Now that I’m huge and obviously pregnant the general public takes that as a free pass to ask me about my pregnancy. 99% of people ask me “how do you feel?” I feel normal and not a whole lot different than when I wasn’t growing twins. When I tell people that they usually look really disappointed. Do they want me to be feeling horrible? Am I supposed to be feeling out of this world? I don’t know what they expect me to say but I do know that I am lucky to have had such an uneventful pregnancy so far and that a lot of women go through hell. What I really want people to ask me is “so what do you think of pregnancy?” That question, depending on the time of day and how much of it I have spent pondering the bizarre process of pro-creation could yield any number of responses. The topics I have been pondering lately are as follows:

**some of the below might be a little graphic or gross or just too much information in general so read at your own risk**

Occupational Therapy

I didn’t know becoming an occupational therapist was a legitimate career choice until I was in my junior year of college and overheard a few of the other athletes in the training room discussing getting their masters degree in occupational therapy after they completed their undergrad. I was eavesdropping so I didn’t ask for details but I still had no clue what an occupational therapist actually did. I concluded that an occupational therapist probably provided counsel to those who chose to obtain degrees in fields of study that had no promising jobs in the real world. I was surprised you would need a masters to tell somebody they made a poor life decision and would probably need to obtain another degree or additional training to get a job that would pay off the loans on their original degree.

Eventually I learned what occupational therapy really was but still didn’t grasp its importance because it didn’t relate to me as I was still young, healthy and in reasonably good shape. Eventually when I started to pay attention to people besides myself I realized how useful and necessary this type of therapy is; I have a friend who provides occupational therapy to children with disabilities and my grandparents have received therapy when they’ve undergone surgery and would have to use a walker or other type of assistance while they recovered.

Then one day shortly after my belly officially popped and I could no longer see my feet I found myself in quite the predicament in the restroom at work. When I went to wipe, my arms couldn’t reach any of the areas in need. I panicked. Did my arms become shorter? Did I have T-Rex syndrome?

Nope. My arms couldn’t reach around my stupid belly. 29 years of doing things the same way and I could not for the life of me think of an alternate way to accomplish this task. Finally, I stood up, did the old reach around and got the job finished. There had to be a better way though, would I really have to stand to clean myself the rest of this pregnancy? Later that night, probably over dinner, I asked Luke, “Babe, how do you wipe your butt?” These types of questions should not surprise him by now but this one made him choke on his food. He said nothing. I went on to explain my predicament and finally he replied, “from the back, duh.” Finally some clarity. Over the next few weeks as my belly got bigger I had to re-learn how to do many tasks I never had to think twice about before such as tying my shoes, getting out of bed, shaving body parts that I cannot see or reach in a safe manner, walking around corners, safely securing my boobs, picking something up off the ground, and many other mundane tasks I previously overlooked. Then it got me thinking of all the things I would have to figure out how to do with 2 babies such as leaving the house, going to the grocery store where carts only have slots for one nugget, picking two kids up at once, nursing two kids, loving two kids simultaneously and then my mind basically exploded.

Moral of this story is that I came to the conclusion that there should be occupational therapy for pregnant ladies and new moms. Is there such a thing?

Slinging a Jay

Growing up, every summer my family would go to our family reunion at my great uncle’s lake house in Lake Elsinore, California and then spend the week after at the beach in Carlsbad, California. We could walk from our hotel to the town center and often went to a restaurant called Jay’s. I think it was a casual pizza / Italian place. One night as we left the restaurant after dinner my dinner immediately didn’t agree with me and I spent the next 30 minutes testing the plumbing in the bathroom. When I finally walked out to the parking lot to join my family only my cousins (all male) and brother were left waiting for me. The entire way home they made fun of me and my bowel movements and teased that we would probably get billed for repairs to the bathroom. For the rest of the week, every time I would get up to leave the room my cousin Ryan would say something to the extent of “where you going Erin, To drop a Jay…?” and of course everyone would laugh. In fact, over ten years later everyone is still laughing about it.

Ten years after that incident we all found ourselves in St. Louis for my oldest cousin, Sean’s, wedding. By that time we were all drinking age and after a night of partying together with the cousins and uncles my cousin Ryan (see a theme here) took us to a late night diner and insisted we all order the St. Louis Slinger which was some sort of rice, gravy loco-moco type dish. At the time it was delicious but when the 8 of us got back to the hotel at 2 in the morning it affected all of us in the same way Jay’s had effected me. 8 people and 2 bathrooms made for a long smelly night. Naturally, we combined the two incidents and now when anyone in my family has to poop we fondly refer to the process as “slinging a jay.”

Early on in my pregnancy my sister in law was still pregnant and I constantly asked my brother every detail about her experience. One day I asked him, “What is Syd most looking forward to after Harrison?” I was expecting a textbook response like wine, sushi, skinny jeans or seeing her feet but his response was, “slinging a solid jay.” What???? I had no idea my ability to sling jays on the regular was going to be compromised? Never in my life did I have to wish for solid jay slinging, us Prudence kids were proud to be regular. I just couldn’t believe that something else could be stolen from me during pregnancy. I felt like everything good in life was being taken away from me.

From that day on, every time I sling a solid jay I thank the powers above and wonder if that was my last good jay until further notice. Pregnancy has really made me appreciate the little things in life.

The Skinny Getting Skinnier

There’s no way around it or me, I am getting fat. Yes, most of it is in my belly but everything else is getting big too. Before we left for Hawaii, I went to pack this panama hat Luke bought me last year and thought to myself to try it on first. Nope, didn’t fit. Even my damn head is getting bigger (most people thought that wasn’t possible). My butt is getting bigger to counter balance my belly. My fingers and toes swell when I don’t drink enough water or I consume too much salt. My boobs are getting bigger to accommodate the dietary needs of the twins when they get here. Everything is getting bigger. AND I STILL HAVE 3 MONTHS LEFT.

As I get bigger, everyone else is getting skinnier. They swear to me that they are the same size but all my girlfriends and especially my sister in laws who all just had kids are shrinking. When I was a normal sized person everyone else seemed normal and something drastic would have to occur for me to wonder, “WTF happened to so and so?” I wish everyone would stop shrinking, I can’t tell if I’m delusional or need to start staging interventions and share my fries! Will my circus mirror mind re-adjust after the boys get here?

So that’s what I think about. Sadly, it’s only the tip of the iceberg into my thoughts but this post started to run long. As long as I don’t get any scathing reviews from my loved ones I’ll share more of a look into my questionable thought process in another post. I should probably think about how to care for a newborn or what my birth plan is going to be but my mind runs off on all these wild tangents and then it’s five o’clock and time to go home. After reading this post it is perfectly understandable if you question whether or not I’m fit to be a parent, I’m sure Luke is. I hope you also understand why there weren’t any accompanying pictures.

Happy pooping, people!