So I realized today I forgot to say anything about the weekend away. And really, there are some things to say. The car trips there and back really didn't go too badly, for which I was so grateful. I kept whispering grateful yet paranoid little prayers, in the vein of, "Thank you God, she's still asleep, now just please don't let her wake up okay?!" But the packing prior to the road trip ended in myself having a tearful meltdown in the bathroom, so that was not so great. But hey! My first wild pregnancy mood swing! It had to happen sometime.
What brought on the attack of hormones was that Jim had to do last-minute work and couldn't help me pack OR watch Adelay, and you know what that meant. That meant Adelay was doing a fine job of following along behind me and unpacking everything I had just neatly stowed away. And Jim was saying, "Hey, why is Addy in here again? I can't watch her right now. Oh, and isn't it lunchtime?" And the toys and the clothes and the diapers were being strewn all over the house just as I was trying to get everything packed up and cleaned up, and I still looked like a mess and had nasty unwashed hair and my sister was here and we should have left a half hour ago and.... There you go. There she is, crying at the sink while trying to pull her hair into a sleek ponytail when her hair is in fact greasy, not sleek.
But this is about the trip.
The hotel was pretty nice, as mid-Ohioan hotels go (seriously, that was the name of one of the signs along the way: Mid-Ohio, 6 miles. I'd like to hear John Mellencamp sing a nostalgic song about that small town.) We spent the evening eating in a very nice, very expensive, very not-kid-friendly restaurant, but it was still fun, and frankly our dining options were limited. It was chain fast food, this overpriced but atmospheric place, and something called the Stop and Go Diner. The implications of the diner name did not sound promising to me, so we went with the quaint, darkly-lit restaurant, wherein Addy proceeded to throw her angel hair pasta on everyone and everything in a three foot radius. But it was actually still a fun meal, all things considered.
Then we all headed back to the hotel and swam. And things proceeded to get... Creepy. Now, the pool was clean and warm, Addy was having fun, things were good. But there were some not so savory looking guys also in the pool who were freaking me out a little, because I am just like that, suspicious of everyone who is male, moustached, and over thirty. They left, though, and all was well. Just us, a couple of little girls, and a dad and his son.
Except that it turns out the dad is the creepy one. He would not leave us alone! He and his little boy stalked us around the pool, and would not shut up about how cute Addy was, how beautiful her eyes were, how they would just love to take her home with them! And maybe it doesn't sound so weird in writing, but trust me, it was getting beyond the point of friendly small talk with fellow hotel patrons, and venturing into a weird, pre-kidnapping type of chitchat that was making me distinctly uncomfortable. So we didn't swim for too long!
Addy did sleep pretty well, fortunately, and we managed to get ourselves ready and checked out and on our way to the church on time. Jim had to take Addy out of the service about five minutes into it, of course, but other than that it was lovely. As we were all filing out to our cars, however, we noticed a truly rank, manure-like odor coming from the basement stairwell we passed by. Later, we discovered that there had been a giant pile of human feces just sitting there for every guest to enjoy a big whiff of on their way out. Lovely. I mean, who the heck...? I don't even have the words to form the question. I will leave the story at that.
So the wedding was over, and as usual there were about two hours to kill between then and the reception. And speaking of killing, I was wearing some pantyhose that were digging into my pregnant belly cruelly. Seriously, I was so uncomfortable I could barely breathe. We decided to go to the nearest Target, where I hunted down new hose and Jim chased our daughter around. I figured, oh, yeah, Target, they have a decent maternity section. They'll have maternity hose, right?
Wrong-o. I had to settle for buying a size larger than usual, and then scurrying off to the Target bathroom to wriggle myself out of the tourniquets which were currently wrapped around my thighs, and into these new hose, which proved to be no better. So, I was falling all over the disgusting, germ covered walls of the stall trying to get myself into the stupid things, swearing and panting and at one point spitefully kicking the old hose across the floor, when I realized I was not alone in the bathroom. And my fellow bathroom users were also guests of the same stinkin' wedding.
Ah, dignity. How I miss you sometimes.
P.S. If you haven't seen it, do go check out my comment to Lisa on my last post. Read it, and then come back and read this last sentence.
Dear Dr. K,
I just thoroughly enjoyed a pack of Easter basket Little Debbie cakes. I licked the crumbs off my fingers. I think maybe I'll have another pack! Come arrest me, I dare you! Call the pregnancy police!