Friday, May 27, 2011

Sneaky Peeps

As a mama, I make up a lot of phrases and words.. For example, nap time is called "Seepy Seepy Nap Nap". As soon as I say it, Paige grabs her binky, makes a beeline to the stairs and then to her crib for a nap. This phrase shouldn't be confused with "Seepy Seepy Night Night" which means it's time to start our nighttime routine of bath, storytime and bed. Another phrase is "Poop da Doop" which translates to - Did you poop in your diaper? "Crocodile Rocks" are her Croc shoes that she wears every day. And an all time favorite - "Sneaky Peeps." Sneaky Peeps are the peeps (aka: urine) that sneaks out at unexpected times, like during a diaper change or in the bathtub.

So over the past few days, I've been having some Sneaky Peeps of my own : )  What's worse than having a cold and sneezing every five seconds? How about having a cold when you are 37 weeks prego with a baby sitting on your bladder? OMG - I could deal with the occasional  "incident" when I would laugh too hard or sneeze unexpectedly. But after sneezing 5 times in a row yesterday, my pelvic muscles completely gave up and WOOSH! - sneaky peeps. All over the floor. (I wish I was making this up, but anyone who is or has been prego knows I'm not...) Luckily I was at home and in my bathroom (although not on the toilet) when the sneaky peeps reared their ugly head. And luckily I still have ugly linoleum floors in my master bathroom that are easy to clean and disinfect.

This latest sneaky peeps incident was horrifying. But at least I was alone. The last time something similar happened (but not nearly as voluminous as this incident) was during my last pregnancy. I was driving somewhere with Daniel and we started laughing. Laughing hysterically. And then it happened... I peed. Just a little. But it was enough to soak through my jeans and onto the seat. I immediately stopped laughing and had what I imagine was a shocked/horrified/embarrassed look on my face. Daniel asked what was wrong, and all I could mutter out was, "Ummmmm... I kind of peed." To which Daniel responded, "You peed? Like, in your pants?" And then he looked over at the seat. Without another word, he immediately busted a U-turn towards home. I ran upstairs to shower and change and he cleaned the car. And never was it spoken of again - until now. I can joke about it, but he still isn't allowed to : ) But we did secretly laugh when we sold that car last summer. Oh, the memories!

In other Sneaky Peeps news, I witnessed something truly unnerving this morning. It was 7:30 a.m. and Paige had just woken up. Being the "always thinking about my child's education and enlightenment" mama that I am, I noticed the garbage truck pulling down our street and decided to hold her up to the window so she could watch. We saw them take our neighbor's garbage and put it in the truck. Paige clapped as the garbage disappeared into the truck. And then one garbage man came moseying over to our house while his buddy got the other neighbor's trash. We watched him take off his gloves. Mess around with his pants. And then... OH. MY. GOSH! The garbage man started peeing on our curb!!!! I stood there horrified, still holding Paige up to the window, not sure if I should bang on the window to let him know he was caught or stay silent. I stayed silent - shocked silence. And a few seconds later he zipped up, put his gloves back on, and emptied our garbage into the truck. Paige began to clap. Then he put our garbage can into the middle of our driveway (rather than off to the side where it had been). And I realized he did that so that he wasn't putting our garbage can into his pee puddle (how thoughtful...). And then I thought about how every once in a while I find our garbage can in our driveway rather than at the curb and... EWWWWWWWW! He does this a lot! Our garbage man is a Sneaky Peeper! And I thought our grass wouldn't grow there because of the dogs... PUKE!!!!!!

Monday, May 23, 2011

My Pep Talk to Me

I wrote a post in February about staying in the positive: Keep It Movin'

But every once in a while, I need to remind myself of this concept. I need to remind myself that I am in a much better place now than I was years ago, when I held grudges, felt helpless in how some people treated me, and let others make decisions about how and when they were going to insert themselves into my life. I think I've done a pretty good job over the years of cutting out the negativity, the drama, and the foolishness - and ultimately taking control of who I surround myself with... who I let (and consciously don't let) into my life. And now I apply that to my immediate family (probably even more so than with myself) - if you can't respect me, my husband, or my children... if you try to bring negativity to us... if you choose to live your life in a dishonest way... if you try to manipulate, control or bring us down...  BUH-BYE! SIONORA! ADIOS!

My BFF Oprah Winfrey (oh, she's your BFF, TOO?! ; ) ) says it best with some of her favorite quotes:

"When you know better, you do better." - Maya Angelou

"Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." - Alfred


"Forgiveness is letting go of the hope that the past can be changed." - Oprah

"Surround yourself with only people who are going to lift you higher." - Oprah 

"Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down." - Oprah

I truly appreciate my close friends and family. I appreciate their honesty, sincerity and the positivity they bring to my life! And like I said in my post in February:

Negativity and the like can only slow me down... and I've got too many good things going on to get tied down in that nonsense. Interested is being a part of the positivity? Join in! Not interested in change and letting go of the nonsense of life? Sorry, but I'm just gonna "keep it movin'" right by ya.

Friday, May 20, 2011

My Southern Belle Says Dawg and Cawll

We are big fans of Nick Jr. around here. Yo Gabba Gabba, Wow Wow Wubzy, Wonder Pets - Nick Jr. is our channel of choice. Not that we actually watch it, but it provides great background noise during playtime. The only time Miss Paige really tunes into it is when her favs - Moose and Zee - pop up between programs. She watches their memory and matching games and shouts at the TV like she really just found the matching puzzle piece. Gotta love her enthusiasm : )

So today, Moose and Zee were doing a rhyming game, and the word to rhyme with was "DOG". No problem, right? WRONG! Well, wrong if your mama is a transplant from New York and still has an accent on certain words - coffee (caw-fee), talk (tawlk), hall (hawll), water (war-ter), etc. Dog happens to be on of those words (dawg). So when the options came up as a rhyming word for Dog, I panicked. Here were the options: House. Car. Frog. The obvious answer is Frog - duh. But when you say "Dawg" for Dog and don't say "Frawg" for Frog, they don't rhyme. I don't say "Frawg". I say "Frog". The next set of rhymes came up, again to match up with DOG. The options were: Shoe. Cat. Hog. OH JEEZ! I don't say "Hawg". I say "Hog".

And then my mind started racing... am I setting my children up for failure when it comes to rhyming? And what about spelling?! Ok, that is a little dramatic. But it never occurred to me that having Miss Paige mimic my speech patterns could have a negative effect. Will her teachers think she's crazy? Will they try and correct her speech? I saw a Dateline once where they featured adults who "mysteriously" began speaking with English accents (a la Britney Spears circa 2006). She is already saying Dog, Call and Ball with a NY accent. Ay yi yi.

So now I have a dilemma: Can I change the way I speak, when the accent is already ingrained in me and it's use is subconscious? Do I need to? Can I just explain to her that Mommy says things differently (as does one half of her family tree!)? At the end of the day, does it even really matter?

I remember in first grade having a teacher's aid tell me I was writing my lowercase cursive "o" incorrectly. I was writing it like my sister did - with a little loop dipping into the "o" rather than just having it go straight across the top. I remember informing her - yes, at the wise old age of 6 - that I wasn't doing it "wrong" - just differently. And in my mind, that was fine.

I know in my heart Paige isn't going to have long term issues if she happens to say some words with a NY accent. There are a lot worse things in the world that she could do: like root for the Florida Gators or Auburn Tigers : ) Just kidding... (although my husband, Daniel, doesn't think there is anything funny about that). GO GEORGIA BULLDAWGS!!!

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Breastfeeding: Public Nudity and Sexual Exhibitionism?

There are a lot of messed up things in this world. Breastfeeding is not one of them.

Over the past two weeks, we've been bombarded with stories of products and offerings that not only prey on the innocence of children, but can ultimately be destructive to them as they develop into individuals. First there was news a few months back of Abercrombie offering "push up triangle" string bikini tops for children as young as 7 and 8:  Next came the Sketcher Shape Ups for children so they can firm up their legs and butts:  And the final straw came just last week, when a mother went on national TV describing how she gives her young daughter injections of Botox in order to help her keep up with the competitive pageant circuit:

What the fuzzball??

Yes, Abercrombie has changed it's online description of the controversial bikini top from "push up" to "removable padding". Sketchers has said it is only encouraging young girls to exercise (because I guess regular sneakers can't be used for exercise?). And the Botox-injecting mom has lost custody of her daughter as she is being investigated by child services in California. Public outcry - most likely from the mama bears - was heard loud and clear.

So with all these messed up things going on all around us (the above being only a teeny, tiny example of the extent of the foolishness), why has local government decided to target an issue that doesn't harm - but instead helps - children. It's healthy. It's natural. It's not offensive. And a small suburb of Atlanta, GA - Forest Park, GA - has just banned it. What is it? BREASTFEEDING!!

That's right. Forget about crime rates, about unemployment, about government corruption - the local government of Forest Park, GA has decided to focus it's time, energy and tax-payer dollars on banning breastfeeding in public. Think I'm lying? Read about it here: and here

Here are the "highlights":
A new law in metro Atlanta will ban breastfeeding a child older than 2 in public areas as part of a public indecency ordinance, reports WSB-TV, a local ABC affiliate. 
On Monday evening, in a misguided effort to prevent public nudity, a new public indecency ordinance was passed in Forest Park, Georgia, a small city about 9 miles south of Atlanta. According to the new law, women cannot publicly breastfeed a child older than 2 years of age. City manager John Parker said of the law, “It sets up a process whereby we can try to control nudity throughout the entire city,” and called it a proactive step.
Control public nudity?! What is really going on in Forest Park?! Is public nudity that rampant among its residents? I'm sorry - but this is one of the most foolish things I've ever heard of.

And right after reading these articles, I came across another "controversy" - is it wrong for young children to pretend they are breastfeeding their dolls and stuffed animals? Read the discussion here:

Are people seriously concerned about this?! Miss Paige imitates everything I do - you should see her pretend to talk on a cell phone! It's hilarious! The other day she got a hold of a makeup brush and started imitating me putting on bronzer. And when Lil D is born in just a few weeks, I expect Miss Paige to most likely imitate me breastfeeding him (fingers crossed that it works this time around!!) with her own dolls and stuffed toys. It's just the way kids are - they imitate their parents as they learn and grow. I really can't believe people have a problem with it. I just don't get it.

I have to wonder if the lawmakers of Forest Park, GA really equate breastfeeding with sexual exhibitionism? And people who are uncomfortable with children imitating their mothers breastfeeding really see it as over-sexualization of our youth? According to their actions, they do. Since when is breastfeeding sexual?? Push up padded string bikini tops for 7 year olds? Definitely attempting to sexualize children. Breastfeeding? No way. Getting 7 year old to worry about firming their butts and thighs? Unnatural and unhealthy. Watching a mom breastfeed her baby? The most natural and healthy act a child can witness a mother do. Shooting a child's face up with poison? INSANE! Shooting breastmilk all over your child's face while trying to nurse? Hehe... just kidding. I was trying to keep the comparisons going : )

Even though I wasn't able to breastfeed Miss Paige and began using formula after a few weeks of failed attempts to nurse, I still see the value in breastfeeding and respect all the mamas out there who are able to offer their children such a gift. And mamas who couldn't breastfeed for any number of reasons (like me) or made a choice not to - I respect you too! Because being a mama is hard work. We need to respect each other and support the choices of our fellow mamas - and fight against the craziness that tries to tear us apart.

Can I get an Amen? : )

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

Two Days, Two Massive Mama Meltdowns

There have been two major meltdowns over the last two days. And I wish I could say I'm talking about Miss Paige. But I can't. It was me. Two seemingly small and inconsequential happenings managed to push this mama over the edge. There was screaming. There was fury. There were tears. So what were these most devastating circumstances? Well - one involved pasta, and the other involved poop. Pasta and poop brought this mama to the edge of sanity. 

Incident 1: The Case of the Missing Pasta
Yesterday I decided Paige and I needed to bust out of the house. These outings usually involve shopping and impulse buys. I knew my bank account couldn't handle the hit this month, so I decided we would drive around town and get a bite to eat for lunch. All was good in the world. Paige and I were singing the classics (you know... Row, Row, Row Your Boat, If You're Happy And You Know It, and our all time favorite - There's a Hole on the Bottom of the Sea) as we drove around aimlessly. Finally I decided we would go to lunch at a place called FIGO. Not sure if it is a national chain, but there are a few of them around the Atlanta area. It's one of those places where you stand in line, order, then sit down and wait for them to bring over your food. A step above Fast Food,  a step below Sit-Down Restaurant. So we ordered our pasta, sat down, and waited. And waited. And waited. I was busy keeping Paige occupied so I didn't really realize how long it had been. Usually these places take no more than 5-10 minutes to bring out your food. After looking around, I realized that people who came in after us not only had already been served, but were leaving because they were already finished! I flagged over a server and asked her if our food would be out soon - still calm and collected, even as Paige's patience was beginning to run thin. And that's when it happened... I saw the server approach the cook (it's one of those "open dining" situations where you can clearly see into the kitchen), and then saw him pull a dish of pasta up from UNDER THE COUNTER and hand it to her. And you all know exactly what I mean when I say "under the counter"... like it had been ready a long time ago, no server took it, so they pulled it from the serving rack and pushed it off to the side. As she began to carry this plate towards our table, I literally lost my mind. Forget the 30 or so other people dining. Forget the fact that it was an honest mistake. Forget the fact that I had a 17 month old with me, and happened to be 35 weeks prego. My mind was long gone at this point and I was on the verge of meltdown. I jumped up with the speed of a cheetah, grabbed Paige, her sippy cup and my purse in one fowl swoop and with a louder than necessary voice, I said, "Are you kidding me? You are going to feed a pregnant woman and her child food that has been sitting there for 45 minutes or more?!" The server - who was probably around 17 - looked at me with fear in her eyes. And then the kicker... "This place is disgusting! You are disgusting! This is the worst experience OF MY LIFE!!!" : ) Did I ever tell you all that I have a flare for the dramatic? However, I wasn't done with my rampage just yet. I marched up to the counter... past the line of customers waiting to order... and demanded a refund. Of course they obliged (probably with one hand on the phone to dial security) and refunded my $13.76. Still fuming, I turned around to leave and heard the manager say, "We're really sorry about this. I'm not sure how it happened..." to which I responded, "You should be sorry! Making a child and pregnant woman wait for an hour... You should be ashamed of yourselves. I will NEVER BE BACK AGAIN!" And off I went. By the time we got to the car I was in tears. In tears over pasta. Paige was kissing my cheek and giving me hugs - even she knew I was in the middle of a meltdown and figured she should keep a low profile. We ended up getting Wendy's at the drive thru, went home to eat, and took naps. The second half of the day was much less eventful : )

Incident 2: A Poopy Puppy
Starting about 2 weeks ago, I've been going to the OB twice a week for monitoring. On Tuesdays I go to the regular OB for the NST (Non-Stress Test) where they hook me up to the monitors to track the baby's heartbeat and whether or not I'm having contractions. On Fridays I go to the Maternal-Fetal Specialists for a BPP (Bio-Physical Profile) where they do an ultrasound and evaluate. So far, these appointments have been going well. But today, the appointment took longer than normal because Lil D wasn't cooperating. On the NST, they look for the baby's heartbeat to "accelerate" at least 4 or 5 times in 20 minutes. Lil D was kicking around, but there wasn't much of an acceleration. The same thing used to happen with Miss Paige on these tests. So 60 minutes in, they decide I need to guzzle some apple juice and eat peanut butter crackers to try and get him moving more. I knew nothing was wrong with him, and tried to explain that I just have very chill babies. Obviously, that wasn't going to fly with them, so I sat for a while longer until Lil D FINALLY gave them the acceleration they needed to set me free. When I got home, I was already feeling a little upset because I knew Daniel was having to wait for me to get home before he could leave for work. As I walked in the door, I was greeted by Lenni Lulu. And her stench. And as I reached down to pet her, I saw it... Poop. Lots of poop. Mixed with mud. All over her. I started to gag and called for Daniel. He told me that she had run away into the woods when he let her out that morning, and went right into her kennel as punishment when she came back home. He had just let her out when he heard me pull in. Obviously, he hadn't taken a good look at her (which is understandable given the fact he was watching/changing/feeding Paige). And at this point, surprisingly, I was still somewhat calm. Daniel carried Lenni up to the bathtub and I began to scrub her down. And that's when I lost it. The smell of poop, combined with my stressful morning just set me off. I started screaming. And crying. And pounding on the side of the tub. It was a full on prego tantrum. Daniel hopped out of the shower to try and comfort me, but one look at the pittifulness and he knew I was a lost cause at the moment. Luckily, Paige went down for a nap and I had a few moments to myself to relax and recover with my S'More Pop Tarts and an episode of The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Nothing heals a prego soul like chocolate and crazy. Daniel texted me around noon with this message: "All clear on the Western front? Love you!" He is obviously used to the hormones.

So I think my family is bracing for Day 3. But I'm determined to not lose my mind three days in a row. I let you know if I'm successful... : )

Saturday, May 7, 2011

What It Means to Be a Mama

A friend of mine wrote this amazing description of what it means to be a Mama... and I just had to share in honor of Mother's Day. How true is it??!!

10 Things I've Learned Since Becoming a Momma

By Christina  DeMott **Dedicated mama of two precious girls - Charlotte (17 months old) and Chessa (in utero)**

"In honor of Mother's Day,  I've decided to share with you some of the wisdom I've learned in my two short years since joining the greatest club ever.  I dedicate this note to all the amazing mommas I know, especially my 3 beautiful mothers Donna, Debbie, and Arlene.  You've taught me to be an incredible mother, never sweat the small stuff, and inspire me to strive everyday."
 1.  There is NOTHING sexier than a man who changes fowl smelling diapers and loves your kid(s). And fellas, forget the romance!  The quickest way to get your wife in the sack is to clean the house, cook dinner, and do a load of laundry (washed, dried, folded and put away thank you).  This method is so effective it's guaranteed to leave even Barry White's head spinning.

 2.  Extreme vigilance doesn't even begin to describe how closely you need to watch your children.  My toddler can  open a box of crayons, decorate the wall, eat half of a crayon and managed to get the other half lodged in the dog's ear in the 15 seconds it takes for me to use the bathroom.  If you think you have it covered with socket plugs, think again.

 3.  Having children breathes new life into holidays.  You will find how unbelievably exciting it is to celebrate Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and even Earth Day when you can see it through the eyes of a child.  We find a way to celebrate almost every holiday in our house, except Ramadan.  Italians. Don't. Fast.

 4.  You appreciate others so much more, especially other mothers.  When you realize that people still have the  ability to be kind to you even though they've only had 4 hours of sleep, spilled coffee on their pants, had a baby vomit on their breakfast, and stepped in a huge pile of dog poop on their way to work; it gives you a new faith in the world.

 5.  You will become political.  Republican, Democrat, Independent, or Green it doesn't matter.  Any decision made by the government that doesn't agree with your child-rearing values will severely piss you off.  Because now, it's not just your future that is riding on their stupidity.

 6.  Hormones.  Seriously one of the scariest products of becoming a mother.  Pre-children, I occasionally got a little  cranky once or twice a month.  Once I became pregnant however and especially after delivery, I probably could have been committed over my madness.  I've drawn blood over a box of chocolates (sorry Dad), threatened to divorce my husband over a game of Scrabble, and wept in the produce isle of Price Chopper (causing quite a scene) over a lack of organic strawberries.  If your family still loves you after that, then you know they'd probably help you bury a body too.

 7.  Keeping your house clean and your kids on a tight schedule might be vital to your sanity, but I expect that to happen like I expect Fabio to show up on my doorstep with cleaning fairies and dinner elves.  The way I see it, it is an impossible mathematical ratio.  My daughter can destroy three rooms in the time it takes me to clean one.  Therefore sanity = dividing by zero.  Just not possible.  Of course it helps to look at the positive.  As long as the Department of Heath isn't threatening to condemn your house and your kids aren't rolling around in feces, you're good!

 8.  There is nothing more terrifying than becoming a mother.  Not because having a child is actually scary, it is the world around you that becomes so. You are now responsible for protecting, educating, loving, and transforming these perfect little creatures into fully functioning adults.  You will constantly doubt yourself, and be up all night  worrying about incredibly stupid scenarios like what to do if a bear breaks into the house.

 9.  You will greatly miss the ability to form fully functional sentences and the rest of your brain power that your children seem to have stolen away.  It seems to me that your brain short circuits with all the massive amounts of information and knowledge required when raising children.  Don't worry though, I've heard some of us do regain the ability to hold an intelligent conversation once the children are much older.

10.  Nothing will prepare you for how much you absolutely adore your children. They will astonish you everyday   with their brilliance, make you laugh, and warm your heart in ways you never even imagined.  You would do anything to protect them. Anything.  It's never a good idea (in any species) to come between a mother and her young.

Through all this, just remember:  if you hit the pillow every night sore, anxious, full of doubt, beyond exhausted yet filled with an exceptional sense of love and joy; you are probably doing everything right.

Friday, May 6, 2011

I Just May be Turning into a Helicopter Mama

I used to love watching scary movies and TV shows - the creepier and more suspenseful, the better. And then I moved into my first apartment by myself after college and realized that watching movies and shows about single females being kidnapped from their apartments, followed off the subway, or having hidden cameras stuck in their air vents by creepy landlords might not be the best way to induce a good night's sleep. Luckily in that first apartment all utilities were included in the rent, so leaving every single light on all night long wasn't problematic (for me at least!).

Since becoming a mama, there is a new type of TV/movie scenario I need to avoid: basically, anything that involves children. Maybe it's the hormones, but it seems like every single show or movie I watch involves children being hurt, abandoned, kidnapped... or worse. And it gives me heart palpitations. I think it just hits too close to home. What used to be sad or troublesome now stays with me for days on end - I can't get those horrible images out of my head and worry about not only the safety of my own children, but every child I know! Yes, I acknowledge this is a little crazy. But it's the truth.

Last week Netflix sent us "Babble" - you know, the 2006 movie with Brad Pitt that was nominated for Best Picture? Neither Daniel or I had seen it, but were excited to watch. Well, it takes a bit of concentration to understand that movie and connect the dots. But I just couldn't do it. Why? Because every storyline involved children being put in harm's way - Moroccan children shooting guns and feeling guilty when an accident happens, US children being taken into Mexico and then left in the desert, and even a teenage girl in Japan with more issues than I can write about here. Every time a new scene started, I was worrying about the children in the last scene. My heart was aching as if they were real people, in a real situation. Last night's Law and Order: SVU involved an abandoned baby - and I almost had to leave the room because it was so heart-wrenching. And you know it's bad when I can't even watch Wonder Pets on Nick Jr. without tearing up at the thought of the Baby Panda not being able to find his Mama.

I guess it's because I have a new perspective since becoming a mother - I now feel the constant need to protect, defend and nurture babies and children. It's not out of left field for mamas to feel this way, but I never thought it would hit me so hard. I definitely think it's magnified by the hormones, but I have serious visions of becoming a Helicopter Mom - hoovering over my child's every move to keep them safe and protected. I always knew I would be a tad bit overprotective. That was a given. But I think it has taken on new form. Miss Paige was playing in one of those Fisher-Price cars the other day and my mind immediately jumped 15 years ahead, to when she is driving a real car. And even though I have a decade and a half to prepare myself, it's terrifying to think of my baby out on her own. Phew... I'm getting myself in a tizzy just writing about it : )

And so, it is with new perspective on what it means to conceive, carry and raise a baby from infancy that I must now declare: Miss Paige, you will live at home forever. With mommy and daddy. And your little brother. And if necessary, we may become Amish. Or people who live in a tent in the woods.Or I may deem it necessary to form a family band - a la The Partridge Family - so we will be forced to be together forever (contractually, legally binding of course - for the sake of the band).

Just kidding... kind of : )

Monday, May 2, 2011

Mooo Mooo Cow Phase

I've officially entered the cow phase of pregnancy. You know - that point at about 33-34 weeks when you are so large you feel like you can no longer walk, breathe, sleep or function normally. And no matter how small you start out, I'm pretty sure that at this point every mama feels like any day now, she may just start Mooing. I've created a list of clues you may be entering the Cow Phase of pregnancy...

  1. You feel like there is never enough space for you in the bed and regulate your husband to the very edge of the mattress so you can fully expand your legs and arms in any position you deem comfortable at the moment. You may start to take up residence in the guest room just to have the bed to yourself.
  2. Your lungs are so smushed inside your chest cavity that even the slightest of movements cause you to get winded. Going up and down the stairs is reserved only for emergencies.
  3. Your boobs begin to resemble utters. Enough said.
  4. You have to adjust the seat in your car too allow for extra room between your belly and the steering wheel.
  5. You thank God daily that you can no longer see past your belly, because between your swollen feet and the massive cankles, it's a blessing they are hidden from your view.
  6. You decide that no one in the world has it as bad as you. Especially your husband. And if he tries to complain about ANYTHING, you quickly remind him of your aching va-jay-jay, back and hip joints. And then throw in a "You can never understand because you are a MAN!" just for good measure.
  7. You check pregnancy-related websites daily to see if what you are feeling could signify impending labor, how early it would be safe for your baby to arrive, and secretly research ways to naturally induce labor because you are pretty much DONEZO with being prego.
  8. Feeling irritable is an understatement.
  9. Wearing prints is out of the question, as a tiny flower suddenly turns into a rose garden as it stretches across your belly. Words and images become unidentifiable as a good third of the design gets sucked into the crease between your boobs and belly.
  10. You wonder if sitting in a kiddie pool, in your backyard, by yourself, for hours on end is appropriate. You decide you don't care what other people think, and do it anyway.