Stick a Fork in Me

We picked up take-out for dinner the other night.  I waited in the car.  The restaurant was next to a drug store.  The window showcased a walker and a bedpan.  Both seemed like luxuries that would improve my quality of life.

I have been living in bathing suits and pool coverups.  The other morning The Boy found my wedding tiara and placed it on my head.  He told me I was a beautiful princess so of course I left it on.  A bit later the doorbell rang.  I just assumed I was wearing a pool coverup.  I wasn't.  I answered the door in a nightshirt (which I am quite certain is WAY too short) and a tiara which I had forgotten was on my head.  He didn't try too hard to sell his goods and quickly fled our property.

The other night I had to use foil and fashion my own pan lid when making pasta because I couldn't reach the real lids above the stove without burning my baby belly on the pot on the stove.

My belly button has never seen the light of day as much as it has in the past few weeks.

Turning over in bed requires a series of small pivots while clutching the headboard and using it as a hoist.

During one of my many trips to the bathroom in the middle of the night I actually thought I had found my fortune in life.  I came up with a brilliant invention for pregnant folks.  You know those trash can peddles that you step on and the lid opens?  Well, I figured in the morning I would patent the same concept for the toilet seat because bending to lift the cover really consumes me.

So, yeah...I'm pretty much done.  The babies, however, still need to cook awhile longer and I have no intention of doing this again so I am trying to appreciate the "Joys of Pregnancy, but yeah....I'm pretty much done.