Intelligible Conversation...

Neighbor Rick, to D and I: "I knew this kid, and his head was like, frickin' HUGE, and the back was totally flat! Pancake flat!"

D: "Nu uh, whoa!"

Me: "Oh, I've read about that... there are things you can do to correct it, but it can also be prevented. Sounds like he didn't get enough tummy time as a baby."

D & Rick, blank stares: "Tummy time?"

I am already a total mommy.

Girl, You Crazy...

This weekend was a whirlwind of food, cleaning, baking, arguing and pretty much finding ways to be as difficult as possible to punish my poor wonderful loving husband for NO APPARENT REASON WHAT-SO-EVER.

When I'm yelling/screaming/crying/bitching it all seems so totally rashional and just. Ooh the agony! Ooh the sky must be falling! But in the immediate 30 seconds after I've calmed the fuck down I feel like a total donkey's ass, partly because my husband will sit and stare at me in sheer terror and disbelief (I married this woman?), partly because I am unsure of what exactly swooped down from the sky (or crawled up from hell below) and took over my mind and body for those few angry moments, and it is scary.

I know the cause is simple: pregnancy hormones. And the solution is even more simple: calm the hell down. Breathe. Be happy! And I am, I really am, I PROMISE. I just... have trouble showing it, I guess.

How can I possibly be expected to show that I'm happy when there are McDonald's monopoly game pieces on the bedroom floor!? Or when there are beer caps on the living room end table? Or when there are dried drops of urine on the toilet seat rim and half-empty cups of kool-aid on the bedroom nightstand?

Ok, does the fact that I said 'half-empty' cups rather than 'half-full' mean anything?

Bite me.

Nowhere to Grow...

Today was my 31 week doctor appointment. Everything is groovy, baby. I've haven't gained any weight since last time, everything is looking peachy, baby's heartbeat is fast and strong. After my doctor informed me that Ethan measures right on with where I'm at in my pregnancy, he added, "You know, you are at the top now" and I thought the top? The top of WHAT? Is this good or bad? He explained that my uterus has grown and expanded to reach my ribcage now, and that I have nowhere to grow but out. Oh, goody! Here I thought, quite STUPIDLY, that my belly was about as big as it would get. "Oh nooooo," Dr. E informed me. "Ethan will likely double his weight in the remaining 8 weeks". Tee hee. And off I go, tra-la-la-la-la, to the land of uncomfortable. Because now? I realize I've had no right in the past month to moan about 'my big ol' belly'..... Apparently, I ain't seen nothin' yet.

Gah!

I am in *HELL*... pure hell. Perhaps I'm being a bit whiny here, but GAWD. I can take it no more. Work. People bitching, complaining, sarcasm (not the good kind, the feel-sorry-for-me-I'm-so-swamped kind)... and if you're so FUCKING BUSY, why are you on the phone chattering away about MINDLESS BULLSHIT for... let's see, it's been nearly 20 minutes by now! I do not feel sorry for you, you who do not use your time wisely. PRIORITIZE, bitch! Prioritize!

:: Ahem ::

So beneath this work-related rage, beyond the role of the bitchy hormonal fire breathing beast of a woman that I play so well, there is a very tender and loving heart that is super excited about the upcoming arrival of her new baby boy. I have made the decision to NOT take a childbirth class. I repeat, I am NOT taking a childbirth class. I would go postal if I had to sit through A) a weekend (meaning 2 8-hour sessions in 2 days) or B) 6 2 1/2-hour night sessions consisting of a handful of other clueless first time parents asking one stupid question after the next. I simply could not bare it. I know this about myself. I know that my head would spin exorcist style and that I'd eventually get kicked out of the class for shooting laser beams out of my eyes. So I am not taking the class. Instead, I've signed up for:

1/Babycare basics
2/CPR & baby safety
3/Breastfeeding 101

I believe I'll get much more use out of these courses, plus they're a single session of 3 hours or less. Sweet. SWEET!

And by the way, he's now been on the phone for almost a half hour. No pity party here, mr. bossman!

A Kick in the Ribs...

Baby boy, he is a'growin! And moving all around. His two favorite activities are kicking me in the bladder and poking around my ribs. Oh, the joys! Seriously? It *still* amazes me every time I feel him squirm. And I think, HOLY CRAP, we'll actually get to meet him in less than 10 weeks. I. CAN'T. WAIT!

So while I am all excited and in awe of this perfect little baby boy in my belly, I am also starting to FREAK OUT. What if I go into labor early? What if I go into labor alone, because D is in Louisiana? I read the other day that women who work out during pregnancy, as I have proudly been doing, typically go into labor 9 days earlier than sedentary women. I'm scheduled for induction at 39 weeks, so that's 7 days early. BUT... what about those other 2 days? What if I go into labor on the friday before, and D isn't home yet? HUH? THEN WHAT? *ahem*

I am ready for Ethan's arrival. I'm ready (as I'll ever be) to wake at all hours of the night, to change a squillion dirty diapers, to have him knaw on my oh-so sensitive nipple while he feeds... but to actually GIVE BIRTH? I'm not so sure. It really doesn't sound like much fun. So I'm thinking I might be able to strike some sort of deal with my son, like if he gives me an easy labor and delivery, I promise that I won't make him watch Barney, like, EVER, and that I'll warm every baby wipe before it touches his fragile little behind. Cut each other a deal. He scratches my back, I'll scratch his.

Hang Tough...

Is it WRONG or STRANGE in the slightest that I get such a kick out of watching my chihuahua try to remove a stubborn dangling piece of poo from his tiny rear end? Because it is truly hilarious.

Braxton Who?

I've had Braxton Hicks contractions ALL. DAY. LONG. Anyone have any advice or stories to share? There's no bleeding involved, so no worries. Still... if this is my body "practicing" for labor, HOLY FUCKING SHIT. You practice hitting a ball for softball. You practice your cabbage patch dance moves for the club Saturday night. You practice juggling, or tossing up popcorn in the air and catching it in your mouth. The uterus practices for pushing a small human being out of itself later. Lovely.

Owner of a Lonely Heart...

D has been talking about going to Louisiana to get a job rebuilding things where his parents live for some time now, but today he said he wants to leave next week. The plan would be for him to work there and come home to me every 2 weeks or so, until I can move there too with Ethan. This sucks in so many ways.

I want him to be here with me to watch my belly grow to ginormous proportions. I want him to rub my feet in the last few weeks of my pregnancy and to feel Ethan kick and squirm in utero. I've got less than 12 weeks to go. December 19 is just around the corner. What if I go into early labor and D isn't here for it?

The plan is for me to finish out our lease in our current apartment and then to move back home with my mom at the beginning of December. We had plans to move back in with her for awhile now... for BOTH of us to move back in. This will give us a major break financially since I will not be making a dime the entire 6 weeks of my materniy leave, and my mom is more than happy to help with the baby (bless her heart!). I am fine with all of that, but now? I am feeling so alone! I'll have to face the 2:30 a.m. cries solo, without D by my side. Will Ethan smile for the first time without D around? Will he hold up his head and turn over and gurgle his first cooes with only mama there to witness it? I hope not.

Eventually, according to plan, D will work and save money in Louisiana and get us a house with the help of his parents. Sometime mid-2006 I will pack up and move there with Ethan. D's mother will watch Ethan once I find a job, which will save us a TON of money not having to pay for daycare. His father and mother can get both of us great jobs... I guess you could say they've got "connections". It all sounds like a dream. We'll see how it goes...

I've always wanted to live alone. I went straight from my mom's house at 23 to an apartment a town away with D. There have been several times in the last 2 years where I've wished I'd been able to experience living by myself. But I'm over that now... we're married, we're pregnant, and I adore the idea of FAMILY. I want love and support and togetherness, ALWAYS! Especially in the last few weeks of my pregnancy.

I know that D is making a huge sacrifice by working there and leaving me here. It will be just as hard for him as it will be for me. He's got a lot of hard work ahead of him. But there's still that selfish side of me that wants to tell him nu-uh, no way in HELL are you leaving me when I'm about to explode with little baby boy... I need you here with me!