Home But Not Back

We welcomed our new Stinkerbug on August 22, 2007. I don't have much time to get into specifics, or time at all.

Will try to update when I can but don't hold your breath.

Get Out Get out Get Out!

Here's an update on recent days.

Not sleeping. I sleep a little but am awake a lot... not fair. I don't even have a baby to tend to yet... unless you count the amount of time I've had Whiskey draped over my shoulder while I pace, pat her bum and she purrs into my ear as practice... It's now 4:15am. I've been up longer than I've slept so far tonight.

Going out to eat. The "enjoy the alone time before baby comes" dates, we've done several this weekend. I'm already planning for next weekend.

Gardening. I'm bored and it's nice outside, now for at least the next little while my garden is neatly pruned, weeded and watered.

Laundry. No matter what, the world still revolves around the sun, we still need clean underwear and I still don't trust Mr. Stinky to handle my delicates. I'm anal like that.

Cleaning. My floors needed some attention, I got down and gave them some. Haven't found a mop that works as well as being on my hands and knees, but then the latter is almost always the way to go when performing any task. Wait, did I just say that? ;0)

Visited people. Went and saw some friends who are new parents and talked shop about banal stuff like diapers, weight gain, vomitting, etc.

Walked. The stairs, the neighbourhood, the malls... yesterday Mr. Stinky took me down to the Lake and we hiked up and down the Bluffs to check out the beach. That sounded more arduous than it actually was but you can be impressed anyway.

Set several world and Olympic records for urinary frequency. My bladder actually feels worn out and bruised, I have to go so often. And let's not even talk about how many times I've almost peed myself getting to the toilet.

You get the picture. I did everything but push out a squalling baby. I should be in the hospital screaming my head off while plugged in to several epidurals and knocking back my cocktail of morphine and girly coolers. Does morphine bung you up? I know codeine does so I'm staying away from that... but I hope morphine's not so wicked on the digestive system. Anyway, let's have this kid already. I'm tired of waiting!

Mindless TV Gold

Let me set this up for you.

Was watching one of those police chase video shows. Actually, I don't want to admit to that. I was more channel-surfing and just happened to stop for a clip that looked promising. Of course this is from the United States, and needless to say the most entertaining stuff usually occurs down South. I don't know why, is it the I.Q., the way they speak, just crazy coincidence? Who cares.

A highway trooper had pulled over a guy for suspected drunk driving. The dash camera rolls as they stand in front of the cruiser and he notices a pickup truck coming their way. Really fast. He grabs the guy and shoves him out of the way just before the pickup slams into the front of the cruiser and then the guardrail. Wow. But that wasn't the coolest part.

The trooper runs over to the pickup and this next part is what kills me, not enough for me to go into labour (damnit!) but it shore just 'bout bust mah gut!

Trooper: Sir! Are you OK?

Driver (Imagine beer-swilling, gun-toting, good ol' redneck boy in his gravest voice): Officer, I pooed my pants.

Trooper: Well yes, I can smell that.

Driver: Is that alright?

Trooper: Why didn't you have someone else drive? Look at you, you can barely talk and just sitting there... in your defecation.

Driver: I know.. it's not an easy thing.... sitting in your own defecation.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA

Ow My Frickin' Face!

My vacation has started off quite well. Yesterday I decided to join Mr. Stinky on the deck as he BBQed dinner. As the sun was still out I pulled one of our camping chairs up against the corner of the deck where there was a bit of shade and settled down for a nice, relaxing spell just chatting and hanging out.

Out of nowhere a wasp dived at my face, full frontal attack. I yelled in surprise and swiped it away. It circled back and hit me for a second time, I could feel its legs on my face. Again I yelled, smacked it off me but this time I got up quickly (sort of) and ran away. Unbeknownst to us, there was a wasp nest tucked underneath the handrail of a corner of our desk and I had coincidentally parked my head a few scant inches from it. !! It was a newer nest, only about the size of those cute little round cakes of hotel soap so really, there were only about 8-10 wasps but they're still quite bothersome. And normally I don't care about bugs and such, I'm not one to run around, screaming and flapping my arms like an idiot when I see one but it's quite different when they're deliberately attacking me.

So yah, I got stung just below my eye and it burned. I immediately put ice on it for the swelling and the pain while Mr. Stinky carefully finished making dinner. Guess the venom got to my sinuses or something coz my nose started running for a little while but it wasn't a bad sting, I think I smacked it off before it dove its butt in too deeply. This morning the swelling's all gone and it doesn't hurt unless I rub it but I haven't turned Igor-ish so that's good enough.

Whiskey got out the door as Mr. Stinky went out to check on dinner and went straight for the nest. She parked herself in front of it and he had to drag her away by creeping in and grabbing her tail. What a fearless warrior (read: stupid) princess to want to help out her mistress.

Mr. Stinky avenged me, he put a few kinks in the hose and turned it up. Next he positioned himself strategically some distance away and released those kinks, blasting the nest and wasps into oblivion. Of course being the vindictive person that I am, I did my due diligence by burning up any wasps that remained with one of my trusty BBQ lighters. This morning a few stragglers congregated where the nest used to be and again I charged in with my lighter. I managed to get another one. Take that, stupid bugs, sting me will you?!?

It's Like, a Monday Thing

I had a rough afternoon yesterday, I'm still trying to scrub the damage from my mind.

Heading for the trains (sans Shuster) I witnessed a horrible wreck in the form of a big girl coming towards me on her bicycle. Her fashion choices included a very low cut and loose tank top, the kind you see Walmart women wearing. She also chose not to wear a bra despite owning a very large pair of sloppy and free-swinging boobs complete with stretch marks on them. She obviously owns the Mirror of Denial whereby her reflection reveals a perky, high and youthfully tight chest. The road was bumpy, it was horrendous. I shed many tears and my eyesight took forever to return. The itching took longer to subside.

On the train, a middle-aged she-beast walks by in a mini-skort although I doubt it was made to be a "mini". The skort stretched mightily around her hips, why didn't she pull them down? Must I bear witness to the remnants of her shorts, the fabric not already devoured by her wobbly butt jowls? What better way to end the scene than to have her daintily bend over in front of my delicate eyes as material not made of cloth flapped around?

When I thought peace had finally arrived the female beside me let a silent one rip.

When will the spasms stop, the cold sweats abate and the rocking end? Cleanse me, purge my mind, make the bad pictures stop.

The Ups and Downs of Pregnancy

It didn’t take much for me to capitulate but I’ve gotten a few gentle prods to put thought down and do an update. I don’t have much but I’ll try to make it entertaining.

I’ve enjoyed being pregnant immensely; it’s been a wonderful first 8 months. I’ve suffered few side effects and reaped the pleasurable rewards of bigger boobies and the lovely, healthy glow of knocked up-ness. Everyone says you can’t tell from behind that I’m pregnant, it’s not until you look from a more advantageous angle that it appears I’ve swallowed a basketball but somehow I’ve still managed to grow quite the bubble butt. I suppose it’s nature’s counterbalance, right? Oh, and you’ve probably heard that the weight distribution causes pregnant women to be a little less balanced (I’m talking physics, not neurology!) but the good Lord in His infinite wisdom saw fit to bestow upon me a stout pair of cankles during these last few weeks. The better to plant my feet with, the sturdier my stance. Sexy time!

I’ve got a couple of weeks to go but I’m ready now. I want to serve this baby with his/her eviction papers post haste and get it out, it’s been stewing long enough. Mama wants to sleep on her stomach and reach her toes again! It’s also not very amusing to have to pee constantly, you’re going to dehydrate her.

What is there to really rant about? I’d say the only things that turn this mild-mannered butterball into a feral beast are hunger and relatives. It’s amazing the rage that low blood sugar levels can bring about in an expectant mother. There have been times where I could barely control myself in the presence of others due to hunger. It’s a crazy ride. It’s also why I usually carry around an emergency granola bar, must temper the rage…

Relatives bring out the absolute worstest in me. I try to avoid too many functions where we have to mingle because I cannot tolerate their asinine and medically unfounded admonitions. Relatives you see, don’t offer advice to be helpful. Rather they feel that it’s their right to lecture you as though you were mentally retarded, it’s a cross they must bear. It doesn’t matter that I’m a fully functioning and educated adult who carefully did her homework, researched the pregnancy process and connected with a great obstetrician, they still know better. Better than the medical community for that matter. You see how one would turn into a slathering beast ready to rip off the nearest face when forced to sit and endure the “You shouldn’t…” and “You have to…” pompous remarks of ignorance. I was once forced to get up and change seats at a restaurant, thus causing a scene because there was a clear and present danger of the wait staff taking running starts from the kitchen to Red Rover into my midsection... and cause my belly to spontaneously explode all over the place. How silly of me not to have realized that.

And yes, I know Eastern Medicine has been around forever as opposed to the newer and less ‘tried and true’ Western Medicine. I don’t doubt that some of the stuff works but now’s not the time for me to start experimenting especially since a lot of their highly touted remedies are extremely suspicious and idiotic. Deer penis soup, anyone?