This country mouse is going to be a city mouse for the next few weeks. As house construction reaches a fever pitch out in the Hollow, I am steering clear of fumes, dry wall dust and general chaos as me and The Belly enter the home stretch. So, I'm staying with my brother, Chris, in his house in Fifeville.
But, who says Fifeville doesn't have its own bit of chaos and comedic timing? A glimpse into last night's activities.
4:45 p.m. - I decide to take a walk before dinner. About 50 feet from the house, I twist my ankle and stumble to the ground. Pre-pregnancy this would have been gut-wrenchingly embarrassing. At almost nine months, I just dust myself off and continue my waddle. A concerned neighbor takes a break from his front porch, 40-oz. drinking evening to express concern.
Him: "You okay?" (Voice goes up to almost a squeak at the end of the sentence.)
Me: "Yes, thank you." (Mustering up a laugh through the pain shooting through my ankle.)
Him: "Be careful, okay?" (Shaking his head.) "I gotta say. You look like you are about to give birth any second."
5:45 - 10:30 p.m. - Heartburn, heartburn, heartburn, heartburn. Heart. Burn.
11:00 p.m. - Five firetrucks race up to the house across the street. I didn't really see a fire and couldn't figure out the deal-y-yo, but rubber-necked from my brother's third story windows. Blinking in the dark, staring out like a crazed Mrs. Rochester. The need for sleep wins and I go to bed as the flashing lights and commotion lull me to sleep - just like they used to in New York City.
1 a.m. - I awake and sense something is in the bedroom with me. There is. It is a BAT. I think something else is in the room, scratching at the wall and give into the fear. I yelp for my brother. He tries to catch the bat, corner the bat. I scurry and relocate to another room - during a downtime from the bat's erratic flying. There was, indeed, nothing else in the room. Although my brother makes sure to give me a hard time, noting that there may very well have been "a bat, four zombies, ten werewolves, six bodysnatchers . . . . "
4 a.m. - The Aerobed I am sleeping on deflates throughout the night. I cling to my pregnancy body pillow - like a flotation device - as we all sink to the floor.
Is it weird that I am looking forward to my maternity leave?!