Staying up past midnight.

Back in "the day" my nights wouldn't even start until midnight. Yet last night, I got home a few minutes before midnight and I felt like I was a rock star.

Me and my friend, Laurel (no blog, but you see her comments around the blogosphere occasionally) went to a 9:55pm showing of "Burn After Reading". For any of you looking for a movie to see, I ~highly~ recommend it. It's classic Coen brothers, so it's definitely a dark comedy, but I loved it. So did Laurel. It's got an ending that anyone used to the Coen brothers would expect, so if you like movies that have to wrap up all the loose ends and questions, maybe this movie isn't for you.

The cast consisted of a very dorky Brad Pitt, a neurotic George Clooney, a clueless Frances McDormand, a smart ass braniac John Malkovich and a very bitchy Tilda Swinton. There were others in cast who played smaller parts, but their appearances made the movie for what it was. There was Richard Jenkins (the dead dad in Six Feet Under), David Rasche (I remember him most as the detective Sledge Hammer from the late 1980's series of the same name) and last but definitely not least, J.K. Simmons (apparently he's the police chief in the tv show "The Closer", but I remember him most recently as the psychologist on "Law & Order" and as Vern Schillinger in the HBO show "Oz"). Simmons' part was very small in the movie, but I may have laughed hardest at his lines.

Back to my night. Not only was I staying up past midnight, I wore my brand new Buffalo "secret fit belly" jeans:

And I wore my very favorite pair of Michael Kors heels. So yes, in my mind, I was a rock star.

A word about this new fangled "secret fit belly" thing. When shopping a bit for maternity clothes, I kept coming across this description. It's brand new to me, so it wasn't available when I was pregnant with Allison (2005) and I just didn't understand what the big deal was. Full paneled pants have been around forever. And then I tried them on. HOLY CRAP. It is awesome. The panel is ~thin~ and goes all the way up to your bra line, so the seam doesn't show through any of your shirts. I have some great full paneled jeans from the gap, but the stupid panel is a blue, to match the jeans. But the problem is jeans aren't supposed to go up over your entire belly, so having the panel matching the jeans looks ridiculous underneath your shirts. And again, the lack of a big seam across the top of your belly rules. I definitely give this one two thumbs up. Hell, I give it 4 thumbs up since my body technically has 4 thumbs all together for the time being.

My wonderful husband waited up for me last night (even though he had to get up at 6am) and my night continued to be rock star~esque. Let's just say neither of us went to bed until nearly 2am.

note: although I've already been talking about the p-thing in this post, this one goes a little deeper. I'm not one to give too many warnings, as if you are reading this, you probably already have the idea I'm pregnant, but the next paragraph may be a little hard to read if you aren't in the same place as I am. If you are having a hard weekend, just skip the rest and leave your comment before going off to the next blog. (yes, yes, I'm a comment whore. I ~lurve~ me my comments!)

The belly. Mine is now very pronounced and I love it. (Poor Laurel. I kept rubbing it and going on and on about the pants and this and that before I realized "nancy, shut the fuck up because you are talking to one of your ttc-sisters. I apologized, but only after the first good hour. Again, I'm sorry Laurel!) It's not in that super taut yet, so it's still nice and soft. I personally feel ~so~ sexy, but alas, my husband does not. He would rather me keep it covered by a sheet or a pillow when we're "in bed" so he doesn't have to see it during the act. But for me, I want to show it off and I want him to caress me there. Since I know how he doesn't share in my idea of sexy, I try to do what I can.

Last night, I didn't want to hide it. Instead, I slept nude and uncovered and snuggled my back up against his chest. So it was out there, no missing it. Yet I noticed how his hands never touched it. In fact, I noticed how he intentionally avoided it. He would run his hand up my thigh, around my ass, come forward to my hip in that little divot between pubic bone and hip bone. Then he would trace back, moving up my side and then moving in again when his hand was at breast height where he would continue. But he ~never~ touched my belly.

It actually made me a bit sad that he needed to pretend my belly doesn't exist. I think the swollen belly is just so powerful, as it is an outward acknowledgement of our love. Not that a couple needs to experience this during the baby experience, as it manifests it's way differently for a single person or a couple using a surrogate or adopting, but I have the belly so that's how I feel. And I started to think about it more and asked him, "What do you feel/think of when you touch my belly?" He replied, "I think of our child and it's my only way of bonding with him right now." And with that, I understood.

I feel sexy with the belly because it makes me feel like the epitome of being a woman. But to him, the belly signifies the actual child. I can now see how in the throws of making love, he doesn't want to take a moment to bond with his child. I can't be upset/sad about it anymore, now that I understand, but I still wish he could find me as sexy as I feel.