Craving School

I swear I am not bored or anything but this evening, as I was sitting in front of my laptop drafting letters to my tenants about transferring their utilities, I heard myself utter the following: "Is it a long case? Do you need help?" DH was sitting on the other side of the table minding his business and reading a case from a humongous textbook. It was kind of an unusual question because I'd kinda sworn off helping him with any school work after I found myself typing his last term paper at 2 in the morning a couple of months ago while he was sleeping. I guess I've changed my mind ever since I found out that he got a solid 20 out of 20 on that paper. I'm not boasting or anything but in my final semester, I got 2 As and one B plus and that's with me being preggers, working full-time, going to school full-time and taking a capstone class. I just had to throw that in there. I don't know if I miss school already but I really don't mind helping with this latest paper. There's something about writing an academic paper that seems attractive to me right now. I'm sure it's against school rules but whatever, it's an interesting case about Coca-Cola.

In any case, I should probably be busying myself with more important things like getting the baby's car seat, reading up on what to do when the baby gets here like how to bathe a newborn, etc. I'm totally clueless. This weekend, my friend came over with her three year-old son and she asked me to help him in the bathroom. When he was done peeing, I asked him to clean himself with tp and he said he didn't usually. I checked with my friend and she said: "Don't you know that boys just shake off the excess pee?" I seriously didn't know that. At this point, I would be a little lost if I had a boy. Maybe the whole desire to do schoolwork is me trying to wrap my head around something that's more familiar to me. Who knows?

Squiggly Red Little Things

For the most part, I have been 'lucky' with my pregnancy. By lucky, I mean I managed to escape the dreaded squiggly red things. Or so I thought. Yesterday, as I was getting ready for bed, I took a look looked at my back in my full length mirror and to my absolute horror discovered a brigade of squiggly red little things had taken over the back of my legs and my inner thighs.

Ewwwwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!! I got some stretch marks! I thought I had escaped them. I thought I was lucky. I was so vain. I thought I was so close to the end and I hadn't been blessed with those awful things without a cure. I dare somebody to tell me there's a cure for stretch marks. There's no cure! In the past, I have fallen victim to all the miracle creams and treatments and I repeat, there is no cure! None. Nada. Once you get it, that's it. You either live with it or get cosmetic surgery - laser treatments.

In my ignorance, I thought the only obvious place to get stretch marks once you get pregnant was your stomach. For those who don't know, almost every part of your body is at risk. From day one, I rubbed cocoa butter, shea butter, almond oil or bio oil on my belly every single day. Just about anything that I found from l'Occitane to Wal-Mart to Bath & Body Works to Target to Walgreens that promised to 'prevent' stretch marks, I bought. I am glad to say that my belly has been spared. However, I failed to be as obsessed over other parts of my body as I was about my belly and now I have squiggly red little things on my thighs and legs. Big hiss!