Thursday is work day. But at least it's a work day where Eric goes into work a little later and can be at home to help out with the kids in the morning. That's nice. . . . . even if he does spend most of the extra time relaxing in a bubble bath.
Kidding.
About the bubbles at least.
Eric is a girl when it comes to baths. I mean seriously, he will sit and soak in a bath for HOURS - seriously. I have one timed at 2 hours 37 minutes, and 21 seconds. Try and beat that one.
I personally don't get it.
I enjoy getting in the bath, letting your muscles relax a little bit, do a little swish, do a little sway to get the bugs away, but then I'm OUT! I can't sit in a bath forever. I can't remember the last time I actually got out looking like a prune. That could be because my skin is already stretched so tight around an enlarged uterus that it can't wrinkle up, but either way, I'm not wrinkly when I get out.
Our kids have adopted Eric's love for bath time too. Preslie will sit in the bubbles all splayed out on her stomach forever. She mixes it with a little "I wanna get out" and then you go over with the towel and she yells, wags her finger at you, and says NO! You know, just to keep you guessing.
Parker likes staying in baths too. But the second you point out that his fingers have started to resemble albino grapes he freaks out and starts to cry. Usually I try to get him out before this tragedy happens, or we just don't mention it.
So we got to work without much of a hitch this morning thanks to Daddy and his amazing ability to keep the kids entertained while he lazes in the bathtub. I'm not sure how he does it. If the kids are anywhere near when I get in the bath all I get is empty sippy cups thrown at my head while Preslie yells more or Parker running in yelling about how he wants to watch Phinny Ferb. I don't know why Dad gets listened to so much easier, I mean I'm the one who talks to them all day long, you'd think they'd be used to it by now.
Let's back up a day.
Yesterday was the most ridiculously productive day I have had in forever. Got up, got ready, got the ENTIRE upstairs cleaned and vacuumed, got the kids fed breakfast AND LUNCH (uncommon occurcance) got them in bed, and then I buckled down and did some massive amounts of homework. Like really. An entire chapter of that insane critical thinking textbook that makes me want to rip out my hair and ends with 17 pages of detailed hand-written notes, an essay for one class, a million quizzes taken for both classes, and I even got things posted, correctly. amazing...... When I realized I only had one paper left for the entire week, and then I start a two week break for the holidays, I decided it was time God and I sat down and had a little chit chat.
I said to him, God, please let this child be born soon. It's what's best for all of us. Me. The family. Christmas. My grades. Really it's in everyone's best interest.
So far nothing has happened. I hoped that all the cleaning and mopping and cleaning and mopping yesterday would turn on some sort of contractions. But all I got was a child who has decided he likes to stretch out in the shape of an X in my stomach. One hand pressed firmly against each one of my hip joints, his head where it's obvious, and a leg in either rib cage.
And this is where the "limp run" comes in.
Phone call for the boss man comes at work today and he's nowhere to be found. Well the guy waiting for him on the phone is a good client who has served 3 tours in Iraq and is leaving for a 4th this year (not sure if this one is Iraq or Afghanistan considering all this media coverage about the War in Iraq ending). So when I hear the boss is most likely out in the warehouse I decide to just do a quick jog out there. Ha ha ha. Easier said then done.
Well I get there just fine. Open the door, get the message where it's supposed to go, get started on my way back out and what should happen?
Well, unborn child decides to stretch out and do some jumping jacks in my stomach. Member those arms in my hips I was talking about? Yes, perfect timing child, perfect timing. Out pumps the fists directly into my hip flexers and an immediate charlie horse ensues. Now a charlie horse isn't that bad usually . . . . I mean a little sore, a little stretch this way and that, and it's no big deal right?
Well try having a charlie horse in both legs.
Yes, now you start to get the visual.
I all of a sudden have an inability to use either one of my legs. Which wouldn't be a problem if I didn't need to do things like stand, or continue to jog as I was doing at the time.
I tell you what, I narrowly avoided a face plant with some awesome triple jump skills that would be sure to win me an olympic medal of some kind.
Then later in the day we are reviewing some paperwork in the office, and I get the same thing in my hips, except this time unborn child decided to throw in a little charlie horse in the lower back action as well.
I tell you what, this kid needs to learn that he has 9 months inside of me, but I have 18 years where I am legally in charge of him and can do whatever I want.
Remember that unborn child, remember that.
So here we are Thursday evening, I've got my homework done, I've got the house incredibly spotless clean, we've got a full pantry, full fridge - you know, all the necessities covered for a mommy to spend some time in the hospital.
We go in for our 38 week appointment (HURL) tomorrow.
While I have been having the same contractions as always, been walking, been squatting, been doing some contortionist routines (or trying to at least), and so on, I'm fairly convinced we will go into the doctor's tomorrow only to hear that once again "NOTHING HAS HAPPENED!"
I'm beginning to wonder if bribery would help with this doctor.
There's always wishful thinking though . . . I mean God and I did have a one-on-one the other day, maybe he listened.
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