Warning: Fragile

One month left until my due date.  How long until JC actually arrives?  Well, my sister had her baby three weeks early.  It seems pretty wild to me that I could, hypothetically, be toting around a baby as soon as next week.

Even if I wasn’t keeping track of the time myself, the way other people treat me these days tells me just how pregnant I am.  I’m a tall girl — as big or bigger than a lot of guys, and I’ve always been a little prickly about getting special treatment based on gender.  It’s one thing to have a person to hold open a door for another person, but for somebody to hold a door for me merely because I am a girl?  Or to lift any and all heavy objects for me because I am a girl?  I appreciate the kindness intended by such gestures, but my possession of a vagina does not make me breakable, nor does my relative lack of testosterone make me a total weakling.

Apparently being pregnant makes a person extra breakable, because everybody, male and female, treats me with extra care these days.  The other week my hiking companions audibly gasped when I slipped and hit my shin while traversing a steeper section of trail in the Boise foothills.  One day recently in the parking lot of Home Depot a woman yelled out, “Wait!” from a couple rows over when she saw me transferring a large bag of potting soil from my cart to my car.  When people see me shoveling compost for the garden, they are invariably shocked and impressed.  And yet, I am not Crossfit Mom; my displays of physical activity by any normal (e.g. non-prego) standard are hardly impressive.

One of the women in my hiking group suggested I take advantage of the special treatment while it’s being offered to me.  I know I won’t, because I like to imagine I’m a tough girl, but when faced with one of these encounters I do appreciate it, if only a little.    Even when special treatment is unwanted, it’s nice knowing that people care.

***

The move into the new place is nearly complete.  All the furniture is where it should be, and most of the non-baby-related mess in JC’s room now consists of bags of paperwork, excess computer cords, un-hung pictures, and knick-knacks.  J started hanging pictures on the walls yesterday, and the yard is really starting to come together.  Here is a picture of the garden progress.  I’m really happy with the planter boxes I put together:

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Here’s a picture after we got the mulch, topsoil, and compost in.  My neighbor’s little girl and her friend came over while we were working and “helped” a little with some hand shovels:

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And here’s one last picture of the walkway we put in.  J and I hauled the flagstones ourselves from the rim of a canyon in the desert country near here (how’s that for a fragile pregnant lady!):

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