Being Busy, Getting Exhausted, and Some Other Things

This weekend was a gong show. We went to the Edmonton Comic and Entertainment Expo, which was amazing, and I threw together a pseudo-steampunk cosplay for Saturday in three days, but the whole experience was tiring as hell. For the most part, my energy has been up lately. I’m finding regular around the house stuff to be totally doable, if my migraines are cooperating, but being at a comic con from 11 am to just after 6 pm, in costume, whilst 21.5 weeks pregnant, was a lot.

And then we went and did it again on Sunday.

Do I regret going? Of course not. It was a blast, and I love the con environment. I just don’t think I realized how thoroughly it would tire me out. Some over-exhaustion didn’t help my sleep any on Saturday night, and we went for dinner with Shawn’s family on Sunday after the convention, so that also added to the tiredness. I’m still not fully recovered, but I’m working on it.

For those of you who are planning on going to a convention while growing a small person, these are the things I suggest:

  • Drink lots of water, regardless of how much you have to stop and pee. My main mistake on Saturday was not drinking enough, and I paid for it later. I only half emptied my Camelbak, and that is not a good thing. Hydrating makes sense for everyone, so do it.
  • If you’re planning on cosplaying, test drive your costume before you go. I tried everything on, but I didn’t leave it on long enough to make sure it would be adequately comfortable for the whole day. My tights ended up folded down so low they felt like they were falling off (even though they weren’t), and my belt, while stretchy, did get a little tight in the ribs by the end of the day.
  • Shoes. Comfort. I shouldn’t have to elaborate on those two words, but I will. Most conventions I’ve even been to have been held somewhere with a concrete floor. Concrete is not good for standing on for any length of time, so make sure your shoes are comfy and have lots of support.
  • If you need to sit, do it. I wasn’t ashamed to park my ass on the floor and need to get heaved back up.
  • Bring snacks, just in case the food choices suck. Our expo centre has a pretty good food court, and there were a ton of great food truck options on hand, so this wasn’t really an issue, but I did have some things packed for an emergency.

I will be doing a separate post on the convention, so if I think of anything else, I’ll let you know about it there.

Dinner after the con on Sunday was nice, for the most part. I think that it would have been more enjoyable if we both hadn’t been so bushed. We hadn’t seen any of that family since our wedding in May, so that was really nice. What was unexpected was that, while everyone asked how I was feeling, not one person said congratulations. This shouldn’t really surprise me at all, and I don’t know why I was disappointed by it, but I was. The two of us are so excited about the Little Man, I suppose I just expect the rest of the family to feel the same way. I do, however, need to keep in mind that not everyone shows their excitement in the same way. I think I just wanted a little more.

A lot of the questions were about how I was feeling. I’m not shy about admitting that my first trimester (and a bit in to the second) was hellish. It’s the truth. I am feeling much better now, though, and everyone seemed glad to hear that the Little Man is moving around like crazy. (Our older cat still won’t lay on me for fear of being booted off, and the younger one noticed him for the first time yesterday. He was trying to get in to a comfortable position lying on me when the baby sent a sharp jab out to that side of my belly. Odie hopped off, tail poofed up, and just sat there staring at it for a minute before placing his paw on the place the jab had come from and giving it a push. The Little Man pushed back and Odie promptly took off, looking horrified and offended.) In fact, he kicked through most of dinner, and was pretty active for most of the evening. I usually like this, but he’s taken to kicking my belly button, which already feels weird and stretched out. I’m sure it’s going to pop in the next few weeks.

Naturally, talk of maternity leave came up too. Apparently, no one in Shawn’s family aside from his parents are aware that I resigned from my job before the wedding. I had when it comes up, because it feels like I’m being judged. Whether I am or not, that’s how it feels. I didn’t go in to a huge long explanation of the process that went in to the decision, I just talked a bit about why I left, how things are now, and left it at that. No, it is not anyone’s business but ours, but I still feel like I constantly have to justify our decision for me to stay home. And, for the record, when I say our decision, I really mean it. I would not have made this choice without the full support and encouragement of my husband.

We also got asked about our living situation. Again. This is another thing that I don’t get. There is more than enough space for us, two cats and our child. Our secondary support system (each other being our first) is close to hand, which is perfect with a new baby on the way and my disease being so unpredictable. Why would we move when we love it here? I think the thing that irked me the most was the phrasing that was used: “Are you planning to stay with your parents, or have you figured something else out?” We don’t live with my parents. Just because it’s the same building, doesn’t mean we share a home. We share a yard. We share a driveway. Our homes are separate. In fact, my mum was going to text me the other day to see how things were because we hadn’t spoken or seen each other in almost a week. Yeah, that sounds like living with my parents.

I shouldn’t let things like this bother me so much, but they do. Our life is just perfect the way it is, and we have no reason to change anything right now. It probably goes back to my firm belief that unless you know everything there is to know about the life and circumstances of someone else, you really need to hold the judgments and opinions to yourself. There is no way of knowing how something you say, no matter how small it may seem, will effect someone.

On the plus side, no one asked about my weight! Huzzah! No one tried to grope my belly! Huzzah again! The Little Man is active and growing (you only need to look at my poor belly button to see that). My fundal height is right on track. I’m currently in the middle of doing four loads of baby laundry because of a generous donation to the Little Man by one of my mum’s employees (six pairs of awesome tiny shoes? Yes please!) Oh, and I still have the memory of being kissed by Ron Perlman fresh in my head, but that’s another blog post.


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