I shall begin my story at last night. I returned home from the lab around 8pm from a successful day of running electron paramagnetic resonance on some protein-lipid system samples. For the non-scientists out there, let me explain what I mean by success: I successfully, thoroughly proved that the particular sample I spent my afternoon and evening on was not yielding reliable data and we would have to try again a different time. Returning from the “successes”, I found my studious husband working away on his Ancient and Medieval Church History class from Covenant Seminary. We each pounded away on our laptops till around 10:30pm, at which point we went to bed and read some more–him reading Guinness’s (not the beer, the theologian) The Call and me reading Shepherding a Child’s Heart (2 thumbs, for any current or future parents out there). My readings made the point that Abraham didn’t pick his job description, God gave it to Him, which kind of works for both our readings.
Exit Kabyn to dreamland around 11pm. At this the baby started her nightly swimming rituals, which are somehow at night a little bit confusing whether they are strong flipping motions, round ligament pains, weird stomach issue of the week, or some other strange pregnancy symptom. They all sort of blur together. It seemed she was doing some kind of celebration for getting past the earliest-hopeful-preterm-delivery date (24 weeks, though I’ve heard it can go as low as 20 weeks!), because it was quite the fiesta in there. I didn’t want to spoil her fun and was getting a bit into the excitement, as was Kabyn who began having his own sleeping flipping party, so I exited the scene upstairs and went downstairs to read What to Expect the First Year (also two thumbs up).
Now here I should have realized that similar to my earlier studying on mutations in DNA, “What to Expect…” is not quite peaceful and distracting bedtime reading. Having gone from trying to create a scientific masterpiece to figuring out the few hundred pages of things to think about in raising your baby for the first few weeks, there is only one solution. EAT. We all know I’m not exactly a bird about food, and lately, well, I’m about as picky as a crow. I went for a piece of toast (special bread with extra Omega-3s! just in case they really do make the baby smarter!). Toast craving partially fulfilled, I abstained from further indulgence and learned some more about babies.
I did get some sleep and for once had no psychotic pregnant dreams, until my two dearly beloveds went into their respective 6am flipping rituals. At 7am more toast, kiss Kabyn goodbye as he bravely went to face the cubicle in the pouring rain, and sit down to the laptop.
Nearly 7 hours later, obviously I’m still on the laptop and found that 6 hours of editing my own brilliant thoughts on DNA had done me in for a bit, or at least, my own DNA needed a little bit of fuel and the little DNAs within my DNA REALLY wanted some fuel. Before undertaking this little writing project, know that I ate five servings of macaroni–three with spaghetti sauce and two with cheddar cheese. I’m not the least bit full but figured that was enough for one session of eating. In lieu of further great scientific insight descending from my brain to my fingertips, I wrote this absurdly long post on nothing in particular. I would include a picture of me working, but given that I’m writing my thesis in my pajamas I’ll skip it for your sake as the reader. Since people always wonder what it is I’m doing with DNA, I’ll include this picture of some recent projects instead (this is where you click the word “picture” above).
[Just so you know, I am completely kidding. What I really do would be as painfully copious to describe as it would be to read.]