Fears
1. That the children inside me will become bigger than me before they are born.
2. That C.S. will pair up with a Jeffrey Sebelia clone who will dislike me as much as Jeffrey dislikes Angela ("Arabella"? "Angela"? It's not that farfetched).
3. That I will never, ever, ever again find a comfortable pair of non-orthopedic shoes.
4. That my blog is becoming boring because it's been over two months since I've talked about anything but being pregnant or throwing up.
5. That I am doomed always, always, always to pull the last five tissues out of the box all at once.
6. That I will get E. coli from eating spanakopita.
7. That I will get an iron deficiency from not eating enough spanakopita.
8. That my breasts will never get significantly larger than they are right now.
9. That my breasts will get significantly larger than they are right now.
10. That I could have a child who's funny-looking.
2. That C.S. will pair up with a Jeffrey Sebelia clone who will dislike me as much as Jeffrey dislikes Angela ("Arabella"? "Angela"? It's not that farfetched).
3. That I will never, ever, ever again find a comfortable pair of non-orthopedic shoes.
4. That my blog is becoming boring because it's been over two months since I've talked about anything but being pregnant or throwing up.
5. That I am doomed always, always, always to pull the last five tissues out of the box all at once.
6. That I will get E. coli from eating spanakopita.
7. That I will get an iron deficiency from not eating enough spanakopita.
8. That my breasts will never get significantly larger than they are right now.
9. That my breasts will get significantly larger than they are right now.
10. That I could have a child who's funny-looking.
Copyright 2005-2010 by Arabella and Trattoria Breve. All rights reserved. 8:36 AM
9 Comments:
I'm confused. I've never actually seen Project Runway, but are you suggesting your BFF would be into a guy that looks like a PeeWee Herman-Andrew McCarthy cross? With neck tattoos? Uh-uh. Strike that one off your list.
(I think #1 might be a distinct possiblity. But then you have to take #9 into account. I'm guessing each tortellini will be about the same size as each sweet bun...?)
Boobs: Will get larger.
Kids looks: Both Bryan and I are ordinary -looking people but our kids are all way better-looking than we are. You're gorgeous, of course and gorgeous people can have great-looking kids.
Boring: Not boring...just preoccupied.
Just found your blog a few days ago and wanted to tell you that I enjoyed your writing. Don't worry about getting borring -- just write about what's in your head.
Keep eating spanakopita -- E.coli is killed when spinach is cooked. When E.coli was found in beef, the government said, "make sure to cook the beef". When it's found in spinach, they tell us to throw out the spinach. Guess the spinach industry doesn't have as big of a lobby as the beef industry. Sigh...
Oh Arabella, please don't get hung up on these fears!
They will be replaced with many others very soon.
Did that help?
i would be more concerned your kids are assholes than funny looking. what if you don't like them? what if i don't like them!?
and don't worry: neck tattoos and tapered, tight pants make me feel itchy. i'm not so much into the punk-nerd look, or really any look that requires more than a cursory glance in the mirror.
Ahhh You coast in the second trimester... Mother Nature gives out some sort of hormone to put all these things at ease... Everything is good...Energy is back, you're glowing...
and then the third trimester...
All of this worrying is just preparing you for a lifetime of worrying...about everything.
I want some spanakopita. Are you able to find it? Where's the damn spinach????
It's natural to worry like that, but it will be okay, I promise.
I do that with tissues, too, and with baby wipes.
Gah. The boobs! Did you know that we are supposed to gain at least half a pound in each boob? That will mean my boobs are going to triple in size.
And number 10? Not a chance. Your children are going to be gorgeous, except perhaps for that awkward period around sixth grade that is a rite of passage.
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