Oct 24, 2013

She's here!

Although a slightly belated announcement, I thought it was time I got my arse into gear
to post something about my new bundle o'joy -- Baby E (a.k.a. Hiccup, a.k.a. Squeakers).

Born October 9th, 2013, weighing 9lbs2oz -- via c-section. 
No pushing was required.

Thanks so much for everyone's well wishes on The Twitter & emails.
Love and hugs to you all!



Oct 1, 2013

The final countdown — it is on!

OK, I've officially made it to October so it's go time, baby! 
In honor of my last few days of pregnancy, I wrote this song. I thought I'd put forth some extra effort, especially since this might be the last post for a couple weeks. Please note my seesawing, hormonal affections towards my husband, mostly based on whether or not he's giving me food at the time, obviously. 

------------


On the final day of pregnancy, my jerk face husband gave to me an extra load of his laundry.

On the 2nd last day of pregnancy, my high blood pressure gave to me two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 3rd last day of pregnancy, my doctor gave to me three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 4th last day of pregnancy, my true love gave to me four tubes of Pringles.
Three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 5th last day of pregnancy, my cravings gave to me five iced coffeeeeees.
Four tubes of Pringles.
Three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 6th last day of pregnancy, my baby gave to me six extra kilos.
Five iced coffeeeeees.
Four tubes of Pringles.
Three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry. 

On the 7th last day of pregnancy, my doctor gave to me seven more goddamn days.
Six extra kilos.
Five iced coffeeeeees.
Four tubes of Pringles.
Three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry. 

On the 8th last day of pregnancy, my whiny husband gave to me eight panicked texts.
Seven more goddamn days.
Six extra kilos.
Five iced coffeeeeees.
Four tubes of Pringles.
Three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry. 

On the 9th last day of pregnancy, my baby gave to me nine toilet trips.
Eight panicked texts.
Seven more goddamn days.
Six extra kilos.
Five iced coffeeeeees.
Four tubes of Pringles.
Three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry. 

On the 10th last day of pregnancy, my inner teenager gave to me ten throbbing zits.
Nine toilet trips.
Eight panicked texts.
Seven more goddamn days.
Six extra kilos.
Five iced coffeeeeees.
Four tubes of Pringles.
Three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 11th last day of pregnancy, my true love gave to me eleven bites of poutine.
Ten throbbing zits.
Nine toilet trips.
Eight panicked texts.
Seven more goddamn days.
Six extra kilos.
Five iced coffeeeeees.
Four tubes of Pringles.
Three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry.

On the 12th last day of pregnancy, my fucking hormones gave to me twelve creepy skin tags.
Eleven bites of poutine.
Ten throbbing zits.
Nine toilet trips.
Eight panicked texts.
Seven more goddamn days.
Six extra kilos.
Five iced coffeeeeees.
Four tubes of Pringles.
Three Labetalols.
Two puffy cankles.
And an extra load of his laundry-eee-eee-eee.



A Mother Life