What Big A Doesn’t Know…May Shock Him

We are at the FINAL COUNTDOWN of Big A’s return and both of us are wicked crazy $%^@%3 excited about it. Even more so than when he was gone for eight months, at least for me. This one’s been tough, mainly because of Little A, obviously, but also because he had JUST finished a tour before going back out. But we had agreed that this was the best option – the other being leaving me alone with a newborn.

And that is a terrible idea.

When he left, I looked like this:

Week 17

As of a week ago, I looked like this:

Week 34

So things have changed a bit. Juuuust a little bit.

We had the following conversation yesterday (paraphrased because I can’t remember shit anymore):

AM: Ugh, this kid and his butt.
Big A: What do you mean his butt?
AM: Well, it’s either his butt or he’s got really big feet.
Big A: (doesn’t get it)
AM: Well, his head is down and to the right and his butt is up under my left ribs and presses out and I can feel it. It’s like the size of my palm. So it better be his butt or he’s got ginormous feet.
Big A: But…how do you know he’s head down? (He was also shocked I could tell body parts)
AM: Because the doctor told me he was and I can also feel his hiccups right above my right hip, where his face would be.

He’s in for it the first time he sees the alien wave of fetal movement from across the room. Because that’s some scary shit right there.

Side story about hiccups: A few years ago a coworker was pregnant and the fetus got the hiccups and made her belly jump. It was the first time I had ever seen a belly MOVE ON ITS OWN and I definitely ran from her office, down the hallway and back to my desk screaming. In heels. Fast forward and here I make my own semi-uncomfortable-with-the-idea coworker put her hand on my stomach so she could feel them. Her reaction was less intense than bolting down a hallway, but I still creeped her out. And I was proud.

I also told Big A it’s now a race between him and my belly button. I don’t know if it can stay an innie until his return. We are edging closer and closer to the turkey timer territory.

Which is quite nearly literal. He is almost fully baked.

I hope he comes with stuffing. Stuffing is my favorite.

Pajama Jam

So I promised pictures and I would hate to go back on that. I know you’re all dying for more glimpses of my crazy mug. Was I smart enough to have my mom take some while she was here? Of course not. We were too busy eating frosting and playing with power tools and paint brushes. So, back to the bathroom we go.

Week 29

Still rocking the innie – not yet a turkey timer. The belly is hard as a rock. I poked it while on Skype with Big A last weekend and he made the comment that my stomach as never been larger…or firmer. I’m pretty sure that was a sly way of telling me that I’ve always had a beer belly, even while I claimed to be a runner. Jackass was lucky to be half a world away. So I stole his favorite pajama pants. They belong to me now.

Nothing comes between me and my Calvins. Except a !@$%# baby.

These little piggies felt ignored.

Why are 70% of maternity shirts horizontally striped?

The End. OR IS IT JUST THE BEGINNING? Nope. It’s the end. FOR NOW.

Thoughtless Thursday

I don’t feel like thinking of anything to say. So here’s a photo.

Some things you may or may not need to know:

1. This is what I look like after an 11-hour work day.

2. I am wearing red stilettos.

3. That sweater is pregnancy hiding magic.

4. Black really, truly is slimming.

5. I am 26 weeks as of…now.

6. I took a side photo to prove I had a belly but my phone decided to delete it and I didn’t notice until right now. Not last night when I could have retaken it. SO USE YOUR IMAGINATIONS.

7. And that’s all I’ve got.


I can explain…

Next week. But for now, I dare you not to have INXS stuck in your head.


Kenyan inside, Kenyan inside. Every single one of us,  Kenyan inside…

The Pregnancy Halftime Show

Dear @%^! Baby,

Well. Little Guy. As of today, you and I have made it to the halfway mark without significant damage to each other. We deserve ice cream! And presents! And accolades!

I really cannot believe this crazy thing is at the 20 week mark. I still forget I’m pregnant most of the time, I’m not the size of a U-Haul yet and I can still rock my non-maternity clothes 71% of the time (with a little assistance, at least). I did, though, discover the joys of maternity pants this week and their kick-ass elastic waists, so my normal clothes, while they fit, are going to be taking a back seat to that awesome.

Let’s fill everyone else in on your progress and how you’re messing with my body, shall we?

Fruit Salad: According to the National Fruit and Fetus Comparison Board, you are roughly the size of a cantaloupe. That’s actually pretty sizable, considering you’re still in semi-hiding. Keep growing into bigger fruits, champ.

Flavor Enhancers: You have taste buds now. Hope you like cheese, spicy stuff, Jimmy Johns, chocolate protein shakes, Cherry Coke and strawberry smoothies.

Growing Pains: I have been having a little back pain, enough that I have to ask myself if I’ve had any Hot Pockets recently. The headaches only come on if I leave out the morning coffee. So I just don’t leave out my morning coffee. The heartburn, well, I can see why people would complain about this, but I’ve had old man heartburn since college. Keep the Tums on the nightstand and we’re good to go.

Sleep is for the Awesome: Sleep is not (yet) an issue. I’ve been sleeping better than ever, which is sort of awesome because I am usually a terrible sleeper. It used to take me forever to fall asleep (once asleep I am out like Rip van Winkle. Not to be confused with Robert van Winkle) but now I fall asleep before the episode of American Dad is over.

The Weight is On: Well, maybe not “on”. Total poundage for this whole thing so far is only about 5 lbs. Which is low, but nothing alarmingly low. I also don’t know HOW it’s only that much. I just got further orders to “indulge”. I can handle that.

The Graze Method: Since you’re all nestled up and snuggling with my internal organs, I was informed that you’re basically giving me a gastric bypass and squashing my stomach. So I can only eat a little bit at a time. And eat often. So somehow, now all I do is eat.

5, 6, 7, 8: Ever since Superbowl Sunday, I can feel your wicked dance moves more frequently. Mostly at night when I’m not focused on much else. But you’re definitely pop lockin’ up a storm and you let me know when I’m not in a position you like. Bossy little fetus.

You're like a Bump-It. For my belly.

Alright, I take shitty pictures of myself and there is no good spot in the house to do it. I either need to figure out the timer setting on my other camera or someone needs to come hang out with me once a week. THIS IS IMPORTANT, PEOPLE. These are memories. MEMORIES, DAMMIT.

Anyway. Halfway done, halfway to go! Keep up the good work, little fella, I guess? Good game?