It's finally the month of the Sprout! Neat!

My pregnancy paranoia continues: today at the supermarket I was almost convinced that my water had broken. Uh, nope. Everything's right where we left it.

We're trying to learn something from last weekend and not go crazy with the social commitments. To this end, we slept late, bought a few groceries & watched a truly wretched episode of "The West Wing" instead of

1. visiting my parents to help with the basement and
2. attending a three-hour yoga class focussed on labour exercises and
3. catching up on all the housework and
4. finishing all of our academic & professional projects.

We have a couple of different invitations tonight, but I think we'll just go to the one thing (Lucretia Nightshade's housewarming party). Maybe I'll feel less like flinging myself off the Bloor Viaduct come Monday if we take it easy tomorrow as well. Then again, maybe not. But it can't hurt.

Our Halowe'en was rather low-key. My kids were rangy bundles of sugar-charged energy, completely convinced that they had a free pass for the day. Fuckers. This, combined with the rising temperature of the school (because the weather was balmy and apparently no one knows how to turn off the building's furnace after October 1st), my inability to refuse chocolate when offered and my quilt-like costume all heterodyned to give me a huge mother of a headache by day's end. I was an hour late meeting the Boy at Innis College, but I was bright enough to leave a message for him to retrieve, so that was okay. We watched the still-terrifying, still-confusing "Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me" in relative silence, then went to Queen Street to meet Little Spider & Morgan to celebrate Morgan's spooky birthday at the not-so-spooky Zen Lounge. Then I had a meltdown.

I don't know how much of it was accumulated weariness from the last two weeks and how much of it was my pregnancy paranoia and the whipsaw effect it has on my nerves. I don't know how much of it was my still-snarling headache and how much of it was my general disenchantment with the Zen Lounge. I don't know how much of it was hating the music and how much of it was what I perceived as a God-how-huge-you-are-Amoret subtext to the conversations. And I don't know how much of it was being abandoned whenever they had a cigarette (like it matters in a Queen Street club!) and how much was the rational-or-not feeling that I'm moving into a place where my old friends are unwilling to accompany me. All I know was that I was sobbing uncontrollably in the bathroom and dabbing around the golden glitter dotting my face in the vain hope that I could keep it a secret from those outside. The temptation to drag the Boy away & pour out all of my troubles to him was nigh-overwhelming, but that's part of the problem. I need to have friends other than my husband; it's too much pressure on the both of us.

Anyway, I couldn't keep the tears in the bathroom. Little Spider dragged me away immediately, and she and Morgan spent the next 15 minutes trying to convince me of their intentions. I wasn't communicating very well, so I don't think I gave them a very good idea of what was really bothering me, but their repeated professions of love probably got to the heart of the matter better than I realized at the time.

I dunno. I'm still sad and I'm still wondering if I made this isolation through choice or if I'm simply not enjoyable to be around. But I've been wondering about those questions since I was seventeen, so it's not like it's a new concern. The only thing that's new is the impeding arrival of the hugely time-consuming Sprout and the self-imposed exile into my parents' basement. Not inconsiderable factors, but I suppose it's all part of the adventure.