Eat, Drink and Be Merry For Tomorrow We Die, Pumpkin

Last night I attended a bachelorette party for my friend Hannah Parish who's getting married this Saturday, which, incidentally, is also the long awaited Day of Judgment. We had so much fun celebrating her upcoming nuptials and kicking off our last week on this earth. Her Aunt Diane threw her the most fun lingerie shower I've ever attended, then we got our nails done. After that we went to dinner, where I enjoyed a faux cocktail, and then back to Sarah Emily's house where we played games. The girls had cocktails while I had more mocktails and got myself all hyped up on juice. It was a wonderful time with very special ladies.

I am looking forward to this wedding so much. Hannah and her groom Daniel (I know, weird coincidence) have incredible taste in clothes, art, music, food and friends, so this wedding is bound to be abundant in style and personality. Daniel and I are so excited for this sweet couple, and Daniel has looked forward to the prospect of shooting their wedding since long before they got engaged. That's how cool they are. As excited as I am to celebrate with them at their wedding, I'm even more excited I'll be there to see what adventures lie in store for this sweet new family in the future.

Here's something else. Last night when we were at the restaurant, I caught myself just in the nick of time before I called our 40-year-old male server Honeybear. What? Why would I even think that? The thing is, this has been happening to me a lot. I don't know what to do about it. I've never been much of a pet name person, and I actually have some pretty intense pet peeves related to that. I hate it when anyone who isn't extremely close to me* calls me Honey, Hon or any variation of Sweetie, especially if it's a girl my own age. It seems really condescending to me. So why am I suddenly bursting with the impulse to call perfect strangers Baby, Babycakes, Babychild, Honeychild, Honeybear, and Boobear, to name only a few? Every time I get coffee, I consider calling the barista some new term of endearment. Of course I never do it, but it always leaves me feeling really disconcerted. I ask myself, why do I want this so bad? Why am I like this?

I don't know if I can directly pass this one off on pregnancy. You have to pull the pregnancy card sparingly, by the way, or soon you'll be justifying all kinds of inappropriate behavior like arson, kidnapping and grand theft auto. I definitely think it's indirectly related to being pregnant, though. There's the chance that thinking about my unborn baby all the time makes me misplace my affection for the baby on whoever's in front of me at the moment, (for instance, middle aged men with receding hairlines and visible nose hairs). Maybe since I don't have a baby that I can physically see and squeeze and call cutesy names, I feel the need to at least do that to somebody. The other theory I've considered is that maybe I think that the fact that I'm somebody's mother now gives me a license to act like everybody's mother. Like I have some kind of special privilege. But I have no idea where I'd have gotten that notion. I don't see other young mothers running around calling fellow adults baby names and getting away with it. I mean, people do it, sure, but people also dress dogs in tiny human clothes and carry them in tote bags. You can do a lot of things in this world, but that doesn't mean you should, or that those things aren't awkward for everybody around you.

I guess that concludes my random pregnancy observations for the day. Now for a brief update on Trimester 2 thus far. I've been feeling much more energetic for the past few days. I usually still need naps, but when I'm awake I feel more alert and energetic than before. My nausea hasn't gone away, but it has changed. Anytime I get nauseated, the onset is really sudden and intense, and I'm more likely than before to actually throw up. But the good news is that it's briefer, and doesn't seem to happen quite as often now. Oh, and my baby is the size of a peach. And that's all I have to say about that.

*A few questions to help you determine if we're extremely close:
1. Are we married to each other?
2. Were you in my wedding party?
3. Are you related to me by blood or marriage?
4. Have I ever peed in front of you?
If you answered yes to any of the above, you are qualified to call me whatever you want. May I suggest Love or Dear?