Ok, I know I skipped a day of blogging. The thing is, I'm mostly just miserable and there really isn't much to talk about when I'm in that frame of mind. Other than being miserable, that is.
Today isn't much of an exception. Last night my husband and I did things-that-shall-not-be-named-because-my-mother-reads-my-blog, and this somehow encouraged InUtero Boy to make his way even lower into my pelvis. This is already after the doctor told me he's 'right there' to begin with, meaning very low. Leave it to my spawnling to posess the intelligence and evil necessary to burrow his horns even deeper. It makes a mother proud *wiping away a tear*.
I woke up this morning at 5:50am to use the facilities. This was quite a treat, as it meant over six hours of uninterrupted sleep; a rarity the last few weeks. When I got up I just knew that somehing was different. Ever watch an emperor penguin walk with a egg balanced between its legs? Bow-legged, slow and precarious? Well, that's a sexier walk than what I can do right now.
Being way down on the sex-o-meter with nothing to lose, I can now say that it took me forever and a day to pee. That's what happens when a baby's head is right-there-much-more-so-than-before.
I was on the phone with Thac0 this morning and told her about how low he is and isn't he only supposed to do that right before or during labour in subsequent pregnancies? She informed me that nothing is guaranteed in pregnancies other than 'they have to come out'. I followed that up with 'No, he has to come out and come out before his due date and without tearing me from ying to yang.'
'No,' she replies calmly. 'That's not a guarantee.'
Maven gets all up in her face: 'Thac0, listen closely: If you value our friendship, then you'll agree with me right now.'
I could almost hear her eyes rolling (it would be weird if you could actually hear someone roll their eyes, wouldn't it? *shudder*). 'Yes, ok. All those things are guaranteed.'
The Maven rules all. Even six foot Amurken chicks. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. Really, she's just easy going and has a very high tolerance for my crap.
So, in short, getting up hurts, walking hurts and I may have to find myself a prostate problem support group to find people who get how... interesting ...urinating is right now.
But the good news is this: Today is speech therapy day, followed by a nice afternoon with my grandma. She's a cool chick. What other five foot nothing little British lady can say she was an anti aircraft bomber in WWII? I come from strong genetics (none of them laced with emperor penguin DNA, just to be clear). We're doing lunch followed by tea in her apartment. Yes, I do drink things other than coffee, despite the rumours.
Tonight we have meet-the-teacher, which is a bit of a pain considering that we already met the teacher last year. But, it's an obligatory function so one of us has to go. By 'one of us', I most likely mean Geekster, unless the children drive me batty this afternoon and I'm willing to stride (painstakingly shimmy) my way into Intrepid's school in all my hugeness. Maybe the teach will let me sit in her chair instead of using the boy's like I normally have to do. We can hope she remembers the end of pregnancy in ways I never do. Because honestly, if I had recalled how miserable I was the last two times, I would have purchased a chastity belt on eBay.
Gutsy's slowly adjusting to school. He only made me stay with him for about half an hour yesterday before I was able to duck out of there and head back home for a while. He came out in a great mood with a painting, a connect-the-dots picture (complete with lots of colour but no connected dots) and a Mr. Potato Head collage with some scary-looking teeth. He was incredibly proud of himself and I, of course, was very proud of him, too. Gutsy may be a bit of a handful, but he's also so sweet. He told me he made all the crafts for me because he knows I like them. And, the hormonally-charged mother that I am at the moment, I almost started bawling in the parking lot. Way to make some new friends there, crazy girl.
But making friends I am, slowly. It's a nice bunch of people at the preschool this year. Lots of *gasp* stay-at-home-parents. We're a rare breed, but we seem to all flock to certain places. I should probably alert some nature photographers to our whereabouts so they can snap some pictures. If there's enough support, we may even get the preschool declared a preservation area to protect this delicate and rapidly disappearing species.
Anyway, I should go shower. I shudder at the thought of walking upstairs and having to stand for so long. I'm just grateful I did a leg shave a couple of days ago. I won't need another until at least Monday. What I do need, however, is someone to come over and clean my house. And give me a hug. And watch a chick flick with me. Any takers?
No, you can't just watch a chick flick. You have to hug me and clean, too. It's a package deal.
Hey! Please don't leave. I'm sure we can work something out...
Today isn't much of an exception. Last night my husband and I did things-that-shall-not-be-named-because-my-mother-reads-my-blog, and this somehow encouraged InUtero Boy to make his way even lower into my pelvis. This is already after the doctor told me he's 'right there' to begin with, meaning very low. Leave it to my spawnling to posess the intelligence and evil necessary to burrow his horns even deeper. It makes a mother proud *wiping away a tear*.
I woke up this morning at 5:50am to use the facilities. This was quite a treat, as it meant over six hours of uninterrupted sleep; a rarity the last few weeks. When I got up I just knew that somehing was different. Ever watch an emperor penguin walk with a egg balanced between its legs? Bow-legged, slow and precarious? Well, that's a sexier walk than what I can do right now.
Being way down on the sex-o-meter with nothing to lose, I can now say that it took me forever and a day to pee. That's what happens when a baby's head is right-there-much-more-so-than-before.
I was on the phone with Thac0 this morning and told her about how low he is and isn't he only supposed to do that right before or during labour in subsequent pregnancies? She informed me that nothing is guaranteed in pregnancies other than 'they have to come out'. I followed that up with 'No, he has to come out and come out before his due date and without tearing me from ying to yang.'
'No,' she replies calmly. 'That's not a guarantee.'
Maven gets all up in her face: 'Thac0, listen closely: If you value our friendship, then you'll agree with me right now.'
I could almost hear her eyes rolling (it would be weird if you could actually hear someone roll their eyes, wouldn't it? *shudder*). 'Yes, ok. All those things are guaranteed.'
The Maven rules all. Even six foot Amurken chicks. That's what I'm telling myself, anyway. Really, she's just easy going and has a very high tolerance for my crap.
So, in short, getting up hurts, walking hurts and I may have to find myself a prostate problem support group to find people who get how... interesting ...urinating is right now.
But the good news is this: Today is speech therapy day, followed by a nice afternoon with my grandma. She's a cool chick. What other five foot nothing little British lady can say she was an anti aircraft bomber in WWII? I come from strong genetics (none of them laced with emperor penguin DNA, just to be clear). We're doing lunch followed by tea in her apartment. Yes, I do drink things other than coffee, despite the rumours.
Tonight we have meet-the-teacher, which is a bit of a pain considering that we already met the teacher last year. But, it's an obligatory function so one of us has to go. By 'one of us', I most likely mean Geekster, unless the children drive me batty this afternoon and I'm willing to stride (painstakingly shimmy) my way into Intrepid's school in all my hugeness. Maybe the teach will let me sit in her chair instead of using the boy's like I normally have to do. We can hope she remembers the end of pregnancy in ways I never do. Because honestly, if I had recalled how miserable I was the last two times, I would have purchased a chastity belt on eBay.
Gutsy's slowly adjusting to school. He only made me stay with him for about half an hour yesterday before I was able to duck out of there and head back home for a while. He came out in a great mood with a painting, a connect-the-dots picture (complete with lots of colour but no connected dots) and a Mr. Potato Head collage with some scary-looking teeth. He was incredibly proud of himself and I, of course, was very proud of him, too. Gutsy may be a bit of a handful, but he's also so sweet. He told me he made all the crafts for me because he knows I like them. And, the hormonally-charged mother that I am at the moment, I almost started bawling in the parking lot. Way to make some new friends there, crazy girl.
But making friends I am, slowly. It's a nice bunch of people at the preschool this year. Lots of *gasp* stay-at-home-parents. We're a rare breed, but we seem to all flock to certain places. I should probably alert some nature photographers to our whereabouts so they can snap some pictures. If there's enough support, we may even get the preschool declared a preservation area to protect this delicate and rapidly disappearing species.
Anyway, I should go shower. I shudder at the thought of walking upstairs and having to stand for so long. I'm just grateful I did a leg shave a couple of days ago. I won't need another until at least Monday. What I do need, however, is someone to come over and clean my house. And give me a hug. And watch a chick flick with me. Any takers?
No, you can't just watch a chick flick. You have to hug me and clean, too. It's a package deal.
Hey! Please don't leave. I'm sure we can work something out...