Rockin the Third Trimester

Hello folks,

I have been sadly neglectful of my precious blog lately, but no more. I blame my job making me work...imagine that.

ANYWAY. As I have said many times in the past few weeks, this third trimester stuff is for the birds. Besides the aches, heartburn, and constant trips to the bathroom, there are more serious issues to contend with, which I will discuss (perhaps at too much length) now.

"BABY BRAIN"
Friends, this is not a myth. I could not be more absentminded if I was featured in the movie "Dazed and Confused". Another frequent catchphrase of mine lately is "Of all the things I miss since falling pregnant, I miss my mind the most". I thought I was a little absentminded before, but recently I have been surprising even myself. Perhaps the hair should be dyed blonde again in honour of my new heights I have reached in forgetfulness...I don't know. So, if any of you have been a victim of this lovely side effect from my pregnancy, please know it is not personal. Some days, I forget my name- true story, so don't laugh. I ordered a teddy-gram for my dear Clicky on the recent birth of her daughter and gave them the name Samantha Grant. Yeah, it's only been like almost two years since I've been Blaney. Nice one.

CLUMSINESS
So you think you are clumsy and perhaps I'm being dramatic. Hmmm. We'll see. Besides the fact that things fly out of my hands (usually something messy or delicious that I was about to eat), I have set a new record for self-inflicted injuries in the past few weeks. Now I know we're all used to UPIs (unidentified party injuries) from those fun nights out, but I don't drink. So there's those bumps and the like that I have learned to ignore, but last week's incident takes the cake. While taking my frozen peas (that's an "Scarbourough ice pack" to the uninformed) back to the freezer, I pulled open the same door I have pulled open a million times a day for the past 8 years or so and managed to pull it over my foot. Not impressed? Well, I broke my toe and sliced it up so well that my foot could have been a extra on CSI. The wound was mostly superficial, so we're all having a grand old laugh over the incident, but I actually had to fill out a WSIB form.

SIDEBAR: As if that wasn't painful enough, one of my coworkers started giving me major evils when the facilities management came to fix the door. He then proceeded to berate me about them fixing the door because in his opinion, another 1/4cm of rubber to cover the sharp metal under the door was going to obstruck the airflow in the hallway. He then continued his verbal assault later that day when I tried to heat up my lunch in the kitchen, saying I would have hurt myself anyway, even if the door was fitted properly, so why did I have to mention it at all. Somehow he was under the impression that I had kicked the door and injured myself that way. Clearly he was confused between this broken toe and the one I got from kicking my car tire 7 years ago, when he had not met me. Self-absorbed jerk.

BACKPAIN
Have you seen my belly? Do you know it weighs 35 pounds? Has anyone seen my back support belt? 'Nuff said.

GENERAL B*TCHINESS
Holy Gawd, if you see my face looking like thunder, get the hell out of dodge. I can no longer control the beast. My other half is currently up for sainthood by being an absolute doll lately and really being fabulous by helping out with everything. My friend Nick saw this day coming and has saved himself by offering his lazyboy to me on Who Night weeks ago. My friends have been wonderfully support on the whole, as has my family. They will all be spared. However, those who have remained safely in the shadow of the pending onslaught of pregnant hormones should check themselves before they wreck themselves. Ask the coworker who thought her 20-hour workweek and general work-avoidance techniques were going to continue to go unnoticed. Is she still sitting comfortably after my verbal attack of last week? Nope, she's on her toes now. What about those who dare to make comments about my current weight? You can be assured that they will think twice before making any weight-related comments to ANYONE again. And so on. Just heed my warning, and do unto others and all that jazz. You too may escape the beast.

In any case, I am assured by the mommies that this is as bad as it's going to get (except for that whole labour thing) and that I should just struggle through and it will all be worth it. I'm very sure they are right, but some days I have to take it an hour at a time. Not cause I'm a total suck, just cause it's so constantly annoying. When oh when we i feel normal enough to b*tch about something else? I know my darling husband can hardly wait (he who sought to stop the moaning by sweetly buying me a book entitled "50 days worse than yours" - God love him).