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 quarter of 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 expel 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.