If I was awesome and did what all of the “Super Mom’s” do at this point in pregnancy,
I wouldn’t be eating chocolate. I’d avoid all plastic for fear of BPA. The nursery would already be done. My hospital bag would be packed and by the door. I’d be talking to the sprout like he was already out of my uterus at this point, seeing he has fully developed ears that come with the ability to hear me.
I’m not a Super Mom.
I’m a Super…not super?
I’m don’t know if it’s just me but, I really have no idea what to say to the sprout other than good morning or good night. Those two things seem sensible. I mean, do I narrate my day all, “I’m pooing now, sprout, and this is the point in the day where you don’t bother me…now I’m walking down the stairs to stuff my face because you make me STARVING (that’s totally an appropriate use of the word when pregnant).
almost feel like I’m a crazy person, talking to my stomach. I like to think that whenever I *do* the whole good night or good morning thing, including a rub to the belly, and the sprout starts kicking, that it has something to do with my voice or my hand. Or both.
I have no idea.
But it makes me feel better to think that way.
Tim and I bought these things called Belly Buds for the sprout. They’re supposed to allow you to make a playlist or record a story and then hook up these special headphones to my “belly” and play the music or whatnot for your little one in utero. They have special “sound dampening” technology or whatever (I don’t do electronic lingo. Obviously), so I don’t blast the little sprout out of the womb. Did you know babies can cry in utero?? How depressing is that?! What if we record a story and he hates it and screams and cries (albeit muffled) every time it is played through the Belly Buds?
Anyhow, I’ve yet to make a playlist (We’re going classical here, people. I’m carrying the next Einstein. Duh) or record a story…so I should probably jump on that. I mean, my talking to the fur children probably has the sprout all confused, anyway, and by the time the sprout *is* actually out of the womb and I yell, “SIT!” or “Time for bed!” he follows suit and goes and curls up on the doggie blankets on the floor by the bed.
What I’m saying is that I should probably give him something sensical to listen to.
Because I am, apparently, super terrible at having a conversation with my belly.