Where are my pants?

If I were most of you, I'd really enjoy reading the progesterone-induced examples of Brooke's brain lapsing a little.  Because of this, I'm happy to share another with you.  I know I'd appreciate reading any of your stories that make me feel like we're all human and can't possibly be expected to know at ALL times where our own pants are.

The other night G and I were getting ready for bed.  He brought up some clean laundry including my freshly washed pajama pants and handed them to me in the bathroom where I was brushing my teeth.  A few minutes later I emerged and went to the bed in order to retrieve my pajama pants.  Of course they weren't there, so I walked back into the bathroom, expecting to find them there.  Not there.  I walked back out to the bed, thinking I must have missed them.  Of course they still weren't there.  I said with a little frustration, "How can a person lose pants in a two minute time frame?"  Gabe, just now realizing what I was doing says, "Wait---what?"  Looking at me like I was a little crazy.  It was at this point I realized I was in fact wearing my pajama pants.  I had put them on while I was in the bathroom.

And here's a photo of our Daly passing on his blessing and endorsement to our new president.  I think they both look very contemplative and ready to take on all our nation's ills.  Daly.  Ever the patriot.

Three things:

1. Yesterday it snowed here ALL day.  It was perhaps the fluffiest, most fake looking real snow I've ever seen--in my entire life.  It was beautiful.

2. It's kind of a long story, but a couple weeks ago I heard our school's band playing and recognized the music as  "you know, that song that goes: When we've been here ten thousand years..."  Gabe was quick to point out that I was in fact talking about Amazing Grace.  Maybe you've heard of it.  Still hoping this is caused by pregnancy.

3.  Today I hadn't felt much of our little miss moving around, so after lunch I began talking to her.  It occurred to me that it was probably too quiet to make her stir.  I really wanted her to stir.  So I rolled up some paper and put one end of the tube on my belly and spoke into the other end.  I urged her to wake up and move around for probably 5 minutes...and it worked! She moved all around for a good five minutes after that.  After that I felt a little guilty for waking her, but it was also a great feeling to --in a way-- interact with her. 

Merry Christmas!

Pregnancy = TBI ?

(I took this picture with our computer.  It's 8:00 at night and I am back to being pretty tired most of the day, hence the overdone "AWAKE" expression on my face.  Surry.)

Not to make light of serious traumatic brain injury, but I'll be honest, I'm behaving more and more as if my brain has been permanently injured.  I may just update my blog with the multitude of things I do that I will forever insist are all due to pregnancy.  Should these types of things continue to happen after I'm done being pregnant, I will insist to the end that being pregnant permanently altered my abilities---mental and physical.

Today I reached my arm out to open a door and hit my head on the door frame simultaneously.  I wasn't even mobile.  My feet were firmly planted.  A person would almost have to intentionally move the top half of their body forward too quickly before even moving their legs in order to hit their head in the way I did.  I'm certain it's worth it, though.

I might need to start wearing one of those id bracelets for when i inevitably get lost and can't remember my name, let alone how to get home.

If the whole idea of pregnancy causing mild (and hopefully temporary) stupidity is a myth, than I could be in trouble.  This morning I put my cereal bowl in the dishwasher.  I then turned and began walking toward the trash can.  I stopped a couple of steps short of it, turned around, walked back to the dishwasher and put my spoon in it.  For some reason I was originally planning on throwing it away.