Holy Cheetos in pickle juice, my friends. What is it about the last few weeks of pregnancy that just really annihilates everything about you that makes you “YOU” (That’s a lot of yous…youses…whatever)
Not only is Bigfoot draining my body of calcium, sleep and energy; now it appears she has taken over my funny bone (which is only right since it feels she is carved her initals – if she could spell, write and even see clearly – in every single rib. What’s one more bone?)
Laughter used to be what ran my household. Laughter was the crazy glue that held us together. Laughter is cheap and easy.
Laughter is becoming scarce.
My oldest has taken to waddling around the house, holding her lower back and muttering over and over about how “sausted” she is. (Way to set an example, Mom!)
Tickle wars are a thing of the past since 1.) I can’t manage to get into the floor before the gnat-like attention span of The Littles has moved on to examining what treasures are collecting under the couch cushions 2.) I don’t like participating in the rib poking because of the aforementioned engraved ribs.
I know…I know…It will be over soon and life will resume back to normal, but what memories am I leaving my children with this Christmas. A super-bloated Grinch? Geez…that’s just swell (pun intended, of course!)
I am trying to pull my head out of wherever it is crammed, trying to participate with all my incredibly witty friends and family, trying to come up with some one line zingers to gain my husband’s appreciation (who is the funniest darn person I have ever met) considering mime acts and slipping on banana peels to illicite some giggles from The Littles; but it is much like the Magician who pulls a 56 page tax audit out of his top hat instead of a bunny…
I don’t need pity (although I will take the party part!) I just need some understanding and probably some new material. I beg, plead, barter and bribe that you all just hang loose and bear with me during this dry spell on my blog. Soon enough I will flood your retinas until they bleed and roll over/play dead with new pictures of a wrinkled, screaming poop machine. Then once the delirium of sleep deprivation begins to lift, I will get you back to your scheduled program.
On a side note, apparently Bigfoot took over my spelling ability as well….it took spell check a full 30 minutes to show me every mistake. It then sighed and crashed.