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Straight From the Bottle

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  • The Twenty-Two Hour Nap

     

    Uh... So... Yeah. I just slept twenty-two of twenty-four hours. I wish I were lying.

     

    It all started when I accidentally slept until 1pm. I tried to have a day but, man, that plan backfired after passing out in front of full frontal fashion an hour later, dragging myself back into bed and waking up again at 7pm for a nice hour before going all narcoleptic on myself. 

     

    Fort Archer

    Archer says: wake-up and play with me, Mommy! 

     

    I wonder how people do this without help. Be pregnant, work, take care of a kid. I have a newfound respect for every woman who can fight the urge not to sleep for twenty-two of twenty-four hours. I obviously don't have it in me at all. Which is going to prove interesting next month when I hit the road for two and a half weeks of coastal driving (San Fran to Vancouver) all by myself. I have no idea how or why I thought I could pull off a pregnancy during a book tour/promotion but I wasn't thinking with my real brain. My fake brain, yes.  I suppose I was just expecting the same no-nonsense pregnancy I had with Archer. Ha! Yeah, right!....

     

     

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  • The Girl Who Cried "Pregnant!"

     Do I seem pregnant to you?" I asked this afternoon.

     

    I also asked the same question this morning, this evening and about 65 other times in the last twenty-four hours. I feel like a total idiot admitting this but not not trying to get pregnant is turning me into a preganoid weirdball. On Superbowl Sunday I took one sip of beer and "OH GOD! What if I'm pregnant. No! I can't! I shouldn't!"

     

    Because what if I'm pregnant, you know? Of course, there's a good chance, I'm not. We're not really doing anything trying-to-get-pregnant people are doing. No post coital handstands or rocking my ass above my head, Big Lebowski style. No testing my ovulation. No all-day marathon sex. Just the occasional boot-knock-sesh and "goodnight!"

     

    IMG_3546

     

    Except for some reason, I have become the girl who cried PREGNANT, assuming that I must be pregnant at all times, even though I have a good week before I would even think to take a test.

     

    "But my tits are HUGE!"

     

    (Plth.) "Sorry! I'm so gassy right now."

     

    "I feel nauseous! Wait... Never mind. Actually! Wait! Yes, I feel sick, again! I swear!"  

     

    "Did you get that baby name list email I sent you yesterday. To me choice #1 is a no-brainer. But in the case of twins, perhaps we should have two choices for each sex, doncha think?"

     

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  • I Know What We'll Do Next Summer

     

    Okay so about the whole second baby thing. We're kind of nowhere near ready. Then again, we weren't even close to being even a tiny bit next to nowhere near ready with Archer so maybe that doesn't matter so much.

     

    That being said, we've decided after months and a cazillion hours of contemplation that next summer seems like a good time to remove the contraceptive and Whoop! There it is! ... Or if you will/ in the words of today's TTC** couples: we're going to "try"...

     

    Archer turns three next May, so if all goes as "planned" Archer and #2 will be four years apart, which seems like a really big gap to me but there's no way in H-E-Double Hockey Sticks we can get me pregs any sooner. I would be a walking disaster-zone with all that's going on. Shit, I'm a walking disaster-zone, anyway. 

     

    Natural History Museum

    (Archer as an only child.)

     

     

    I've been weighing the pros and cons against my own childhood: my brother, David and I are 2.5 years apart and it was awesome for us as kids. We were BFF for years and even though we had a love-slump in High School we're OMG totally BFF! again, now that we're adult-ish people. My sister, Rachel and I have seven years between us which is a lot. And it kind of sucks because I never really got to know her like I wish I did. I moved out when she was eleven. There was very little borrowing of clothes or bonding over boys. And that would have been nice. To have that. I want Archer to have that. I want him to have a built-in BFF or at the very least, someone to bounce ideas off. Someone to talk shit about Hal and I with when we're acting lame and annoying and "Gosh! Our parents are such tools!"

     

    That's important. To have that.  


     

    IMG_3235

    (Archer with "Emily," a doll we picked up at Rite Aid so we could sample life as a family of four. We're weird.)

     

    Of course, I'm totally torn between wanting Archer to have a sibling close-ish in age and being waaaaay overwhelmed by the thought of having another kid...

     

     

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About the Blogger

rebecca woolf

Rebecca Woolf in LA

Who says becoming a mom means succumbing to laser tattoo removal and moving to the suburbs? This young writer and mother of one gives it to you Straight From the Bottle.

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