Today I asked my union rep if I should tell the administration about my delicate condition. She didn't disappoint - looked me straight in the eye and said, "No. It's early; you could lose it."
Um. Thanks. I guess.
This weekend the Boy & I had a number of talks about freedom & scheduling around the sprout. At one point, I expressed my utter confidence that because I know who I am, I won't worry about being swallowed up by motherhood.
"Besides," I said, "Lots of Saturday nights you'll being putting on a diaper and singing 'You Are My Sunshine' while I dance to 'Sex Dwarf.'"
He looked at me funny. "Uh, I thought we were going to stop doing things like that when the baby's born."
I was utterly baffled. We would stop diapering the baby? We would stop singing to it? Then I realized what he was seeing: a vision of putting a diaper on himself while singing 'You Are My Sunshine.' Heh.
I mean, not that we've ever done anything remotely like that, despite visits to the occasional fetish night. Still, the picture in my head's had me laughing for days.
