Why good morning my dear readers!

Alright, I didn’t know what else to say. My thoughts are on one thing right now. Youngest’s penis. And whatever I can do to get that penis to evacuate in a toilet and not my beautiful hand woven silk rug that I may love more than Eldest. All I really want to do is scream, “Come on! What’s not to get?! Do you like sitting in your own urine and fecal matter? Because I know that when I sneeze and Unborn pushes a drop of pee out of me, I have to run to my room and change immediately. ” To which he would probably answer in the cutest of voices, “Yes Mommy!”

Ok, I need to be thankful. He is WAYYYYY easier than Eldest was and I think by the end of the week I will be brave enough to take him out into public and maybe out to eat with Hubby’s best friend.

So have a couple of margaritas for me since I can’t have one and wish the Lovettz household some luck. There is a chance that we may be a diaper free house for almost a month! Wow, that’s what my life has come to, the grand idea of not having to deal with diapers for a few weeks.

As of today I can add plumber to my job description. My sink is clogged and this housewife put on her scrubbing gloves and took care of it. (Hubby came a helped too.) And to the people at Lowe’s, yes I want to actually clean the inside of the PVC not just push the clog farther down so don’t look at me like that. And no, I will not use Drain-o. Don’t you know this crunchy mama doesn’t touch that shit.

By the way… can you be allergic to the latex in those gloves but not condoms? Because damn, my hands are itchy and red from those darn gloves.

Dear Male Readers… this post ranks right up there with a girly PMS post so be warned. Twila can not talk about sex for the next 4-6 months because she is angry that she let her Hubby do the deed in the first place to put her in this position. That and I am sure that an entire post on my lack of sleep might be even more boring.

“My va-jay-jay is pain’n” – Oprah Winfrey

That’s pretty much what I want to scream from my 130 degree roof top right now. Why the fuck don’t they tell you that this is a side effect of pregnancy. That my cooch is going to swell up like a new born baby’s genitalia and hurt like hell. And when it doesn’t hurt like hell, it throbs… or if I’m lucky, all feeling is gone. Actually, about 80% of the time I have no feeling down there. I had a sneaking suspicion that all feeling was gone but didn’t totally believe it until I went to the dr the other day and had to give a urine sample.  I didn’t even realize that pee had started to come out until the cup runneth over. How the fuck don’t you feel piss coming out of you?  I’ve started just sitting on the pot an extra 20 seconds after just in case I haven’t actually finished and just thought I did.

Another problem of swollen cooch, parts have never touched fabric before. So I am chafing. The most sensitive area of my body is now rubbing up against my undies and it is not pleasant. I’m not waddling because the baby is big, I’m waddling because I am doing everything in my power to keep my cooch from being rubbed raw. It’s definitely puts me in a bit of a mood.

Oh, and dear, poor Hubby. It seems that even though sexual intercourse is somewhat manageable, I can’t really feel it. What I do feel is afterwards, when the cooch is throbbing for a good 4 hours afterwards causing me to want to curl up into the fetal position and place the Cookie Monster ice pack on it.

Is this shit normal? I think I might have a slight memory of it before but I do suffer from pregnancy amnesia. Because let’s face it, if you really remembered how miserable you were everyone would be an only child.

Steven Slater is my hero. Maybe not my hero, but he did give me a good laugh and a sigh of relief.

I mean, yeah, it wasn’t the most mature thing to curse out a plane full of people, chug a beer and then go down the emergency chute. But hey, who hasn’t wanted to try that chute out?

I’m pretty sure this is how is went down in his head. God damn it this lady is a fucking bitch. Why they hell does she think its ok to hit me over the head and then bitch me our. I’m fucking sick of worrying about getting concussions from this job. These people need to know it. This is where he goes on his rant to the entire airplane. Whew, done with that. Fuck, I need a beer to calm my nerves. You know what? I’m going to be fired. So why not just leave now? In 20 years I have never been able to go down that damn chute. Well, today is GOING to be the day. Open the hatch and slide out.

See… totally makes sense. At least he didn’t pull a gun like the guy last week. Which would you rather?

Maybe it’s my hormonal anger coming out. It seems to be creeping up a lot lately and it’s nice to see someone lose it a bit crazier than I would.

It’s fucking hot.

Ok, you knew that. If you didn’t then you don’t live where we live. Holy fucking hell, I must have really pissed off someone in a past life. My poor kids are itching to go outside and all I can manage to do is turn on a Pixar for them while I lie half naked on my leather couch trying to find the coldest spot. It usually ends with my head hanging off the side of the couch and one leg propped up and over the back of the couch. Putting me in a very compromising position that gets certain looks from Hubby. Especially since I now only wear dresses or skirts.

Oops, that’s not what I intended to write about today. I was going to let you in on Unborn and how that is all going.

It’s going well, ups and downs. I have long past any sort of feeling great stage and am starting to become reacquainted with the miserable stage. But, on a high note, a few people have actually asked me if I have lost weight. WHAT?! I think its probably the craziest question ever. Here I am with a huge basketball and they are asking if I have actually lost weight? Was I really so fat before that being 7 months pregnant makes me look skinny?

I’m gonna take it as a complement. I have only gained about 18 pounds, which for me is really fucking good. And looking in the mirror, my arms are a bit skinner because I haven’t lifted weights in a long time. Sooo, I think I am going to say I lost weight.

Let’s see what else…

I think I might not like my OB anymore. He’s become a total West Plano sell out and I have the feeling that all he wants to do is roll his eyes at me. But he’s not as knife happy as the other West Plano OBs so I’m just gonna stick it out.

All sex has dried up. Poor Hubby, I went out with a bang wanting it 24/7 and then BAM! Don’t fucking touch me. And the guy is one of the few that loves pregnant women. So it’s like a double doozy. Sorry babe.

Uhhhhh… I had other shit to say. But. Fucking pregnancy brain. It will come back to me at 4 am tomorrow.

Was it here that someone was talking about how the older you get the more you revert back to childish ways? Well, my mom’s childish decline is happening. NOW. I’ve talked about how it’s hard to leave my kids with her because for some reason the phone is now the most important thing in the world. If she has just a split second that I am not with her, she is immediately on her phone calling some random neighbor back home asking about the weather then bragging about how much worse or better the weather is where she is. I’m not kidding about the split second thing either, we were at the airport…THE AIRPORT and I had to use the restroom. I left the kids with her while I ran in. I come out, she is standing outside the restroom with my kids and all of the luggage just randomly calling someone…. REALLY? This couldn’t wait until we find our gate and sit?

When it comes to the phone, my mom is the equivalent to at 15 year old.

She also likes to play games, the whole I won’t call to see how long it takes you to call me. Then give you a guilt trip over how I don’t want to bother you since you are just too busy. Or the game of hurt feelings if she thinks for one second that my MIL (who lives 10 minutes away from me) might know something before her. She even pulls out the whiny voice. Her emotional maintenance is very high and for me impossible since

A: I am surrounded by testosterone 24/7 and

B: she raised me to be unemotional (funny, isn’t it)

When it come to my mom’s emotional state, she is equal to a 14 year old.

We have now come to the day where I pissed my mom off so much, she quite literally threw a tantrum in my car. Causing her to revert to a bratty 12 year old. On the verge of tears, whining, turning red, fidgeting in her seat and trying to say anything to manipulate me to change my mind.

What did I tell her to bring her to this state?

Simply, that Hubby and I had decided to not announce the name of the baby before he was born.

Readers… this lady can not handle it. CANNOT! I have never seen her so upset with me. I think I could have been 14 and knocked up by the local drug dealer and she would be happier. She has now announce that certain things she did for the other boys before they were born she will not be doing for this one since I will not tell her the name.

Now… what age does this shit put her at?

Hubby and I went out the other day, without kids. For some reason instead of doing really romantic stuff we end up getting things done that are just harder with kids. This time we needed to drop by a baby store to check out car seats. But before we did that, Hubby wanted to go by one of his favorite “window shopping” stores.

Let me say this, I will always say yes to Lowe’s, Home Depot, Best Buy…. I like them. And Hubby is very nice about heading to the stores that I like to go to, so I feel like I need to say yes to his one request. But it’s hard. I hate, hate, hate his favorite store.

Are you guys trying to guess what it is?  It’s that fucking crazy electronic/appliance/random junk store…FRYS.

Ugh, I get annoyed just typing it.

As we were driving there Hubby asked the question, “What exactly bothers you about that store?”

Me- “Do you really want me to answer that?!”

Hubby- “Yes”

Let the rant begin.

Ok, lets start with the second you arrive, the parking lot makes no sense. You have to drive all the way UP to the store to then drive around to the parking lot and practically get run over as you are trying to get into the store. I’m not going to start on the landscaping, or lack there of.

The check out, that huge line while being bombarded by junk food and when you finally make it to check out you get an under educated person who has to do 50 things just so you can by a magazine. And why do I need a receipt that big? I can’t just throw that shit in my purse. Instead I now have to fold it up and have this awkward paper in there for the one thing that I bought.

Do I even have to mention the annoyances when returning something? You wait in this long line to see some associate who takes about 10 minutes to figure out what’s going on and then they have to call over some community college drop out punk on a power trip to “approve” it. Hand you one of those large receipts to go and wait in the check out line and deal with those people. Please see above rant. Can they not stream line this shit?

And what’s up with the random as seen on TV ladybug pillow being sold at the end of the water filters aisle?

Then the sales people. This is what bothers me the most. Why can’t they have an actual uniform like Best Buy, just a fucking polo. Instead its like this sorta professional dress code that ends up looking sloppy because  not smart but still nerdy “I built my own computer” Joe is borrowing his dads old white dress shirt that doesn’t quite fit him. Or the gangster wanna be who’s baggie khakis are being held up just high enough for his poor fitting shirt to cover his underwear.  My favorite white shirt I have seen is the former football player who was very obviously not wearing his own shirt. It must have belonged to a very fat oompa loompa in a previous life. It was made for a VERY large person with extremely short arms. Not kidding, the arms started at this guys elbows and miraculously were still too short to make it to his wrists. Where do you get a shirt like that?

Polos people, polos.

This is where Hubby stops me mid-rant and says, “gangster wannabes don’t work there.”

Two minutes later, as we are walking in, an employee drives by in his low rider Chevy Impala with custom paint and blaring music. All Hubby said was, “point taken”.

Take a look around yourself next time… ALL of my points will be proven correct.

Nothing.

I have N-O-T-H-I-N-G.

Not even a clever website to share. Write whatever is on your mind below.

I’m the baby mama.

Uncontaminated Beach, here I come! You were hard to find last minute but after lots of calling, begging and a shit load of last minute perseverance, our family is off on it’s first vacation that doesn’t involve mandatory extended family visits.

It’s the only thing that I hate about living in Texas, none of our family does. So instead of enjoying restful vacations we spend all of our money and time on seeing family. We have a HUGE family so that usually means 1-2 trips to both coasts each year. By the time thats over, there is nothing left for a relaxing vacation.

Well this year we did the big FUCK YOU to family. It’s not like they have been clamoring to come and see us. I have lived here for 25 years and still have family members who have never visited but damn those Hawaii/Europe/Exotic island pictures they send me every year sure do look nice. And by the way, to my aunt, yep, I know how pricy is it to travel with two kids, I’ve made it to your house across the country and listened to you bitch to me about it. Who’s the one who got the tickets, rental car and hotel to visit? That’s right. Funny how you live in a multimillion dollar home, send your kids to wicked expensive private schools and live in arguably the most expensive place in America yet are complaining to me.

I’m also already having to pay for this trip with guilt from my mom. “Now Twila, your next trip will be to visit me….RIGHT?!?!” I know I will hearing about this for the next 3 years. God Damn it people, why can’t I have one get away without someone giving me a fucking guilt trip. The last time there was no guilt was my honeymoon. Oh wait, there was guilt, from work.

It’s worth it, 7 days of no laundry, cooking, schedules or 100 degree heat. Just beach, ice cream, food, coffee and sunrise on our balcony, beach, ice cream, food, beach, food, beach, ice cream. And then the bill. Totally worth it.