I swear I'm going to call him that when he's born. The little stinker will NOT leave my uterus alone. There were a couple of hours today when the A&E 'Crossing Jordan' marathon I was so enjoying was being interrupted every seven minutes by stomach tightening and cramping. How can I follow plot line when I need to breathe through these damn things on a regular basis? How distracting!
Then I had to breathe through my stirfry that Geekster had so nicely prepared for me. Where's the justice? First I get sidetracked from a great show, then an excellent meal. And for what? Am I birthing a baby right now? No. I'm sitting here having more contractions, but irregular and not terribly productive as far as I can tell. I'm only 35 weeks tomorrow, so I know I have at least two or three more weeks to go. I'm being very optimistic in my predictions, too. I have to be for my sanity (I realize you may question whether or not I have any sanity left. Remember: I'm trying to think positive right now. I will go into labour early and I am still somewhat sane. Positive.)
But, hey! We had a wonderful night away at the Westin. We ate steak, we shopped for digital cameras and baby bassinets and woks, we had a nice brunch, we went for a swim, we scouted out potential neighbourhoods to move into next year... We received no 'Oh my Lord and for the love of all that is holy, please save me from your heathen spawn!' phone calls from The Madre. In fact, she told us off for coming home two hours earlier than expected. She was busy doing laundry and organizing the baby's room. The children were - get this - well-behaved (I think she's lying) and were kept too busy to miss us (she didn't elaborate on 'busy', but I'm guessing by tying her up and throwing things at her). I'm thinking of building her a wing in our next home and having her move in. We might not have room for the bowling alley or the extra garage space for the Bentleys, but I think it would be worth it to have someone so useful around.
Oh, and her friend, The Penguin, left me a cake and ice cream so we could have a proper celebration upon our return home. She's a health care professional, so she was probably thinking that my children would suffer from post traumatic stress if we didn't celebrate my 30th birthday with them. Too late, Tux. They're my children so they can't possibly end up emotionally healthy. That would involve good genetics and parenting, neither of which is a reality over here. If you saw how many parenting books I have (next to the dozens of self-help books lining my shelves) you'd know they don't have a hope in hell of coming out of childhood unscathed. Parents who know what they're doing don't need to buy parenting books. The rest of us are wasting our money because they probably won't help anyway.
The only downside to our mini-vacay was walking. The pool noodle has been replaced quite unexpectedly with what I believe is a mace. Poor Geekster had to slow his 6'2" self down quite a bit. His long legs were going at more of a shuffle than a walk to accomodate my waddling. I was on the verge of tears more than once but maintained a grin as much as I could. It was our special time away, after all. I can't go ruining it by being a whiny pregnant girl, right? Smile through the tears and all that. What's this 'honesty' thing I said I was going to pull off in this new decade I'm in? How quickly one forgets...
I was asked twice in less than 24hrs if I was having twins. I fielded more 'WOW! Any time now, eh?' comments than I can remember. I was ready to punch the next person who looked at me with that sympathetic stare. Yes, I'm uncomfortable, ok? Yes, I want this baby out of me yesterday for purely selfish reasons. No, I'm not a good mother who wants her baby to bake for as long as he needs to. It's all about me, damnit. ME. Feel sorry for my baby who has to grow up with someone so self-centered. And he's the third baby, which is even worse. Poor little guy.
Rant over. That feels better.
*ahem*
So I'm thirty now. I think it's finally sinking in. My 20's were pretty good to me, though. I had two babies and grew most of a third, got married, bought a house, finally passed my driving test (third time's a charm), finished a heavy-duty lactation course that earned me a pretty certificate for my wall, and made a bunch of mistakes that I actually learned from. That's a fairly full decade, don't you think? I had no room for anything else, which is why I had to turn thirty. You can see how these things happen.
I have an awesome new camera that contains pictures of the very pregnant Maven. I'll upload them ASAP. I just have to walk upstairs, grab the camera and the cables, then make my way back down here, get under my desk, plug in the cables, sit down at my desk, install the software and upload the pictures.
On second thought, maybe I'll do that in about five weeks. Or, better yet, maybe I'll bribe my children with cake for breakfast and make them do it all for me. Everything but the sitting part. I'm pretty good at that.
Then I had to breathe through my stirfry that Geekster had so nicely prepared for me. Where's the justice? First I get sidetracked from a great show, then an excellent meal. And for what? Am I birthing a baby right now? No. I'm sitting here having more contractions, but irregular and not terribly productive as far as I can tell. I'm only 35 weeks tomorrow, so I know I have at least two or three more weeks to go. I'm being very optimistic in my predictions, too. I have to be for my sanity (I realize you may question whether or not I have any sanity left. Remember: I'm trying to think positive right now. I will go into labour early and I am still somewhat sane. Positive.)
But, hey! We had a wonderful night away at the Westin. We ate steak, we shopped for digital cameras and baby bassinets and woks, we had a nice brunch, we went for a swim, we scouted out potential neighbourhoods to move into next year... We received no 'Oh my Lord and for the love of all that is holy, please save me from your heathen spawn!' phone calls from The Madre. In fact, she told us off for coming home two hours earlier than expected. She was busy doing laundry and organizing the baby's room. The children were - get this - well-behaved (I think she's lying) and were kept too busy to miss us (she didn't elaborate on 'busy', but I'm guessing by tying her up and throwing things at her). I'm thinking of building her a wing in our next home and having her move in. We might not have room for the bowling alley or the extra garage space for the Bentleys, but I think it would be worth it to have someone so useful around.
Oh, and her friend, The Penguin, left me a cake and ice cream so we could have a proper celebration upon our return home. She's a health care professional, so she was probably thinking that my children would suffer from post traumatic stress if we didn't celebrate my 30th birthday with them. Too late, Tux. They're my children so they can't possibly end up emotionally healthy. That would involve good genetics and parenting, neither of which is a reality over here. If you saw how many parenting books I have (next to the dozens of self-help books lining my shelves) you'd know they don't have a hope in hell of coming out of childhood unscathed. Parents who know what they're doing don't need to buy parenting books. The rest of us are wasting our money because they probably won't help anyway.
The only downside to our mini-vacay was walking. The pool noodle has been replaced quite unexpectedly with what I believe is a mace. Poor Geekster had to slow his 6'2" self down quite a bit. His long legs were going at more of a shuffle than a walk to accomodate my waddling. I was on the verge of tears more than once but maintained a grin as much as I could. It was our special time away, after all. I can't go ruining it by being a whiny pregnant girl, right? Smile through the tears and all that. What's this 'honesty' thing I said I was going to pull off in this new decade I'm in? How quickly one forgets...
I was asked twice in less than 24hrs if I was having twins. I fielded more 'WOW! Any time now, eh?' comments than I can remember. I was ready to punch the next person who looked at me with that sympathetic stare. Yes, I'm uncomfortable, ok? Yes, I want this baby out of me yesterday for purely selfish reasons. No, I'm not a good mother who wants her baby to bake for as long as he needs to. It's all about me, damnit. ME. Feel sorry for my baby who has to grow up with someone so self-centered. And he's the third baby, which is even worse. Poor little guy.
Rant over. That feels better.
*ahem*
So I'm thirty now. I think it's finally sinking in. My 20's were pretty good to me, though. I had two babies and grew most of a third, got married, bought a house, finally passed my driving test (third time's a charm), finished a heavy-duty lactation course that earned me a pretty certificate for my wall, and made a bunch of mistakes that I actually learned from. That's a fairly full decade, don't you think? I had no room for anything else, which is why I had to turn thirty. You can see how these things happen.
I have an awesome new camera that contains pictures of the very pregnant Maven. I'll upload them ASAP. I just have to walk upstairs, grab the camera and the cables, then make my way back down here, get under my desk, plug in the cables, sit down at my desk, install the software and upload the pictures.
On second thought, maybe I'll do that in about five weeks. Or, better yet, maybe I'll bribe my children with cake for breakfast and make them do it all for me. Everything but the sitting part. I'm pretty good at that.