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tales of something simple - oh baby it’s a long way to october

i believe

Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.

all types of chaos

oh baby it's a long way to october

So listen you: you’ve changed my life quite dramatically already.  Pretty nuts how my body is no longer mine now, it’s all yours and your pregnancy hormone loving friends.  Feel sorry for your Daddy because he has literally entered into Sainthood for his patience with me.  Between starting a new job and enjoying “riding the porcelin bus” (as your great grandmother so loving calls it), I’m not exactly a day at the beach if you know what I mean.  I am also realizing that for everytime I ever saw a pregnant lady in the grocery store or shopping mall and thought “Oh she is just so cute” she should have punched me.  There is nothing cute about me except that you are growing inside and according to your Dad, this task in it of itself makes me awesome.

However, let’s discuss all the really cute things that happened to many of those pregnant women I always admired when out in public, like…

  • The fact that I may never take a decent shit again in my life.  Thank you constipation.
  • Or how you could literally milk me for fun or for thirst.  At this point my breasts no longer look like Daddy’s play toys, but like I am patronizing the local cows.
  • My eyebrows and toenails are growing at warp speed and because I literally have no memory whatsoever, I practically have to write myself a post-it to remind me to trim them (which is ironic, because you would think SEEING the mayhem would be inspiring all by itself)
  • I am an honorary bulimic.  If you even try to pull this shit on me when you are a teenager I will know because I can sense vomit a mile away, I know the tricks to cutting strings off hooded sweatshirts so they don’t fall in the toilet, the pull your hair up as you walk to the toilet, and the triple flush throughout the process so one, you don’t smell it and two, no one hears.  Yeah, I got your number.
  • My sciatic makes me psychotic.  You were as big as a tadpole and that damn nerve was already debilitating.
  • I can cry.  Any time.  Any place.  For any reason.  Girl at my new job doesn’t like me?  Tears.  Can’t keep a single meal down?  Tears.  Can’t sleep?  Tears. Feeling fat and not pregnant?  Tears.  I am officially emotionally awesome.
  • I can fall asleep at 8pm.  And sleep until 12pm the following day.  No joke.
  • I can pee right now just because you dared me too.  And in ten minutes, I could go again without really trying.

See how cute I am?  Luckily for me, I’ve adjusted to this new life (for the most part) and now that you are (apparently) the size of a lemon, you fit nicely into a pair of maternity jeans on a daily basis.  And regardless of all this fun, you wouldn’t believe how excited I am to get to take you around with me all day, 24/7.  Daddy and I did a baby registry for you (AKA, pick out mass quantities of infant-type shit and ask all the people who sort of love you to spend money on it and smile when they give it to you) and we picked out the crib you will sleep in, the blankets we will wrap you in, the car seat we will travel with you in and all the rest.  You are going to have the best life and even if our pregnancy so far together was the most fun I’ve ever had, I still wouldn’t miss it because I’ll get to hold you and kiss you and snuggle you right in front of me all the time.  So keep it all comin’, I can take it, as long as I get to keep you.

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