pregnancy path of destruction

This is completely unrelated to the post-at-hand, so I want to mention it first...

has anyone else noticed that I now have fewer than 100 days left?!! That's right, we have 99 days to go as of today. Oh, my.
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Ok, on to business.

There's this little thing I've experienced over the past few months that Drew refers to as my:

Pregnancy Path of Destruction

Basically this phrase refers to all of the stuff I've broken, scratched, or otherwise ruined since getting pregnant.

At first (actually, still) this was a really frustrating development, I'm not normally clumsy! Typically dusting the house or doing dishes are non-events -- but not anymore.

Just when I was really starting to feel bad about my recent fumbling ways, I was reading "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and came across an article all about how pregnant women legitimately become more clumsy.

As it turns out our joints loosen and we don't have the same grip that we used to.

It's medical! It's real! I won't always be this way!

As reassuring as that information is, the path of destruction remains.

Let's go for a walk...

It all started before I even knew I was pregnant (but was!). I can list on 1 hand the number of car "incidents" I've been in. The most recent involved my car and the garage. See that discolored area -- yeah, that's where I hit the garage.



That's right, I cut the corner too close and scraped the garage. How in the world did I get THIS FAR over? No ones knows for sure, but I blame the bean (sorry, buddy).

I'm not allowed to pull directly into the garage anymore. It's a 2-point turn for me now.

Moving right along...this is kind of like Candy Land, isn't it?

What a lovely bowl set from Crate&Barrel. I use these all the time and love them.



Except that there used to be 5 in the set. The first one died in a tragic accident years ago, but most recently another friend went to the recycle bin via my hands.

I'm not allowed to wash precious dishes anymore.

Then, my saddest tragedy, the great Candlestick Smash of '09.



What's missing from this picture...oh yeah, the 3rd candlestick from the right-hand set.



I'm not allowed to dust and talk on the phone at the same time anymore.

Then we come to this remote control. Looks perfectly fine, right? That's because it's brand new. I broke its predecessor in some unknown way.



I'm not allowed to use the remote for more than a few minutes at a time anymore. I avoid it entirely when possible.

Finally, my alarm clock.



I was trying to make the bed the other day and my grip snapped off while pulling the sheet taut. My arm flew back (really quickly) and hit my alarm clock, throwing it across the room.

I found the battery, but the back cover must have disintegrated in the blast.

I'm not allowed to make the bed that vigorously anymore.

All I have to say is that my body has 99 days to get back in control or I won't trust myself to care for a newborn.

Anyone have a similar P.P.O.D.?

Please say yes.