This past weekend, Rick and I road tripped up to Minneapolis for the wedding of a very close friend. I'm not excited about road trips and Minneapolis is about the limit of a distance I'm willing to travel in a car without breaking up the trip and making it into something awesome. It isn't a trip I'd be excited about if we weren't able to leave Ada to be passed between, and spoiled by, both sets of grandparents.
A lot happened on the trip, but the main highlight was the epiphany that I am now round.
Bear with me and this will make sense in a moment.
Before the Friday night wedding, we needed to grab some lunch and chose a restaurant on the pedestrian street in downtown Minneapolis called Nicolette Mall. We found a nice place and they only had outdoor seating on high-top tables. Outdoor seating is always tight since sidewalk square footage is so limited and demand for the tables tends to be high when the weather is nice, which it was.
As we sat down at the table, I first had to ask Rick to come over and push my seat closer as the chair's height wasn't allowing me to wiggle anywhere. There was no way a server could have fit between me and the guy at the table behind me. We enjoyed a nice meal and watched as the servers scooted sideways through the crowded lunch goers with guacamole bowls and taco dishes held high. Yum. What a way to spend a Friday afternoon.
There was a moment when my food came that I went to roll open my black fabric napkin and ended up rolling my silverware right off the table top and onto the floor. Thankfully, a thinner, younger woman at the next table hopped down to get it for me. I'm not sure that I would have ever been able to get back up if I'd gone for them, but it didn't really matter since the silverware was soiled at that point anyway. Rick ended up giving me his and ate his tacos with his hands since mine were on flat, hard tortillas and his were soft.
After a delicious meal and good conversation, mixed with my discomfort from the constant state of heartburn that I was in for the duration of the trip, it was time to go. I hopped down from my chair and made it around the table with no problem. Then we had to shimmy sideways toward the entrance and that's when Rick pointed out what should have been obvious to me at this point: turning sideways doesn't do a damn bit of good--I'm the same width either way--side to side or protruding belly button to spine. Sad but true.
As I struggled to squeeze out of the roped off seating area, Rick and I burst into uncontrolled laughter at the thought of my belly matching my width. Thank goodness I have better bladder control at this point in the pregnancy because we couldn't stop laughing.
See if I knowingly choose to sit at outdoor high-top tables while pregnant again!
Moral of the story: There is a point in pregnancy where turning sideways or sucking it in isn't effective anymore. Just remember, it isn't permanent. This too shall pass.