I submitted this drawing as entry into a contest to win a gorgeous, highly sought-after ring sling baby carrier. Women frequently offer up serious cash, their non-dominant arm, or, ironically, their babies to score such a coveted work of art. Winning it would just be a wild stroke of luck.
However, the winner was selected randomly from the pool of entries, not based on quality. So I didn’t win. But apparently I am self-assured enough to believe I would have won if the selection was based on the work itself. 😄
Anyway, the drawing is still fun, and the video highlights how many times I change my mind while making a drawing. 😬
I didn’t do my usual “camp out at Starbucks for three hours” bit yesterday, so I plumb forgot to post. I felt like an actual human being instead of a permanent couch fixture, so I bummed around town with the M-I-L and S-I-L, eating and drinking all the things, and by the time I arrived home late I was too pooped to comic.
Also I forgot I had this draft of a time lapse video in my queue from last week. Eeee!
I’m caught in the odd state of a transitional identity. A mother in the making, but not yet a mother. I see women out in the world who are fit and fancy and wear makeup and have wardrobes that clearly required some planning and they probably washed their hair today, and with a soft sinking in my gut, I swallow the stark reality that I’m not one of those women right now. Perhaps again someday, but right now I feel so very different.
I horked down a toasted bagel with cream cheese with such expert expediency that I fought back tears of pleasure lest the patrons of Starbucks witness a plump pregnant lady in the corner sobbing into her schmear.
“Belly laughs” are such a delightful thing when you have a substantial belly.
I have zero ideas for Christmas gifts. I have so few ideas it almost feels like I have a negative number of ideas. Like I need to dig myself out of a hole that I fell into.
Talked myself out of wearing sweatpants in public and instead picked jeans. Thrilled to discover I have some dignity left, despite popular opinion.
I intend to journal in my pregnancy notebook every day about my experiences on this journey, but I get sick of writing “CAN’T WRITE: DYING” over and over again.
Also thrilled to discover my drawing skills haven’t taken a hiatus along with my brains, memory, emotional equilibrium, and motivation.