Friday, August 28, 2015

#4- 22 & 23 weeks




I squished two weeks together.  I'm a busy gal, you know?  We took the picture but I left immediately to get away from my kids and re cooperate from, well, being a mom.  Then a day went by and another and I said, "hell, I'm not writing something now when I'll have to again on Friday."  See how that goes?

Things have been fine.  I'm still pregnant.  My little Squirtypie is growing and getting large.  Kicks and whacks are getting stronger and stronger.  I swear, the other day, it was like s/he reached out and purposely flicked my lady bits.  It was the weirdest feeling and honestly felt like a flick from the inside.  What the devil is Squirt doing in there?  And what's the problem with my lady bits?  Doesn't s/he realize that soon enough s/he will be making a super fun journey down that path?  Better be nice to it.

An issue of pregnancy that I'm struggling with is the fact that it means waking every day and discovering a new smell that makes your entire house smell like a garbage truck.  Why do I have to have the sniffer of a bear getting ready for hibernation?  There isn't a day that I can't find something that stinks.  Yikes.  No cleaning will get rid of it because once I figure one smell out another emerges.  And it's not just the crap that Ada is literally putting in her pants or the fact that I have two small boys who think tooting is the most hilarious thing ever.  Actually, I have discovered that my boys have really smelly feet.  Instantly brought me back to the days when I lived at home and my brother's feet would reek up the whole house.

My tots.  They are getting big.  The women out there who cherish and love their big bosoms, who show that deep V cleavage off to kingdom come... those women?  Something has knocked them off their rocker.  Maybe they just don't remember the glorious time in their early teenage years where tiny tots were glorious and not having to wear a bra offered so much comfort.  If you can't tell, I love my tiny boobs.  LOVE them.  I don't care who knows it.  Tiny boobs are the way to go.  Why boob jobs outnumber breast reductions is beyond me.  I have reached the stage of pregnancy where my lovely lady lumps (I hope this is what Fergie was referring to.  Maybe I should look that up.) have started preparation for the months to years of breastfeeding and are plumping up.  I had to dig up bras and pay attention to what shirts make my bra-less state look ridiculous.  I am not enjoying this.  Needless to say, my husband is happy about it.  Whatever.  Men.

Sneezing has become very dangerous.  It was dangerous before.  I mean, imaging pushing three kids out of your whooha.  I don't care how many kegals you do... that thing is never going back to normal.  Add in the pressure of a baby who likes to lounge on your bladder like it's a giant water bed?  Yikes.  You better be prepared and have those legs crossed or you are about to need to change your undies.  Let's be honest, you just can't be prepared for every sneeze.  It just doesn't happen.  Thank goodness I'm home all the time.  What do those poor souls do that go to work and sneeze?  They spend the day in damp knickers, that's what.

Turning over in bed has gotten fun.  I know it will just get more fun.  Heaving and lurching the belly just so you can roll over sounds great I'm sure.  Grunts and groans just to roll over.  I have to do this quite a bit as my hips and lower back give me some trouble.  I had some of these issues with Ada but not to this extent and not so early.  I'm chalking it up to the fact that I am pregnant for the fourth time in 5 years.  That's a lot on a body.  Sometimes I just want to ask Max to just stand on my hips just to put some pressure on them and get them back into the right spot but you have to lay on your stomach for that and laying on my stomach was out the window a loooong time ago.  I'll just have to deal with it.  I wonder how long before the kids are mimic-ing my hands on hips pose?  That should be funny to see from Ada.

Onward to week 24.  I honestly had to look back on the calendar and count how far along I was.  I forgot.  Next doc appt is at 28 weeks.  I'm really stretching those bad boys out.  I figure baby is moving and I'm healthy.  No need to give those insurance companies what they want.

***FYI- Turns out that wasn't what Fergie was talking about.  My ass is getting big too but who wants to talk about that?****


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