So…um hey all you fine looking people NOT reading my blog. I *ahem* have a question of a personal nature to ask you. Is it a bad sign that I am so hugely pregnant that it is sometimes a question of whether I will be able to actually wipe when I am in the bathroom? The really super-bad part? It isn’t just when I go #2 (yeah yeah I know…trust me–far too much information there)
I have to say that I did wonder early on (snickering that surely THIS WOULD NEVER HAPPEN TO ME) if this could be a possibility…but I have to say that yeah, I’m a little sad that the day has come. Pretty much everything I do these days beyond rolling out of bed makes me winded and/or tired and I have had to turn over most grooming chores involving anything belly-button level and below over to my loving and devoted husband (Trust? Trust is letting your husband cut your toenails even after seeing what the massacre he performs on his own toenails looks like). Still, one should be able to keep one’s dignity intact by at least being able to tend to one’s own personal bathroom. I only have somewhere between 2 and 5 (oh please no) weeks left. At this rate, I can totally see needing to just lay my head down on the sink (while still sitting on the toilet) for a short nap so I can have enough energy and the strength to actually get up from the toilet. Ahhh…all the fun things they never tell you before you get pregnant!!!
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In other exciting news around our house, I think that if our little guy were to come earlier than currently expected, we would actually be prepared…well…kind of…sort of. Okay, we’ve got all the stuff…just some of it isn’t um…where it needs to be. We bought beautiful furniture for the baby (can you say 200 pound solid wood dresser?) and yeah…it (crib and dresser) are still in the boxes. Three weeks later…still in the boxes. I haven’t even gotten around to buying the mattress. I am either the most laid-back first time mom or the laziest (yeah…I’d be putting big odds on the second option there). I’m not so worried because we were planning on co-sleeping with the little guy for the first month anyway. If I just would have arranged for my maternity leave to start just a week or two earlier…I’d be so much further ahead. At least the child has a car seat…that still needs to be put in the car. I’m telling you–it will be a miracle if they let my husband and I take this poor child home with us. Please reassure me that everyone feels this clueless the first time around!!!

Though I only hit 32 weeks on Tuesday (that’s approximately eight more weeks of pregnant fun for all those playing along at home) tonight I discovered my sure-fire remedy to send me into labor if the little man decides that he doesn’t want to come out at 40 weeks after all–I’m going grocery shopping.

Granted, I currently go grocery shopping once a week with no problems–nary a braxton-hicks let alone a hiccup from the currently gestating little man. No, I think I’m going to save up and make sure that I have to buy a ton of things (all those stock-up things that you seem to run out of at once) making sure that I have to be in the store longer than my current zip-in get everything on the list and zip-out method that has been serving me so well. I’m also going to make sure that I go to what we affectionately like to call the ‘Ghetto Wal-Mart’ to do all this shopping. It’s a regular Super Wal-Mart-however, when compared to the other 2 Super Wal-Marts located within driving distance…well, let’s just say that the Ghetto Wal-Mart doesn’t quite measure up. Just for extra fun? Yeah, I’m going to make sure that I go on the hottest, most humid and overall most uncomfortable day possible. My overall discomfort coupled with the fun that is shopping at the GWM (that’s Ghetto Wal-Mart for short) should send me into labor post-haste, or finally send me over the edge enough to finally have that stroke I feel coming on every time I go to the GWM.

I’m usually so aggravated by the time I leave that my jaw is permanently bolted into clenched lockdown position and other people passing by on my way out cut a wide berth around me because with all the twitching and muttering under my breath, I most likely appear like I’m about t-minus three seconds away from a full-on implosion and they want no part of that action.

Luckily, Chik-fil-a is conveniently located at the edge of the parking lot allowing me to drive though and self-medicate with the grande lemonade and practice my deep breathing in order to clear out the negative experience that is shopping at the GWM. I know I could save myself much grief and aggravation by just driving another 20 minutes to a different Super Wal-Mart, but it’s like a bad habit–I want to quit but I find myself being drawn back time after time with the thought of ‘No, today it will be different. Maybe one of these days, I’ll figure out that it will never be different, at least while I’m doing my grocery shopping at the GWM.