I’m a project person. I’m not really good at some things, especially if they involve the same thing day after day after day. School, until college, was bad for someone like me because I could invest all my soul into something with a deadline, but the rote mundane “learning” was terrible (plus, I was lazy and afraid of doing well lest I be branded a geek. Little did I know that it didn’t matter a whit whether or not I did well in school–I was a geek no matter what I did).

Anyhoo, projects. I like them. I’m good at them. Pregnancy? A wealth of opportunities for projects, all shapes and sizes. Everything has a built-in deadline, so I’m in stressed-out hog heaven! We all know that the deadline is the end of this baby-making project, and so I’ve got my iron in all sorts of fires right now.

The problem is this: I have all these pregnancy-related projects which are just burning in my head, and I can’t do very many of them because I am pregnant. First, there’s the home-repair and design projects, but everyone keeps telling me (*smoldering glare*) “No, you can’t inhale toxic fumes when you’re pregnant.” Then there are the light fixtures and curtains which must be changed, but there’s the whole, “Don’t stand on tall ladders when you have no balance, you ninny.” I keep trying to sneak little things past everyone, like scooching a bookcase when no-one’s looking and pushing small piles of heavy things from point A to point B, but truthfully I can’t even fake myself out.

It doesn’t mean that I’m not resentful, though.

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