I am not completely myself...

As we round into the 3rd level of hell trimester, I have finally come to the realization that I am really not myself.  Not even close.  There are echos of my former humanity rattling around in here somewhere but that is all they are.... echos.  I have become...  THE INCUBATOR or THE GREAT GASPY or A WHALE CALLED SYNNØVE .. just pick one and run with it.  It's not like I can... run, that is... or even walk quickly, really....  *sigh*

Anyhoo...  While there are many things I am not (like ambulatory, continent, or sentient) there ARE a few things I still am.

I AM

- I am so roundly gargantuan that it's gotten to the point where Hubbs no longer asks if I'm okay when he hears a bunch of panting, grunting, and painful groaning coming from the other room... he just assumes I am trying to stand up.  And he's right...

- I am the hugely pregnant Mom who inspires all the other children in my son's class to beg loudly and publicly for a sibling.  No, no... go ahead and throw me the shark-eye, other Moms.  I get it.  No hard feelings....

- I am the human dirigible who trips over NOTHING in the middle of downtown Nashville and falls on the sidewalk much to the complete horror of everyone around me.  I couldn't stop myself.  Where the belly goes, so go I... damnit.

- I am starting to dream about giving birth...  Yeah, I've hit that point.  The best part of the dream is when I can actually bend over afterwards and breathe properly.  There is always this intense sense of physical relief at the end as I cradle my my new baby (or rag doll as in my last dream where I gave birth to Raggedy Ann in the shower.  Freud THAT!) to my chest and go about my daily life as if nothing has happened.  No pain, no blood, no unnamable goo... just sweet relief.

- I am THAT pregnant lady who has grown too large for actual maternity clothes by month 7 and must move on to big dude tee-shirts from Wal-mart or two table cloths sewn together...

- I AM the heavy breather in the elevator....

- I am so big my stomach is no longer suitable for my children to blow razzberries on as the skin is too tightly stretched.  They have had to substitute with Daddy; a hairier but viable substitute.  He is THRILLED.

- I am that wife who asks my Hubbs to "Be honest... how much bigger HAS my ass gotten?".   He usually just says "I love you!" and moves away quickly or smiles and says "I don't know what you are talking about.".   For a lawyer, he is a terrible liar...

- I am that un-handicapped woman who seriously considers the little motorized scooters in Wal-mart when we go grocery shopping....

- I am afraid to sneeze...

- I am, as my son likes to say, "preeeeegnant". (Draw that out with a Tennessee drawl and then giggle maniacally and you've got it.  Oh, and you need to be shirtless, wearing a camo trucker hat with 4 year olds farmer tan.)  Yup, mah little man, I am... with all those extra vowels and everything.

So these things I am and maybe a bit more (depending of whether my little tumbler in training takes the night off or not).  And it's only going to get worse before it gets better...  And then.... then.... into the Newborn Fog we go.  Good times, good times....  But at least I will be able to bend over.  :)

Tah-tah!

Boobs... all over the place....

Today I'm going to talk about boobs... Golden Side Boobs to be exact.  Recently a woman who is made of pure, unadulterated Bad-Assery nominated me for the:

Dyanne of Backsies Is What There Is Not, I am beyond honored!  

     You see, this brave Valkyrie of the Cancerous Wars has fought with and beaten back the most insidious of foes...  Breast Cancer.  *shudder*  Her spine is made of a material harder than tempered steel and yet, through it all, she has maintained her sense of humor and and her warrior spirit... she has left me speechless...  And to cherry-fy her awesome-sauce sundae she also teaches pre-K!  I mean seriously.... they don't even make merit badges for sh*t that hard core.  And wtf... she knows who I am?  

So yes, Dyanne, my fellow Nashvillian!  I will totally put your Golden Side Boobs all over my blog with pride because I couldn't have been gifted by a nicer pair!  :)

And now to nominate... Meara at My Home Is With You!

Meara has let us all into her life, writing candidly about her husband's recovery after being wounded in the line of duty.  Her inner strength and light has charmed me utterly and plus.... our daughters are twins somehow... 

Your guess is as good as mine as to who is who.......

So Meara, I say to you as it was passed down to me... accept this Golden Side Boob... If You Dare!  :)  The rules are wonderfully simple:

1. Be brazen enough to display it on your blog.
2. Nominate another blogger.


 Rock it and own it, girl... and seriously, we need to get some curly fries sometime...

I call a Do-Over!

     "Yeah... *sigh with forehead rubbing*  those are mine."  Those two filthy, nose picking, possibly spider-eating, bruise-covered, pooting, burping, wiggling heathens are mine.

This week has been interesting... comedy-of-errors interesting.  Aaaand it's not even Friday...

Let's start with Monday, shall we?

Sass:  Two boo-boo reports resulting in a decently bloodied knee and banged up nose.
Sprinkles:  A diaper blowout that had the teacher using phrases like "crawled up her back" and "Chernobyl-esque"...

Tuesday:

Sass insists that Sprinks be "Spider Girl" to his Spiderman but she may have taken this to heart and too far...

     I walk into Sprinks school room to pick her up and, instead of smiles and hellos from her teachers, I get "We need to show you something." and dead-eyed stares.  "Okay", I say wondering what devilish debauchery my sweet little daughter has been party to... this time.  The lead teacher walks over, like a pall bearer at a funeral, a crumpled up paper towel clutched out in front of her.  It must be contagious by the way she is holding it.  "We found her playing with this." she says very seriously.  A turd?  I think to myself.  I can handle that AND it wouldn't be the first time anyway...  
     The teacher slowly and carefully peels back a corner of the towel to reveal... a giant crumpled up spider.  Both teachers go silent, waiting for my reaction.  In lieu of screeching like a banshee while leaping backwards fast enough to shed my own skin in a desperate attempt to put some distance between myself and my most hated of enemies I say "Oh.  Well.  Hmmmm....  It's missing its abdomen.  I wonder if somebody has spider breath?"  Shocked silence coats the room while I sweetly smile down at my tiny, organic vacuum cleaner.  "Oh and don't worry... it's not a Brown Recluse (which is why I knew they were afraid to show it to me as they are relatively common here).  It's too big and its legs are banded.  It's a Wolf Spider of some sort."  More shocked silence.
     As I forced myself to pick up my innocent little muffin while trying desperately to suppress my gag reflex and convince my subconscious that she WASN'T covered in nasty, filthy spider hairs, I realized I probably hadn't handled that well.  "Spider, Mommy?" she cooed sweetly.  "Yes, sweetie... that's a spider.  But we really shouldn't play with those..."  *hack, wretch, gag*

No sense in the next generation inheriting my all-encompassing and paralyzing fear of the eight-legged, right?

*shudder*  I need a shower....

Wednesday:

This.

Yeah... we got a call from school that someone had unsuccessfully played "Superman" off some playground equipment and is now 2/3rds angry, swollen noggin.  Did I mention that we are on a first name basis with our pediatrician?  He's fine, btw... he got his Daddy's skull....

*sigh*

I fear for today, Friday, and Saturday... oh, and Sunday.  Betcher britches it starts all over again on Monday, too....

No really... thank you!

     Apparently I work with a bunch of board certified OB/GYNs and I didn't realize it.  They give such great advice... and I get to hear it day in and day out.  Lucky me.  I guess my Ivy League Educated OB was just talking out of her ass when she gave me my November due date because, according to my work-sperts, I am not going to make it past September.  Good thing I asked them!  Oh wait... I didn't?  Well, nothing is more appreciated than advice given by random folks I occasionally see in the hallway.

     Oh... and you are naming experts as well?  I had no idea!  I am also amazed that you find any time at all to impart your obviously superior wisdom upon poor, wandering, and clueless souls such as myself.  Where would we be, other than cavorting around as pelt-clad cretins who beat sticks against each other while desperately trying to make fire and hooting wordlessly at the moon, without your cerebral nuggets to lift us up to civilization and enlightenment?  And you don't like my name choices?  Well then... let me get right on that.

     And for the love of gawd, PLEASE tell me more about your horrific stone age birth experiences!  I want nothing more than to envision your blown out vagina circa 1950.  It helps... it really, REALLY does.  It also explains why 2 of your children are now habitual offenders as the drugs prescribed to you during your pregnancies that you are naming off  aren't even used by backwoods, wanna-be veterinarians anymore.  Truthfully, at least two of them are known to cause cancer....

     No really... thank you random work acquaintances,  for all your unwarranted and unlooked for advice in the elevator, in the bathroom, in the hallways... well... just everywhere I can't get away from you!  I love nothing more than discussing the state of my cervix or pooping the table with folks I have never said more than 5 words to consecutively.

I need some brownie Cialis...

My heart has been dashed upon the sharp, yet delicately balanced, rocks of the culinary tides... I have been left to wander the empty halls, mourning the loss of the only one who could have brought me true satisfaction.

     I mean... just look at the poor beggar lying there completely limp and useless.  Not ten minutes ago he was rising nicely and full of promise!  I don't mind telling you that I was fairly drooling in anticipation of our masticatory rendezvous.  Normally I just pick up whatever I think will satisfy my needs quickly from the store but this was supposed to be special.  We had developed a real relationship!  Brought together by fate, the friendship quickly stirred and blended into something more powerful.  Something more... primal.  I even bought Crisco.  My eyes widened as I pulled him out, amazed by his dense majesty.  And then... oh, the horror... and then I watched my dreams crumble in mere moments as the possibility of our fluffy joining fell utterly flat.

I know, I know... he can't help it.  It was probably something I did, right?  *sigh*

I feel so hollow and unfulfilled...

Mommy Molding

     As I slowly waddle around, scaring the crap out of people in elevators (I can almost hear them thinking "Just please don't let her pop in here!"), I have had a lot more time to think.  I mentally map all of the closest bathrooms, just in case the grublet decides it's time to polka on my bladder.   I wonder about how life is going to change with our third edition.  I compare "then and now"... you know.. the whole pre-kids vs. post kids thing... and I have come to a couple of conclusions about who I was "then" as opposed to who I am "now".  Becoming a parent has definitely made me...


Resourceful
     Not in the "Naked and Afraid" kind of way (Btw, if you haven't seen that show, you should.  It will make you appreciate that we made it as a species AT ALL.  That, and the girls usually kick the guys butts.) but in the "Oh no.  I for got the wipes and her diaper is hanging so low we will have to avoid speed bumps on the way to the car.  Time to MacGyver some Wet Ones out of 2 panty liners and a week old bottle of water." kind of way.

Unsympathetic
   Not to boo-boos and nightmares, mind you, but to childless folks who tell me they are tired or talk about how their most recent vacay didn't turn out as planned.

Proud
     I made this.  That's right, folks!  This nose diving, super-blurr of knock-knock jokes and unrestrained public farts grew inside me.  I MADE PEOPLE (with Hubbs, of course)... what have YOU done for the human race lately?

Hearing Impaired
     I don't know about you guys, but I seem to have lost the ability to hear screaming and rattling around upstairs or outside until it is band-aid worthy.  It's really weird.

Appreciative
     ... of people who will watch my children for a night out with the Hubbs.
     ... of frozen meatballs and Prego with canned green beans.
     ... of Diaper Genies and spray on sunscreen and all those other little conveniences that make life easier               than it was 10 years ago.
     ... of lots of things I never would have even noticed B.K. (Before Kids... as opposed to A.K. - After                 Kids)

Aware
     Where does the time go?  It is speeding by, faster than time should, and now they are no longer babies.  They are little people who can dress themselves (sort of) and tell me what they want for dinner (mostly fruit snacks) and wipe their own butts (weeeeellll... kinda).  Wait!  Stop!  It's all happening too quickly!

Yup... I am a totally different person now... a better one....  :)