New rule

I'm back. Tomorrow marks the two week anniversary of me becoming a mother. Thus far I've learned that the key to success is figuring out how to function (don't drop the baby) on a series of naps ranging from 30 minutes (yes, sometimes he sleeps for 30 minutes between screaming fits) and four hours (only once, and I kissed him so much when I woke up that he seemed a little put out).

Also, I have a new pet peeve (as if I needed any more). Let me preface this by saying that Michael is every bit as awesome as I knew he would be. He jumps up to make bottles, he runs my errands, and he finds all the little things about Silas as amusing as I do (because really if it's not your kid, you don't care to hear my anecdotes, so Michael is my only outlet). When he wakes up to me (and Silas) bawling at 3 in the morning and me lamenting that I really suck at this, he assures me that I'm doing fine. So, over all, he gets an A.

However, he has begun going to work for an hour or so and then coming home to rest before going back to finish (beauty of being self-employed). What's the problem with that you ask? I'll tell you: if I have managed in that hour he is gone to get the baby to settle down and am catching one of my naps, he wakes me up to let me know he's home. WTF? Don't care. Will figure it out when Silas starts hollering again. No need for a play by play.

New rule: if I'm alseep and Silas is fine, leave me alone. If you call/text/email, and I don't respond, I'm asleep or elbow deep in poop/vomit and will get back to you at Silas' convenience.

State of the preggo

I stopped showing up to blog because all I can think about is that I might have a baby in ___ days (today it's 2). I'm sure you're bored with it because I am, but I may be in the hospital for a few days, so I thought I'd drop by and ramble on about the state of the preggo for a while to tide you over.

This morning I dropped a bag full of make-up brushes, eyeliner and mascara on my bathroom floor. I had to take a long, hard look at myself with one eye lined and no mascara to decide whether it was really worth bending over for. A similar situation happened with a pen cap last week, and it's still under the chair where it fell.

Sunday, I had to walk across the room to get some antacids at my friend Brooke's house. Apparently, on my way back to my seat, I didn't even bend my knees, I just kind of rocked back and forth from leg to leg like a paper doll. I didn't even realize I was doing it, but she found it hilarious. She is five months pregnant, so I'm not too concerned because I will be getting my seven chuckles in at her expense soon enough (please see Katt Williams if you do not understand the reference).

I've also started playing a game where I can turn anything into a sign that I will have the baby Friday (instead of next Thursday). One of my signs has to do with a game of Madden my husband played. See, I really did mean anything.

If the next post you see from me isn't me gushing over how perfect and adorable my son is, you may want to skip it because it will probably be some epic tale of woe about how I have to wait a few more days to have him. I'll likely continue to bitch about being fat and uncomfortable. You've been warned.

When does the "happily ever after" part start?

Perhaps you are sitting there thinking to yourself, "What could possibly infuriate this woman more than made-up traffic, double parkers and baby mamas?" Well, I'll tell you. My husband's best friend.

Today is the DB's birthday. So, he chose last night (a work night) to drag his friends out and find crap for them to do until 5 a.m. My husband climbs ladders for a living, so it's best for him to be a little sharper than three hours of sleep, but it was his best friend's birthday, (and he wasn't driving) so he allowed himself to be dragged around until the wee hours.

There are mornings when I wake up with three hours sleep under my belt after having sat up half the night worrying that my husband was either dead or in jail (but really his phone was just dead and he was being held against his will by his friends....so he says) that I feel like I live in one of those bro-mance movies. I'm just waiting for the part when my husband's BFF shows his lovable side and endears himself to me. So far, I just wish I had the power to transfer him to Malaysia.

Meltdown and Vomit update

Total emotional basket case. That is how I would describe myself today. I've cried approximately 40 times since arriving at work. I'll get the snot mopped up from one breakdown just to check my email and see one of those forwards with the animals doing cute things and start sniffling and sobbing all over again.

My Ob's office called Friday to schedule my c-section, and I've been fairly nuts ever since. I just keep thinking, "This is not a drill. You will be having a baby in __ days" (today it's 10 days). I'll get really panicked and think, "No, I've changed my mind. I don't want to be a parent." Then, fifteen minutes later I'll get all weepy and grateful that I am going to be a parent.

I make mental list after mental list of what I still need to buy/do/clean. It's seriously wearing me out, which makes me constantly in need of a nap (and on days when I can't nap....like today....that just makes me cranky on top of being an emotional wreck).

Also (in case you were wondering) I'm still spending my mornings with my head hung over a toilet. This morning it was the four or five bites of Fruit Loops that sent me into a fast-paced waddle with my hand over my mouth to the bathroom. At least Michael fixed the toilet in our bathroom last night so I had less ground to cover.

Mission: Photograph crazies at Wal-Mart

My new mission in life is to take a picture worthy of posting on

http://peopleofwalmart.com/. As you are well aware, there is a baby sitting on my bladder. So, I almost peed on myself yesterday while I laughed at these poor, unfortunate souls (and two goats....yes, goats.) It was all I could do not to go to Wal-Mart on my way home and just see what candidates were there on display.

I am certain I will run into some fascinating individual who will make the grade in the very near future. My only concern is that I will not be quick enough with the iPhone to capture the moment before it passes me by on the way to the check out line.

How to avoid a broken windshield

Yesterday morning I was reminded of something that rivals my hatred for Dallas' traffic: people who take up two parking spaces.

If you've had a long day, or you're dragging around a kid, or you're on crutches, or you're huge and pregnant (all experiences I've had), and you see a parking space near an entrance, it changes your whole demeanor. The clouds part and the sun starts shining and the birds start singing.......and then you see it. Some asshole (usually in luxury car, but sometimes in a ghetto-mobile with candy paint and spinnin' rims) has parked over the line making it impossible for you to squeeze your little Kia Spectra (God forbid you drive a Tahoe) into the magical space.

Now, I am fully aware that these people who have spent an exorbitant amount of money on their vehicles (or their candy paint and spinnin' rims) are trying to protect their investments. However, I must explain to them that all they make me want to do by parking their car in two spaces is key said car. I have to have a serious chat with myself about the legal ramifications of vandalizing someone else's property before I exit my own vehicle in order to avoid smashing one of their taillights.

Some are skeptical, but I assure you that there are people in the world who are crazier than me. Therefore, I feel it is my duty to warn those who find it necessary to park like they own the lot that it is altogether possible that those people who are crazier than me may brandish baseball bats and may not have chats with themselves before exiting their vehicles and may decide that the next Lexus they see taking up two prime spaces (especially since the Christmas shopping season is fast approaching) is in for shattered glass.

The rest of us will continue to mutter under our breath and curse your name and pray some random act of karma befall you. Either way, I believe it is in your best interest to stop being an asshole.

Just grrrrrrrrrrrrr.

I had this whole rant about people who take up two parking spaces prepared (which you may still see tomorrow because it is still annoying), but then some waste of space broke into Michael's truck and really pissed me off, so the double parkers live to screw people over another day while I handle more pressing matters.

To all thieving douchebags in the world: you are the very essence of pond scum. To the particular bastard who broke into Michael's truck: you stole money from a man with a pregnant wife and a three year old daughter. You literally stole from TWO babies. I hope you have a grandmother who hears about what you did and shames you. I hope she brings Jesus into it and quotes scripture to you and makes you feel about an inch tall. I hope you feel so bad after you leave her house that you give all the money you stole to a church or a homeless person or anybody but your drug dealer because I'm certain you have one.......these are the sort of opinions people form of you when you steal from them.

P.S. Don't you dare spend a dime of that money at Chick-fil-a because you will spontaneously combust. Jesus is my homeboy, and I've put in a request.