“How did I even do that?”, Dan asked himself. He looked down at his steamy white hand. His expression changed from excited to really confused. “What the actual fuck did I do?”, he asked himself again. “Phil mustn’t see this mess”, he thought to himself. Phil was Dan’s flatmate and his best friend. Well. That’s what he’s told himself over and over again. But his friend was quite attractive and he couldn’t help looking at this blue, green and fucking yellow eyes. While he cleaned the sticky cream up he looked around. Phil didn’t like when Dan was messing around in the kitchen. Often Phil had to clean it up and he really disliked the smell. Did I mention this whole story is about an attempt to bake cookies?

After waking up at 4 a.m. with a dry sore throat, I was ready to blame even the rain on Hande’s mom and all the cigarette smoke. 

By the time I got to on the bus and heard sniffles and low coughs, I began to blame the right girl - myself. 

It’s me who takes gross public transit - not her. 

It was me who dressed myself irresponsibly for cold rain yesterday - not her. 

It is me who works with icky germy kids all day - not her. 

And by the time I got to school, I was sending her warm apology energy that I’d been so quick to blame. Sure, the smoke isn’t helping, but it’s not a germ, and what I got - it’s a germ!

Low and behold, everyone on campus was complaining of a dry sore throat today. To add insult to injury, the teacher I complained about yesterday being inflexible about the change in lesson times was the only one who offered my a lozenge when she saw me struggling. 

I officially have a bump now! Or, as the mothers at work have pointed out - “you’ve gotten big really quickly, like, really big! are you okay?”. Which is.. sweet of them. With my stomach and hair growing quicker than I am used to - I have taken action on the only one I could truly control. 

MY STOMACH and I’m fasting like I’ve never fasted before! Just kidding. I have chopped all my hair off into a pixie cut. My hair was not long before but now it is much less so now - for the first time in 25 years I do not have the same looking bangs. Thought I needed a big change in my life as growing a human is so everyday / hum drum.

In other news, I fear I may be becoming my father, weirdly, in this pregnancy.  

Ex.1) I’ve been enjoying making up silly songs about my hip pains / gas to the tune(s) of The Beatles “Hippy Hippy Shakes” and “Here Comes the Sun”. Just use your imagination on how those would go. 

Ex. 2) I also enjoy annoying the little critter, already! It is fun balancing things on my stomach and seeing if it can kick it off. Whenever loud sounds scare fetus - I laugh. One of the reasons I really enjoyed watching “Jurassic World”.

In between this tomfoolery we are dealing with the reality of our situation. We are n00bs to this parenting world with the extra fun of living thousands of miles from our respective families. We do not have a vehicle. Live no where near our friends (whom do have cars yet not all have children). So feelings of isolation have been hugging away at my soul. Squeezing bouts of anxiety and sadness into my daily life. It’s a terrible feeling. BUT - we do live in an expensive area for childcare! Hooray! More money worries!

We got that going for us.

In response to a very nice, but kind of shy message from an okay-looking guy I wrote:

Sure, for the first week I'm on top of my game. However, it's the days and weeks that follow is the time that matters most.