Bungeyes, Unwanted Advice, and Other Things that Piss Me Off!

I honestly have tried to refrain from bitching and moaning about being pregnant. You are probably saying to yourself, "Really? Because that is all she writes about latley." Well, I have limited myself. I could write everyday about the new horrors I have faced, like peeing my pants at Marshals or the stupid ass that asked me if I was having twins.

I wish people would quit saying things to me like, "What are you still doing here? I thought that you would be at home with a new baby." or "How far along are you?" "When are you due?" or some other assinine question lets me know they are thinking, "Good hell she is huge, I wonder how she can still be standing upright?"

The other thing I get lately is advice and old wives tales on how to get labor started. "Yes, I have tried taking long walks. Yes, I have tried spicy food. Yes, I have . . . um. . . I really don't like to talk about that with people at church. Yes, I have coughed, sneezed and rubbed my tummy while patting my head."

I am also tired of people staring at me. I catch them staring and I give them the stink eye while in my mind I yell, "What are ya staring at Bung Eyes?!" Usually a few minutes later I reach down and realize 6 inches of my stretch marked belly are hanging below my shirt. Aww, that explained the look of shocked disgust on their faces.

I have been to the hospital twice now, but with no luck. I am positive if I were in Logan I would have had this baby already. Instead of having a Triage Dr. at the hospital they would actually call your doctor (you know the one that actually knows what the hell is going on) and ask him what to do. Oh, and speaking of my Dr., she of course is out of town along with the majority of the other dr.'s in the office. Good Hell!!!!! I have been totally happy with my prenatal care up to this point but what kind of OB office allows the majority of their dr.'s to go on vacation at the same time. I can't get an appointment and who the hell is going to deliver my baby!!!!!

"Get Out Baby!" or Updates on the Lack of Delivery

Thursday night I started having contractions at midnight. I have been having contractions for months now, but these were more hurty and got closer together. At around 4 am they were 5ish minutes apart, so we decided to go to the hospital and get this thing over with.

Got to the hospital, had a hard time walking to the labor and delivery wing because of the ouchy, sat down in their waiting room, and the contractions stopped. Nice! They checked me out and sent me home. Very anticlimactic.

I think maybe the problem is this boy is trying to come out the wrong way because his head is constantly pushing on my bladder. "Sorry kiddo, back it up and try again. Aim a little more towards the rear this time." Every time I have one of those "painless" Braxton Hicks contractions I have to run to the bathroom before I pee my pants. It is getting old.

Some guy at John's work said I couldn't have the baby until Wednesday because they needed to paint the lines on the agility field. Apparently they can't push the painter without him.

I told John to have the guy come say that to my face, so I could kick him in the bladder a few hundred times. I am thinking he would come to the realization that he could probably figure out how to push a painter without John's help.

Anyway, no baby yet, tired of baby head bashing my bladder, tired of peeing, tired of waiting and wondering. Wishing this kid would just hurry up and get here already.

Better

Friday was much, much better.

Fecal Thursday

- Wake up grumpy, sore, still tired. . . nothing new I'm 8 mo. Preggo.

- Go to Mommy club at Splash Park. . . No one else showed.

- On way home stop and get gas. . . After I was done pumping, the car wouldn't start.

- Drink 2 Diet Cokes . . . rather than give me a happy lift, I end up more irritable.

- Sit down to a nice chat on Facebook. . . Jonas takes off poopy diaper while in his crib and smears poo everywhere. Positive note- Cleaning it up didn't make me puke, thanks to a bandanna sprayed with vanilla linen freshener tied around my face.

- Sit down to enjoy some TV. . . Big crash or maybe kind of a "thud, glug, glug" sound comes from the hallway. I had a brand new Costco size bottle of fabric softener sitting on top of the dryer. While I was drying the now clean poop sheets, the vibrations caused humongous bottle to fall on the floor and explode! Plus side - Now the floor is so slick and slimy the kids can skate on it. Entertainment for hours!

- Finally, lay down in bed for another restless, toss and turny night. . . Dinner doesn't agree with me. Go throw up. Sleep on the couch in order to keep head propped up and what's left of dinner in tummy.

Here's to hoping today is better.

Rainy Day

It rained all night last night and it is gloomy and gray outside. I am curled in the arm chair with a blanket, hot cup of tea in hand. I turned the air conditioner way up so I can pretend it is the kind of rainy day I miss and not the hot and steamy Arizona kind.

A few things that probably should have been said to people's faces, but in my usual avoid confrontation way didn't get said and are now eating at me

I am tired of all the wailing and gnashing of teeth over socialized medicine. Um, last I heard that wasn't the plan being tossed around. Do you honestly think all those happy little argumentative Washington people would sign off on socialized medicine? No way, the insurance companies are lining far too many of their pockets. I just wish all you soap boxers and doom and gloomers would stop being so negative and quit posting your propaganda all over the web, cuz guess what, we need health care reform.

Have you ever not been able to take your kid to the doctor because you couldn't afford it? When we didn't have insurance, I didn't have the opportunity to wait in line like a Canadian to get care for my kid. I just didn't get care.

Or how about this little fantastic episode. A few months ago my 1 year old son had a frightening case of croup. When he tried to inhale he was pulling so hard that not only the little soft spot in his neck sucked in, but his entire stomach caved in. I could see his rib cage with every breath. I took him to the all night instacare and the receptionist honestly said, "He doesn't have a fever? Do you know how expensive a visit here is?" The kid could barely breath and they were trying to turn me away! I told them I had insurance and suddenly it was okay for me to be there. While we were getting treated, the nurse said she had never seen a kid struggling that much to breath. I have to wonder what happens to the equally terrified mom who comes in and doesn't have insurance.

I know people whose medications cost them half their monthly salary. I know people who have been turned away from insurance companies or can only get extremely high priced plans because they have a pre-existing condition. Those of you whose insurance is happily covered by your work, do you know how much insurance costs if you are self employed or if your job doesn't cover it? At one point we paid almost $300 a month just to add Kate onto my plan since my job only covered me. $300 when my job was already paying equal to that for me, so, close to $600 a month?!? There has got to be something better than this! I just pray that by the time they sign off on a plan that makes everyone happy, it actually makes things better! If not, maybe I will move to Canada and see just how bad socialized medicine is first hand.

Someday. . .

. . . I won't have to pack a 50 lb. "mom bag" everywhere I go.

. . . I will be able to take a long luxurious shower without worrying that someone will chop his/her finger off while I am in the bathroom.

. . . I will be able to poop in peace.

. . . I will not have to mow the lawn because the boys will be old enough to do it.

. . . I will be able to go to the grocery store alone.

. . . I will have enough money to remove some of my excess boobage and pick them up off my belly button.

. . . my house will stay clean for longer than 1.5 seconds.

. . . every statement or question directed at me won't begin with the words, "Um Mom"

. . . I won't have to deal with so much poop. (I mean that literally, not figuratively. One always has to deal with the figurative kind.)

. . . I will be able to sit down to a nice family dinner where everyone uses utensils and no one rubs food in their hair.

. . . I will not have to share every morsel of food I have.

. . . I will be able to have nice cold drink without someone putting their slimy hands in it and stealing my ice.