In other news, we’ve been venturing out into the world of normal people, just a bit. We took our first trip to the baby superstore, where J actually had the energy and the focus to look at cribs and strollers and pack-n-plays and swings and the whole nine yards. I’ve been collecting ideas of what I might want for the abstract case of actually getting that far for a couple of years now, so it was nice to look at stuff with some semblance of actual purchasing possibility. Except that I was insanely jealous of all the normal people who had a much bigger selection of, well, everything, because they don’t need to fit two cribs into one room, or two kids into one stroller, or two carseats into one car. (I know some of that isn’t actually true, since there were a fair number of people clearly working on baby #2, perfectly spaced about 2 years behind the first.)
I also went to my first prenatal yoga class, which was full of the cutest pregnant women ever. We went around the room at the beginning with name, how far along, and one thing we’re looking forward to after the baby, and all of these 24-32 weeks and looking smaller than me women were a little nauseating. I know part of it is that I wasn’t remotely skinny to begin with, plus I’m short so I just look round all over, especially when I’m sitting crosslegged on the floor, but c’mon. It was still a nice class, though. Short, but both a little bit of a stretch and at the same time relaxing.
I’m working on a longer and more thoughtful post about telling and who gets to know what and who thinks to ask. Basically, the number of people who just think this is super cool and peachy keen and are totally not clued in either to the possibility that it was a long road to get here or that it might be a long road from this point forward. It’s just really weird. But more on that later.