Know What I Am?

I'm sure as hell not in labor, that's what I am. :)

More to follow, like how I gained 6 POUNDS IN ONE WEEK. Yeah, lots and lots of fun things happening now. Fun in bucketloads. Fun all over the place. Fun out the you-know-what.

I'd like to issue a shout out to my OB doc now for the stellar performance she's doing on helping me go into spontaneous labor. Hey there! Woohoo! Help me! My cervix and dilation machines are in the 9th inning with a tied score of 0-0.

A holes.

Just When You Thought It Was Safe...

Kung Fu Panda strikes again. Witness the mastery of skill:You've never seen moves like these. She can actually bench her body weight in donuts.

Be very afraid. Your cupboards are not safe anymore.

Thoughts On Vacating The Premises

I'm wondering if it's a lack of motivation or lack of efficient communication that is keeping the bambino firmly ensconced in the uterus currently. In either case, I have been conducting a 24 hour mental pep rally as well as frequent and routine rigorous exercises to convince him to join us on the outside. However, he's very firm in his resolve to ignore me. I admire his fortitude, I just do not appreciate it's consequences any longer. I may turn to eggplant shortly.

During the past 9 months I knew all along the day would come that I would labor and deliver this baby, but it's funny how your brain can blatantly ignore an obvious truth until it's splattered its white and grey matter all over the proverbial brick wall unto which it was ignoring. This is somewhat what I am feeling as of late. I know it's coming, I need it to happen, I am excited and ready for it, but I am not able to comprehend it actually happening. Weird, right?

Also, all that luscious, beautiful, plentiful, deep green grass over there? On the other side of the fence? It looks AMAZING right about now. And this grass over here? Under my swollen, hot, uncomfortable, sore feet? This grass sucks major buttocks. Every fiber of my being is focused on that other grass and I know, I'm admitting it right now, that once over there I will realize it is not grass, but a mirage of quicksand ready to snap G's and my and Hunter's heads off at the first opportunity. And I STILL want the damn grass. Change is good. Change is necessary. Change better happen soon or my hips and pelvis are going to take the first road to Hyannisport and not look back.

GPS or Going Postal Soon

For the sake of my marriage I have decided to invest in a navigational system for the new car. This piece of information was shared with us quite some time ago, and in the interest of being cheap, we forewent purchasing one at that time. Now as our couple's communication hangs in the balance, by a very fine spiderweb-thin thread, I feel it is time to take the plunge.

Unfortunately, we have a semi-large road trip coming up tomorrow for which we will probably not be able to secure the GPS system and this makes mama kind of nervous. Wish us the best luck ever, which never happens when we're on a roadtrip, fyi. And hopefully we will return to New York a functional twosome, wherein both of us is breathing and capable of independent thought.

I'm looking so forward to this weekend of reunionizing with great people that I can slightly overlook the impending doom of the trip up to Mystic, CT. Some peeps we see all the time, some we haven't seen in months, and some not in several years. The magnitude of funness measured in decibels is deafening and we could use a little "vacation from our problems" (What About Bob-style). Not that we have problems, we have no problems. Just don't tell me HOW OR WHERE TO DRIVE ONE MORE TIME WOMAN*. Like that kind of 'no problems'.

*Sidebar: Lately his driving resembles more realistically "Grand Theft Auto" than "Reality". God's honest truth.

Serves Him Right, With a Name Like That

I must say, like the first day of middle school, the last day of high school, and every day-after-Christmas of my life, my first taste of Mister Softee left much to be desired.

Here I am, dreaming about my first encounter with Mr. S for the entirety of my existence in New York, hearing countless tales of delicious experiences from friends and acquaintances alike, all building up to my first big date with destiny in a plastic cup... And what happens? Utter disappointment.

Picture it, Washington Heights, 2008, a chubby pregnant woman waddles up to the Mister Softee truck, waiting with crumpled bills in hand for her turn at the exhaust fume-filled window, stumbling over the words: chocolate nut sundae, she receives her prize and stares transfixed at the beauty of it. She's looking at that sundae like Mariah Carey looks at hot dogs. All outside noise and distractions are instantly muted. A shiver runs up her spine as she engineers her first bite.

You can actually hear the heartbreak as she shovels spoonful after spoonful of the sweet mixture into her cavernous mouth. No. No! It cannot be. Et tu Brute? Senor Softee, why have you forsaken me?

Not only am I wasting calories on this sub-par performance of a chocolate nut sundae, I can't stop eating it. And now I can't have another dessert of any kind until tomorrow! You little ice cream cone head b*stard. I'll get you for this. And your little dog too.

Note to the people of New York: he's not worth it. Dry your tears and save your calories for someone else. There will be another Gentleman o' Dessert somewhere that will steal your heart the right way. With flavorfulness, and real cream and crunchy nuts and lots and lots of cherries. With respect, people.

It's Hip to be Regular

Let's talk Fiber, shall we?

My First-scratch that-Second Congressional Petition: Fiber is wonderful and should be one of the four food groups. Or at least get it's own tier on the food pyramid.

My actual First Congressional Petition was against that insanely unconstitutional law wherein ex-military cannot sue the government for medical malpractice. You should petition against that too. It's insane. But let's not wallow around in our dirty political underwear right now, it will get us all riled up.

Anyhow, Fiber is not only a girl's best friend, it is a pregnant girl's orgasm. Who's with me here? Here's how the scenario plays out, for those non-believers, men, or women not yet of childbearing insanity yet: you want to get prego or get prego and your first step to becoming a parent is to take prenatal vitamins. Yeah Prenatal Vitamins! I am bearing a child! And I am going to take the hell out of my prenatal vitamins. I am going to be the best damn prenatal vitamin taking woman you have ever seen!

4 days later you realize you haven't emptied your colon in way way way too long. 4 more days later you realize you better start making funeral arrangements because God knows you wouldn't let your husband pick out his own socks let alone the box you'll be residing in for the next 4 thousand years. Finally, some blessed soul mentions you might want to try upping your fiber intake to get the ball rolling. Bless you, Colon Angel. No one tells you that the outrageously large amount of iron in those prenatals will stop even the most active digestive systems in their peristalsis tracks.

So you go to the store and buy everything you can find with the word Fiber on it. Fiber cereal, fiber bars, fiber brownies, fiber jello, fiber drinks, it could say Fiber Fiber and you'd buy 8 of them. Let me highlight the best choices for masking fiber into your daily diet without sacrificing taste or sending yourself into a fiber-induced coma. Fiber One bars are sex in an individually wrapped package. My fav is the Oats and Chocolate flavor, but the carmel one isn't that bad either. Wait, I should mention that 2 bars should never be consumed in the same day. Enormous proportions of gas are created and I cannot be responsible for you losing your job or your significant other leaving you due to the overproduction of said gas.

Cereal has two parts: Go Lean Crunch Original Kashi cereal is part one. They're all yu-u-ummy and if you throw a few blueberries on there in the morning, your stomach will thank you. All Bran is part two. Alone it is annoying and tasteless, but combined with the flavor power of Kashi, it is amazing. Apples and apple juice should be consumed every day. They are a bonus because though they aid in your digestion speed, they don't give you as much gas as fiber containing veggies. Whole wheat breads and crackers aid well in assisting but should not be used as your primary source of colon cleansing.

Things to avoid: now this is a toughy because I am a certified card-carrying cheesehog but you should limit your cheese intake to a little tiny bit a day or regular amount every other day or every three days. Cheese is fiber's sworn enemy and you don't want your lower abdomen to be their battleground for 5 days in a row. No siree. Been there and never going back.

I hope this helps you on your quest to be regular. Go forth and be merry with the knowledge that your colon is a happy colon.

It's Time We Had "The Talk"

Candy bars.

Here's the adorable and lovable and demonizing thing about candy bars: just when you satisfy your urge with one variety by over-consuming them until death is knocking at your door, you discover another even better tasting one to obsess over.

Witness: The first "relationship" was with Heath bars. I love heath. I love toffee and chocolate and little tiny nuts. I love them getting stuck to my back molars. I love them broken up in Blizzards. I love them on boats and floats and with goats. Gross.

After I broke it off with Heath (I just accidentally typed Keath and thought that was ironic since I've broken up with more candy bars then boys in my lifetime, I digress). After Heath came Reese's PB Cups. Holy mackerel on a corn dog stick. These beauties could be eaten melty and gooey or frozen with equal delight. They can be nibbled or snatched up in one bite. They go well in the center of sugar cookies, though secretly you want to say to hell with the cookie and give me more PB cups. I ate the bejesus out of those.

Just when I thought I was safe from PB and chocolate cravings, they had to go and invent this freaking bar, Nutrageous. I'm definitely one who gives credit where credit is due, and let me tell you, it was pretty freaking outrageous. Chunky, crunchy peanut butter and nuts and chocolate? Yes, I'll have about a thousand, thank you. Buy one bar in the checkout lane? Screw that, I'm going to Sam's Club, and that's just to take the edge off.

Next up was a surprise, I'd battled with the social stigma of Snicker's bars for sometime, never succumbing to peer pressure and advertising to get me on the bandwagon. Then one day I said to myself, Self, get off your high horse and try a damn Snickers bar, it won't kill you. WHO DAT? I luh uh uh uh uve Snickers bars. Mostly the Giant Size ones, Fun Size doesn't do the whole ensemble enough justice. I don't like them in ice cream though, strike one for Snicker.

Following the Snickers attack of 2005 came a new addition, Take 5. How about take 405? That's what happened after I tried this little doozy out of the vending machine while working 12 hour night shifts. If you don't think you deserve a Take 5 after a 12 hour night shift, you're masochistic. Everyone deserves a Take 5, everyone! I'd like to put my political beliefs where my mouth is and say that if we'd all just sit down and Take 5 together, we could get this whole mess with Iran straightened the f*&$ out. Senators, you are welcome.

Lately, another surprising turn of events has happened. And! He snuck up on me with the Fun Size. I never thought it possible, but the cookie-carmel-chocolate combination of holiness that is a Twix bar has stolen my heart this time. I am a slave to the Twix bar. I think about him all day and have resorted to emptying my pockets and wallet of all change before leaving for work so I don't "accidentally" stop by one of the 3 thousand vending machines in this place for a quickie. It's like a sickness of intense proportions now that there's practically two of me calling for the Twix-bar's head. Just typing about it is giving me the shakes.

I wonder if we'd spend a whole session on this at therapy?