Part of Your World

-
(Written September 10, 2010)

I should have known when I couldn't stop singing....

But I didn't.

On a whim Lloyd and I went to CVS in Fullerton to buy a pregnancy test.

There we were looking at all of the options in the "Family Planning" section.

I settled on the pee sticks (really a confusing choice) and headed back.
As we drove back toward Cal State Fullerton, where we had a hotel room for the night I could not stop harmonizing- and even dragged Lloyd into it.  I was telling him that we should teach ourselves to sing and I encouraged him to belt out

"YELLOW, YELLOW,YELLOW, YELLOW,YELLOW, YELLOW, YELLOW, YELLOW!" In our most soprano voices followed by some very barotone

"BLUE,BLUE, BLUE, BLUE BLUE, REEEEEEEEEEEEDDDDD"

I know....

It sounds crazy, but at the time as we headed down Commonwealth it felt totally the right thing to do.  Us two, belting out the primary colors.

And before the colors shenanigans I found myself singing other made-up songs.  I improv'd a song about being in love which must have been really good because my man asked me "is that a real song"??

And last night as we got ready for bed I suddenly felt the need to Google the Little Mermaid's lyrics to "Part of Your World".  I didn't find that too out of the ordinary since I recently became addicted to the hit series, Glee.  Yea, I said it.... I'm obsessed.

Despite all the chummy acapella jam sessions I seriously did not think I could have gotten pregnant that quickly.

And now, long after that car ride and a glaring "plus" sign on a pee stick, I sit here in a comfy hotel bed with an ALREADY swollen belly, crystal clear skin, and oodles of energy at 4:30 a.m.

I'd love to get some sleep since I have to be up in an hour for an all day conference today at CSUF, but I can't stop tossing and turning.

Today I am 11 days pregnant, or 4 weeks if you go by the traditional 40-week calendar. 
Our 'baby' isn't even 1/17th of an inch yet.  A few more weeks until then!

Can you tell??  I'm OBSESSED!!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

"Dear Bobby"

-
Image
"Dear Bobby, I love you. I always look forward to when my husband leaves for work, and you sneak into bed with me. Sometimes, you will wake me up, but usually, you just lie there next to me waiting for my eyes to open." Bobby. You are a cat. But you are the cat of all cats. Unliked some others whose names I will not mention.... you like being a cat. You are my original Obi Kenobi... But you don't like your name and insist I call you "Bobby" or "Bob". You are my predator. You can catch anything- including a rabbit almost twice your size. I remember the time you brought a baby possum into our home. I had just awakened and sleepily headed to use the bathroom when, peering from inside the toilet, was a little possum begging to be released. You cheeky bastard, Bobby. That poor possum. I scolded you and you just turned the other whisker, as if to say "look lady... I am a cat, that's how I do...." The other cats beg for forgiveness when ...
Read More

The Good Dancer: A Dating Story

-
Image
I once dated a really good dancer. That wasn't his only strength. In truth, he was one of thee absolute best dudes I ever made out with.  He was super funny, smart and we clicked right away. But what struck me as odd was that, for the first time before and since, his good dancing skills didn't turn me off.  (For some reason, a man with too much swagger on the floor has always confused and frightened me a little.)  Oh, and I also don't like when they are so involved in their dancing that they forget you are on the floor with them.  Oh, and when they A. crowd you or B. use you as a prop.  Oh, and when they sing along to songs by female artists.  If you know all the lyrics to "I'm a Slave for You", that's both impressive and embarrassing. (I really did have strange deal-breakers with men...) So here was the first guy who I enjoyed dancing with that was actually a really good dancer.  He didn't crowd.  He didn't sweat profusely.  H...
Read More

Degree

-
Image
It was on Friday night. We laughed a lot, perhaps made delirious by the sweet smell of men that were familiar-yet-elusive and desirable. It could have been the wine,  it could have been the great company of old friends and conversations and shared opinions with other women. I disagreed with Ariel more than once, though... "Too sweet" or.... "smells like a jelly bean...." The ones I couldn't put down were the ones that smelled like a man's deodorant, hidden among 75+ samples that scattered in baskets around the coffee table. There we sat around a table full of scents as we sampled the fragrances from a friend's Scentsy collection, eager to fill out our order forms for the smells that would soon promise to envelop our homes. I opted for the "Iced Pine" option, which always reminds me of the home I have not yet lived in and lingered around the fragrances that smelled of citrus and orange peels.  The idea of the smell of "Orange...
Read More