I thought I was out of space a few weeks ago.
Heh. Boy was *I* wrong.
A few weeks ago I still had all the space in the world and I could walk without cringing. It’s a sad state of affairs these days, watching me try to move from anywhere. I need some kind of backup beep, early alert ”SHE’S ON THE MOVE” system. Tim has to literally wind up and shove my ass from behind to help me get off the couch or else it ain’t happenin’.
(I swear this next part will make sense in a minute)
As of a few weeks ago, one of our dogs has THE FARTS and OMG. They clear a room. We have no idea what happened or why but the stench that leaks out of their rear ends is beyond peeling paint off of the wall.
The worst part?
They’re totally silent so you never know it’s coming until it’s already too late.
After one such SBD (silent but deadly) dog fart last night, Tim looked at me as I was bouncing on the yoga ball and said, “Your farts used to be quiet like the dogs all ssssssssssssssss and now they’re freaking BRRRAAAMMMMPPPP!!!!!“
Thanks, dear. As if I don’t already feel gross enough.
You think it’s bad now?
Just wait ’til I get on that delivery room table.
You’ll wish it was ‘just farts,’ then.
(That’s kind of an inside joke between Tim and me…’just farts’….there is a story somewhere – no idea if it is true or not – about a mom and a kid at a restaurant and the mom smells something like her kid just did a #2 in his pants. She looks at her child like OMG. DID YOU?! The kid, seeing the horror on his mom’s face, pulls down his pants, bends over, spreads his cheeks and says, “See, mom? Just farts!”)
Also? Baby sprout, you’re killing my game, here. Lets get a move on.
Everyone is waiting….impatiently, probably…for this little one to enter the world as a real, screaming, pink baby. It’s like the worst form of anticipation. Every single day it’s like “Is it today!? Is it going to happen!?”
Then, when it doesn’t, you’re all, “Maybe tomorrow….”
We only have three “maybe tomorrow’s” before my due date, so………
(Can you believe my due date is Thursday?! Wow)
Am I aware that most first time moms go late?
Do I want to be one of those?
Will that happen?
I don’t really want to think about it.
Instead, let’s see just how large I’ve gotten because, really, it’s out of control.
Also, I no longer care how crazy my hair looks or how fat my face IS.
JUST GET THIS BABY OUT.
And the non-compression shirt, naked version:
You may not be able to see much of a difference but TRUST ME.
It’s like I’m legit about to pop.
Stick a pin in me, I’m done.
…I have to admit, though, I will miss the pregnancy hair…