Dignity is overrated

If this were multiple choice, I'd choose, "a"--be pregnant, no daycare, or
"b"--run a daycare without being pregnant; but life being what it is, I get "c"--all of the above. Naps are a thing of the past now, and Matt and I just take turns getting up with the seminary kids--tomorrow it is my turn for an hour or so of extra sleep.

I'm starting to feel the baby twitching around in there, which is pretty darn cool. Those little twitches make up for inconveniences like having to hitch up one's pants every twenty or thirty minutes. My compression hose, which I wear to keep my veins from exploding out of my skin, want to inch down my legs, so I have to pull those up all the time; and the maternity pants are a problem all by themselves. I would like to know if there are maternity pants in existence that can be worn comfortably all day. I have never found a pair that doesn't need frequent adjustment, but this could be because I'm too cheap to buy them for myself and end up borrowing from other people not exactly my size. In any case, I spend the entire day yanking up my bottoms.

And talking of things undignified and graceless, I hope no one ever sees me put those compression hose on, and not just because I am in my unmentionables when I do it. I lie on my back like an overturned beetle, my legs waving in the air, while straining to stretch unyielding fabric around them. After one leg is tightly bound, I rest, breathing hard, getting up my courage to stuff the other leg into the nylon leg girdle. The second leg is the worst, because it begins tethered to the other leg, and then there's that belly, which is only getting bigger, getting in the way of one's knees. After last pregnancy, I was so happy to see the back of my compression hose, I shipped them off immediately to my sister. She seemed happy to send them back.