Ahh, the Olympics...

I may have mentioned in an earlier entry that the Winter Olympics in Turino (or is it Turin?) have been a life-saver for me. I looked forward to the opening ceremonies even before the 4-month sentence was imposed upon me. And now, I can be even be found watching curling in the middle of the afternoon. Sure, my eyes are glazing over and I am constantly wondering what the hell they are even doing, but at least I feel connected in some way to something historical, something bigger than me and my bed.

It's the snow-boarding and the skiing that really get me, though. Especially now that they have "ski-cams" on the backs of some skiers during non-event runs. As someone who get outside once a week for a doctor's appointment, the fantasy of racing down a mountain and flying through the air is almost sweet enough to make me cry (and I have no idea where that comes from--I don't even ski...I fall). I think perhaps my suddent urge to strap on a snowboard and take flight down a mountain is either insanity (wouldn't doubt it) or a calling from the womb here that the little man in my belly is destined for winter athletic greatness...

Of course, I have discovered my own Olympic sports in the past few days...or at least, what would be Olympic sports, if there were such a thing as the "Pregnant Olympics".

Let's talk shaving, shall we? I have been shaving my legs since 6th grade...that is more than 20 years. I know how to do it. It's not challenging. Until you put a basketball between your boobs and your crotch...then it becomes somewhat of an obstacle course. I think pregnant womens' arms should elongate by a couple of inches to make up for the lack of flexibility in the mid-section during the 2nd and 3rd trimesters. I sense that before long, husband will be lending a hand in this department, so as an Olympic sport, it will be a relay of sorts.

Sleep tossing is another potential competition. I think I burn most of my calories in my "sleep" (quotations because it really can't be classified as sleep in its truest sense), as I toss and turn, trying to find a spot comfortable enough to stay in until I wake up in another pool of sweat. This tossing is especially challenging when hauling the previously mentioned basketball belly around with you. The winner would be the person who could stay in one position for the longest--this is a true test of endurance.

Kegels would be an interesting Pregnant Olympics competition, but I'm not sure how it would be judged. It could be the first olympic sport ever where the judges just had to take the word of the athletes..."Yes, I'm doing my Kegels...and I"m doing a LOT of them"

My favorite Pregnant Olympics sport would be one that must be reserved for the bedrest-bound....eating at a 45 degree angle. This is the fabulously fun sport of trying to get food into your mouth when the plate is on the table and your mouth is about 2 feet farther back than usual. It involves a careful combination of getting the right amount of food on your fork or spoon so that it is stable and then balancing it on said utensil all the way to your mouth, waiting far far away from the food source. This requires a tremendous amount of concentration, coordination and patience. Get too cocky, and you're wearing more chow than you're eating.

Sadly, I'm not sure if I would qualify for the "eating at a 45 degree angle" competition. As is evidenced by my collection of maternity shirts, I tend to end up with drops of each meal on my shirt as the day goes on. Sometimes I even have to change mid-day so as to maintain the appearance of a civilized person. I like to think I am just bonding with my baby--he, too, will end up wearing more than he actually keeps in his mouth. It's my small way of trying to "get inside his head" and "BE the baby", to be a better mother. That, and I think I look really silly tucking a napkin into my collar while I eat my cereal.