You may have noticed an recent lack of posts on this website. It's because my body has been invaded by the creativity and energy sucking monster known as little Bugigangas, most probably of the male persuasion, due to arrive in this world in May.
Yup. I've become yet another expat-blogger-mama. Apparently, it's a trend!
An unexpected side effect of pregnancy has been the complete lack of inspiration, ability to write, think or string words together for the entire first trimester. I hope this means he's getting a little of my wacky brain. But all of his dad's math skills. (I have none to spare!)
I now officially look pregnant, as evidenced by the fact that two middle-aged women offered me their seats on the bus yesterday.
Other than the fact that I'm rather limited in the maternity wardrobe department (need to make a desperate Target run!), this isn't a bad thing. Visibly pregnant women in Brazil get to join the old-folks' lines at banks, supermarkets and the like; we're offered preferential seating on public transportation; no one lets us carry anything...which I foresee as a problem in the near future, as I do my grocery shopping on foot and am not looking forward to even more stares as I attempt to traipse past the gaggle of midday barflies aghast at the four shopping bags, 12 pack of toilet paper and one polka-dot cart that are being lugged across the potholes. It's a serious workout, people, especially on liquids day: milk, bleach, sparkling water, beer. You can get a lot of kilos in that cart, only to discover that the wheels are only partially successful at transferring the weight.
But at least I can now stand in the marginally shorter line. Although I might have to push my little belly out a bit. Those elderly folks can be downright vicious about their "rights." I've seen fights break out on the bus and in the grocery store on account of someone being in the wrong line or seat. It's kind of funny, if you're not the person they're yelling at. Better still is when a gaggle of grumps is tongue-wagging about how the person in line in front of them doesn't look sufficiently old enough. While they're deciding who's going to confront them, the girl turns around and her stick legs give way to a full, ready-to-pop belly that shuts them up with a healthy dose of something akin to shame. Makes me smile.
Unfortunately, the arrival of the bump also means that I'm ripe for groping. It's already starting to happen. People want to touch things that are growing. I get that. But if you're going to fondle my belly without my permission, why not take a squeeze at the boobs too, while you're at it? They're growing pretty exponentially as well...
(Be proud of me. I've bitten my tongue...so far. And managed not to swat the offender away...)