My mother just cheered me right out of a 3 day funk (remind me again why I moved 800+ miles away?). Here’s a snippet of our text conversation (edited for some content that is irrelevant and some iPhone edits that don’t make any sense – seriously, what’s up with the mini computer thinking it’s smarter than me? Dude, I actually wanted to say fuck, NOT DUCK).
Her: I found you 3 books at DI today (oh man I miss DI – it’s the Utah equivalent of Goodwill – DI stands for Deseret Industries, it’s owned by The Church and it kicks ass over Goodwill. Trust me. People in Utah give away some good shit)
Me: you did? I love books! (really Anjeanette? I never would have guessed)(oh, p.s. these sarcastic, parenthetical add-ons are me talking now, not part of the texting. In case you’re wondering. Which you aren’t because you’re not a moron).
Her: yes, two on being pregnant and one on baby’s first year.

And there, in that moment my blackened, sad, little heart grew three sizes.

 

Dang. It’s really too bad I couldn’t find that snippet with sound. The little sproing when his heart busts through the frame is awesome. But anyway, y’all, my mom is excited about the fact that I wanna be pregnant!  Somehow that makes everything better. And here is the part where you’re all like “um, of course she is?” with a big question mark on your face. Let me splain. Other than my sister and one of my brothers who also live here in Portland, we (me and The Husband) don’t see our families much, so we don’t get to hang out with them, bounce ideas off of them, discuss our future plans with them over coffee at Marco’s, borrow money from them when we spent all of ours on candy, sleep on their couches when we fight, you know, regular family stuff, so occasionally I start to feel like I’m marooned on my own desert isle and the life I’ve concocted for myself can sometimes feel a little unreal. And I don’t have a lot of close friends either. I moved here to run away from a lot of things – my childhood, my adulthood (as far as it had progressed at that age, which honestly wasn’t much), The Mormons (sorry, but it’s true) and somehow when I got here I didn’t make friends so easily. I’m a moody Taurus, I’m not very outgoing, all sorts of excuses – I’m sure it’s part of The Depression, but whatever, it is what it is. I am a rock, I am an island. I spend a lot of time up in my head, I do. Sometimes I can go days without noticing anything around me. It can get a little creepy. But today, thinking of my cute mom buying books about pregnancy for me was like a giant slap on the forehead, a great big DUH – wake up stupid – THIS IS FOR REAL. I got married, and soon I might get to have a baby. And it’s not just a fantasy going on up in my head anymore, we done TOLD PEOPLE. And they’s GLAD! Oh, I forgot to mention this a few days ago, but The Husband’s mom called to tell him that she had a dream that I was knocked up. So it’s not just my mom,  everybody is on board, yo. THE UNIVERSE WANTS A BUN IN MY OVEN. Ew. That just made it sound all gross and immaculate conceptiony. I promise I’m not planning on giving birth to a saviour of any type. Just a regular kid for me. Is that blasphemous? Great. I’m going to hell again.

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