Fancy pants

18 09 2007

As I sit here typing this, I’m slowly slipping away into a land of fluffiness and drool. The back was so painful tonight that when Jeff saw me in tears and suggested that I “go take [my] meds,” I reluctantly gave in. I took one Percocet about 45 minutes ago, and that sucker is starting to kick in.

So is the guilt. I feel absolutely horrible that I (however indirectly it may be) just gave my baby Percocet. Maybe I would feel slightly better about it if the pain was gone. But it’s not yet. I’m still hurting, my mind is having difficulty focusing on typing (it took me about 3 minutes of staring off into the distance and “thinking” to come up with the word ‘painful’ in that last paragraph), and I’m left to ponder my (oh, here we go again… what’s the word… what’s the word… AH HA) competence as a mother. When does the fluffiness take over completely?

On a much more exciting note, I was FINALLY able to find a pair of maternity pants that FIT in both the waist and the butt. Yesterday Ethan and I trekked out to the mall, where we had only two stops to make- Target and Motherhood Maternity. I only went into Target for a new diaper pail (my friend Kim suggested the Diaper Champ, and so far it’s been masking the odors of waste MIRACULOUSLY; thank you, Kim, from the bottom of mine and Jeff’s noses), two or three long-sleeved shirts for Ethan, and (…zoning out again… can’t… remember… oh yes) cinnamon baking chips (which I did not find, and have not been able to find ANYWHERE, anyone have any suggestions?). Somehow I left with, in addition to the aforementioned items, 1405251908_2014adb209_m.jpgwhich should have only cost about $45, $145 worth of stuff, the majority of it being an entire fall wardrobe for Ethan. Also a Spiderman umbrella, a tablecloth (it was on SALE), plain old regular chocolate chips, a book, some shampoo, a bag of candy corn flavored Hershey’s Kisses (which I love so much I am going to MARRY), and I’m having way too much trouble remembering the other random items. It’s the Target Phenomenon, wherein you will perish no more than .7 inches from a clearance rack before you will ever leave the store without 70 items not on your list.

From there we went to Motherhood Maternity. I have a Thing with this store, as I do with all stores geared specifically toward maternity clothes, as I’m sure a lot of women do. That Thing is that I refuse to shop there. I did once while pregnant for the first time, because back then I didn’t know any better. After spending hundreds of dollars on like two shirts and a dress that I never not once ever wore, I learned my lesson. Overpriced clothes have no place in a store that sells clothes that you will wear 11 times in your life. I’ll stick to my cheaply made, don’t-fit-quite-the-same-way-after-a-couple-washes Old Navy maternity clothes, thank you. Those ones fit for right now, and that’s all I’m asking out of my maternity clothes. You get what you pay for, and that’s okay with me, because even though at times it FEELS like I will be, I won’t be pregnant forever. (God, let’s hope I did not just jinx myself.)

However. The weather all of a sudden got chilly, like fall thinks its arriving or something crazy like that, and my elastic-waisted non-maternity capris just aren’t cutting it. And even though I own about 10 pairs of maternity pants, I am not lying or exaggerating when I say that not a single one of them fits in the butt. (The Bella Band I recently purchased, while perfect for magically holding up my unbuttoned non-maternity pants, doesn’t help in this situation; its magic unfortunately does not extend to the ability to shrink pant-butt material.)

So all those maternity pants that don’t fit? Yeah, they’re all the spawn of Old Navy. I thought I could get away with paying $16-24 for a pair of pants, but it was not to be. So I resolved to pay significantly more than that for a pair that fit, even if I had to try on every pair of jeans in every maternity store in the mall.

3246.jpgLo and behold, the very first pair I tried on (and I’ve never used this term before but I have no choice but to here because ohmyfancypants is it appropriate) fit like a dream. A dream! And they didn’t even cost as much as I’d been prepared to spend- $75 was my limit- just $45. The only glitch I could find was that they have the dreaded Panel*, or the turtlebelly, as I not-s0-fondly like to call it. I CAN’T STAND the way the fabric panel of the turtlebelly seems to engulf my belly like a merciless BOA CONSTRICTOR who is doing its best to suck the life out of me and squeezesqueezesqueeze me to DEATH. But I’m fine with just folding the boa down underneath my belly because the pants fit so well everywhere else (like a dream, did I mention that?) and for the first time in a while I felt good about how I looked in something. Well worth the 45 bucks.

After the mall we stopped at Safeway (where I once again failed to locate cinnamon chips) for a few things for dinner. I was perusing the hot prepared foods section for a roasted chicken (that went into making chicken salad sandwiches on croissants and was SO YUMMY, this is the recipe I used- if I wasn’t fighting unconsciousness right now I’d go make myself another), when I was accosted by a guy who must have been having a rough day. He asked me: “Ma’am (that was his first mistake, calling me ‘ma’am’), would you like a free paper?” I said, no, thanks, and tried to keep walking. He followed. He informed me that it was the Washington Post, and that it was FREE, did I hear that part? I again said no, thanks, and when he didn’t give up, I told him that I get it delivered at home, he could keep his free paper. NO THANKS.

He was relentless. He went into this whole spiel about how the Post is doing something amazing right now, they’d like to offer me three months of papers delivered daily FOR FREE, and did I realize all that the Post has to offer, and did I get it delivered every day or just Sundays?

I should have said that yes, I get it delivered on weekdays as well as weekends. I did not. Perhaps it was the toddler who was currently throwing everything he could get his hands on in the cart OUT OF THE CART and onto the floor, where his poor mother, still dressed in her NON-PREGNANT pants that just don’t fit anymore, who was I kidding?, had to attempt to bend down to the floor, ALL THE WAY TO THE FLOOR, PEOPLE, to retrieve said items, repeatedly, simultaneously fighting the Bella Band’s magical tightness and the basketball-sized belly in the way. Yes, perhaps that’s what distracted me into telling the truth, that I only get the Sunday paper delivered.

The man (who did not once offer to help me pick up the brick of cream cheese or the bottle of mustard or anything else Ethan had decorated the floor with) then urged me to take advantage of this AMAZING and WONDERFUL offer, launching into another speech about the Post and what having the Friday edition could do for me. Nine hours later when he was finished, I said, do I look like I have time to read the paper everyday? We don’t even read our entire Sunday paper as it is; we rarely stray from the safety of the Post Magazine, the coupons, the Best Buy ad, and the comics. More often than not, the rest is left completely untouched until it’s thrown out. If I take this free paper from you, and the three months’ worth of papers, I’ll merely be adding to the clutter of my ALREADY cluttered life, and I’m gonna have to pass.

leech.jpegWhen I walked away, he was still going. I realized no amount of my refusing was going to get through to him. He just could not fathom that I wouldn’t take something I didn’t need or want, simply because IT WAS FREE. And hey, I like free as much as the next guy. But leeches are free, aren’t they? And paper cuts? And junk mail? I don’t go snatching those up when they’re being given away. There’s selling, and there’s downright pushy, and this guy was Pushy. Other than his Pushiness and the fact that nobody on earth sells cinnamon baking chips, Ethan and I had quite the successful trip.

I mention this trip because I fear that I won’t leave the house again until December, which really bites because I now own jeans that fit! Like a dream! And who will ever see them if I get my hermit on for the next three months? Between the back pain, the general uncomfortableness, my pregnant fatigue, and my inability to chase and pick up my toddler these days, a trip to the mall is a daunting thing, a task that tires me before I’ve even begun it.

Speaking of being tired, I haven’t passed out yet. It’s now a quarter after 9, two hours since I took my Fluffy Drug. This means: 1, it’s taken me an hour and 15 minutes to write this so far, thanks to my inability to come up with SAT words like ‘pain’ and ‘cinnamon’; 2, it took almost that same amount of time for the pain to go away- I’ve just now noticed that indeed, the pain is gone- cool; and 3, there are only two hours remaining until the drug wears off. Hm. Also, curiously, the baby is still just active as he normally is at this time. I was expecting him to pass out, too; I was expecting to sweat some of this pregnancy weight off as I sat here worried out of my mind about how I couldn’t feel him moving. I was all ready to suffer through this worry until morning, when, if I didn’t feel him kicking me awake as he usually does around 6:30, then I could really start to Worry and begin phoning my doctor and his entourage. And yet, here I sit, conscious and functioning and having my insides treated as my unborn child’s playground. Being kicked in the bladder has never felt so good. (Nor has my back.)

*In the process of looking up the link to those pants, I found that this particular turtlebelly is apparently called the Secret Panel (patent pending). It’s a secret? Why is that, I wonder? Because it’s flesh colored? Because it will keep my secrets? Because it knows secrets? Intriguing…



7 responses

19 09 2007

It doesn’t even work to lie to salespeople of that sort. I lied to a credit card guy and said I already had the card, and he was all, “Do you have the BLUE one or the GOLD one?” and that’s when I said, “Look, I said NO THANK YOU.”

The newspaper people are even worse, though. One newspaper STARTED DELIVERING TO US AFTER WE SAID NO REPEATEDLY ON THE PHONE. It was free, but we DIDN’T WANT IT. And now we had to dispose of soggy piles of newspaper. I was pissssssssssed.

I’ve never seen cinnamon baking chips.

I like the plain Duo maternity tees on JCP’s website. They often go on sale for, like, $6.99 or $9.99. I buy every color and just wear them one after another.

19 09 2007

Seriously? This is one of the best posts ever. Please, keep taking the drugs and writing.

I too hate the high-waisted maternity pants with the grip of death. However, I have to admit that they are a better option than the below-the-belly pants which keep falling down.

And I would have taken the free paper and beaten the Washington Post pusher over the head with it, so you can rest easy knowing that you are far more polite than me.

19 09 2007

Awwww, your poor back. If you’re in pain, take the meds. If you’re worried, try half. I’ve been on percocet for a bad back for years, though thankfully didn’t need it while I was pregnant. I take around one a day now and the worst is the constipation – watch out for that, especially pregnant. Ugh!!

You should have just kicked the paper guy in the shins and ran away! 🙂

Feel better!!

20 09 2007

Swistle: I remember seeing you link to the JCP shirts on your blog awhile back, and meaning to check it out and forgetting. I’ll have to do that. Also, the cinnamon chips HAVE to exist- I have one of those paperback booklets that you get from the rack near the check-out line at the grocery store full of nothing but cookie recipes (I unfortunately was not handed down more than a handful of family recipes for anything, cookie or otherwise) and one of them calls for them. I will not stop until I find them.

Alias Mother: I will. Unfortunately, I don’t see an end to the need for the drug anytime soon, and all 52 of my loyal readers shall continue to reap the benefits of my percocetic prose.

AndreAnna: Ohhh, constipation, just what I need! Actually, the reaction my body had to it (ie, not being rendered unconscious AND relief from the pain) really made me less afraid of it, and I won’t hesitate (as much) the next time it gets that bad. And I would have kicked him and run away, except that I’m no longer able to move faster than a waddle, so he definitely would have caught me. I wouldn’t put it past him to chase down an angry pregnant woman. He was ruthless.

21 09 2007
ethans oma

Which recipes do you want ? Just ask me…

21 09 2007

ethan’s oma: You’ve given me the ones I’ve asked for. I just meant that our family doesn’t have like a tattered, stained old book of Secret Family Recipes that’s been passed down from generation to generation.

29 09 2009

I’m just looking in and agree with Caley.

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