Last night, I went to my first prenatal aquatics class. It was rather enjoyable, but the two other people there (the instructor and a woman who's a regular at the class) were blithe fertiles with multiple other children already. I did not reveal myself to be as neurotic as I am, although they may have sensed it when they asked whether I would be doing a natural childbirth with the midwives (which they are), and I replied something to the effect of Ahem, I don't do anything reproductive without a team of expensively educated experts. (Speaking of experts, when we have to talk about the birds and the bees someday with our son, that story will begin: "First there was Mommy and Daddy - and a team of experts....") In any case, the class was fun, and it was enjoyable to be weightless and bouncing about in the pool to hyperkinetic remixes of "It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want to" and other classics. I start prenatal yoga later this week, which should be hilarious, given that I am less flexible than most men. Most ninety-three-year-old men.
In other news, I was solipsistically mulling over my symptoms so far, and I've determined that there are benefits to being someone who normally is absent-minded, pees frequently, sleeps poorly, has bizarre dreams, etc. - it means you don't even really notice severe effects of pregnancy! But there is an exception: clumsiness. Oh, I am definitely graceless normally, but I really have been dropping a lot of shit (not actual shit, mind you, which is still not dropped often enough, if you know what I mean). I don't know why it's so hard to hang onto things. Yesterday, I knocked a venti hot tea (fresh from the hot-water dispenser) all over my thigh, which resulted in five (5 ) blisters. Nice. And then I almost did the same damned thing today. I need a handler.
Today, I bought my very first nursery item: this rug from Overst0ck.com. I dislike blue stuff in the house (although I do frequently wear various shades of blue myself), so we're going with a cheerful yellow look and animal theme, I think - no going overboard on blue or, like, trucks until I'm sure that my kid digs that stuff, which isn't at all assured since I am probably secreting hormones to make him gay so that he will be especially devoted to his mommy. We'll also buy some IK.EA furniture, which will necessitate a trip into the Chicago suburbs, which I find harrowing in their indistinguishability (at least from a navigational standpoint). I was sure that my engaging in Internet commerce had doomed me when I felt a bit of a warm gush from my own personal South America, but nothing seems to have happened, and the little feller just keeps kicking me in the bladder.