Maternity Leave (9781466871533) Read Online Free PDF Page B

completing her degree, and she moved to Sweden with a guy from our Finnish class. After that ended, she moved to Barcelona to be with a guy she met in Finland. Rinse and repeat. Between college and our current age of thirty-six, I think Annika has lived in seventeen different countries with an equal number of guys. Maybe more. Somehow she landed nearby in Chicago about a year ago, working as a party planner for a nonprofit company, although I’ve only seen her a couple of times. Working and being pregnant made visiting her in the city complicated. Not that she came out to visit me in the suburbs. We don’t quite have the same interests or schedule anymore; I’m more of a “go out to lunch” person, while Annika’s social life doesn’t start until I go to bed (a reasonable nine thirty on a school night). And she’s not quite in tune with the nuances of adult behavior, which explains why she’d want to bring a new boyfriend to a bris. At least she’ll get to meet Sam.
    7 Days Old
    We are running out of options for takeout. Even Doogan seems miffed by the stack of plastic containers (I promise to wash and recycle them when I’m not so tired, Doo). I am very grateful that Zach doesn’t mind going out and picking up (in no particular order): Indian, Chinese, Thai, and Mexican. If we ate “official” fast food, I would ask him to pick up a Whopper right now. But we don’t eat fast food or even meat, really. Why is that again? Something about chemicals and not wanting to hurt animals, and damn, Zach better get back with that double chocolate fudge sippable sundae from Steak ’n Shake ASAP.
    FACEBOOK STATUS
    Was anyone else as disgusted by their baby’s charbroiled belly button shrapnel as I am?
    Ten Minutes Later
    Did I say I was grateful that Zach doesn’t mind picking up food? I meant jealous. Sear-his-brain-out-with-my-angry-eyes jealous that he gets to leave the house and I have to stay here with the Screamer. LalalalalalaIcanthearyou!
    Another person just changed her Facebook profile picture to an ultrasound. Why do people do that? a) It is not a picture of you; and b) Let’s face it, ultrasound pictures are at most abstract and at the least semidisgusting. I don’t want to see inside of your body. If it’s a reaching attempt at getting six thousand likes at the fact that you are pregnant, why not post a clever status update. Mine was, “Looks like I won’t be climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro this summer because instead I’ll be HAVING A BABY!”
    Man, that was fucking stupid.
    I just posted another obligatory picture of Sam. Six comments already, three of which claim he looks “just like Zach.” Why do people think I want to read that? What mom is like, I just housed this human for ten months and then wrenchingly squeezed him out of my lady hole, which made me so hormonal that I sweat through three t-shirts and pairs of underwear every night, but I’m so glad my baby looks like my husband and not me. Throw me a bone, Facebook! Who are you, Jenny Krakovitz, anyway except some girl I went to high school with? I don’t think we said two words to each other as teens, and now we’re “friendly” enough that you can throw insults at me like “He looks just like Zach” on my Facebook page! Fuck you, too! Weren’t you a cheerleader? Didn’t I hate you in high school? Well, I hate you now!
    I think he looks like an old man with a receding hairline, Cheerleader.
    Take that, Jenny Krakovitz.
    *   *   *
    Zach is finally back with my grilled cheese and shake from Steak ’n Shake, and I am praying that no one saw that Facebook comment before I deleted it.
    Middle of the Night
    I have misplaced my nipple shield. I shake Zach awake. “Zach, I can’t find my shield!”
    â€œYour what?” he answers groggily. He is not allowed to be groggy.
    â€œMy nipple shield. It popped