Welcome to 2012 one and all!
David and I rang in the New Year in true parental style by hitting a 5:15pm showing of Mission Impossible 4. (My review: Mission Impossible 4 - the best movie that has ever been made in the history of ever.*)
We then went out for dinner at 7:30 (Did I utter the phrase, "I can't have anything too spicy due to my reflux!" during this meal? I won't say no.) in order to be home and fast asleep by 9:30pm.
It was all very sexy, what can I say.
Now we find ourselves hunkering down to await the arrival of the baby we are referring to as "Doodle Three".
At 36 weeks I have officially entered into the physically absurd phase of this pregnancy. I am ridiculously clumsy, I make a disturbing series of random moan-like sounds when attempting to move in any direction, and I possess a near-total inability to maneuver in confined spaces without knocking items over with my belly. TRUE STORY! I recently knocked my three-year-old off his feet with an ill-timed turn in the playroom.
Also, there is the near-constant crying.
Of late, David has been subjected to bouts of tears on topics including, but not limited to
- the commercial where Sarah Mclaughlin sings about the abused animals
- the dearth of Heath Bar Crunch ice cream in the fridge
- the commercial where the kid admits that he was the last one to touch the basketball
- WHY ARE OUR CHILDREN GROWING UP SO FAST?????
- that video on Facebook with the cat who makes friends with the squirrel
- how come my toes are SO weird
- it is not fair that I have to pee again!!!
- you think my hair is ugly, I can tell by the way you look at my head
Adding to the comical dopiness of the late-pregnancy era is the fact that the baby is breech...
...which means that I am now spending any and all free time trying to get the baby to flip over using a series of methodologies of suspect origin.
This means that at the end of a long day of toddler-wrangling, meal-preparing, laundry-laundering, and fight-disrupting you will find me doing this:
and even occasionally this:
(Did you know that the ancient Chinese practice of "moxibustion"- or burning herbs near one's little toe - has been shown to coax breech babies into changing position? I mean, not my baby apparently, but some babies, I guess.)
What I don't spend ANY time doing anymore is bending over to pick up any of the myriad of things I have either dropped due to pregnancy clumsiness or knocked off surfaces due to belly unwieldiness. This means that my home, at all times, appears to have been ransacked by a gang of marauding hooligans.
I'm hoping that maybe the baby will be willing to help me clean up when it gets here.
* Please note this review may be biased due to the fact that the film Mission Impossible 4 involved exactly no one learning to use the potty or driving a tank engine and therefore represented a massive improvement in recent film-watching experiences.