to lay blame

Pregnant women come face to face with many of the most vexing philosophical and moral questions of our times. For me the greatest struggle lies in the question, to blame or not to blame (the baby every time I screw up, that is).

This past week I faced a difficult situation at work. Okay, a difficult person. And I had to answer the question -- is there any way for me to draw the fetus into this? I concluded that there was. And sure enough, it worked! The difficult person went home and came back two days later refreshed, relaxed, and more solicitous of me and my burgeoning belly. Victory!

Hey, that's got a nice ring to it: Victory Woiderski.

Lesson: do try this -- at home, at work, whenever, wherever. It WORKS.

10 months??!?!?!?

The Ten Month Tour de Belly -- explained

As best I can figure, this whole 10 month flap has something to do with Gregorian, Lunar, and Vegetarian calendars and which one you're on. For now, since I'm 30 years old, have never done this before and am not in any rush to have a living breathing ball of colic running around my dirty floors, I've decided to get on the calendar that will drag this out the longest. Check back with me in August, when I'm pretty positive I'll be switching to the one that gets the little kickball monster out the fastest.

My dad told me he was shocked, appalled even, when the hospital discharged he and my mom with screaming baby me after just a few days. Couldn't believe they were considered prepared enough...luckily my mother is a superbly competent woman at everything she tries, and my father's parenting skills did kick in soon enough -- right around the time I got big enough to kick a soccer ball (and throw a baseball, shoot a basketball, hit a tennis ball...you get the picture).

So far, it hasn't sunken in for us that what are now symptoms will one day be a small human -- in our living room, to stay, for 18 years (or 25 in Buckmaster years).

The common cold and moon landings

Help -- I can't stop telling people! Today I only told one perfect stranger, but somehow that seems like enough. And I was going to play this so cool... baby madness is an easy contagion.

Having a baby falls somewhere in between catching a cold and a moon landing. It happens seven times a second! Whereas someone catches a cold only 3 times a second. Ok, I made the cold statistic up, but the baby number is real. Seven times a second. Kind of makes you think. Or want to sneeze.

Thought from a friend to stave off the nesting impulse buys -- women in other places do this with much, much less. So can I! It's all up to you though -- no throwing me fancy baby showers or sending me ridiculously adorable websites with like www.shoppingfortwo.com or www.buymemommy.net.

Of t-shirts and other pregnancy essentials

Like most people, I've known a pregnant woman or two -- oops, sorry, a woman "with child." And I've been just as annoyed by them as any other rational, with-out child adult. And then it happens. You're a little late, you start feeling even nuttier than usual, and you have a strange aversion to coffee and beer. This, for me, was the final straw.

So I took the test (okay, I took two tests, just like everyone else apparently), and took the dive into the strange world of baby books that use the word "expect" a minimum of two times, three if it's a really really good book, and into the virtual mommy world where you're no longer really having a baby unless you're blogging about said baby.

The title for this blog comes not from any belief that our baby will be stupid -- nay, this will be the smartest, most brilliant creature ever in existence -- but from the desire to stay sane and blue and pink clothing free throughout these 10 months (yes 10! but that's the topic of another post). There are enough people having perfect babies out there, swept into perfectly coordinated rooms, perfectly coiffed and changed the second they burp tiny bubbles onto their perfect onesies. But the allure of perfect is strong, so I decided to turn to the web for support in my quest for imperfection.

I hope you'll read along and help me avoid the pitfalls of hundred dollar organic sheet sets, tiny monogrammed towels, and designer diapers.

But back to the title! Like any other slightly nerdy expectant couple still childless in their thirties, we immediately started coming up with t-shirt slogans. "Future gearhead," "It's just a parasite," and "Step away from the belly" were all fine and well, but I really brought down the house with our favorite warm fuzzy maternity t-shirt slogan, "I'm with stupid." This is beyond tasteless, yes? But somehow comforting in an overdeveloped world in which having a baby is treated as the most unique experience in the world, when in fact, it is perhaps the most common. Think about it -- any culture that doesn't participate in this rite (wasn't it the Shakers that didn't reproduce?) doesn't last long. Everyone is connected to the experience of birth.

Obvious, but in a world where CNN flashes celeb baby bump items as News feeds, it feels necessary to remind myself that having a baby is just as ordinary as it is amazing.