What Am I Gunna Do With Diapers?!?

      I was all out of funny when I wrote that last post. Could be the bomb explosions rocking my house throwing off my concentration. Hard to think when it sounds like a dump truck was dropped into your front yard.

      What exactly is it that women say they miss about pregnancy? The debilitating need to pee ALL OF THE TIME? The mood swings? The nausea? The thought of a human head coming thru a very tiny opening? I watched "I didn't even know I was pregnant." Those women are screaming and calling 911 telling the operator they are dying.

      I am 15 weeks along now, and so far, I have LOST close to 11 lbs. It's why I haven't posted belly pics. I feel like it would be more like Jenny Craig pictures. But, then I think, this could be the last time I look like this. So, this weekend Chad will be taking belly pics. Suck it. I am eating, turns out T-Money is eating more.

      I know next to nothing about small children. I know they are small, they like canned foods, and chicken nuggets. I know I start to hyperventilate when left alone with a toddler for over 7 hours, because I have no idea how to entertain a small child for that long. Kid's take naps too. I don't do naps. I suppose I will now. Because I will be a different person. A person with gummed animal crackers lodged in the bottom of her purse next to her tampons, and a very iffy idea of what clean and dirty clothes are. I already see it coming. I keep used tissues in my purse, because re-using a dirty tissue is better than no tissue at all. With kids, I can only imagine what I will do with diapers.

      I have never changed a diaper in my life. I wiped a 2 and a half year old's butt crack once, but that's about the most I have done. I have held 2 babies. They didn't like me. I am not really sure how to hold a new baby. The neck thing makes me have a small panic attack. I am also not sure how to relate to a toddler. It's not like they care what color my hair is, or where to find the most flattering jeans. I won't be able to watch my morning episodes of Saved By the Bell anymore either. I am not looking forward to constantly cleaning up messes. No one talks about this stuff. Being a mom is a thankless job. I like attention. I doubt I will get much once T is born. Everyone will be like ohhhhh! baby!!!! and I will be like "what about me? I just slid that sucker out of me. How's about a little 'you look great.'" But I won't. I will look like fat Elvis. You know, the years with the mutton chops, and the white jumpsuit? I have PCOS, so I have facial hair. I don't deny that. By the time I have T I won't care what I look like, and my sideburns will be epic. If you want to get me something, I suggest you make it a white jumpsuit.

      Chad's going to be gone for a good portion of my third trimester. I am totally paranoid that I am going to be at T.J. Max and go into labor. I will be giving birth to T-Money next to the clearance rack of chipped plates and non-matching towels. Or I will just think I really have to poo, and look down and boom! baby in the toilet. I will leave you with my third and final visualization of how I will accidentally have my first child. At home, in my tub, by myself. It will be a water birth, not because I want one of those, but because I just assume that's how you have babies at home now a days. I will be forced to cut the cord with the scissors I use to cut my bangs. If that happens, I have decided I will name the baby Willow. No real reason. It just came to mind. Seems appropriate for a bathtub birth, and bang scissors.