So I have this upcoming recording gig for a Prog project, or “progject” as I like to say. I got an email the other day from the writer/artist/engineer with a game plan and possible dates. He wants to get me in soon as I’m expecting. I have to say these music guys have really been very supportive of my… ahem… condition. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. I just assumed they’d all write me off. “She’s done.” they’d say. But they’ve all surprised me. I have agents trying to be all careful booking me, padding time before and after I’m due. I guess that’s a good thing. I envision myself playing til the bitter end, maybe even going into labor on stage. While it’s thoughtful, I realize it’s possible that maybe they are just trying to avoid a scene.

But back to the progject at hand. This new recording is something that’s going to be pressed to vinyl, which is exciting for me as I never thought I’d ever be on an actual RECORD. I missed the boat on that one, due to the timing and placement of my musical life. We started as kids on homemade “demo tapes” in the 80’s and  finally graduated to CDs. It was really something to be on a CD. Now that’s nothin’. It’s cooler now to just have a file on iTunes. Hard to even think about, as it was a dream as a kid to make “an album”.  A real record with a cool album cover and all the lyrics inside, intertwined with pictures and artwork. An mp3 isn’t anything you can hold in your hand, or see for that matter. Technology really weirds me out. If I even start to try to figure it out, insanity starts to kick in. How does it all work? My mind wanders to Tron-like silliness and the thought is gone.

At any rate, I’m keeping busy at 6 months- just as I planned. Got the recording gig, a big St. Patrick’s Day gig way far in away in Virginia… not to mention a slew of my own songs that have needed attention for much too long now. I feel like time is running out. I won’t be so footloose and fancy free anymore- no running out to the studio at 8pm on weeknight and staying til all hours. I have to get this all in while I can.

It is not easy working with the public when someone is inside of you, kicking unidentifiable inner body parts you didn’t even know you had. Trying to come up with solutions to problems for customers when you are pretty sure your “craw” has just been located by a foot (or hand) is near impossible. When I wasn’t showing, this was a real problem. I was “that one”. The one you didn’t want helping you. “I’ll wait for so-and-so.” Fine. Good. Wait for so-and-so. I’ve got my own problems, namely the future UFC fighter that’s already training 10 hours a day in my soccer ball sized uterus!

It really took forever for me to pop out. 5 1/2 months and nobody even asked if I was pregnant. Now, I’m not complaining. I was so worried with my height (I’m 5’1) that I was just going to explode in the weight department. Luckily, so far this has not been the case. But once I started to show, I took to wearing very obvious maternity clothes at work. This is an absolute ploy on my part. People need to know what they are dealing with. I’m not some moseying dummy, I’m just pregnant.

Usually, it is not an easy feat to deal with the public day in and day out.  Now that I’m showing, things have changed. It’s actually been a kind of a nice talking point. Most everyone seems to be so happy for me and can’t wait to ask me a million questions, and share their experiences. So far this is not annoying for me. I know many pregnant women complain about the intrusion and the unwanted advice, but I welcome it.

Of course being me, things had to get weird. Just yesterday I had an African woman with a very thick accent throwing out blessings like beads at Mardi Gras, touching my stomach and rejoicing. “GOD BLESS YOU! GOD BLESS YOU! GOD BLESS YOU!” each time touching my belly. While kind of sweet, I have to say, it was a little awkward.