I don't know if it is entirely helpful to blog in my pregnant state. Or watch movies. By some act of laziness, I sat and watched Steel Magnolias last night I sobbed so hard my head hurt. I've watched that movie dozens of times before, but never did I get it until last night. Remind me to never watch that movie again. Will you?
(Oh my gosh that scene with Sally Field going to pick up her grandson after her daughter dies. Stop! Stop c jane! Stop thinking about it!)
But I shouldn't blog when I am pregnant either because it tends to lean towards self-pity. And I am sorry about that, I am praying to get over it. Like sincerely praying. Especially because I truly believe in my heart of hearts that being a happy person (wife, mother, neighbor) is the best gift you can give to the world. And I love happy people. I seek them. I dream about being just like them. And as soon as I don't feel like road kill I will join them. By golly.
But this morning I faced the world with a lockjaw and the simultaneous task to vomit. Ever vomited with a lockjaw? Anyway, Chup had this forward-thinking idea to let The Chief play with his old radio before he left for work. (Uncanny, my son's obsession with antique technology.) Anything to keep the little guy busy instead of watching me hurl--a violent scene to be sure.
So The Chief was tuning in and out of stations and I was hunched over doing my thing when suddenly the radio picks up on an oldies rock station. The Chief, squatting down like a bored monkey, let the dial rest for a minute. When the toilet noise subsided I could hear the familiar tune of Werewolves of London by the great Warren Zevon--a song I cannot refuse. I turned to see my baby dancing a subtle version of the hula. You know, rotating arms and shaking hips?
As soon as I could, I joined up with him in the hall. Together we danced the entire song and howled at all the right parts. Hot enchiladas (barf, enchiladas), for three minutes I was a happy person! Singing, dancing and shaking my hips. You should've seen it (but I am glad you didn't).
If my only pregnancy blogging purpose is to record the tender mercies of the Lord, then there you have it. Perhaps . . . maybe . . . some dj at the oldies rock station felt inspired to play that song just at that moment, which came through the dusty speakers of our antique radio by some act of a miraculously clear frequency, which in turn made a grumpy pregnant woman glad.
Mysterious ways, I love you.
Do something for me? Press play on this video and dance your heart out. Even you, in that cubicle. Just do it. You'll feel happy, I promise: