So here it is, folks: THE BELLY at 9 months. Yeah, it’s big, alright. This was last week, too… and I haven’t been getting smaller since then. I can’t reach my feet, people – and it’s torture waiting for a ten year old to put your socks on for you.
I heard about a chick that had her baby at a gas station the other day and didn’t even know she was in labor – completely painless process. What’s up with that?! Why do some people get all the breaks and others get all the stretch marks.
Fortunately, I put my time in on the stretchmark thing ten years ago (no more, please). I’m counting on the doctor taking pity on me tomorrow as I waddle in to her office like the “un-jolly green giant-lady”. FE FI FO FUM. Tears and begging have been suggested to work on doctors (as a form of mind control like “the Force” in Star Wars) by my cousin. I may actually try them out. They won’t even be fake at this point!
The big thing I wanted to share with you today, though (besides the HONKIN’ BELLY SHOT) is what my husband actually emailed me today from work.
Here’s what I sent him (abbreviated, of course – because I get a little long-winded – as you might already have noticed):
I have an appointment tomorrow at the doctor and I’ll need to take my truck. My mom has an appointment and can’t pick the kids up from choir, so I will just drive them myself and pray I don’t go in to labor!
(Then I shared some information about the kids schedule and asked about his sister. Nothing but small talk, really.)
[He’s been taking my truck since I’m a sloth right now and am afraid to drive because of contractions and limited space between me and the wheel. Short legs are not ideal for pregnant drivers.]
HERE WAS HIS RESPONSE:
Cool. You can have my truck tomorrow. I’ll give you a “crash” course on stick shift driving tonight. See ya tonight.
PS Have dinner cooked and ready to serve when I get home.
Love you too,
[In other words, he’s telling me I can use his truck, not have MINE back – and his is out of break-pads and the truck is a standard – which obviously, I can’t drive – especially not 9 months pregnant and teetering at the brink of delivery.]
Good thing I know he was kidding. He loves to jest. He’s lucky I’m letting him eat at the table with me after a comment like that. I need to rent that movie about the husband and wife that switch places when she’s pregnant. Either that, or go borrow one of those hundred pound fake pregnant bellies from the Lamaze class at the hospital (or 3 of them – after all, the Viking is no small package). I think that when we get to heaven, we need to ask God to let all the men in the audience stay pregnant for the first 9 months they are there. He does say “revenge is mine”, right?? Surely he won’t forget our suffering.