Pregnant Pause

Now that Big Mama is finally in her 13th week I am ecstatic to be able to annunce that I am with child! We are thrilled that our little man Brooks will have a friend to play with because I'm sure this Mom gets a little boring day after day.

As thrilling as this is, of course I had to round out my 1st trimester the classy way: partying in South Beach! I got to attend the Bachelorette party of one of my very best friends 2 weekends ago, and spent 3 days partying my buns off with an awesome group of girls, and some of the classiest people this side of the Mississippi. And by classy I actually mean not classy at all. Which was perfect because I fit right in.
First off, it just happened to be a Lesbian and Gay Pride convention, so within 1 hour of my arrival to beautiful South Beach I felt compelled to tell my unborn baby why we were around such a colorful crowd. That really set the weekend off just right for what was to come.

When you are pregnant the first thing that comes to mind for most people is probably not a weekend of debauchery in a city that can only be described as the Vegas of Florida. I had spent my first trimester mostly really, really tired and was in bed with a handful of dove chocolates or a bowl of ice cream most nights, so I was a little bit worried that I would a) not be able to keep up with the night life, or b) find that I still loved it so much I would have to give in and fly to LA to be Snooki's new sidekick.

I will say that it was really hard to watch everyone in the entire city enjoy cocktails while I went wild with my water with extra lemons, but I had a blast the whole weekend. We saw Latin Dancers, accidentally stumbled on to a completely lesbian  bar and were welcomed with open arms, went to the hottest night club in South Beach, and finished the weekend off with a really, really graphic drag show. Overall, I think my unborn baby has an idea that mama is not Mother Theresa.

One of my very favorite things to do is to dress up and go dancing, so the night at the club was probably my favorite. I wore insanely impractical shoes, a sequin dress that fit only because I forced it onto my growing body, and more make up than I have probably worn collectively in the last 3 months. We danced the night away until 2 am and that would have to go down as my favorite night. However, the night did not end as planned....I headed home about an hour before the rest of the crowd with a good friend of mine, Sara, and despite my complete sober-ness, was so concerned helping Sara out of the cab that I left my phone in the cab! This is absolutely the worst feeling in the world, and I didn't even have that wine buzz that makes you sort of laugh about it. I called the main cab company to see if there was a way to track it down and without a specific cab number that I had gone in, the lady gently told me that "there was no way on earth we are finding this phone."

I will say that there is something about being in a nightclub, 100% sober, and pregnant, that feels just a smidge trashy. I caught eyes with quite a few girls that I could tell had been "overserved" and just wanted so badly to go hug them and say let's go home! I think the mom instincts begin to kick in on all accounts. At one point our group of girls attracted a young man who began to dance with us, and I turned to my friend Sara and asked "who is that?" She turns to me and slurs "I don't know, but he's beautiful." To which I died laughing, because let me tell you he was not beautiful! At that point I did wish I had beer goggles on because life is just a little more fun once in awhile through foggy beer goggles.

One interesting thing that comes with pregnancy that I find pretty hilarious is that it is like people are wearing beer goggles towards you. And with that comes the fake compliments. Towards the end people feel so bad for you as you waddle around they start to tell you what I call flompliments - fake compliments that they make up because they feel so awkward staring at you. It includes things like "you're glowing," (um, wow this chic is sweating up a storm), that you are "carrying it really well" (wow, had no idea what an extra 75 pounds would look like on you), or the best, "you're about to pop!" (I can't believe this child hasn't exited your body, I'm freaked out that you are going to get even an inch bigger, stop growing, yowza). I was told with my first child that I was about to pop from about 7 months and on, so this one gets really fun.

It doesn't end with strangers though, even my husband feels so bad for me he tells me fompliments too. They include things like, "your arms still look really fit" (but the rest of you scares me, scares me to the core), "you're still moving around really well" (it puzzles me how you're getting around, you gigantic cow), or the best/most awkward "you can't really tell from behind" (so turn around because I need to visualize you normal!). Even though I am really not showing much yet the fompliments started with the hubby last night. Laying in bed together and cuddling, Zac proceeds to tell me that I smell like "one of our old apartments." Ummm. Pregnant Pause. We lived in a gross apartment when we first got married and a not much better duplex after that, both of which smelled vaguely of frat parties, so I'm not sure what to take from this. The truth is my hubby is darling and so sweet and I had put on perfume that I used to wear when we first got married (Coolwater- the kind you buy at Walgreens when you're in the 8th grade, yes I wore this until about 2 years ago, when I majorly upgraded by buying Juicy Coutoure at TJ Maxx), so he meant that I smelled like when we first got married, but the whole thing had the air of the fake pregnancy compliments about it.