One SEXY Mothertrucker!

A few notes before I get into maternity wear.

1. WordPress isn’t emailing me new comments. I’ve fought with WordPress over this several times, but WordPress isn’t cooperating. Much like the two people who came from ma belly, WordPress refuses to play nice and never picks up after itself.

2. I am spending the weekend at the in-laws. My husband would like to put his piece of crap truck together with new parts before these babies get here. Something about fearing his door will fall off and he’ll end up “Fred Flinstone-ing” it when the floor completely rusts away. The idea is that I get some rest while my mother in law plays with the kids and James works on his truck without feeling so lonely. Usually it works out that I say no to the kids and my mother in law tells me that I am a horrible mother. OK, she doesn’t use those words exactly, but she does like to turn it around on me and give the kids whatever in the world their little hearts desire.

3. I am on “modified bed rest.” I am supposed to spend at least 4 hours a day in bed laying down and those trips to Target are totally gone unless I make them quick and use the motorized cart. So, James has been doing all of the shopping. I suppose he’s just thankful that I am knocked up and he’s not making a tampon run. No, I’ve never made him buy my womenly products. See? I am a nice and wonderful wife!

Full bed rest starts in 2 weeks. Meaning I can get up to change my clothes, go to the bathroom, and I can take a shower every other day. Otherwise, I am to be laying down. If you remember way back when, and you’ll have to remember or just trust me since I never uploaded my archives when I changed servers, I was looking forward to bed rest. I’ve changed my mind. Just having to lay down for at least 4 hours a day is a pain in the ass. The house work has been left up to James and the kids. So, while I still see all of the dirty socks and toys on the floor, I cannot pick them up. Not because a doctor told me to necessarily, but because I just can’t reach the floor any more. Abby has been excellent help when it comes to picking up dropped items off the floor. If only I could get her to pick up the things she drops on the floor I would be pretty damn happy. That and the potty training thing.

4. I’ve managed to break (blue screen of death) the Windows XP side of this laptop. Hell if I know how, OK I have guesses and they involve a downloaded defrag program and setting the computer up to do a chkdsk when it restarted. So, I am on the Ubuntu side of the laptop for now. Part of me thinks I should wipe the whole thing clean and just run Ubuntu on this but I think I’d really miss certain Windows programs (ie iTunes and Photoshop). My pregnancy brain and pregnancy body can’t really handle taking care of getting XP reloaded on here at the present time. I do recommend putting those damn disks Dell sends you in a safe place instead of some anonymous box that gets thrown in the basement. Oops.

Now on to maternity fashions…. or how many pairs of pajama bottoms Michele owns and her t-shirt collection that no longer overs the lower 1/3rd of her belly. I currently own approximately 10 pairs of pajama bottoms. I have a couple of pair of comfy velour maternity pants that I picked up at Old Navy but other than that, they’re all regular over-sized pajama bottoms that I’ve owned for years. Abby’s favorite pair are the Eeyore “happiness is overrated” bottoms that James gave to me for Christmas one year. Oh how she loves to poke at my legs commanding Eeyore to be happy.

Needless to say, I am rarely “dressed.” When James comes home from work he no longer rolls his eyes and asks why I didn’t bother getting dressed that day. Even if it weren’t such a pain in the ass (literally, damn sciatica) to get changed out of pajamas I think I would still reside in them daily. The comfort of an otherwise despised elastic waistband cannot be beat. Worry not, I am not laying around in the same clothes day after day. I still have “preggo nose” and no matter how stuffed it is, and boy is it stuffed, I still can’t handle the smell of myself if I haven’t showered in a day.

When I do leave the house, which is usually once a week, I struggle to put on my maternity jeans and a shirt, still not maternity since I can’t seem to find where all those damn maternity shirts I once owned went. Since I am built like a boy with rather large boobs and thighs, what fits in most areas does not fit on my non-existent hips. I am constantly pulling up my jeans and since they are maternity jeans there’s a hell of a lot more to pull up than with a regular jean. James keeps assuring me that I will grow into them, and while I am sure I will, I also know that I really won’t be leaving the house by the time they do start to fit unless it’s to get to a doctor’s appointment.

I am starting to wonder when wearing Eeyore pajama bottoms in public will be in style. Not that I’ve ever been in style, but I’ve been known to look at people in Wal*Mart and wonder why the hell they couldn’t be bothered to brush their hair and put on some damn clothes before they decided to go shopping.

I am mean like that. So mean, in fact, that I put on a pair of raspberry colored lounge pants that were so hideous that I couldn’t handle wearing them for a full day of lounging. Must stop shopping the Target clearance racks and convincing myself that I will wear something just because it cost me $2.70.