Fat Bottomed Girls

I have a confession. I’ve had a Queen song running through my head the last few weeks.

More specifically, I can’t stop singing “Fat Bottomed Girls.”

It’s not, anatomically, accurate, given the current VanderKlippe situation. Maybe it should be changed to “Fat Tummied Girls.” Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it, but it does describe what’s going on.

Mo is the proud owner of an expanding girth. She looked down a few days ago, examined her new-found largesse of stomach and declared herself a farmer. More specifically, she said it was like watching a corn field. You can see it grow.

Then she weighed in on the nature of that growth.

“It’s very bizarre fat because it doesn’t jiggle,” she said.

And yes, that’s a direct quote. It was too funny not to write down.

Of course, it’s not fat at all. It’s a bizarrely firm bundle of crazy growth. Our little Vikings have gone from lemon to orange to avocado in size. They are, the websites tell us, primed for a massive growth spurt that will see them double in size over the next few weeks. They’re starting to look less like prawns and more like humans. It’s pretty cool.

But there is no longer hiding the fact that Mo is pregnant. At first, she got away with it at work by sucking in. Now, she’d have to find a way to suck back through her spine to make it disappear. She is undeniably with child. Make that with children.

I find it pretty hilarious. Mo has always been the reason we shouldn’t fear too much about the obesity epidemic. Unlike me, when she plugs in her BMI calculations, they don’t come back with numbers. They just say “awesome.”

And I had always figured that, given her height, if ever she was pregnant, she would take forever to show. I hadn’t counted on twins. Nor, apparently, had the apparel industry. When Mo swung by a maternity store, they told her their stuff would work for women gaining 25 lbs. Women with twins can gain as much as 45 lbs. That’s about a third of Mo’s weight.

In other words, she’s going to turn into a + sign.

It’s actually pretty thrilling. We should feel them moving pretty soon. My biggest worry has been that they won’t grow fast enough. So far, Mo is visual proof that this does not appear to be a concern.

Watching the twins grow has actually been motivating. We’re now moving into preparation mode. We have ordered a stroller (my job -- I now officially appreciate engineers with their own families). We will soon begin shopping around for baby bjorns and cribs and everything else. We’re planning vacations around Target, that retail land of milk and honey where maternity clothes aren’t a precursor to bankruptcy.

And for me, at least, I’ve been singing. Although now that I think about it, maybe I should ditch the Queen. Maybe Sir Mix-A-Lot would be more appropriate -- again, with a revision: “I like big bellies and I cannot lie . . .”

Wall art

So, Mo has selected wall art for the twin's room. I think it's just about perfect. Back in 2007, we got married, and decided to honeymoon in Africa. We made our way to Rwanda, and because we didn't yet have a house or kids, we had money to afford a gorilla tour.

And we got lucky. We found the only surviving gorilla twins researchers know about. Most, apparently, don't make it because they're too hard on the mom. Hope that's not a metaphor -- although given the genetics of our little Vikings, I'm pretty sure the monkey antics might prove to be the perfect metaphor.