Now back to regular broadcasting for the other three of you who have no life and actually read this.

This day was filled with all sorts of stupid, wrapped in hormones and 4-hours of sleep… but mostly stupid.

This will come as a great shock and disappointment to most of you I am sure, but about 3-4 times a week I feed my child processed sugar… in a form of a cookie, aka OOOOOOO-CKIEEEEE! It usually gets inhaled in less then 5 seconds, followed by very persistent, borderline harassing pestering for more, more, more please more! That is the only time I get to see a truly endless, everlasting, unconditional love for me in her eyes… provided I deliver the cookie, of course:

If I don’t… I get the equally loving expression of disapproval, followed by some threatening toddler babbling:

So I give in. Mostly out of fear for my life, of course… because one day she will figure out how to escape from the crib, open that knife drawer and deliver on her promises.

But today… I sort of gave her weekly dose of sugar in one sitting…

Press here before you continue reading—->

This brilliant move led to two hours of a complete and total meltdown right before her nap. For those who have never seen a meltdown of a toddler magnitude I bring you visual aids:

-I think you just put her to bed too abruptly – said my always helpful mother who has seen Leila for a total of 5 days.
-No, I just gave her too much sugar… (AND YOU’VE BEEN ROCKING HER TO SLEEP FOR THE PAST TWO DAYS!)

-Poor baby just wasn’t ready for bed…

-Yes… one poor baby she is.

I swear my pregnancy is making other people stupid too. This morning I dropped off my car for some routine maintenance. The customer service guy just couldn’t stop staring at my belly and saying things like:

-OMG! SO BIG! Congratulations! OMG! WOW… OMG! Really big!

Followed by a few standard assumptions:

-It’s a girl, I can tell! It is always so exciting with your first one!

-It’s a boy. And it’s my second pregnancy … but yes, very exciting. Thank you.

Now could you please press here —>

Two hours later I call him to see if my car is ready.

- Oh I remember you! Pregnant!

…

-Your car will be ready in about 20 minutes.

-Wonderful. See you soon.

Exactly twenty minutes later I was still at home waiting for my mother to come back from the pool so I could leave to pick up the car. The phone rings.

-Hi! I know I’ve already told you that, but twenty minutes have now passed and your car is ready!

-Thank you. I’m just waiting for my mom to come back home to watch the baby before I can leave. Should be there in 30 minutes or so.

YOU’VE ALREADY HAD A BABY?!?

… no.

30 minutes later at the dealership:

-Hi! Hahahaha! How funny was that I thought you’ve already had a baby, right?!

-Yes. Funny…

-Let me walk you to the cashier.

Then? I shit you not, he runs up to the cashier and yells:

-LET’S MAKE THIS A QUICK ONE BECAUSE HER WATER IS ABOUT TO BREAK!!!

Cashier:

-OMG! Really?!

The next thing I remember was a yellow crime tape and being questioned about a homicide. Well… almost. I had to stop by the groomers to pick up my cat first (the bastard sheds like it’s his job and shaving him is the only way to save my sanity…) We do it every three months or so and by now the checkout process is almost painless… but not today. Because TODAY was a perfect day for training a new receptionist! And under any other circumstances I would be extremely patient and understanding of people in training… but there has to be a legal limit of stupid questions a pregnant woman can be asked in one day.

It’s not a girl.

It’s not my first.

Yes, I am aware that pregnant women should not scoop cat’s poop.

Yes, I am excited.

No, my first one is still too young to understand that she is about to have a sibling.

No, we do not have a name picked out yet.

I would prefer you wouldn’t touch my belly, but thank you for asking first.

I pay. I sign the receipt. I’m looking at my watch.

The receptionist in training:

- Would you like me to bring your cat now?

Nah! Let’s have coffee and chat some more! OF COURSE I WANT MY CAT NOW!

But first, please press here—>

- Honey, your mother is gardening in her underwear!

- Is she wearing a bra?

-Yes…

- Good.

She wasn’t naked and surely this has added some excitement to otherwise dull Sunday afternoon in our neighborhood.

To say my mother is comfortable talking and discussing all things body… would be an understatement. She calls them as she sees them. So I wasn’t really surprised when within the first 30 minutes of her visit I was informed that I looked way better than expected and I’m mostly a belly… well, maybe my thighs… but that’s ok, cause those were always kind of big… but that’s my father’s genes.

I’m taking that as a compliment… big thighs and all.

The baby just got served his two-weeks eviction notice. I hope he is ready,  because

I.

AM.

READY.

My body is  running out of space… as are my thunder thighs in my largest pair of maternity pants. As I sit here I can feel my belly resting on my lap, my boobs on my belly and my chin(s) is just inches away from my breasts. Even construction workers no longer whistle at me when I walk by.

RUDE.

On more than one occasion I have called my husband at work and told him that either he comes home early so I could take a nap or I am dropping the baby off at his office and taking a nap under his desk. Hang up. Immediately call back and apologize… because that’s just how I roll these days…

From SHIT! WHAT WAS I THINKING GETTING PREGNANT AGAIN?! … to… I AM GOING TO HAVE 10 MORE OF THESE FREAKING ADORABLE BABIES RIGHT NOW! …in less than 5 minutes.

Trust me it is way more fun to be me than live with me these days. It doesn’t help that last week he lost his wedding ring (again), but at least this time around he didn’t lose his shorts too.  Flowers almost always help, but holy shit INSULTING LABEL:

Oh and in case you were wondering what is the worse time to choose a name for your baby… it is EXACTLY two weeks before your due date, because I just hate all the names that I love for at least half a day everyday and spend the other half of the day making fun of all the names that Dennis likes… err… wait a minute HE DOESN’T HAVE ANY NAMES! NONE! He says he doesn’t want to fight with me over this… as IF he has a choice!

This baby needs to come out soon… because even my cat doesn’t come home during the day anymore.

P.S. I would just like to take a moment and apologize to a poor student who wasn’t able to finish his paper tonight, because I’ve used up all the CAPITAL LETTERS… err… nah… I take that back. EAT SHIT AND DIE!

P.S.S. Now who wants to cuddle?

I am officially at that point. You know the point of pregnancy were the insane amount of sugar consumption is finally taking over your brain and then at 4:30am you trip over something fuzzy and think “since when do we have a cat?!”… out loud. One more week of this mental degradation and I will be eligible for a babysitting job.

So all of this was supposed to be an intro to tell you that I am no longer using a wheelchair and rarely even touch my crutches.

Let’s just take a moment to appreciate my superb writing skills, shall we?…  Now back to cookie building:

The feelings I have for my chiropractor are borderline inappropriate. I love her. While everybody was busy telling me the pain was “normal” and that it was just a “pinched or damaged nerve” and “there is nothing we can do for you right now” she was the only one actually trying to do something about it. And after each appointment I felt better and better… and today I am back to my normal self, aka – crying, laughing, caffeinated walking pregnancy hormone looking for a puppy. You guys… the feeling of NOT being in pain is intoxicating! Now who wants to dance with me in the shower?! BTW… this is exactly how it happened (only in the shower):

I did try out an acupuncture for the first time in my life… and I am sure it would have worked after a few treatments… but  turns out that I don’t particularly enjoy an old Asian guy touching and poking my butt… which apparently is the center of all lower back pain… huh? Those 30 minutes with my butt in the air looking like a push pin cushion were the most mortifying half an hour of my life. I just have a bad feeling that the picture of my assets will somehow end up on the Internet… if you see it – I don’t want to know.

“Thank you” doesn’t seem like a enough at the moment, but thank you for all your good wishes and food and the extra love and all the whining you had to put up with in the last month. But don’t you sweat – more whining to come, because HELLO I’m having another baby in FOUR WEEKS. My mind is going a thousand miles per hour and since my body is clearly not connected to my brain things are going really great over here… just as an example – I’ve been writing this post for days now… and it still makes no sense, but I guess you better get used to this because it will only get better from here.