A Killing Spree Probably Won't Solve Anything...

Today, I am now 29 weeks pregnant. I have gained 21 pounds (gulp), and although my arse and hips are rounder than I would like, I am glad to say that I am "all belly" and void of any new stretch marks. (I hope that I am not jinxing myself). Woohoo. I was hoping this baby would go easy on my body, and so far, he has- on the outside. My insides, however, are another story.

Yesterday, the doc-on-call requested that I return to Labor and Delivery, as I had experienced mild contractions for almost 24 hours, 10 minutes apart. The contractions did not prompt me to call my OB. It was the "bloody show". A small amount, indeed, but a wise woman pays attention to a talking uterus, let me tell ya! False alarm, returned home. Here I is, waiting and counting. I am ready for the arrival of my son. In eight more weeks, the docs will let my body push this little one. I am ready. My uterus has become akin to Amityville- "Get out!!!" I am running out of room. In fact, the doc checked my cervix yesterday to make sure that I hadn't dialated or effaced. My particular cervix is high and posterior, and I am not a big girl to begin with, so it really felt like he was up to his elbows in birth canal....I said to him, "No...those are my tonsils." A merry chuckle and a hand towel later, we saw Jackson via ultrasound. Wow! He is so big! And he looks just like his Daddy, but his Daddy cannot tell, so he gives me this look whenever I say that.

As for the rest of being a stay-at-home-mom...well, I think I am more of a Horny Housewife than a Soccer Mom. I fear I am going slightly mad, and I have been confined for too long and alone. Between my husband working and my exhaustive condition, I could use some more fun. I think what I need is Silent Bob.