Monday, April 12, 2010

Pregnancy Brain

            Stop the train! Ack! Two months to go and we’ll have another kid in our lives. I think I could use one more month. But then again, Michelle’s belly is getting awfully large. I’m sure she’ll be happy to shed all that extra weight.
            Yesterday before church I put on a cartoon on my laptop as Michelle and Celia sat on the living room couch. Celia was lying on Michelle’s large belly like a pillow. It was so endearing I took a photo.
            As I sat down next to them, Michelle said, “At least my belly’s good for something!”
            I’ve noticed this time around Michelle doesn’t have as much “pregnancy brain” as she did with Celia. This time it seems like the pregnancy just makes her really tired and emotional, with major ups and downs. That happened last time, too, but she also did stuff that was completely oblivious to normalcy. Like the coffee incident.
            I remember being upset with the local café I’d been going to for my fresh coffee beans, because the woman who’d served me seemed stoned (or at least somewhat out of it), and I thought she gave me the wrong beans. Sure enough, after using them in my grinder for a week, they were so moist they just plugged it all up.
            I couldn’t believe it. I cleaned out the coffee grinder twice before finally taking the beans back to the café, one morning before work. I said, “My grinder can’t handle your beans. They’re too moist. Can you grind them?”
            “Certainly,” the young chipper woman behind the counter said, and poured the bag into their industrial grinder. Fantastic. At least they’ll be ground, I thought. But then, their grinder got plugged up, just like mine.
            The woman’s chirpiness turned into accusation, “What kind of beans are these? These aren’t our beans!”
            “Yes, they are,” I replied. We had a discussion about the beans where both of us felt like we were right. I hadn’t given them anything but their beans, and they were convinced that I’d slipped something else in. “Could anyone else in your house have done it?” they asked.
            I shook my head. Of course not. In frustration, they couldn’t make any more coffee that morning until the technicians came to clean the machine, and I left upset at the stoned woman who served me.
            I called Michelle on my way to work that day, and told her what had happened.
            “Oh,” Michelle said guiltily. “What kind of beans were in that green container in the pantry.”
            “Beans?!” I replied. “Those were chocolate covered coffee beans! And raisins! Of course they plugged up the machine.”
            Surprisingly, my anger turned instantly to mirth and I laughed. Pregnant brain. That’s the excuse we gave for all of those kinds of things.
            We’ve got two months to go. I’m hoping we can make it without seriously screwing up anything on the way.

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