I've sat here all morning trying to think of what to post today to the blog. I have no exciting updates, no funny news stories (although last nights story about Dick Cheney catchin' himself a Republican had Forrest and I laughing so hard... I mean, yeah, I feel bad for the guy who got shot... but still... a funny story). The snow is still on the ground, just not on the roads, which is good. It's really pretty. There's not much more I can say about snow.
Contractions at night? Eh, not so much... I think I'm just getting used to the Braxton Hicks or whatever-the-heck you call these things that I don't get excited anymore. The second I do have anything that seems non-Braxton-Hickish, turns out it's gas pains... so really, nothing happening there. I realized that I'm all bent out of shape for nothing because, hello! My due date isn't until next Tuesday... so for anything to happen before that? Would just be pure luck. Still, it would be nice to have a baby to hold since all the other bloggers due around my due date now have their babies. *shrug*
Oh, and another thing... Because I'm so out of it, and my mind is totally focused elsewhere (i.e. trying to send telepathic messages to my unborn son to "GET OUT!"), Forrest and I celebrated Valentine's Day this morning. We woke up, and were all, "HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!!!" I gave him his gift and card (he said I would get mine tonight) and we smiled and snuggled and all that happy Valentine's stuff. Then he left for work, and I was left sitting there thinking of how great it is to have such a wonderful husband. Then I began to think, hey! If today is Valentine's Day, that means my birthday is Thursday, not friday. Which... didn't quite make sense... SOOOOO... I pulled out my calendar, and lo' and behold!! Today is February 13th.... not the 14th.... so we'd just celebrated the wrong day!!! So I frantically called Forrest to make sure he didn't look like an idiot wishing everyone at work Happy Valentine's day because... TOMORROW, is the 14th. We had a good laugh and all, but I still feel stupid. And, I have to wait until Friday for my birthday.
Yes... Friday is my birthday. I turn 25. Yes, this might seem young to some of you old farts out there, but to me? 25 is big. I like 24 for a lot of reasons. LOTS of them. 25 is half a century. 25 means I have only 5 years left until I turn 30... 15 until I turn 40. Etc, Etc. Plus? Having a birthday in your mid-twenties isn't as fun as having a birthday in your early 20's. For example, for your 21st birthday, you go out and have a few drinks with your friends, happy that you can finally legally drink (which for the record, I was a very good girl and didn't drink before 21... scouts honor!). On your 22nd birthday, you go out with your girlfriends to a nice dinner and have a grand ol' time. But then, something odd happens. You get married, then pregnant, and suddenly your birthday just doesn't seem like that big of a deal. Which is fine, honestly, because if my family hadn't reminded me that Friday was my birthday, I honestly don't think I would have remembered it myself (remember, I'm busy sending telepathic messages). So, what am I doing for my birthday this year? Nothing probably... unless my body decides to expell the child that is keeping me up at night with his dance-parties.
Oh, the dance parties. Yes. It seems our son really likes to "get-jiggy wit it" at night, when I'm trying to sleep. Thus creating loads of pressure in my pelvis. I'm very suspicious that he's taking to drinking at these dance parties, because the frequency of my bathroom trips has quadrupled in the last few days. How do you explain to your in-utero son that these late hours and drinking are wreaking havoc on his mothers central nervous system!? Oh well...
Well, since I've rambled on and on long enough, I figure it's time for me to go find something else to do.