One.More.Week.

However short that may seem to some, it feels like a lifetime over here in my neck of the woods. Two months ago I couldn't wait for summer to begin and school to be out. Now.....if I don't see a big yellow bus soon I'm going to lose my mind.

I know that there are so many other wonderful Mommies in the world praising the gods of No. 2 pencils that their little angels are slipping on their trusty new back packs for yet another year of arduous learning. I know I sure am. I can hardly keep my eyes open for more than 4 hours at a time. I slip in and out of consciousness all day practically. It's a wonder that we haven't had any accidental fires or hair cutting of any sorts the past month.

I wonder if I would feel differently if I weren't approaching my 8th month of pregnancy. I have a serious lack of motivation as of late and it is killing me physically and emotionally. I have a ton of things I could do but barely find myself capable of the bare minimum. It doesn't help that I have to spread my legs two feet apart just to bend over to pick up a crayon. I lose my cookies regularly and always feel incredibly guilty that I can't seem to deal with the normal everyday noise levels and messes of 6 year olds. By the end of the day I feel like I've burned more brain cells than any smoke fest I've ever attended. And that's saying something.

I am praying that the change in routine does the mind some good (there is no hope for the body for at least another two months). I can nap without worry every morning and do my prenatal yoga without having to pause mid way through to diffuse a fight over who had what barbie first. Not exactly conducive to a peaceful mindstate, as if doing yoga with a belly the size of a large watermelon was easy to begin with.

Daily struggles aside, I finally have an end in sight. I can hardly wait for One.More.Week. to get here and pass me by.

Can I

make it 11 more weeks? Sure. But it ain't gonna be pretty.

How quickly we forget what it feels like to carry a beloved child in our womb for that last home stretch.

I'm rummaging through old photographs to see if I actually made it through this once before. Right about now I'm doubting that. My strength and overwhelming joy are eluding me at the moment.

I feel like a whiny little baby because I'm just barely 7 1/2 months. I wonder if it should feel this uncomfortable already. Are you sure this baby wasn't concieved in December?

Several folks have given me that "holy shit woman, you're ready to have that baby any day huh?" Eat shit people. That's all I have to say to you.

I am not going to be the prettiest girl walking these next two months. Nor the nicest I dare say.

I'm sick

That is my only way to describe myself when it comes to certain things. One thing would be my dog Sadie.

We all know how lonely it is to be a stay-at-home Mom sometimes. Especially when you're isolated from friends and family. You try and meet other Moms and venture out sometimes to playgroups, YMCA, and other kiddie hangouts, but more often than not you never find anyone that clicks. Finding someone who can understand half hick/half whatever the other half of me is can be rather tricky. I don't even understand myself most of the time, how am I to expect complete strangers to.

Having said all that, for Christmas last year, during one particular week moment on my husband's part, he agreed on an indulgence of a brand spanking new puppy. A little buddy that could be all my own when everyone is gone, leaving Mama all alone with nothing to do except laundry. As much grief and angst as this sweet little darling causes me, I love her. I have developed a rather tight bond with her, and she with me. The thing about a dog is, they never cease to show you how much they adore you. If I'm sitting on the couch, Sadie is sitting with me. If I'm trying to catch up on some of my lost zzzzz's, she's snuggling cozily beside my growing belly. If I'm having a tinkle moment in the bathroom, she's looking up at me with big brown eyes waiting for me to finish my business so we can cuddle again. She LOVES her some Mama.

I'm suffering great anxiety today. Anxiety caused from having to leave my puppy at a hospital for two nights to have surgery. Two very long and agonizing nights my baby will be separated from her Mama. This is going to be more traumatic for her than me because I swear the dog suffers from separation anxiety as it is. When she goes out to pee in the morning she freaks out when she comes back in because she was away from her family for an agonizing 15 seconds.

I know it's silly to feel so sad about my dog getting fixed. She is only going in to get spayed. It will probably aide in making her a calmer and more enjoyable dog and keep her healthy for years to come. Dogs can get all kinds of ailments in their reproductive organs if not spayed. I don't want her getting sick and I certainly don't want her having sex with any other dogs either. So we HAVE to do this. She will be in the capable hands of my husbands aunt, the vet, her surgery will be free of charge and we can do all this in one quick trip to the in-laws.

Maybe it's not so much leaving Sadie that is causing me the stress as much as the quick trip to the in-laws. Who knows.

I'll survive, Sadie will survive and all will be well. No more handmade doggie diapers. No more bitchy puppies struggling puberty. It's straight into menopause for my little babe.

I know, I need help. Or a couple of friends. Dogs are easier.

Heartburn sucks

That is about all I have to say about that.

I went to the ob today for my 27 wk appointment. I swear those people want to keep pushing my number back a week every time I go in there.

I'm 27 weeks and there is nothing you can do to change my mind people. I don't care what your wheel is telling you, I'm telling you that I'm 27 weeks. Make a damn note of it.

"Oh my, do you realize that you gained 7 lbs this month dear?!?"

Why no, ma'am. I had no idea I had gained that much weight. What, with all the time I spend on the scale at home I just didn't have time to add up the numbers in my head.

First of all, it was 6 lbs. And yes, I'm well aware the scales are creeping up at a rate faster than what is deemed appropriate for the average pregnant lady. No one is more aware of that that me.

Did it ever occur to you that I may not be average. Or perfect, or as disciplined as some of the other pregnant women you're taking care of. Or maybe I haven't been able to adequately remove waste from my body more than once every 10 days for the last 6 + months. That's got to count for something.

I hate going to the see the Dr. I hate the critical comments. I hate the horrific gasps every time I step onto a scale. I am not a child. I swear to God that I'm doing everything in my power to curb my weight gain. I even manage to feel some pride in the fact that I've only gained 25 lbs so far during this pregnancy. I say only because I gained 60 the first time around. Right now I weigh 40 lbs less than I did when I went in to deliver S. I know most women should only gain 25-35 lbs. but I'm not most women. I'm me. And I just might gain 40 this time around. If that happens I'll be jumping for joy because I have 20 lbs less to lose after this baby is born than I did with my first. To me that feels pretty darn good.

I told my sister what happened today and how much weight I have gained and she busted out laughing at me. "You're going to put on 50 lbs." she said.

I always knew you were the mean one, oh and just for the record, I weigh the same as you do right this minute at 7 months pregnant. I hate to think such mean thoughts but sometimes I feel like she is just waiting for me to do something wrong so she can rub it in my face. Sometimes she can be so cruel.

Anyway. That is another post for another day.

Blame it on the heartburn I guess. I get cranky when I can't sleep, and lately that seems to be ALL the time. I am scared to even think of what the next three months will be like.