Bigger Is NOT Always Better...

I'm going to attempt to go where no man should have to. This isn't for the faint of heart, but it needs to be addressed. I'm totally appalled by maternity underwear. There comes a time (if you gain enough weight), where even your panties cut your circulation off. I am at that point.

Since I have hoarding issues, I decided to look through my maternity crate from my pregnancy with Hayden, just hoping I'd have thrown some of my maternity underwear in there. Oh...my...God. Jackpot (perhaps). I found the biggest freaking underwear God ever made. Before you go sticking a mental image on my swollen figure, I'd like to at least say that I only wore/wear them at night. If I had a wreck in public (and where else would you have one?), God forbid someone find me in underwear that with a little coaxing, can actually cover up my boobs.

My philosophy is that if your panties are large enough to include snaps, buttons, or other such designs, they're too damn big. SO, my next project will include designing a new style of maternity underwear that I'm not afraid to wear in public. I'll attempt that task right after I put my big girl panties on...

30 Weeks and Counting

I'm strikingly similar to Humpty Dumpty. I sat down on the floor to put on a shoe (everything from the waist down has been terribly neglected) and couldn't get up. I weebled around for a little bit, feeling very much like the "I've fallen and I can't get up!" lady. Side note: Was that on a Wendy's commercial? No, perhaps an ad for HoverRound. I don't remember. Anyway, I thought Life Flight was going to have to come and get my ass out of the floor.



We got our 3D ultrasound of the baby. She's still breech, weighs about 3 pounds, and decided to show off her acrobatic flexibility by sucking her toe (and her thumb, but that takes so much less skill). Everything looked great and they estimated her time of arrival to be April 14. Right now, she's just hangin' out, enjoying her time as she beats on my bladder. She's gonna be a mess!

Come On Y'all Let's Take A Ride

Listen to this, you're gonna need it...

My son nearly learned to drive today. We went to the park to feed the ducks since the snowstorm was on its way (these ducks needed food, people). I unbuckled Hayden and let him sit in the driver's seat. I shut the door, fully equipped with a loaf of stale bread. I waddled a few feet away from the car (assured that a shit attack on our new vehicle would do nothing to please my husband) and a swarm of insane ducks and geese found their way to me. Hayden watched and laughed [probably thinking what a fool I looked like without make-up or a decent hairdo, standing in freezing temperatures while feeding Bunny bread (don't judge) to a flock of borderline obese birds].

We were having a good time, the birds and I. I evenly distributed their snacks, all the while watching my son's draining enthusiasm for the day's event. Apparently, I was a little bit too focused on the feeding experience. What seemed like a few moments later, when I turned around to check on my son (after hearing a strange click), I snapped back from PETA paradise only to find that my son had: A. turned the windshield wipers on full blast, B. turned the bright lights on, C. turned on the radio and somehow found a Coolio song, and D. managed to lock the doors. He gave me a shit-eating grin and pretended to drive to a place where 'everybody kick it', for all I know. Panic began to set in. The hungry birds turned on me. Some began pecking at my stellar maternity jeans while others raised such a ruckus I feared animal welfare might come get me.

I shouted at Hayden to OPEN THE DOOR and for some reason, he didn't listen. The insane family who was actually using the playground in 20 degree weather looked at ME like I had flipped my lid (who lets their kids play outside without jackets at a park in sub-freezing temperatures?). I began miming at this point. Somewhere along the way, I believe a few cuss words spewed from my virginal lips. After a few seconds, I learned that one can indeed sweat in freezing weather. Then, by the grace of God and in Hayden's best interest, he unlocked the door (but not after rolling the window up and down a 1/2 inch seventeen times).

What did I learn from today's fantastic voyage? My animal activism used to be SO much easier...

Just Call Me Betty Crocker...Or Something Like That

OK, I'll admit it. I've never really been a cooking goddess. I don't have time for it. I don't have the energy for it. Heck, I don't even have the utensils for it (Hayden hoards and lines up everything he can get his hands on...gotta love autism). But recently, after a Come To Jesus moment, I realized I do have the finances for it. We've GOT to stop dining out. I'm forcing myself to throw on the pinny and become domestic. Even if it kills me.

While I've never been a food blog follower, I'm in love with this blog. Finding her makes me realize the hours of aimlessly searching the internet really are worth it. Thank you, AT&T high speed internet.

Her recipes seem easy. They resemble actual food...nothing I'd have to travel to Thailand to get parts for. I feel like I'm ready. I even organized my recipe box today. I believe I've hit a period of nesting. Next thing you know, I'll take my worries out on the battery and light bulb cabinet (don't judge...my husband needs therapy for hoarding batteries and bulbs). Until then, I'm off to find some recipes to maim.

A Day In My Neighborhood

OMG, it's not a beautiful day in the neighborhood today, friends. The peak of my day will be going to the mailbox. That's about all the excitement I can muster up. I seem to be a drama magnet. To quote one of my good friends, "Help or get out of my way!" Well, transform that quote into, "Be nice to me or get out of my way!" I don't want any more drama in my life right now. Sigh.

I've decided I've reached a new all-time low. I now understand why some women take diuretics during pregnancy. Although I'd never do anything to harm my baby, I'm not too good to shed as many layers of my unflattering figure as possible. I decided to clean out my purse. It was weighing me down. All I found worth removing was $5.00 worth of Chuck-E-Cheese tokens and a Gas-X.

Not bad for a Thursday.

It's Hard Being Pregnant

Being fat and pregnant is harder. Being fat, lethargic, and pregnant is even harder. Being fat, lethargic, pregnant, and a mother is more challenging. Being fat, lethargic, pregnant, and a mother of a child with autism (that's been so hyper we scared a few senior citizens today) is really difficult. Being fat, lethargic, pregnant, a mother of a child with autism (don't forget the senior citizen incident), and blowing out your jeans because you just came out of an all-you-can-eat buffet is just f'in humiliating.

I have a strong desire to simply get happy. Take it away, Frank.

Pregnancy On Ice

Where are those pregnancy parking spots when you need them? I waddled into Wal-Mart tonight, doing a slow-motion chase after Brock (I'm like one of those mail order foreign brides...always walking 15 feet behind my husband), wearing 10 year old heels (which is a danger within itself), frantically trying to wrap 3/4 of a pea coat around my enormous belly, and doing it on ice. Lesson to be learned: pregnancy should be considered a disability.