-coaster this has been, and I'm only 6 months into it!

Yesterday I had my last monthly doctor's visit, and now I begin my twice-monthly (bi-monthly? bi-weekly? What is the correct term for "every other week"? Every fortnight? hehe...) visits. At one time in my recent past, having my arm poked with a needle for the purpose of removing my blood caused me to faint. (Literally. Smelling salts have been required on more than one occasion!) Now I don't so much as flinch. I just sit there, look up at the ceiling, make small talk with the nurse, and it's over.

So it's great that I've gotten over this fear....not so great that the REASON I've gotten over this fear is that half of my blood supply now resides in a lab somewhere!

As my stomach grows bigger, I discover that my center of gravity has changed and simple tasks like walking up stairs or trying to get around a dining room table are difficult tasks. I forget that my abdomen has enlarged, so when I try to walk past people in a narrow hallway, I bump into every single one of them. "I'm sorry, please excuse me, pardon me....OUT OF MY WAY! LADY WITH A BABY!!" The good thing about this change in my physiology is that in many other instances, I get out of doing certain things. For example, when recently painting in my new apartment (with pregnancy-friendly paint, of course,) my friend who travelled all the way from Tampa to help me refused to let me climb the ladder to paint at the top of the walls. This was very sweet of her. Not only because she was concerned for the well-being of me and my baby, but because she is afraid of heights and hates ladders.

So it's great that I have friends who are willing to put themselves into uncomfortable situations to protect me. Not so great that I need my friends to do that!

My husband has never been sweeter! He is so understanding and patient with me, God bless him! Although I must admit, he's had it fairly easy compared to some! (Says me...he might have a different opinion on that one!) The other day I was so exhausted I pretty much put myself on bed rest. I didn't do anything. He came home and was so sweet and gentle, and went and got dinner for us, and when he came home there was a beautiful rainbow outside and a spectacular sunset. Since we live on the second floor of our building, he got my camera and took a picture of it, so that I could see it without having to get out of bed and walk down the stairs! What a sweetheart!!

So it was not so great that I couldn't walk down the stairs to see a rainbow and a sunset, but it was fabulous that my husband was so wonderful to think of taking a digital picture of it so I wouldn't miss out.

I've got the best husband in the world.