GOOP

I've found Gwyneth Paltrow to be tortuously self-important for about a decade now. I remember the exact moment my mild interest in her transitioned to loathing. Catherine and I were sunbathing on a rare hot day at Ocean Beach. We'd brought along snacks and magazines to keep us occupied. I had an issue of Vogue with Gwynnie on the cover. As we thumbed through the ads and arrived at her spread we were horrified to read Gwyneth wax poetic on subjects such as "the perfect pant". Pant singular. We guffawed and read it over and over again aloud to each other with a range of snotty and British accents then slammed her face down in the sand more interested in the blinding sun and the people watching then her stupid ass anyway.

Years later however, I found myself subscribing to GOOP. An email newsletter fashioned by Gwyneth, which I can only hope for her sake is an acronym for something more clever. Critics love to hate GOOP, and so do I. But today, I almost found myself forwarding Gwyneth's GOOP on Children's Books to some of my friends.

"Some of the best memories I have from childhood are of my mother lying in bed with me and reading me stories." Oh, God! I thought, so are mine. Could I be experiencing common ground with Gwyneth "The Perfect Pant" Paltrow? I continued reading...

"We had a few greatest hits, Elouise and The Chronicles of Narnia being frontrunners."

If Eloise was your favorite, you'd think you'd spell the title character's name correctly you fricking moron. And with that I was back on my own judgemental pedestal of snide criticism and yet eager to read her recommendations.

I smiled as I read through the list assembled by Julianne Moore, which included:

Goodnight Gorilla and Lilly's Purple Plastic Purse (which I bought for Jenna when she was in high school because I thought it was so adorable and so was she.) Mary Wigmore listed Andrew Henry's Meadow and Frederick, both of which I had forgotten until I gazed at their familiar covers. When I saw them staring at me from GOOP I was instantly transported to the pea green carpet of McKinley library in Sacramento where mom used to take us. We spent hours in this gorgeous old house that had been converted to a public library picking out new treasures. You were not allowed to go upstairs because it was a fire trap; Only some of the librarians were friendly; And every book you opened had the same delicious slightly musty smell of glue and years of love.

Last week I wandered into Borders as I waited for my car to be repaired. I went upstairs to the shockingly poor selection of children's books and was delighted to find some of my childhood favorites for our little girl who's almost here. I bought Brown Bear, Brown Bear (a classic), The Story of Ferdinand (which always makes me think of my dear friend Catherine and her beautiful Taurean tattoo), Harry the Dirty Dog, which reminds you to be happy with just what you have, and Olivia (new to me, about a little pig who exhausts her mother and makes me laugh).

Already in Sloane's collection, we have some of my childhood favorites:

Good Night Moon, Strega Nona, Bony Legs, Lyle, Lyle, Crocodile, Fletcher and Zenobia, and Eloise.

MJC and I recently discovered a wonderful new book, Spoon, which is about a little spoon boy in a spoon family who wishes to be a different sort of cutlery only to discover that spoons really do have the best opportunities. Only they get to soak in a cup of tea, clank on the side of a cereal bowl and devour a serving of ice cream. The book concludes with little Spoon asking his parents if he might be able to sleep with them and spoon.

Although I felt a moment of connection to Gwyneth via her GOOP, I feel fortunate to have my mother as a grandmother for our little lady and a literary resource. She taught me to love reading, just as she taught elementary school children for over three decades to love to read. I hope that between mom, MJC and I, our little girl will have the same wonderful memories Gwyneth and I both do of discovering new books. I'm over-joyed that in about a week, Sloane will finally be here for me to read to.

B

I feel really good but I look exactly like a capital B.

Don't Feel bad about 22.4 lbs

Amniotic Fluid - 2lbs

Breasts - 2 lbs

Placeta - 2 lbs

Uterus- 2 lbs

Blood Volume - 4 lbs

Baby- Approximately 4 lbs so far

Additional fluid - 4 lbs

Which makes fat stores equal to about 2 1/2 lbs - not too shabby.

I want a Frosty.

60 More Days Until Sloane

I went to go see Dr. Shapiro for a chiropractic adjustment. With one twist Sloane's little feet came out from under my ribs, where they'd been stationed for the previous two weeks and I could feel little squirms near my left hip.

Dr. Shapiro nonchalantly announced we made more room for her because we put my hips back in place. He said I'd done all the work. I wondered then why he was charging me $75 for a 10 minute visit.

Valentine's

I wore a very forgiving jersey maxidress to dinner at Firefly and wished I could have a glass of wine without the judgement of others. MJC gave me the 3 necklace from Lady I've been coveting since November - because now we have 3 people in our family.

I love him.

Places a Pregnant Woman Feels Uncomfortable/Judged

1) Standing in a long line- I can feel the fluid pooling in my legs. My back aches. Please don't make me have my baby on the floor in this TJ Maxx.

2) In a bar- Don't assume I'm drinking you idiots. Pregnant ladies are not confined to the couch.

3) Caught holding a can of coke or a cup of coffee - Fuck you guys! I can have two cups a day!

4) Hiking - passersby look concerned- particularly if MJC marches ahead of me. I wonder if they are wondering if he's made me get out there and get active so I don't get too fat for Lord's sake.

5) Anywhere near Victoria's Secret or lingerie - "Don't you think that's how you got yourself in this situation in the first place, sweetheart?"

6) At Forever 21 - the judgemental eyes of teenagers seem to dare me to explain why a big fat pregnant lady is looking at teen-focused fast fashion at the $10.80 price point.

7) Carrying a heavy load - people seem to look at me like I am risking my health and yet very few seem inclined to help.

8) At a party- This Christmas, a very drunk Santa who was throwing down red cups of holiday nog, stopped his bleary-eyed slam through his own crowded house party to politely ask me how I was feeling and tell me I looked beautiful. It should have been nice, but it was so Eddie Haskel, which means I was June Cleaver. I was wearing a sequined top, smoky eyeliner and heels and I was suddenly someone's mom that people had to be on their best behavior for.

9) The middle of the row in a movie theater - I see you glaring at me like - Oh great! She is going to have to get up and push past us at least twice to go pee - should we move?

10) At the USC Career Fair. I'm standing behind a table filled with booklets of sexy models as nervous college freshman and sophomores approach me. They are dressed in their ill-fitting suits, still hung-over from the kegger last night they look at me pityingly or at least terrified that their birth control could have failed.

Office Baby Shower

Yesterday I had my office baby shower. It was such a delight to be surrounded by so many friends and colleagues and to think about how many people already love Sloane - we're two lucky girls.

At the end of the shower, I received a card with a picture of a glider chair. In front of 30 people, my eyes read in a circle instead of line to line. What was this? I'd been prepared that people were collecting money for a gift, but was expecting that to be the baby swing, or the chandelier or some other under $200 item. Everyone was staring at me for my reaction and I was sitting there looking chubby and dumb. "Sorry. What is this?," I asked. My friend, Regina explained they'd all chipped in to buy us the glider chair and ottoman we'd registered for. I sat there stunned. Then, like any reasonable person would do, I burst into tears. Big buttery tears. After almost 3 1/2 years without a promotion, surrounded by a ridiculously large cast and crew of friends I realized in addition to the party and the other gifts, they'd all chipped in to get us this gigantically generous gift. I felt like Sally Field during her notorious 1985 Oscar acceptance:

-- Sally Field, Best Actress for "Places in the Heart," after having won in 1980 for "Norma Rae": "I haven't had an orthodox career, and I've wanted more than anything to have your respect. The first time I didn't feel it, but this time I feel it, and I can't deny the fact that you like me, right now, you like me!" (1985)

Just before I got pregnant I was beginning to hate my job- tireless work, no recognition or growth and every day more insane than the next. But here I am with a great big ball of purpose in my torso and now that I care about it a little less, I realize I'm lucky. I like so many people I work with. Nearly a decade ago, I was fired from my job. The owner explained that although I was well liked, I was being fired for treating her office like my country club - something I still think is fully. She advised me to look into a career where I could better use my strengths. Here I am 10 years later at a job where the more connected I am to coworkers and industry talent, the better I perform. Would I love to be recognized with a promotion? Sure. But in the mean time, who else gets to go to work with almost 800 cool, fun, artistic people every day?

People who say they are so blessed make me want to puke. But I do know what they mean when they say it.