To bend or not to bend. That is the question.

When I used to think of having a baby, I'd always leap to the actual birthing process and shudder. I used to think that I'd never have the cajones to push a human being through my loins. That all started to change around the time that I couldn't see my toes anymore. Here is a list of things that I can no longer do without assistance:

-Put lotion on my legs below the knee
-Put on underwear (caveat: I actually can put on underwear, it's just not guaranteed to be on the right way unless Mr. Val helps. Just last week I realized about 3/4 through the day on Thursday that I'd been wearing my underpants inside out all day.)
-Buckle/Tie shoes
-Paint my toenails

I also am finding shaving incredibly difficult but my foolish pride is standing in the way of asking for assistance. I'd like for there to be SOME mystery left between my husband and I, even if it has led to some patchy shave jobs as of late.

The other big issue at this stage is bending over, which for a klutz like me, has led to a few existential crises as of late. Case in point:

The Vending Machine Incident:

One of the more recent food items I've gotten addicted to is Raisinets. I've always liked them, but I stone cold LOVE them now. It's great because the raisins counteract the chocolate and the vending machine at work stocks them and lets face it, Raisinets are like the last thing to sell out of a vending machine. I'm the only one who buys them willingly, the only other time they get picked is when the machine is all out of other candy.

But I digress.

Anyway, today I was waddling down the hall to get my Raisinet fix when the unthinkable happened. I dropped my damn quarter and it rolled partially under a cabinet. I stood in the hall for a minute weighing my options. I could:

a.)Bend down and get it and pray to the baby Jesus that I don't fall over/split my pants/pass out from sheer exhaustion
b.)Waddle back down to my desk and get the dollar that is hanging out in my purse for emergencies such as this
c.)Forget about it completely, you don't need Raisinets anyway
d.)Stand there until someone passes, at which point rub my belly and look sad and hope they offer to pick up my quarter

I actually thought long and hard about option d., but I'm not the world's most patient person. I was about to go for b., when the voices in my head started trying to convince me that bending over isn't really that bad and I should just get my lazy pregnant ass down there and pick up my quarter. So, I went with a., which involved me bending at the knees as low as possible and running my fingers under the cabinet until I felt the sweet, chocolate producing metal rim of my quarter. Right as I was about to grab it, the worst possible thing that could have happened, did.

A throng of co-workers round the corner just in time to see me writing around on the floor, my pregnant ass huffing and puffing for a stupid quarter. This being a particularly chivalrous group of young men, they approached and asked if they could help me up, did I fall, yada yada yada, to which I mumbled that I had just dropped my quarter and I was OK and thanks and have a nice day. It would be fine if this were the end of the story, but nooooooo. Apparently my karmic balance sucks b/c as I head to the vending machine I realize that they are headed that way too.

Did I mention it's 10:00 AM in the morning?

The first guy gets trail mix, quite possibly the only thing in the vending machine less popular that Raisinets. The second guy gets pop tarts, classic morning choice, and the third guy gets some cookies. I'm feeling better because lets be honest, Raisinets are way better than Pop Tarts or Cookies, so I put in my money and make my selection, arriving at that blissful moment when you get exactly what you want out of life. I started to waddle back to my desk when I hear, "Rasinets huh? My mom loves Raisinets."

Sigh.

There are only so many indignities a gal can take, before she is capable of things never before possible. Which is why I am no longer terrified of childbirth. The prospect of a life without seeing my toes or shaving my entire calf without incident is much more terrifying than labor.

Until then I'll keep weighing my options when I drop stuff...anything over $5 I will probably huff and puff my way down to the floor for, under that all bets are off.

Those were some damn good Raisinets though.

XOXO,