Your regularly scheduled program is broken...

     I am currently 37 1/2 weeks with a baby/behemoth growing in my midsection that is measuring 8lbs 14oz. Ya'll... I am 5 feet tall.  I keep going into labor but not progressing because her head is too big to get through my poor, beleaguered pelvis.  Unless she breaks it... which feels like a possibility.  My all-knowing, all-seeing Doctor is "so excited that I will make it until my scheduled c-section date", but I must confess, I do not share her "enthusiasm".  Mostly I just wonder if this could be considered torture and could I appeal to a higher governmental power to GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME before I need reconstructive surgery on... well... everything.  I mean, if we have to ensure a certain "humanitarian comfort level" of our convicted felons, why can we slowly rip up the insides of one law abiding mommy?  *sigh*  My plaintive cries have fallen on overly educated and completely deaf ears...

     So... I am taking a Blog Break (from the writing part anyway...  I'm sure I will be blowin' up the Facebooks, Twitters, and Instagrams with photos because those don't require a whole lot of brain sparkies.) AND while I'm sure most of you would be the loverly folks you are and at least peruse my pain wrapped ramblings on how much I hate being pregnant, I won't subject you to that.  Because I love you.  ALL of you.  I'm poly-bloggy like that...  I will be keeping up with you guys (hopefully) because I need to be able to live vicariously through all of you... unless you write about being able to bend over or bladder control... then I will just skip it because HOW CRUEL OF YOU TO RUB IT IN MY FACE LIKE THAT!  *ahem*  I mean, I am not in a place emotionally where I can handle that right now.  Give me a couple of weeks, a c-section, a sweet little baby on the outside, a handy bottle of pain meds, and I will be good to go.

So until then.... see you in your "Comments" section....

*MUAH*

Life lessons at the check-out counter....

     During our increasingly familiar mid-week-trip to the grocery store (because Mommy has decided we need to eat something with more meat, more fried whatever, or more chocolate) my children were entertaining themselves in the car-cart by lifting up their shirts and begging the other one to poke them in the belly button... loudly.  Screechy choruses of "Me!" "No!  Now me!" were echoing through the isles causing the childless to throw the shark eye and the child-ed to smirk and walk on.  They were actually being pretty adorable if you ask me.

     But, as with everything else, all good things/behavior must come to an end, and what began as a round of sweet belly poking, became a full on contact sport.  While Hubbs was trying to check out and I had gone to put an extra something back, Sass began to whomp on Sprinkles... she was thrilled!  The girl loves a good wrastle....  She sat there, giggling and grinning as Bubba rattled her back and forth.  I could see her grin from across the grocery store as I waddled back.  Hubbs was just turning to calm things down when an employee in one of those store colored vests walked up to "shield" my "poor defenseless daughter" from the "obviously egregious maltreatment" by her "evil older brother"... like it was some damn Disney fairytale.  With a sweet southern smile (that always means the exact opposite of what it does everywhere else in the world... except to apes... don't smile at an ape) she told Sass to "be nice to his little sister" and clasped Sprinks head protectively to her bosom. (Boy, is that woman luck that SPrinkles doesn't bite... anymore.)

     Now... I am all for a little village discipline.  I have been known to quietly threaten the sand/dirt/mulch throwing heathens of inattentive parents on the playground on numerous occasions.  The idea that Big Parent is always watching is a good one... but would she have done this if Sprinks was the aggressor and Sass the whompee?  Or if my oldest was a girl and my current youngest was a boy?  My money's on no.  Granted, they were being loud and disruptive and we were just trying to get out of the store with all limbs attached, but she was as culpable as he was, not to mention enjoying every moment of it.  There may be 2 years between them, but genetics has decreed that there only be 8 lbs separating them in weight at this point, and what Sass may have in big boy coordination Sprinks can totally handle with her sheer bulk and brute strength.  "Girl" does not equal delicate, crazy lady at the grocery store, or well mannered for that matter. Or clean.  Or defenseless.  Or non-bug eating.  I see we still have a lot of societal re-training to do...  *sigh*

     As I finished waddling up I laughed and said "Oh don't you worry.  She gives as good as she gets." a.k.a. "Hint, hint... hands off." and smiled my ape-smile right back and we went on our way.  When we got home dinner was cooked, cartoons were watched, and cheerful wrastling ensued.... and she gave as good as she got (much to Sass's delight) just like usual and just like it will always be.

Sometimes it's like this...

... and sometimes it ends up like this...

... but being able to (theoretically) pee standing up has NOTHING to do with the outcome of the match!

We all need a little "Heroic Effort"!

     My brother-in-law is going through some L&D pains of his own at the moment.  He is birfin' his buh-aby this week and I would say he's crowning and livin' in that ring-o-fire as we speak...     You see, he's just released his first comedy album called "Heroic Effort" and it is pee-your-pants funny (and no... I am not just saying that because I am preggo and pee when I breathe too hard.  He's just that damn funny!).  Get some depends, put the kids to bed,  grab an adult beverage, and prepare to be bladderally annihilated!

And yes, he totally does walk around looking just like that.  Giant, bionic ninja sword and everything...  My sister is so proud... see?

Totes adorbes....

Anyhoo... go here and download it NOW!  You need the laugh... you know you do....  Besides, dry underwear are over rated....

It is, isn't it?

     Sass Monkey told me last night that, when I had the baby, I was "gonna ESPLODE just like this, Momma!". He then proceeded to throw himself up into the air, flail out all four limbs while making a booming noise, and land face first on the bed in a glorious physical illustration of my impending L&D experience.

I am starting to think he may be right.

     Last Thursday I had the wonderful "It's time!"... "Oh, it's NOT time?  But it sure as hell feels like time!" experience.  In other words, 45 second contractions 5-6 minutes apart for several hours led to a speedy trip to the hospital... of course, minutes before the giant baby shower all the lovely folks at my place of work had planned.  (You should have seen the cake!  Could have fed the entire 101st Airborne Division and had leftovers...)  Anyway... Hubbs and I get to L&D, they stick a gigantic needle in my hand, hook me up like a spider in a web, pump me full of enough fluids to blow me up to roughly the size of a Macy's parade balloon, and then... wait...  The contractions didn't stop.  This is IT!  THIS IS IT!  Ummm....but it isn't, you see...  After being felt up by about 4 different people they all conclude I was not dilating.  Not dilating?  Not even a little? NOT DILATING?  But this HUUUURRRTTTSSS!!!!  WTF?!?!?!!?!

Wtf, indeed.

     Turns out I am getting all the BANG and none of the "It's a girl!" BUCK.  It's False Labor... aaaand it could go on for weeks.  Hearing the "False" part kind of hurt because it didn't feel "False" at all.  In fact, it felt entirely "True" and, as a third timer, I was a little disturbed that I could be duped like that... by my own body even.  The contractions didn't stop but I got to do the walk of shame past the front desk and back out into the parking garage.... *sigh*... with no baby.

Part of my disappointment is because I really can't wait to meet her, part of it is because I really don't want to be pregnant anymore, and part of it is because of that stupid word "False"....

     This got me ta thinkin'... there are a whole lot of words used in OB/GYN situations that have a very negative connotation.  Words that BLAME ... words like "false" and "incompetent"... words that would never be used in reference to a man's pink parts.  I mean, imagine if they called it "Failure to Launch" or "Bad case 'o' the Flops" instead of "Erectile Dysfunction"?  Or what about "No Goo For You"  or "Bye-Bye Boom-Boom Juice" instead of "Prostate Cancer"?   Well they just wouldn't, would they?

     Hey you, Who-Ha community!  My cervix was not "Incompetent " with my last pregnancy (it was just over-eager), and there was nothing "False" about my contractions this time around either.  They sucked then, they sucked all weekend, and they suck now.  Let's call them something else, hummm?  How about "Super Heroine Squeezes" or "The-Hell-We-Are-The-Weaker-Sex Marathon Labor Prep Exercises"?  We could call them the "Seriously's?!?!" for short... just sayin'.

     We have no more control over "Incompetent" or "False" than over "Dysfunction" or "Cancer"....  You Docs may not see it as a failing, but as a hormonal and desperate pregnant woman,  hearing "False" hurts.  But I will continue on, do my kick counts and try to wait patiently...  Yeah... *sigh*

I may actually "ESPLODE"!