Having a Baby is Kind of Like Farming, Right?

As you all know by now, I have struggled to find appropriate maternity wear, and by appropriate, I mean appropriate for me. My friend Kat pointed out in a very clear and easy to accept way that maternity has a style of its own and it has no concern for your personal aesthetic or personality. Pregnancy is its own aesthetic, she says. I can see that, and more importantly, I can live with that. So, I have decided, when the time comes, I will suck it up and by the pseudo butch maternity pants that so many of you have recommended at Old Navy and the like. I will also look into the bella band and maybe see if I can talk the kids in the costume shop to sew some elastic panels on my recently purchased $10 Kmart men's jeans.

For now, however, I remain stubbornly attached to my own butch aesthetic. Lisa took me out about two weeks ago and bought me a couple of pairs of really big jeans, button-down shirts (with snaps, which I love!), and suspenders. We didn't try them on all together before we left Kmart. I just made sure the jeans fit and the suspenders were comfortable and we went home. Once home, I got dressed to go to rehearsal and... surprise, surprise... I have put a whole new spin on the maternity aesthetic!
I look like a damn farmer, but a damn cute farmer according to Lisa. (My head and hair aren't really that big. It's just a shadow.) The suspenders work well, and the clothes are really comfortable. That is important since I am growing like crazy right now--see, the farmer look makes sense. I'm growing something. Also, Baby Rick is kicking like crazy (I don't know if it was all the men's gymnastics I watched this summer or the musical theatre auditions I watched just as he started moving, but this baby can't sit still. I like that about him.) so I need some extra room in the belly to accomodate the movement. Anyway, the clothes are working, but I definitely look less like a pregnant lady who is entitled to throw up in the women's bathroom and far more like a beer-bellied, dirty old man who might be the last person you should let in a woman's bathroom. Fortunately, I spend a lot of time in the theatre department these days where people are far less worried about such details.

As for all the time I am spending in the theatre department right now: the chair of our department, Bob, is directing a play called Psychopathia Sexualis. Bob hasn't been feeling so hot lately so he asked me to help out. One thing led to another and now I am doing rehearsals pretty much every day. And, I must say, I am loving it. I am exhausted but it is fun and Baby Rick seems to like it too. He starts kicking hard at all the right times. I think he has already developed a keen sense of camp humor (that's our boy).

Lisa has been a real trooper, too. She brings me food at rehearsal whenever I want her to--and since I never know when Rick's going to be hungry, Lisa maybe hitting the road any time from 6-10. Unfortunately for Lisa and me Rick still rejects most foods, but he really likes $1 cheeseburgers from McDonalds. I hate McDonalds and Lisa can't even stand the smell of it. But Lisa heads to McDonalds multiple times a week and brings me a cheeseburger anyway. Sometimes she stays and watches rehearsal for a bit, too. It has become a real family affair. That's one of the good things about McDonalds, I get to see Lisa even though I am always at work. The other good thing is that I have finally put on a few more pounds so the mid-wives are encouraging my occassional McDonalds trips. Go figure.

Well, that's all for now. I must return to grading and working on the play and watching football.