One week in

Worked for the week, contributed to society, left my baby with someone else five days this week and I'm still alive. It's going to take a while to get a morning routine that works, but once Silas starts sleeping through the nights better, I think we'll be ok.

I was driving to pick him up after work on Friday and Queen's "Another One Bites the Dust" came on the radio. Music is crazy. I completely relate songs to past memories, and that one is firmly positioned to playing the original Diablo with my dad and sister. Specifically, even, I can picture the dungeon levels and the way that the creatures you'd fight in there had a burning animation when they died.

I also remember that friendly fire was always on in that game. Not like some of the fancier, newfangled games where you could click a button in "options" and then shoot your companions with nary an ill effect. My dad played the sorcerer character and, I'm not going to lie, he was probably a lot better at the game than us. But his chain lightning spell - that could clear out a room. And me, if I wasn't watching where I was going.

You know how parents do that thing where they act like they're playing a game or sport normally but somehow are just about at your skill level? And then you grow up and realize that actually they were just pretending and could have beaten you in any game? Well, my dad was really great about finding a way to play video games with us that weren't overwhelmingly hard on us but (I'm assuming here) that were still entertaining to him.

Growing up we had between four and five computers in our basement, which I just thought was how things worked. It was a pretty foreign concept that a household might have only one computer for everyone, or maybe even no computers at all. My dad's job - a computer programmer - might have skewed things technologically for us. I must have talked about this before, but I really enjoyed LAN gaming with my family to the point that online gaming (save for WoW) is a bit too much of a culture shock for me.

Anyhow, I've been trying to write my NaNo novel but it's not coming along at all. I thought last year was tough with my grandfather's funeral at the beginning of the month but having a baby to care for sort of saps up those little moments I could be writing.

Well, actually, I am writing right this moment, technically. I guess I prefer to update my blog when I have writing time these days. I guess I feel like more people read it and that it means more to me. But there's still a competitive edge in me somewhere that feels like I'll totally get it together and write 50,000 words still.

Well apparently I hit the walking limit

You know, I've heard a lot of stories about moms-to-be in their third trimester who run whole marathons and such, but I've never actually seen it. After today, I know I won't be anywhere near that group of women.

Ever since the end of the first trimester, when I was finally able to pick myself off of the couch and not fall asleep the moment I got home from work, I've been incorporating walking as my basic form of exercise. Certainly, I've done some small amount of yoga here and there, but (and don't laugh, because I know how pathetic this is), I've kept my goal of walking for at least 10 minutes a day.

Some days, I've even walked for 15 minutes!

So you can imagine my surprise when today, after walking for about 12 minutes, I headed back inside to my work building and quite suddenly couldn't walk any more. It was as though my hips and legs had revolted against movement and decided that they preferred to stay put. I sort of limp-walked my way to a small table in the seating area between the two cafes in the building and pretended like I had to check a cell phone message. I tried to stretch my legs a little, covertly. Which is kind of hard to do sitting down with a dress on, so that didn't accomplish much.

I shifted my hips back and forth a few times, but the pain wasn't letting up. I was coming to the end of my lunch break and had to get back to my desk, so I stood up, using the table as leverage and plastering a strained smile on my face.

If there is one thing I cannot stand, it is showing weakness to people I don't know. This burst of contrariness got me down the hallway into the sectioned off area for my department. Inside this area, there was no one, and my legs automatically knew it. They froze up stiff again, and I leaned against the wall as I shuffled forward in a motion some may refer to as... shambling.

Once I turned the corner, there were people in view again and so I switched to taking the smallest steps I could, as slowly as I could. I tried to assume an air of nonchalance, as if I always shambled to my desk like this. No one seemed to look, or care. I got to my desk and gripped the armrests as I lowered myself into the chair.

Then I needed to use the bathroom.

I took a deep breath and waited as long as I could before I absolutely had to get up. Sadly, sitting down for a half hour didn't provide me with much relief, and I began to shamble my way towards the bathroom. One of my coworkers looked up at me and asked if I was alright.

"You never move that slow!" she said. "Are you feeling ok?"

I laughed and sort of shrugged as I told her that my legs were just a little stiff today. She seemed to agree that this was reasonable and went back to her work. I got to the bathroom and then, outside of the view of coworkers, my legs froze up again.

Luckily, it wasn't that hard to basically throw myself in the direction of a bathroom stall, take care of business and lurch across the way to the sink. It was just the thought of walking back to my desk seemed overwhelming beyond belief.

I tried to stretch my legs gently, using the sink to balance against. Nothing seemed to help much though, and I started to entertain how I was going to explain to my supervisor that I needed to go home because I couldn't move. How would I leave the bathroom to tell her? Why had I parked across the parking lot like I do every day? Would I have to ask a coworker to bring my car around for me?

Another coworker came into the bathroom and the knowledge that someone might know I was in pain spurred me forward to the door and I seized that burst of energy to make it through the door and back towards my desk. Once back in my chair, I didn't get up again until it was time to go home. Sadly, my legs had not magically healed and my hips still felt like pain.

Still, I managed to make my way down the stairs and out into the parking lot, where I then shuffled oh-so-slowly across the whole damn lot to get to my car. How could I have not predicted that today I would hurt myself walking and that I should have parked right outside the staircase? How could I have been so foolish as to think that I would be able to walk across the parking lot today, like I have every other day this week? I cursed my stupidity and trust me, I had a lot of time to do so, because I had to stop every twenty feet or so to regroup.

Once I got to my car, getting in and driving wasn't too bad. In fact, the overheated leather seats actually felt a little bit nice. Since I've been home, I've been trying to gently stretch out with my yoga ball but it wasn't doing that much to help, so I gave up and shambled over to my desk to write a really long, whiny post about how much my stupid legs hurt.

What bugs me the most is that I didn't do anything any more strenuous than I've done as recently as yesterday! And I have been walking daily so it's not like I suddenly decided to add exercise and then overdid it. I'm currently imagining how I'm going to deal with work tomorrow if my legs don't get their act together and I'm really, once again, amazingly impressed with not only the marathon-running pregnant ladies, but the ones who have jobs where they are on their feet all day long.

I remember back when I worked at Jewel that one of the cashiers was expecting, and she worked until the week she went into labor. She made it look practically effortless and I just can't imagine how at this point.

Well, that's enough complaining for one day. For a week, really. But we'll see.

A True Fruit Cup Story

Once in awhile, I like to try new products. It's not often, because I know many times I will be suckered by flashy marketing and ultimately end up sad and alone with a stockpile of some protein water that does not, in fact, taste exactly like "lightly sweetened filtered water." No, it tastes like you tried to add protein powder to water and then used some artificial sweeteners.

Still, it was my fault. I bought in to the idea; I wanted it to work.

Anyhow, this story is not about that. This is about some fruit cups I bought. I don't know how new they are, exactly. I hope you all will forgive me for not being on the cusp of new grocery items. I don't follow websites dedicated to grocery product release dates and I've never camped overnight in a WalMart waiting for them to stock a brand new item.

These fruit cups looked delicious in every way that cancels out fruit being good for you. The fruit appeared to be suspended in some sort of sugary substance and the cup came with a packet of cinnamon sugar granola that can be sprinkled on top. I grabbed one and, looking to both sides to make sure no one could see my shame, tossed it into the cart.

Well, I put one of those potentially delicious flavor bombs into my lunchbox yesterday, tossed in a spoon and didn't give it a second thought until lunch.

That's because when I went to open it during my lunch, I found myself unable to make the plastic cap budge from the plastic bottom. I tried from every angle of the circular cup until I had red marks on my fingers from trying. I scooted my chair back and looked at my team lead.

"Can you open this for me?" I asked, offering the plastic cup. My face was a shade of pink from embarrassment but I would quickly learn I had more shades to go through.

My team lead laughed at me and took the cup, setting to work on opening it. I remember feeling a tad bit relieved when she, too, could not open the item in question. She looked at me and shook her head.

"Let's take this to our bureau chief."

"No way! He doesn't have time to deal with this sort of stuff," I protested.

But it was too late. She had already gotten up and was around the corner, walking into his office and announcing that she had an unopenable container.

Well, my face turned several shades darker as I watched the bureau chief, AKA the boss of my boss's boss, attempt to open this fruit cup. As he did so, he marveled over how thick and well fitting the plastic components were.

I muttered something about it being a new product and how I bet within a month or two they'll cut back on plastic production to make a flimsier product.

Eventually, he had to take a file to the edges and pry the top of the fruit cup off. Then he put it back on and took it off again, explaining that things like this were interesting to him.

I thanked him many times and backed out of the office.

As for the fruit cup? It was pretty good. But I don't know if it was 'spend 10 minutes of your lunch trying to open' good. Luckily the box came with two, so I'll try again today to see if it was just a fluke.