Yes, I know I owe you a home visit post. I have it somewhat written; can't quite finish it. Guess the pain is too fresh. Not to mention the villains we are dealing with over here. Readers, let me just tell you; the Trimester Three Triad have taken up residence at Awkward Manor.
You know; Exhaustion, Fake Labor, and Bored-of-Being-Pregnant-Want-Baby-to-Hold-Now. Now, these are the Triad bosses, but they have tons of minions that stomp in and out like they own the place. Currently, Self-Doubt is sitting on my chest. He was roused by all the comments regarding my size I have been getting lately. (Side note, please don't ever ever say to a pregnant woman, "Are you sure that is your due date? Because when I was 8 months, I was much much bigger than you." Believe me, someone in the 8th month of pregnancy has felt every one of those 8 months and is 2 steps away from making your lip much much bigger for daring to rob her of any of it. Oh, and the response, "You don't look pregnant at all" never sounds nice. If you think I look like I have a beer belly, please keep it to yourself.) Lurking over there in the corner, looking really shifty, is Panic, I-can't-Stop-Making-Lists, and I-feel-like-John-Hurt-from-Alien-please-don't-let-the-baby-come-out-the-same-way. Oh, it is a non-stop party over here.
To be fair, Exhaustion has been here for awhile. Guess he scouted the place out for the other guys. I can not sleep. There is little to no sleep going on. I toss. I turn. I move. I kick Awkward Dad and his snoring out. I fall asleep for a couple minutes and then go get him because I heard a noise that may or may not have been in my dream. I toss. I turn. I get stuck while turning. It is endless. So, I ask BabyCenter (when will I learn?) what to do. Take naps. Oh, I see, take naps. When exactly? Super Toddler naps like a champ because he doesn't exactly like to sleep at night. I think he might be in league with Exhaustion. Super Preschooler sleeps like an angel at night but as given up his afternoon nap in favor of this: "Mommy, Mommy, look, I can do a hand-stand on the couch. Mommy, Mommy, how many is 2? What is blood? When is Halloween? Is it Halloween today? Can I be a ghost? Mommy, Mommy, look, I am a ghost, doing a hand-stand on the couch. Mommy, Mommy, can I have a snake? How many is 4? How do you spell Halloween? When is Halloween? Mommy, Mommy, can I have some markers? Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy. Nothing, just wanted you. Mommy, Mommy, look, I drew you a picture. On the couch. Mommy, Mommy, what's wrong?"
Fake labor has arrived. And that is what I am calling her. I don't care that her real name is
Braxton Hicks Contractions and that, according to "What to Expect When you are Expecting" (seriously, when will I learn?) she is actually very helpful in the very early labor process. Whatever. Every single time I feel one of her fake labor contractions, I get excited. I think, "This is it! Here we go! Gonna meet Super Fetus soon!" And then, the contraction goes away. And nothing else happens. Well, now, that isn't quite true. Stuff happens. Someone needs a diaper, a cat throws up, someone wants a cookie and throws a fit when handed an apple slice; you know, stuff. But not exciting birth stuff that will require someone else to deal with the diaper, the vomit, and the fits for a few days, while I go to a fancy hospital with nurses that bring me ice and let me sleep and give me a little baby to hold. And yes, I am aware I may be skipping over some other unpleasant "stuff" here, but you have to know that the sheer power of Bored-of Being-Pregnant-Want-Baby-to-Hold-Now can render you blind to memories of the other aspects of birth. He is an extremely powerful villain, kinda like a Doctor Doom or a Galactus. You know, the more I think of it, the more Fake Labor is like a herald for Bored-of-.....you know, I am just gonna call him Bored. You all know what I mean and I am too exhausted to type his whole name. Anywho, Fake Labor is Bored's Herald; kinda like Silver Surfer is to Galactus. Yes, that is it. And yes, I really nerded out there, sorry.
My whole point is that I am in my third trimester.
Sigh. Let's let Awkward Mom get it together, shall we? Check back here soon, perhaps she'll somehow nap and be able to be a little more coherent. Same awkward time, Same awkward channel!
Walk? Like all the time? Lady, come on. I gave you those few steps the other day, give me a break. I am busy right now standing in a hole in this Elmo table. Check back with me in a few. Thanks.