06 August, 2013

Boys are lazy.

I'm not even going to apologise for how long it's been this time. *lol* I have a toddler, I'm really pregnant, and I need no further excuse.

That's right folks, I've gone over, despite all the assurances from chiropractors/doctors/midwives that I wouldn't make it to the 5th. The "water breaking on my due date" luck I had with The Brat seems to have failed me this go around, and I'm now ONE WHOLE DAY OVERDUE. (None of you are allowed to castigate me for dramatic overstatement, I don't care if you went two weeks over, this is about ME, as everything is. So there.) We had a little scare yesterday, New Kid is normally so active that it's borderline painful (sometimes not so borderline, if I'm honest) and he didn't move yesterday. Like, at all. I drank a Coke, I poked and prodded... nuffink. So I called the midwives at the hospital and they had me come in so they could monitor him. I waited until Himself got home to keep Madam and took myself off to triage, where after half an hour of monitoring NK finally deigned to show himself and began to wiggle as per his usual. We're both fine, but I wish he would lay off the shock tactics.

The little beast that's been masquerading as a blonde angel all this time has finally shown her true colours. At 21 months old she's decided that sharing is for pansies and that anyone who dares touch her toys (or toys she's playing with at group, or toys she's seen and begun to head towards, or toys that belong to other children that she'd quite like to play with even though they're occupied by other hands) deserves The Wrath of Bratface. Said Wrath is normally accompanied by a feral noise that's somewhere between a growl and a shriek of rage, and it's reduced many a friend to tears. My vocal cords have begun to fray from all the lecturing about how we share with our friends and how it isn't nice to scream I've been doing lately. Add to that the fact that she was an utter butthead to her father all weekend and it makes for a very pleasant environment at Chez Gabs. Mi madre thinks it's because she senses her little universe is about to be turned on its head, so I'm hoping after the dust has settled and she realises she's still my favourite things will revert to their previous resting state. *grin*

I'm still staying as active as humanly possible, attending various appointments for reflexology and chiropractic work, going to groups with The Brat, running errands... I went to Ikea yesterday hoping against hope that the trip would kickstart NK into gear (because what else would you do at nine months pregnant but go to Ikea?) but that obviously backfired. Well, it backfired for me, Madam was pleased with the outing for multiple reasons. First, she got to hang with one of her best buds (we went with a friend and her toddler). Second, I had made cookies the day before and brought a bag for bribery purposes. Third, she was the recipient of a tiny table and stool that I bought for the express reason of teaching her some table manners, and pleased doesn't cover her reaction. Best. Toy. Ever. And fourth... well, have a look at the picture below.

That's how she rolls. I mean, to be fair, I'd probably enjoy Ikea even more if I had somebody roll me through in a fleece nest with cushions and homemade cookies. These are the pictures I'll be showing at her wedding.

Okay, she's bored of allowing me to type unmolested. I'm now fending off twenty-odd pounds of flailing blonde child, so I'll wrap this up now. Send me delivery vibes, I'm about ready to reclaim my body from the ginormous parasite I've been carrying for nine months now. Actually, I really just want to sprawl out on my stomach. It's going to be so awesome. *sigh* Catch you on the flipside.