The thoughts are crunchier here.
And three months to go! I’m entering the 3rd trimester today, so we’re on the final third of this journey! I am certainly ready for Lydia to be here — I’m ready for a RARE filet mignon, among other things.
I figured I would please y’all with a belly shot. Don’t look at the dirty mirror!
Earlier this evening I was enjoying my its-not-delivery-its-Digorno pizza when Hermione hopped into my lap to see what flavor pizza I had. I figured that was none of her business so I started to nudge her off my lap.
Hermione started to slip off my lap despite her best intentions to hold on, then all of a sudden there was a roaring RRRRRRRIIIIIIIIP sound as she fell to the floor. I looked down to find a gaping wide hole in my pajama pants.
Here is where I would normally post a picture, but they’re torn in a crucial spot and I’m not gonna subject y’all to that.
I guess these pants had it coming; I’ve had them since at least high school, so they’re probably about 13 years old. Still, it made for a sad evening.
Steven was more amused with the event than I. He says the pants are ‘easy access’ now. I doubt I’ll wear those pants anymore, though.
Woo, I’m 26 weeks today! Only 14 weeks to go, give or take — maybe she’ll come a bit early. The Husband and I are getting more excited to meet her. She seems to be getting more excited to meet us as well — her movements are a lot stronger. Sometimes you can even see my stomach move. It’s wild — like really kickin’ gas.
I had to make the move to maternity shirts a few weeks ago. They’re much more comfortable, but they certainly scream, “I’m pregnant!” There’s no hiding anything with those tops.
Yesterday my dad and The Husband painted Lydia’s room and also put together the crib, which finally came in.
They still have to paint the corners of the room (ran out of paint!) but that’ll probably get finished up today.
Hermione had a horrible day Saturday. She was lounging in the sun when her Mom and Dad came up with The Carriers — there was no escape. Trapped, she pleaded and cried for them to stop the torture — surely her Daddy would heed her cries — but they took her all the way to the vet’s. Oh no.
Daddy let her out of her Carrier but he wouldn’t open the door for her so she could go home. She pitifully curled up in the corner, awaiting her fate. Soon it walked in in the form of a new vet and a lady. Mommy plopped her on the cold metal table. Then the prodding began. They poked her everywhere: her bootie, the sore place on her back, even her TOES! They looked at her sensitive toenails a lot.
Then came the horrible poke in the rear and the stuff up the nose — absolute cruelty! Daddy finally let her go back in her Carrier, horrified at the breach of trust her parents committed. She cried all the way home.
But Hermione’s bad day wasn’t done. After lunch her dad held her up in the air then flipped her onto her back in his arms like usual, but it didn’t sit well. A cough, a gag, then the barf began to come forth. Daddy quickly flipped her back onto the bed, causing the barf to go up her nose. Mommy couldn’t stop laughing. It wasn’t so funny to Hermione.
Nearly bedtime, Hermione was ready to put this horrible day behind her. But what Hermione thought was a comforting pet from Daddy turned into an attack with Daddy holding her and Mommy going after her sensitive toes with this cold, stinging thing. So horrible! After a long struggle, her parents won, and Hermione pulled her paws to her chest, shaking. Deceived again.
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Renton, however, had a blast of a day. He heard his parents come up with The Carriers . . . and he knew. It was time to prepare. One must always put on their best show. He’s hustled into his Carrier and down to the car. His sister was crying, but he doesn’t say a word. His sister cried during the trip, but he was still silent, his eyes all pupils. They were getting closer.
They reach the place, and he is still quiet. His sister cries, and his father dotes on her. Renton waits. They go into another room. His father lets his sister out. Renton waits. Odd that his father is here too — usually it’s just Mother. Ahh, a grand new audience. Renton waits.
The vet comes in, and Renton’s mother recommends they look at his nervous sister first. She points at Renton’s carrier, “He’s the bad one.” The vet remarks on Renton’s eyes. Renton waits.
Renton hears his sister plead his case on the table to no avail, then she is put away. His mother recommends twice to the vet that someone should get some gloves before the tech finally goes to arm herself. Nuts. Oh well — almost showtime.
His carrier is set on the table and his father lifts off the top. Renton starts his growl, but he lets them lift him out onto the table. The vet looks scared. Awesome. Renton starts drooling for good measure. Mother is talking about his ‘problems.’ The tech covers Renton’s colorless eyes — she thinks she’s calming him. He plays along for a bit.
The vet begins to lightly poke him. Renton complies by expressing his anal glands. More talking than touching is going on. Someone needs to make a false move here soon. The vet quickly gives him the poke but Renton doesn’t budge — he waits.
The vet asks about putting something up Renton’s nose — his mother assures the vet it’s been done before. Oh Mother. The vet comes toward Renton’s head and the vet tech lifts her gloved hand from Renton’s eyes — it’s time.
He flies into his rage, attacking whatever he can reach. Sadly, all he can get ahold of is the gloved hand, but it still makes an impression. Mother, Father, and the vet back toward the wall while the tech keeps her annoying hold on him. A brave one. He shoots a golfball-sized turd across the table — gas follows. Spent, Renton calms himself to just a growl, and his father finally offers him the Carrier. The vet and his tech leave to make their notes, and Renton is silent again, his eyes a normal blue.
His father looks at his mother. “Is that the worst he’s been?”
“Oh no, that’s about normal. The turd was new.”
His mother and father sit in the haze of Renton’s gas, waiting for the vet’s prescriptions. Renton is satisfied. It was a good day.
This snow receives Hermione’s Stamp of Approval ™!
The constant peeing thing that many pregnant women talk about is beginning to come on. I’ll be sitting or laying down, perfectly fine with the world, but when I get up and Lydia shifts DOWN, it is instant alarm bells. I’ve already freaked The Husband out once running to the bathroom crab-legged.
I’m not making it through the night anymore either. There is a nightly half-asleep pee session at some ungodly hour every night now. Thankfully I can go right back to sleep.
One good thing, however. That good feeling you get when you pee? It is much, much higher — very hard not to make happy noises at work.
Funny how ‘tomorrow’ can keep dragging on and on until you’re looking at two weeks later.
Anyway, here are those pictures I promised.
Steven’s about to walk out the door to head to work. I’m in the bathroom, still flat-ironing my hair — one of my few vanities.
Steven leans across the threshold of the doorway to the bathroom to kiss me goodbye. He’s not allowed entrance because Renton has stretched himself lengthwise across the doorway like a Sphinx. His body manner screams, “You shall not pass!”
“Bye, Renton,” Steven says. Renton stares straight ahead, waiting for the intruder to leave.
Steven goes over to the bed to say goodbye to Hermione. They had been wrestling earlier and she was under one of his shirts.
“Bye, ‘Mione.”
“Qushweitoeigaf!” she replies. (Translation: her pissed-off duck noise.)
Well, we have a little She-Taco coming! Happy day! We’ve got pics but I haven’t had time to scan them yet. I’ll have to do that tomorrow.