Showing posts with label assvice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label assvice. Show all posts
I'm a Good Blogger and this post is SHIT because I SAID SO.
@cosmicgirlie
Today, it all kicked off in the Blogosphere. Apparently, to have a good blog, we're supposed to write what we like, but make sure it complies with what people like; we're meant to be ourselves, but aspire to be someone else; we should be interesting, but real; we should include lots of links to others, but write about ourselves.

And if you want to be a "Top Blogger", you have to do all of the above and much, MUCH more.

Which is why, this post will be utterly shit, because I? Will not conform to any Rules of Blogging. Which makes me a good blogger. Nyer.

What I WILL do, is blog the following.

Today, my arse appeared in #assmail on Boob Emancipation. Given that I have now discovered I can take a pic of my own arse in the shower, I am proud as FUCK.

I have a fixation for boobs. I am not lesbian. But I DO think boobs should be celebrated. As should many asses.

Today, Noah barfed up his breakfast at the table, then started listening to said table. Like, head down, ear pressed, smiling at the table. And dancing slightly.

Whilst Noah was doing the above, Isaac was laughing hysterically at his thumb, whilst eating his breakfast.

Shortly after, Noah ralphed all down his front and on the floor. Whilst cleaning this up, Isaac crawled over and puked on my feet. Whilst cleaning all this up, he went to go bang his head on the corner of the table.

I often do not care what people think. About my blog, or me, or whatever. Sometimes I'm sorry, but often I'm not. And that's how my shit rolls.

I love comments. Good and bad. However I do not live or blog for comments. But I ALWAYS appreciate comments. I will not fall apart if there are no comments. But I might consider kicking some ass. I might not always RESPOND to comments, because of course, I am shit, but still. Always nice to have them, even if they make you look like a fucktard. Because I can look back and say "Oh, hi Fucktard!" Or I can look back and say "Cock. You're all being nice and I dunno what to say. Um, thanks."

I love smut. Throw in a cock, and I'm happy.

I managed to make someone feel quite shit today. It wasn't intentional by any means, but frustration (and fear?) got the better of me. And so, as you all know what I'm like, I started to tell it like it is. I don't think he hates me (much), but you may now call me one of the biggest bitches out there. And I suspect he may avoid me for a little while. Unfortunately, I do not know how to be straightforward without being an absolute prunt*. But I suspect I won't change. At least I didn't go all the way and let it all out. Yeah, cos that makes it better.

I regularly like to exclaim "cock" on twitter. It makes me feel better, and smile. It makes me feel even better when people say/shout "cock" at me. That makes my day.

In keeping with February YOR, today I managed to complete Day 6 of the 30 Day Shred. I can get to circuit 3 without screaming, I no longer crawl up the stairs, a pair of my trousers are a teeny bit loose, my boobs are shrinking but so is my belly, and hotness will soon be mine.

January YOR is well under way, and holy fuck, it might even be live by the end of this month. The number of photographers on twitter is making me SHIT myself. Which reminds me, one of my fave photographers who is also a good friend, was featured in Photo Pro Magazine this month. And by featured, I mean OMFG 5 PAGE SPREAD WTF AWESOMENESS. Added bonus? Well. You had all better recognise that baby and squooshy mouth, or I shall hunt you down and yell at you a lot.

That is all.

And now? Please to look at pictures, in the hope of making distracting you from my crap blog with AHWW!!!! LOOK AT TEH CUUUUUUTE!






Yes I know. You totally forgot what you were going to say, right?

Allow me to distract you some more.


IN. DEED.




This is how we roll.


* Thanks to Karl Erikson for use of the word "prunt". Tis awesome.
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One for the (fucktards on the) Road
@cosmicgirlie
I love driving. So very much. Hell I'd drive to the end of the road just to get to drive. I've only been driving for about 5/6 years. I passed my test with great results. I did my Pass Plus with no problems. I don't profess to be the worlds best, but I'm not bad.

But people? There are rules. And the rules seem to apply to all the fucktards out there.

If I am driving past your junction, DO NOT pull out in front of me at the last minute, assuming I will slow down and/or stop. I will sit on your fucktard ass until you piss off out the way.

I will only sit on your ass if you drive like a fucktard in front of me.

If you choose to climb inside my ass while driving like a fucktard when I have done nothing to you, I will randomly jump on my breaks making you screech to a halt and shit your pants.

If you still choose to sit on my ass like a fucktard, I will probably let in an awful lot of people in front of me.

If I let you out and instead you choose to sit there like a fucktard, then complain when I drive on, I will most likely ignore you. No amount of flashing your lights or pointless hand gestures will change my behaviour. I WAS BEING NICE. You were being a fucktard.

If I am pulling out of somewhere and you try to overtake me whilst doing so, you are being a fucktard. Stop.

And don't say thank you like I let you out even when you gave me no choice. That's just being a fucktard.


All of these events occurred when I took it upon myself to leave the house with the boys and try to finish my Christmas shopping. Which, by the way, should only ever be done online. At Amazon. There are people who will totally agree with me. (Ok, A person, but I'm sure there are more). You know what? Don't be a fucktard with the driving mom who is feeling pissy and stabby anyways.

You're welcome.
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And with a dash of chicken-shit yellow...
@cosmicgirlie
I'm trying to make some changes. (I know I know, you're all thinking, "haven't you been trying to make changes for the last year?")

I'm doing them slowly, but I'm trying. So uh, the next change is...

Ok, I'm gonna kinda be brave, and uh...

Umm...ok I'm going to...

...um be a little more...

...brave. Or um, outspoken. Or something.

Ok, it's kind of like this. I used to pride myself on my honesty. I never had time for people who talked crap all the time. And I found it difficult to be around weak-willed people, because I wanted them to be stronger, to stand up for what they believe(d) in.

I always did it. I rarely took bullshit, and I loved that about me. I stood up for myself, and without being arrogant, in-yo-face, bitch-you-don'-know-watch-choo-talkin'-bout, I made it clear what my beliefs were if I disagreed with someone. At the same time, I was always gracious in accepting other people's thoughts too.

But it got lost somewhere along the way. I got lost somewhere along the way. And one of the things that's plaguing me IMMENSELY (i.e. making me feel very fucked off on a daily basis) is the fact that I seem to let people walk all over me, trample down my thoughts and opinions, and then defend them (the person) for whatever reason.

And even more stupidly, I find myself saying crap like "no I won't say anything back, because it's not important, I'll get over it, I'll save that for when I really need to defend myself, bullshit bullshit and blah blah blah."

Well? That's just bullshit.

Lots of people have pissed me off lately, some know who are they, and some don't. Lot's of people pissed me off severely, in the last 5 years. Most don't know who they are but perhaps have an idea. And in most cases, I fought back a bit, and then left it. At the time I thought they were battles that just weren't worth fighting. But the fact is, any battle is worth fighting if it means enough.

That's not to say I'm suddenly going to turn into Queen Bitch-O-Rama in the Land of the Anal and Arrogant. I've met people like that, and I can safely say at the moment, I have a very strong dislike for them. I still do. But I let those battles go, because like I said, I thought it was better to pick the appropriate battle.

But I AM fast losing my identity, and I need to stand up and remind people that actually, I am here, you should listen to me when we have a conversation (because conversations go two-ways you know), and I do have an opinion that counts as much as anybody else's, whether you agree with it or not.

I write this blog because it is my place to vent. It is MY place to be ME. You are all invited to read, comment, send me messages, whatever. But if you strongly disagree with what you see and/or saw on this blog, well. Don't say you weren't warned. Because I'm hoping it's about to start getting a little bit more real around here.

Um, hopefully, maybe.
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The Great Bewb Juice Debate
@cosmicgirlie
D, Isaac and I decided to brave shopping in Birmingham on Friday. Birmingham, Britain's second capital city, right?

Needless to say, right after D and I had lunch, Isaac was ready to feed. First port of call? Uh, find somewhere to feed him. John Lewis in Solihull has a full parent and baby room, with bottle warmers, changing mats, breastfeeding areas, toilets etc, basically everything a parent with a baby/toddler could ask for.

Birmingham has...nothing. When Noah was still nursing, I would go into public toilets to feed him, because there was nowhere else to go. These toilets were "supposedly" suitable, but usually meant cramming myself into a tiny cubicle with a toilet, sink, changing table and a fold down chair (because there wasn't enough room for a regular chair). Oh and also, a disco ball suspended from the ceiling.

Then they built a large Mothercare, where you would ASSUME there would be a parent and baby room. There was. It was out of order (the plumbing was screwed apparently). So I asked if there was somewhere I could nurse my (screaming) baby. "Yes of course!" they said. "You can use the changing room; there's a chair and plenty of space."

"Um...ok thanks..." Not convinced, but it was better than out on the street.

I was in there maybe 15 minutes, feet perched on the wheels of the pushchair, hunched over the boy trying to get a good position. No luck, but hey, he fed.

As I was putting myself back, D came in and said there was a customer waiting to try on stuff. As I came out, I apologised to her and said there was nowhere else to nurse. At which point (and forgive me if I start typing in caps here, I still get a little, um, IRATE when I recall this), she accused me of being SELFISH for feeding my baby in the changing rooms when there were people (just her I might add) waiting to try on clothes. Also, that she was now very late for whatever, because I'd been HOGGING THE CHANGING ROOM, and she's a mum too so she understands, but I should GO SOMEWHERE ELSE to feed my child instead of causing problems for everyone else.

I (amazingly calmly) told her that I had ASKED PERMISSION from the staff to feed Isaac and they had advised I used that (ONE AND ONLY) changing room.

I should point out that as I type this right now, I'm struggling to avoid tensing up completely and throwing something quite heavy.

She continued to moan and complain. I went and complained to the staff that I had just been bollocked by a frigging customer for their incompetence, and that they might want to think carefully about their facilities, and that as a shop devoted to parents and children, they totally fucking SUCK.

I am so frigging livid, they pissed me off so much I can't believe it, and this was 4 days ago now. I've actually decided that the next time I'm in Birmingham with Isaac and he needs feeding, I will plonk my ass in the middle of the SHITTY CRAP Bullring, or if I can be ARSED to make the walk, in the middle of BOLLOCKY RUBBISH Mothercare and feed right in front of everyone.

The irony is, I have no issues with feeding in front of people. I'll feed wherever and whenever, that's my attitude to breast feeding. It's the most natural thing in the world. My baby wants to eat; I will feed him. Do people go and hide in toilets/changing rooms to feed their kids solids? No. So why should it be any different for me?

So let me have it. Was I right for complaining to the staff? Should I have humbly apologised and walked away, and just leave it there, let it go? Should I in fact go back, sit in the middle of the store/shopping centre and nurse my baby for all to see, to make a statement? I would love your feedback, because it may just dictate whether I write a letter of complaint to the Council and/or Mothercare.

Breast feeding: it's not a crime. Or is it?
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Time Wasting Tra La Laa Blah Blah BLAAHHH
@cosmicgirlie
Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 41+2 days
Month: 10
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 39 weeks
Time to Go: I don't like that question anymore.
Size: Yeah.
Time til potential induction: Tomorrow.

May I mention a few things? (well I'm gonna anyway)

My Baby Widget (bottom left column): Did anyone see where the little floating baby thing went from inside the widget? Is someone trying to tell me something? If you took the lil baby, can you please return it? Otherwise I have no excuse for this colossal belly.

Inductions: I have had a LOT of feedback (and I mean A LOT) about inductions. And it's interesting to hear your stories of how they went. Now it's important that you understand my point of view. I have nothing against them. Women need them all the time. I know that. I Understand that. Totally. I honestly do.

What's also important is that not everyone's story is the same. I do not judge anyone for having an induction; Christ no. I have my reasons for my decisions in terms of an induction. And they seem to revolve around being told "Labour! Dangerous! GAH!" and then in the same breath, "Labour! You need it! GAH!"

I need my body to BE READY to potentially deliver a large baby with the additional complications. It was ready with Noah. Which is why that birth went so well. I am fully aware that Noah's birth could have gone so much worse. But my body (and mind) was ready for anything. Including taking on the world, cos I'd like to try being a superhero like that, but anyway I digress.

I DO NOT feel as ready for this birth, and that's just ONE reason why I'm against induction right now. I know my body. I understand it. More than anyone else could, because it's mine. And right now, I have very little faith in a LOT of things, which makes me feel not ready. Hell, as of this minute, I have no idea how I feel about potentially being induced tomorrow.

In the same breath, I would also like to THANK YOU for your support, it really means a lot. I know so many of you out there DO in fact give a shit, and I seriously, seriously appreciate it. I love you all. Apart from when you poke fun and then I just salute you the finger from behind my mac.

Texts/messages: Again, I know you all care. I appreciate that. But it's hard to deal with when in one day, the texts go into DOUBLE FIGURES asking if I've had the baby yet. Please PLEASE remember that of all of us, I'm quite possibly THE MOST frustrated and anxious of us all, and it's made harder to remain chilled out when I'm constantly addressing the fact that NO I HAVE NOT HAD THE BABY YET I WILL NOT FORGET TO TELL YOU IT'S GOING TO BE PRETTY DAMN HARD TO MISS REMEMBER HOW YOU FELT WHEN PEOPLE HARASSED YOU ALL THE TIME AND OMFG AARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHHHH.

So, um, yes, again I appreciate it, but please assume that I will update the the very second I have a contraction worth mentioning or I stand up and think I've spectacularly pissed myself when in fact my waters have gone or They finally get their wicked way with my Mary Jane and induce me. I won't forget you all, I promise.

(In fact, if you check my blog from when I went into labour with Noah, you'll see that you lovely people were in fact second to be updated, the first being D because you know, I felt that he was a little bit more important.) 

(And Kelly I wouldn't expect anything less from you, lady.)

Tomorrow is yet another stressful Friday, where I wonder if I'll be coming home or not after the appointment. I have no idea what's going to happen, though I'm anticipating being home sometime next Tuesday.

Now, if someone (A3?) could return my 2nd bag of Skittles, I would appreciate it because I can't find them, chocolate choux buns and eclairs are getting dull and might have to start kicking some ass soon.
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Cornered
@cosmicgirlie
Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 40+4 days
Month: 10 (That's some funny shit right there)
Trimester: 3 (or maybe 4, I need to check this...)
Fetus Age: 39 weeks
Time to Go: About 3 years ago
Size: The coffee table
Time til potential induction: 6 days

Ultimatum of the day.

Consultant Mr U: We're obviously very concerned about this polyhydramnios. We would normally induce early on.

Me: But wouldn't that cause more problems?

Mr U: Well quite frankly we can keep an eye on things that way. But you don't want any intervention, is that right?

Me: Well yes...

Mr U: That I can understand. I know you're not happy about things.

Me: Yeah, intervention just freaks me out.

Mr U: Ok well that's fine. The plan is this - you can either have an internal now to see what's happening or you can stay in hospital until you go in to labour.

Me: ...uh...I'll just get undressed now...

And to add insult to injury? There's absolutely NO action AT. ALL. Zip, zilch, nada. Everything closed up and no sign of imminent arrival.*

Thrilled.

*I hasten to add, I've been on the raspberry leaf tea for some time, I'm eating pineapples til my mouth disintegrates, I've eaten more than enough spicy food, my crotch hurts for bouncing on the ball and my feet are like boats from walking around so much. And if anyone suggests sex, well, the only sex I'll be having is with a turkey baster, thanks.
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The Post In which I Bitterly Admit Defeat But Try to Hold My Head Up.
@cosmicgirlie
Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 37+3 days
Month: 9
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 36 weeks
Time to Go: 19 days
Size: Smaller than your mother.


You all knew it was coming. You all said "at the end of the day, blah blah blah, healthy mom healthy baby, yaddah yaddah". You all sat there thinking how nuts I must be trying to deliver another big baby at home. I'll even bet some of you wondered what point I was trying to make, or what was I trying to prove.

Maybe I'm just very paranoid (which is very true).

But as of today, I have given up. Scan yesterday, showed baby measuring about 9lbs in weight, with potential to gain a pound a week, but could go 20% either way. Fluid levels down from 11 point something to 9.4cm, so they're dropping and things starting to look good.

So whaddup?

They're all too scared. They actually threw a million scare stories at me during today's appointment. Mr Consultant actually said if I decided to stay at home, then he would pretty much not be involved in the delivery, and would not advocate me staying at home. Yes a MW would be in attendance if I called in, they would have to be, they have no choice (by law). But "if something were to go wrong, I would take full responsibility and no body else could be to blame".

"But of course, Mrs M, the decision at the end of the day is yours!"

I had no point to prove. I had no point to make. I just wanted to deliver my baby in an environment that I knew I would be happy in, that I would be comfortable with. Without fear of what would the medical profession would try to do if they got too close.

I am SO fully aware of all the dangers. I am also fully aware of the dangers that could happen with ANY. OTHER. BIRTH. He even said himself that shoulder dystocia can happen in a birth with a "normal" size baby. But once again, they're just pointing out as many of the factors as possible, including the fact that my fluid levels are still too high. So what would be REALLY great is if people can just be in agreement with what the hell is normal and what isn't. I can't cope being told one week that 11cm is acceptable and shouldn't be concerned until we got to 24cm. And then the following week, well actually 9.4cm is still too high, and even though the level has dropped, that's still not good enough.

So you know what? They win. This is a fight I can't keep up anymore. I'm frustrated, I'm tired. If I go into labour I'll go in to hospital. I don't want to, but after all they've freaked me out with, how the hell am I supposed to happily and comfortably give birth at home?? Christ, today when I went for my appointment, ALL the staff knew who I was and why I was there. Now I'm thinking that can't always be a good thing.

So I give up. I'm gutted. Actually, I'm more pissed off than I am upset. Pissed off because I didn't want it to be this way. I didn't want this birth to be so tainted. Maybe I should have just given up the fight earlier, but how can I do that when I'm told so many different things every time I walk in there?

They want to do another liqor scan at 39wks, do an internal and if nothing's happening, they want to induce. Pah. I think they may have to catch me first. I can only thank god that he refuses to do C/S, and has no intention of inducing unless absolutely necessary. I can't even begin to say how grateful I am for that. But that comes on the back of no home birth, and I can't even have a water birth in hospital because of the fluid crap thing. I'm starting to feel like everything is being taken away ("the decision is yours Mrs M...") and that quite simply, I'm just not going to enjoy this birth at all. I know I can't have everything. But even the few things I wanted have now gone.

I'm really fucked off. Like, they can't even give me straight answers, they can't prove anything, they don't know anything for sure and they've made me feel like crap in the process.

So that's that. I pretty much hope I go into labour before 39 weeks because I cannot, just CAN NOT face induction. And yes I KNOW that people have been induced and it's gone great. Good for you. But that's not what I want. I also understand that babies need to cook for as long as necessary. I can assure you I know that too. Remember my own mother is a Midwife. So is D's mother. But understand that I do not want medical intervention.

I don't like the way this has turned out. But I know at this point now, there's not a fat lot I can do. That's fair enough. I understand I need to go in. I understand I pretty much have no choice. My hands feel like they've been tied somehow...but you know what? I'll deliver this baby, and I don't care what anyone says, it's going to have to take one SERIOUS frigging situation before they have to intervene. There will be no C/S. There will be no medical intervention.

Any intervention will be my own doing. And it'll probably be in the form of large quantities of pineapples and fair amount of power walking. Possibly with the odd curry thrown in. Now if you'll excuse me, these Braxton Hicks are driving me batshit and I have a Poopgate appointment with the bathroom.
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Bittersweet.
@cosmicgirlie



So go ahead. Let the assvice commence. Go ahead and let rip with your comments.

"ANOTHER ONE?? You must be mad."

"Two under 2? Are you crazy?"

"Spotting loads? Oh it's probably because you're so blatantly not ready to have another one."

"Pregnant again? You'll never cope with it again."

Yep, thanks for your support people, I really appreciate it. But you know what? You wanna comment? Go ahead. You want to commiserate? Go for it. You wanna congratulate? Knock yourself out. You got something to say? Say it.

But I ask one thing.

Please do not text me. Do not email me. You have something to say, then say it here. Bitch behind my back all you like. I know people do it, and that's ok. But don't treat me like a fool. I don't want my phone going crazy with assvice. I don't want my inbox full of apologies/commiserations. I'd prefer it if you left your chosen words here, where I can deal with it in my time. You know? Cos I got a lot on my plate right now, and I'm trying my damndest to be in the right frame of mind to be happy for myself. Instead of wondering whether I should be wallowing in self pity.

This is my baby. Mocha x2. Or Mocha #2. I haven't decided yet. And you know what? I'm going to enjoy my baby. We PLANNED to have 2. We PLANNED to have them close. In fact, we had PLANNED to start trying 3 months before Christmas.

I'm bitter. I'm so very bitter. I'm infuriated by the people who have made these comments, because I feel that people don't often think before they speak. It hurt because people doubted me before they gave me a chance. It hurt because I thought I'd have support from people who said they gave a shit. It hurt more when people found out (and there are very few who know, at least before this post) and I said I think I might actually be having a miscarriage...and it hurt so much when the comments were still the same.

I ask myself these questions - would you say the same thing to a mother of twins? Would you say the same things to someone with fertility issues, had been trying for years and finally gotten lucky twice in a row? Would you say the same thing to yourself if it was what you really wanted?

I've been spotting from 5 weeks. The scan was at 6 weeks. I'm still spotting, sometimes brown, sometimes pink. Never red. Not yet. Mocha II has a healthy heartbeat, and D and I cried with sweet relief when Mme Sonographer said everything was ok. We had asked her to cover the screen until she could see for sure either way.

When I first found out, I thought my announcement to The Internet would be a lovely one, full of fluffy shit, comparative pics of Noah, excitement, , how I found out and how we laughed and other stuff to make you a little nauseous (Nausea! My new bestest friend).

Truthfully? I almost had no intention of blogging again, because I was so fucked off.

But I feel perhaps I should rise to the challenge of people who are less supportive, and in true Brit fashion (ack), flick the old V sign and carry on regardless. So let's begin.

Due Date: 04/21/2009
Week: 8+2 days
Month: 2
Trimester: 1
Fetus Age: 6 weeks
Time to Go: 221 days

Personally, if Noah is anything to go by, I can't wait. Especially when my little 8 month old boy walked across the lounge last week, completely unaided, grinning at me with his 2 teeth.
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Yes I'm still pregnant, thanks for reminding me
@cosmicgirlie
Week: 40+1 day
Month: 10
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 38 weeks
Fetal Heartbeat: Yup
Size: I guess 72 inches
Time to go: uh, yesterday
Full Term: Ages ago

I have no child. Externally.

I also have no poop. Externally.

However, I do have indigestion. And constipation.

And yesterday was a riot. MW#2 had previously booked me an appointment to come see me yesterday morning. She didn't turn up, and eventually yesterday evening another MW called to say that it was actually her day off. And did I go into clinic? Because if I did then sorry about that because there was no one there.

W...TF?

So we're thinking maybe private MW with Baby #2 (should I ever get Baby #1 out first).

And since I can do tmi without giving a hoot, I've spent the last three days trying to poop. Having had 3 glasses of prune juice, half a bag of prunes, 3 glasses of apple juice, handfuls of (dry) All-Bran and a bowl of scrambled egg and beans.

I'm actually quite impressed with myself, I could possibly be holding a world record here for the longest time to go without pooping.

I'm also impressed with the number of people who STILL keep harassing me. At the moment I think I've decided to stop responding to texts etc, because people? Just leave me the fuck alone and stop asking stupid questions. And stop asking seemingly nice questions as a round-about way to get to ask your stupid questions.

I think maybe if I was, like, 608 weeks pregnant then I could understand people asking if I've "dropped yet". (Hah hah! You're so funny! Have I "dropped" yet!! Oh hah hah! Stupid whores.) But people? I ONLY JUST GOT TO 40 WEEKS. And in case you didn't know, FIRST BABIES OFTEN GO TO 42 WEEKS, YOU BUNCH OF STUPID WHORES. Go learn something.

I wonder if I should go walk round Sainsburys...it's been a week...
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Grrrrrr....Oooooh...Aaahhh
@cosmicgirlie
Week: 39+5 days
Month: 10 (Seriously...what?)
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 38 weeks (I signed it up for Uni. Cambridge.)
Fetal Heartbeat: Yes indeedy.
Size: Long enough
Time to go: 27 hours (WTF??!)
Full Term: I stopped counting

Yeh yeh ok so I got a bit tetchy in one of my posts, but hey can you blame me??! D's mother has taken to calling EVERY DAY (sometimes several times) to check on progress. Well. I'm still pregnant. And for the frickin MILLIONTH time, WE WILL CALL if something happens.

Though at this rate we may just neglect to call until it's at pre-school, like we kinda forgot to mention.

I'm totally appreciative of people checking to see if there's 'any news'; it's lovely that people care and stuff, but come on, did it occur to you if you're constantly sending messages, then so is someone else...?

I must admit, the messages that I really appreciate are the 'thinking of you etc etc', or the 'hope you're ok, shout if I can help blah blah'...I guess I shouldn't be so ungrateful (or some shit like that) but maaaaaaan it can get old I guess, especially when I'm already tired and starting to get really impatient.

Went for accupressure today; it was different, but felt really good. Mocha kicked up a storm every time she squeezed my big toe on my right foot. It was kinda entertaining. She said she worked on constipation points and labour induction points. Needless to say, the induction points aren't guaranteed, but hey, I'll take what I can get. Gotta admit, I feel more barfy, my back is screwing and the BH are pretty strong. Can't be bothered to time them yet though.

My latest plan is to go into labour by Saturday. Cos you know, Mocha and I have this agreement whereby it does what I say.

HAHAHHHAHAAHAHAAHAHAHAAAHAHAA!!!

I'm still on the raspberry leaf tea (YES I know, it doesn't actually induce labour) and drinking like a fish. I have evening primrose oil but don't have the balls to take any. Every time I think about it I chicken out and google until I find enough info that says Don't Do It!! Lengthy Labour! Induction! C-section!

You'd think I'd just bin the stuff.

Oh, and er, happy new year and stuff.
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OH MY GOD!!
@cosmicgirlie
Week: 39+2 days
Month: 10 (Jesus Christ on a parmesan and poppy seed cracker)
Trimester: 3
Fetus Age: 37 weeks (it'll be ready for college when it comes out)
Fetal Heartbeat: Still there thank the lord
Size: Much too long
Time to go: 5 days (HAH! Not even due date yet)
Full Term: 16 days ago
Days til New Year: 3 days (urhm...)

Haha yeh I'm still pregnant.

Still spotting, still power walking round Sainsburys, still cramping etc etc...in fact, just so I remember, pre-labour seems to consist of many of the following:

~ Spotting
~ Cramping
~ Nausea
~ Dizziness
~ Crazy Braxton Hicks
~ Back ache
~ Nesting
~ Desperation
~ The need to kill someone/something
~ more that I just can't remember right now

The end of pregnancy is something that no woman should have to go through. In fact, we should be put to sleep until it's born, and this should happen at around 36 weeks, just before that moment when you realise that it's no longer fun, but in fact your crotch is permanently on fire, you're desperate for alcohol and that heartburn DOES in fact plague you day and night.

And people. People people people. What is with this 'are you a mum yet?' 'Have you had it yet?' 'Are you still pregnant?'

Well yes I've had it, I just forgot about it, you know? Did I forget to mention that I pushed a frigging melon the same weight as a bowling ball out of my Mary Jane? Did I not tell you that this belly I have is in fact just excess fat left over from Xmas Dinner?* You dumb asses, YES I'm still preggo and I will TELL YOU when I've had the goddamn baby so STOP HARASSING ME. Cos you know, enough pressure already.

My latest trick? (Cos there's always at least one...) I drink something, and then burp it straight back up. It doesn't even taste acidic because it didn't even get that far. I get to drink everything twice.

Awesome.

*Ham and parmesan salad to start, whole salmon stuffed with spinach, spring onions and mozarella for mains and xmas pud for desert. Ohhhhhhhh yehhhhhhhh.
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