it's been awhile...since I could sit my fat ass at a computer

I have reached full orca status...I have found sitting, laying, walking, and moving are completely uncomfortable but a necessary evil (like death and taxes). This child has made my life miserable for the last 35 weeks and my complaints are much like other women at this point in their pregnancy...except for the masochists who just LOOOOVE pregnancy--to them, I say, bite me. As much as I love having the children once they are out, I find the whole process a long, gruelling, and plain terrible experience--and mind you, I've had "good" pregnancies that I've loathed every second of.

As the inevitable approaches, I am supposed to have entered my nesting stages. To me, when I think of nesting, I imagine going around finding random pieces of sticks, poo, and other pliable and sticky items to build a bed that will be poked at by small children, knocked down, and oogled in a 3rd grade classroom. But, in pregnancy terms...it's this cute little term that means the mom is getting ready for baby (shouldn't they do this anyway...it's called being a prepared parent, I'm just sayin). Most women are assumed to be climbing on top of counters, dusting, scraping scum out of refridgerator tracks with toothbrushes, and rearranging furniture, all with a broom and/or mop shoved up their asses to catch anything that is left behind and whistling Dixie. I can't say I haven't nested...if my nesting includes washing and hanging up laundry, sweeping the floor, vaccuuming, dusting, cleaning bathrooms, and making my house livable, then, I guess it could be classified as nesting...to me, that's a daily routine I have had to do for the last 10 years...I've learned to enjoy living in a home that is not covered in filfth, but, if you want to give it a cute pregnancy related name, then, I've nested (minus the broom/mop/ass reference and I don't know how Dixie sounds).

Being in a home over-run by testosterone, understanding has been a bit complicated--wanting to stab Michael in the eye everytime he complains about not feeling well or being tired. I forget that the poor guy is human, but, I'm a fat, selfish, pregnant, miserable woman...it's all about me right now. If the man had just pulled out that fateful night--rather than being overrun by a vodka induced bad decision, I wouldn't even BE in this situation--it's all is fault, I was vulnerable. To be fair, my wonderful husband has held down the fort since the return of the penis posse--and as long as satellite tv and Wii are accessable, they can be amused for hours. I'm sure they are enjoying the mac & cheese, ramen, pizza, and fast food filled evenings...I'm usually found in my room reading or on the couch watching terrible reality television (can you believe Daisy picked London...ugh). I have read EVERY book in my household...I had to break out the brand new book I had bought for the hospital--desperate times call for desperate measures. Guess I'll have to buy another new one, oh well!!!

Speaking of the penis posse, and adding yet another dangler to the pack...can I mention the looks of pity I get when mentioning baby boy #4. It's almost like telling some women I have a terminal disease...I guess another wiener in the house could be considered similar, but, save the pity faces for when I tell you what my four year old does to the cat---THAT is what people should feel sorry for. After the looks of pity I generally get "Are you serious?"--I wonder, is this a joke people play on people "I'm having my 4th boy....NOT" and everyone holds their sides in hysteric laughter? Followed by "Were you trying for the girl?"...an orgasm, actually, but, I guess this outcome is suffice. FINALLY..."Are you going to try again?"--I didn't try for this one, I actually didn't try for 3 out of the 4--the one I did purposely make a hasty sexual decision for is the same one I would like to put back on a daily basis--I've learned that if you want to hear God laugh, make plans.

I've had another exciting hospital stay (this past Sunday/Monday)--I've been told I'm in labor, but, still early enough to only make me miserable, not have a baby within the next few hours. Which is good, considering I'm only 35 weeks. I was plugged into more devices than Johnny 5, tracked for an entire evening, didn't sleep, and came home feeling worse than when I went into the hospital. I wonder why celebrities always go to the medical centers for exhaustion, hell, this is NOT the place for rest!! I have had to slow down my already slow life and do more laying around (not a problem)....for now, I sit and gestate, knowing every day this little guy stays put, the bigger and healthier he gets.

The dryer just stopped...knowing half of the boys clothes are now ready to be folded and hung up. Guess I better get back to "nesting"--

Peace my bebes...
Andria