This is the song that never ends...: 07/30/2006 - 08/06/2006

This is the song that never ends...

Saturday, August 05, 2006

38 Weeks

Hmmmm..... every post has been pregnancy-related. Sorry about that---I'll get more fitness-minded soon. I promise (fingers crossed behind my back because you know the next phase is going to be all about the monster.)

Here's some sexy photos for you to print out and give to the men (or women) in your life as a present. Maybe have them framed and gift-wrapped.

My skin has been looking like that for quite a while now---stretched tight as a drum and looking as though ten thousand stretch marks are going to strike at any time---but they don't. I only have a few on either side of my bizarro belly button and those aren't really that menacing. I think it might have something to do with the vitamins and flaxseed that I take (not to mention the fact that I've already been this weight before-sans baby-and already stretched my skin out). I never took the prenatal-bad mommy-I just kept with my supplemental regimen of flaxseed, a B100 complex, a multi, and the occassional calc/mag. I've never had a problem with energy until now. However, the more I think about my dipping energy levels, the more I think it has something to do with the fact that all of the MAJOR renovations around the house are done and I can finally relax and take all those freakin' naps that every, single goddamned newsletter keeps telling me to take.

Friday, August 04, 2006

Lost in translation

What they tell you: "You really carry all over, don't you?"

What it means: "Wow, girl. You sho' nuff' get fat when you're knocked up."

Thursday, August 03, 2006


But there's SO much to do! I'm currently sneaking a cup of coffee while the hubby is in the garage spray-painting something for me. I've done REALLY well up until this past week when it comes to not needing the assistance of others. Unless it was a particularly dangerous task or something that weighed more than I did (ha---nothing weighs more than me now), I was able to manage on my own. I HATE asking for help with something that I can normally take on. I would have to say that that's been the hardest part about being pregnant for me. Here I am with time off of work for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE and what am I doing with it? Doing dishes five-at-a-time because it makes my back hurt. BLAH!

Which brings me to the spray-painting. I was trying to take a nap this afternoon when it occurred to me all of the things that I could be doing besides laying there. It's a wierd feeling for me to have the body tired but the mind racing. So, I thought of the jewelry that I could be making, the cabinets I could be organizing, the paper-piecing I could be doing (notice they're all fairly stationary tasks that require very little of me physically). What do I decide to do? Refinish/spray paint an old bedside table! This requires me to waddle my VERY large body out to the garage-in my pajamas-lugging a pretty heavy piece of furniture whilst I don a makeshift face mask made of a handkerchief. John just looks at me with that "now what?" look on his face and tells me to put down the spray paint and slowly back away. I assure him that all is good and that I can handle it. I put on my protection, a-la bank robber, and proceed to spray paint and let me tell you, that shit stinks. I kept taking breaks every 15 seconds or so to get some fresh air but that was getting a little bit tiring so I sulked back into the house in my little piggy pajama pants to cook up some food. When I went back out to the garage, JJ was furiously painting it for me. While I appreciate it, it almost bothers me. I just want to start a project and finish it, dammit! Is that so much to ask for?

Baby Jackson, you are EVICTED. Get out now!

Oh, by the way, we have a middle name for the monster.... Samuel. It's based on a Korean word or saying meaning 'water of the well', which sounds a lot better than well-water. I thought Jackson Samuel had a nice ring to it an then I realized it's Samuel L. Jackson's name backwards. This kid's gonna be so ridiculed---by me. However if Mr. Samuel L. Jackson keeps making movies like this, I may not have to worry about anyone teasing my kid by the time he's in grade school because his career will vanish.

I feel pretty, oh-so-pretty...

Thirty-eight weeks pregnant and.....

I'm still pregnant.
I'm getting crabby.
I feel like a moose.
The bed shakes when I try to turn over in the middle of the night.
My husband snores like a wildebeest and this has driven me to the couch most nights.
I have spider veins (on my left leg only thank-you-very-much).
I have five stretch marks on my lower belly that I can't see without the aid of a mirror.
I can't shave my left leg without attempting to use my left hand.
I have cellulite just above my knees.
Drying my legs off after a shower is challenging.
When I drop something on the floor, I leave it there.
I can't reach across the kitchen counter because I have too much stomach.
I take naps (--shudder--).
I am not making any attempt to thwart cravings-I eat whatever the hell I want.
Walking up the stairs from the basement causes me to wheeze.

Now where did I put my Lindt chocolate balls?
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