Want an update?
Too bad. That would involve me having something to update about.
Everyone's asking me when this baby is coming out. I should just start telling people when I don't think he'll be born, because that will most likely be the day. It makes perfect sense: first, I thought he was a girl (until I realized on ultrasound day that my little princess was packing quite a penis). Then, I figured I was in labour two weeks ago to the day, only to discover that I was dehydrated and my uterus hates me. In the last two weeks I've had maybe a day or two when I haven't wondered if this is the day, including this afternoon, when I winced about every five minutes as my belly hardened like a rock and sent shooting pains into my back, then gradually went away. It was great fun.
So, as you can see, I'm so intuitively flawed this time around that I think a perfect stranger's guess would be better than mine. I should start randomly asking people on the street when my baby's due. Maybe I'll get a better idea.
No matter. I made today a good one. While Gutsy terrorized his teachers at preschool - to the point where they needed to talk to me upon pickup, oops - I had a coffee and breakfast sandwich with a side of Friday morning newspaper, followed by a haircut and a quick shopping trip to get some pyjamas and the most amazing slippers ever. Seriously. It's like sex for my feet. At least one part of me can have sex easily these days.
I also swung by to pick up Intrepid's newly repaired hearing aid. Horray! It's been incredibly loud in the house for the last 2.5 weeks. He can't stand wearing only one aid, so when the other is out of comission his naked little ears come out to play. Nothing like two boys who can't hear well spending a lot of time indoors on rainy days. The television, the keyboard, the playing, the fighting, the laughing, the singing, all so, so loud. Add in that I'm a miserable, pregnant tortoise right now and it makes for many more grey hairs in my thirty-year-old mane.
We don't just want a bigger house for the space. We want a bigger house for the noise reduction. The more square footage, the easier it is to seek shelter in one corner of the home while the decibels bounce off other walls on another floor somewhere. Pure bliss. I can't wait.
I have a KitKat waiting for me upstairs. Did you know it's the most popular chocolate bar in the world? Did you know there was an entire show on Discovery dedicated to its conception and marketing? Did you know only losers like me would actually watch that show with great interest, not once, but twice? Did you also know that, while I would love to boycott Nestle due to their awful formula marketing in third world countries, I simply can't resist a KitKat or Coffee Crisp on occasion and that I'm doomed to a life of bad karma because of it? Nestle the formula maker = bad. Nestle the chocolate bar maker = Irresistable to bon-bon eaters like myself. Bad, bad Maven. Shame on me and stuff.
Confession is good for the soul. Now it's time for chocolate. Everybody loves the chocolate (note the resemblance to yours truly in my current condition).
Everyone's asking me when this baby is coming out. I should just start telling people when I don't think he'll be born, because that will most likely be the day. It makes perfect sense: first, I thought he was a girl (until I realized on ultrasound day that my little princess was packing quite a penis). Then, I figured I was in labour two weeks ago to the day, only to discover that I was dehydrated and my uterus hates me. In the last two weeks I've had maybe a day or two when I haven't wondered if this is the day, including this afternoon, when I winced about every five minutes as my belly hardened like a rock and sent shooting pains into my back, then gradually went away. It was great fun.
So, as you can see, I'm so intuitively flawed this time around that I think a perfect stranger's guess would be better than mine. I should start randomly asking people on the street when my baby's due. Maybe I'll get a better idea.
No matter. I made today a good one. While Gutsy terrorized his teachers at preschool - to the point where they needed to talk to me upon pickup, oops - I had a coffee and breakfast sandwich with a side of Friday morning newspaper, followed by a haircut and a quick shopping trip to get some pyjamas and the most amazing slippers ever. Seriously. It's like sex for my feet. At least one part of me can have sex easily these days.
I also swung by to pick up Intrepid's newly repaired hearing aid. Horray! It's been incredibly loud in the house for the last 2.5 weeks. He can't stand wearing only one aid, so when the other is out of comission his naked little ears come out to play. Nothing like two boys who can't hear well spending a lot of time indoors on rainy days. The television, the keyboard, the playing, the fighting, the laughing, the singing, all so, so loud. Add in that I'm a miserable, pregnant tortoise right now and it makes for many more grey hairs in my thirty-year-old mane.
We don't just want a bigger house for the space. We want a bigger house for the noise reduction. The more square footage, the easier it is to seek shelter in one corner of the home while the decibels bounce off other walls on another floor somewhere. Pure bliss. I can't wait.
I have a KitKat waiting for me upstairs. Did you know it's the most popular chocolate bar in the world? Did you know there was an entire show on Discovery dedicated to its conception and marketing? Did you know only losers like me would actually watch that show with great interest, not once, but twice? Did you also know that, while I would love to boycott Nestle due to their awful formula marketing in third world countries, I simply can't resist a KitKat or Coffee Crisp on occasion and that I'm doomed to a life of bad karma because of it? Nestle the formula maker = bad. Nestle the chocolate bar maker = Irresistable to bon-bon eaters like myself. Bad, bad Maven. Shame on me and stuff.
Confession is good for the soul. Now it's time for chocolate. Everybody loves the chocolate (note the resemblance to yours truly in my current condition).