Private bathroom

does NOT mean that you're the ONLY one using it. Honestly, who do you think cleans the darn thing? The cleaning fairy from the far away land that also houses the laundry fairy perhaps?? Um, no. I dare say it's your pregnant wife fairy, and she's about to kick your a$$.

I understand that I may not radically change your behavior overnight. I'm not asking for miracles here folks, just one small act of kindness. One brief moment where you remember that your partner, lover, wife, mother to your baby girl(s) gets up in the night at least once to use the latrine. At roughly 2:00 am I roll out of bed, secure myself to a somewhat stable balancing act, waddle to the bathroom and tinkle.

Picture this, Spencer, New York, 2006. The aforementioned waddler manages to get to the bathroom safely. (When you do this as much as I do you eventually memorize each and every part of your journey and forego any possibly lighting.) She readies herself ever so elegantly in front of the porcelain bowl she plans on using to deposit her nightly (sometimes hourly) tinkle. She slowly descends, aiming for the perfect landing and SPLASH!!!!

Yes, you're visualizing correctly. The splash was my not so tiny white bum landing in a bowl full of water (clean, I hope) and nearly creating the tightest vacuum seal known to man. I was literally one afternoon snack shy of ripping the toilet bowl clean off the floor. So there I am, 6 1/2 months pregnant with my rump sitting in three inches of cold (it so better be clean) toilet water at 2:00 am this morning. The rest is history. (Though I must mention that I said NOTHING to the perp when I returned to bed dry and confused.) I've lived to tell the tale this morning and I'm assuming there is no permanent damage done to either myself or the toilet.

So please honey, I'm begging you. If you only remember one time in the course of your day to lower the seat for your lady, do it before you slide into bed. I understand, you leave it up, I leave it down. All I'm asking for, and only during pregnancy if that is all you can afford me, is to kindly leave me a safe landing strip at night. Only because all it takes is a single good splash on the bum to ruin just ONE pregnant lady's day. Don't let it be mine.

A little something

I miss the way my daughter used to singularize clothes. "Mom, can you wash this clo for me?" Now she just says it like everyone else. The bright side is, she still says aminal. I've threatened anyone who tries to get her to say it correctly. It will happen soon enough. Now, if she's 12 and still calling them aminals at the zoo, I may be tempted to correct her. But right now my little 6 year old gets to say it her way.

The belly shot.

I have the pleasure of knowing some wicked good ladies. One has requested a belly shot and I am more than happy to oblige. How can something that causes me so much grief and discomfort be so darned cute? And to think that it's going to nearly double still. Lord help me. Only 15 more weeks to go. Ugh!!!

Can someone just hold my hand for me?

I'd feel a whole lot better.

I'm going to have the conversation with the Mom. I despise being such a wuss. Who would have thought that I would have such huge problems with my voice. I called her about 45 minutes ago, but was relieved to find they weren't home and that a message would have to be left.

I hate the anxiety that cripples me whenever an uncomfortable discussion approaches. While the phone was ringing my heart began to race, the shoulders tightened and I could of sworn I felt a contraction coming on. It is near frightening for me to speak on my own behalf.

Anyway, I'm gonna suck it up and take a chance at being brave. The worst she can say is no. Frankly, if that is what she needs to say then so be it. I'd rather be eating pb&j on moldy bread every day than be taken for an idiot. It reeks havoc on the self esteem and I've got enough problems with that as it is.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Please, allow me to bend over...

before you fuck me up the ass.

As previously mentioned I have a hard time sticking up for myself. It's nearly impossible for me to do this with anyone and everyone minus a few exceptions. Well, one exception...the hubby. For some reason I'm more than capable of voicing my opinions with him, and regularly at that.

I provide daycare for two children in my home while their parents are hard at work. One child is in school with my daughter and I earn $50.00 per week while the little darlings are in school. During summer vacation, I stupidly assumed that I would be getting a considerable raise since I went from watching her 20 hours per week to 50. Not only do I provide care for this child, I provide most snacks and meals with the exception of the baked good her Mommy so kindly includes once or twice a week. By baked good I mean a cookie or two for the kids to have for their morning or afternoon snack or maybe even dessert at lunch. Whoopee, thanks for the contribution.

Back to why I need to bend over.......I got a call from her the last week school was in and she and her husband were talking over coffee and homemade cookies and decided they would give me more money for the summer. Yes, a whopping $10 or $20 more a week. I was stunned and tongue tied. I was overjoyed at their thoughtfulness, however I felt a sharp pain in my big red fucking eye and wondered who the hell could be dry fucking my asshole right here in broad daylight. She mentioned she would be contributing more food for the summer and such and was so damn nice on the phone I couldn't nay say to save my own life. (So far she has brought an apple and 4 no bake cookies. Oh, and she's a Bush supporter.......need I say another fucking word?)

Of course she was nice on the phone. She has two kids, one of which I watch, one which plays down the road. Of course she wants to pay me so little since she has to pay full price at a certified daycare for her son. Of course she is going to try and pay as little as she can and I'm going to fucking let her because I'm a freaking coward. I feel like I'm pushed into a corner because if she leaves I lose our grocery money for the summer. Ever try buying groceries for 3 people on $60-$70 a week? It's a bit difficult, especially with a pregnant lady who regulars the fridge constantly. Not too mention I feed her kid, too.

So maybe there is a slight embellishment on the amount of money we have for groceries. Jamie's meager stipend provides for all of our bills and part of our food/gas money for each week and my babysitting is only a supplement. But I assure you it's not as if my little check is paying for the maternity clothes I so desperately need, or the cut my hair is screaming for. I'm near pulling one of these if I don't get into a hairdresser soon. I cower into a corner when I think of dealing with the issue because I can't handle the anxiety I feel when faced with confrontation.

Today is especially tough because it's payday time. I get my money every Friday morning. I guess this week she decided that $60 instead of $70 was enough since her husband picked the kid up an hour early yesterday. Or maybe it was because I only had her for 7 hours last week and she actually paid me over $2/hour. I don't know what her thinking is I guess. But I know this, my ass friggen hurts. And I need to grow a fucking back bone.

Finally, a bone.

The test results from the last biopsy are in. All negative. Someone finally decided that enough was enough at the present time; no more cutting. Luckily she still has the ability to swallow and eat on her own. Which she'll have to learn all over again starting as a baby would; squishy stuff then solid stuff.

I'm happy for her. I'm happy for all of us. For now we can all breathe a sigh of relief and relax. I will worry about her, though. Nothing is guaranteed. The effects of long term smoking can erupt years after someone has quit. It's especially dangerous for someone who has actually previously beaten cancer. But I'm not going to venture there today. Today I get to smile and say that she's getting better.

Anyway.....I just wanted to write it down. You know, make it real.

I'll bite....

Fours

Four bad habits:

1. Oversensitive
2. Needy
3. I can't say no to anyone, ever
4. Too nice to people who take complete advantage

Four Things To Do Before I Die:

1. Vacation in Italy
2. Vacation in Spain
3. Rv accross the United States
4. Learn to stand up for myself when appropriate

Four Things I Can't Do:

1. Feel adequate in social situations
2. Acknowledge my talents
3. Stop drinking after three.....one, two I can handle. There's a point of no return for me and there is no no such thing as last call until I say so.
4. Juggle

Four Things I Say Most Often:

1. Dude
2. What the f_ck!
3. Whatever
4. I love you

Four Books I Love:

1. All of Harry Potter
2. "The Secret Life of Bees" by Sue Monk Kidd
3. "The Rapture of Canaan" by Sheri Reynolds
4. Any book on gardening

Four Little Things That Make Me Happy:

1. My family
2. A great movie
3. The ocean
4. Listening to Johnny Cash while drinking a beer next to my camp fire.

Four Jobs I've Had In My Life:

1. Sales associate at two retail stores
2. Soldier
3. Customer service rep
4. Receptionist at the juvenile probation office

Four Places I've Lived:

1. Several different barracks rooms. Some nice....some not.
2. Tiny trailer that smelled like sewage.
3. Basement apartment that was so damp it grew mold in the summer.
4. Cute little house near the ocean with the best neighbors ever.

Four Places I Have Been On Vacation:

1. Martha's Vineyard
2. Stone Harbor, NJ
3. Monterey, CA (technically not a vacation.....but it sure felt like one)
4. Big Sur, CA

Four Places I'd Rather Be:

1. Concert
2. Spa getting the full on treatment
3. In a canoe, on a lake, with my fishing pole and a cooler of beer with my husband
4. Holding my new daughter with my other daughter beside me

Four Web sites I Visit Daily:

1. Stupid Grin
2. Verge of 30
3. My Space
4. Pregnancy calendar

Four Embarassing Songs That I Know All The Words To:

1. My Ding A' Ling by Chuck Berry (I know, it's bad, especially since I don't even have a ding a ling)
2. Funky Cold Medina by Ton Loc
3. The Dukes of Hazzard Theme Song by Waylon Jennings
4. Girl You Know It's True by Milli Vanilli....or whoever really sang that damn song

Four Random Ideas:

1. Incubators for babies to grow in
2. Over the counter breast milk
3. Manual for our kids, especially teenage years
4. Living life backwards and ending with an orgasm instead of shitting my pants

Four Things I Hate:

1. The importance of money
2. People who idealize George Bush simply because he disapproves of gay marriage and abortion, there are bigger issues people......stay the hell out of other people's personal lives.
3. Organized religion
4. Cancer

Four Causes I Support:

1. All medical research
2. Make a Wish
3. Recycling
4. Finding and using alternative fuels

Again, I'm a closet blogger and my circle is limited......so no tags here.