For me, normality is bliss. I'd like to take credit for having worked fastidiously to build the life that I get to live, but in no way do I think I get credit for it. I showed up. I turned things in on time. I can take that much credit alone. The rest is pure luck and don't I know it.
The past two months, a break in my usually golden-touched life only served to prove how golden my life is. Now that my pregnancy has become a pretty normal thing, I get my normal life back. For me, this means teaching and hanging out with my big lug of a husband, who's totally bad ass. Watching "Scrubs" the other night, he tackled me on the couch and just hung there like a giant, loving ape. I liked it.
But normalcy for me really lies in standing at the front of the classroom again. When I'm up there, even with my Zofran pump slung over my shoulder, I feel normal. My life is mine again. I'm teaching a new class that involves a lot of research and legwork on my part, but it's studying American history and current American politics - two things I find overwhelmingly interesting.
So, yeah, it's nice to have my sort of ridiculously charmed life back. I'm 3 and a half months pregnant so I'm trying to enjoy this version of normal as long as I can. Yes, my life will still be golden after the baby arrives, but I might not have as much time to dwell on it. Worse, it might come out in spurts of incoherent babble, because believe this: being pregnant makes you kind of stupid. My memory is being sucked away and from what my doctor tells me, that's only going to get worse once I start breastfeeding.
Awesome. But at least that new normal is slow in coming. Maybe not slow enough for my taste, but I've got some months to deal.