I’ve heard scary stories about pregnant women getting swollen ankles and feet, so I said to myself “not I!” and went online to see what I could do to prevent it from ever happening. Turns out the best thing I can do is to try to keep my feet up. You don’t have to say that twice! So here I am sitting with my feet up in our cool little kick-back chair about to put whatever odd thoughts that may come into my mind in writing, while my dear husband sleeps like a baby in the bedroom. I’ve had a bit of trouble falling asleep lately for some unknown reason – but I highly suspect that little person making my belly look like a popping bag of popcorn right now – and have, for that reason, decided to abstain from oversleeping during the day. Thus my husband now naps alone.
Anyway, we have this little balloon that my sweet cousin was so kind as to give us on … this day:
That day is now exactly 25 days ago. I must give these metallic looking American balloons some credit, cause this one has managed to stay afloat all this time. For the first few weeks she (it must be a she, cause she’s pink) would sit strong and resolute in a corner, almost braggingly showing off her strength to constantly touch the ceiling. But for the last week she has become more like a puppy, zooming in and out and around all of the (three) rooms in our apartment, fueled by the AC. Last night however she seemed to lose her energetic enthusiasm though and is now mostly seen slowly peeking into the room before tentatively entering and curiously circling the room, bobbing affectionately on our heads, checking out what it’s like under the table, looking out the window and then quietly floating off to explore the next room.
I have to say I like the company, though Marcus asked me to take her out of the bedroom when he laid down for his nap to allow him some privacy. It seems that she’s snuck back in there while I was looking away. Such a tease…
I’ll have to admit that we are a little worried about her. She is looking rather thin these days and her passive dull behavior can only suggest that she’s feeling a bit under the weather. Every time she peeks under the table or under the surface of our dresser, I fear that she won’t float back up to brush the ceiling like she did in her prime.
The worst part is that I don’t think there is much we can do for her. I’m afraid that this is simply the course of nature and that it will soon be her time to pass. But it hurts so to watch her get weaker and weaker. I don’t know what it will be like to watch her finally lie down to rest.
I will try not to think about it.