On Etiquette

Let me preface this by saying, I understand that the majority of outsiders are excited by the sight of a pregnant bitch. They're curious, they want to make small talk about the pregnancy and impending baby, and that's fine, I suppose.

I've never been one of those people. I don't care about your pregnant ass or your impending shit machine. I won't try to talk to you about how your pregnancy is going, how you're feeling, your excitement level, and so forth.

I don't even mind these sorts of questions here and there, but on the daily gets on a fatty's nerves after a while. I'm not sure if it's those hormones everyone likes to talk about, or if it's my general personality of not wanting to talk to people that's making me so irritable, but I'm really trying to maintain my grace and be friendly about the inquiries. It's all a part of my plan to not be such a bitch.

There is one thing I will not stand for however, and I'd say at least 90% of people with a brain in their head should know this. Whether a chick is pregnant or just plain large and in charge, you never, ever say to her: "Wow, it looks like you're going to pop any day now!" Especially when said chick still has two months to go before expelling the occupant of her gut. Yes, being knocked up leads one to have a giant gut, it's obvious to everyone, especially the person with the gut. Whether a pregnant chick actually looks good or not, she still feels like a huge whale and incredibly unattractive. She doesn't want to hear about how big her gut is. Come on people, have the decency to talk about her behind her back like everyone else.

I know that I'm having a good pregnancy, weight-wise. I'm not a huffamoose. I'm eight months knocked up and have gained roughly 15 pounds, all baby related. My face isn't fat, nothing is swollen yet. I still look like me, but with a basketball under my sweater. I look fairly decent I suppose, as far a knocked up girls go, but in my pregnant head, I'm a whale, I feel like a whale and I don't want anyone commenting on my gut. I know this is completely irrational, but being irrational is one of the perks of being knocked up, right?

Finally, it's said that Leos love to be in the spotlight, and love attention. I myself am a Leo (just barely) I really ought to be a Cancer. One of the few Leo traits I possess is that I love my hair, it is my centerpiece, it's long and lustrous and I know it's gorgeous. With that being said, I hate being the center of attention, like most Leos. Being knocked up has unfortunately made me the center of attention. People will look at my gut instead of my face while talking to me, they'll come at me and try to feel my fetus, they're always asking about him, what he's doing, what's going on, what's happening. People have told me that once he's born, all the attention will go directly to him, and no one will bother with me anymore, so I shouldn't be upset when the attention shifts. You know what I say? GOOD! Let the kid have all the attention! I'm looking forward to being left alone. At least I won't have to field any more baby questions.

On Humming

I'm grateful that April is a fairly quiet month as far as events go. Sure, there's a couple birthdays in the loop, no big shakes. It's been raining consistently for days, which I suppose is alright, April Showers... and all.

The weather still hasn't been warm enough to get in the kid's room and paint anything. I'm a stickler for keeping the bought heat inside the house and not getting dopey on paint fumes in a closed room. This is turn doesn't leave much time (I feel) to do anything. We need to clean, sand, and paint the windowsills, the trim, and the actual walls. Probably a day or two project... maybe three if we stretch it out. Of course we then need to build the furniture. We recently received the crib set (crib, changing table, and dresser) which is sitting in the bird's room until we can actually build it. Paco stares at vindictively since we just cleaned his room out, and now there's more shit piling in.

I'll be hitting my 30 week milestone tomorrow. 30 weeks! Shit! That leaves an alleged 10 weeks left to dropping it like it's hot. I don't want to be unprepared for his arrival, so I might just have to suck it up and let some of that much coveted bought heat out. His first shower is in three weeks. Getting a bunch of stuff for him feels like it might be overwhelming in that, we really have no where to put it right now. Lots of laundry will need to be done so his clothes are prepped. Organizing of his room will need to be done.

I've been thinking of asking to cut my work week down to four days starting next month, but I really can't afford that. Though, the extra day would be nice to get stuff done. Being knocked up and working full time leaves one exhausted and not wanting to do additional items when finally at home. But... you gotta do what you gotta do.

On Realization

Now that there's about three months to go to carry this little meatloaf around, I'm really starting to realize that, holy shit, I'm going to be someone's parent! Of course, you reader, might be thinking... umm, no kidding dumbass, you've known you were knocked up for the last seven months.

When you first find out you've got a BOB, it doesn't seem real, because you look the same, even though you might feel like ass. Then your gut gets bigger, you get an ultrasound, you hear a heartbeat, then you're like, hot shit, there's a person in there! But maybe, you're still choosing to ignore the fact that there's an impending baby.

Finally at seven months, I think I'm finally starting to accept that there's a tiny little poltergeist in my gut. It might be because he's an active little bugger and likes to party. It might be that his baby shower is just about a month away. It might be that I've got a cradle sitting in my basement waiting to be put together for him to sleep in and his nursery furniture on the way. I won't lie to you guys, I'm pretty terrified.

Having a kid wasn't in the cards for a lot of years. I generally dislike other people's children because most of them are assholes. Yes, I said it, children can be assholes. However, I've admittedly come across a few kids that I actually didn't mind because they were like tiny little midget adults with proper manners and everything. I know everyone says, it'll be different when it's your kid, and maybe that's true. I know I'll love the kid no matter what because I shat him out, but there still may be times when I think he's an asshole, and I'm sure he'll think I'm an asshole too, it's a given.

To be honest with you guys, right now I'm trying not to dwell on the fact that in three short months I'm going to be responsible for a tiny little person because if I dwell on it, I might as well just drive myself to the loony bin right now. Instead, I'm trying to concentrate on the fact that a tiny little baby will grow into a hopefully pretty bad ass toddler who hangs out in the woods with his father and I.