PIT STOP REVIEW!

First off, please let me apologize for the lack of picture on this one.  I don't really talk about my professional life and prefer to keep it under wraps.  Therefore, if you do not already know me and where I work, I would like to keep it that way.  I'm sure you understand. . . being the capable and empathetic people that you are. . .

So, without further rambling, I bring you the latest PIT STOP REVIEW!

RESTROOM LOCATION:  The Closest Ladies Restroom to my office
# of VISITS:  Seriously?  I'm beyond counting at this time.  Make that 3 in the past two hours.  I'm living in the mother-fucker.
RESTROOM STYLE:  Several stalls.  Standard partial wall and door.
DECOR:  Standard business style.  "Get your business done and get out!"
REVIEW:  Despite being cleaned two times a day (these cleaning ladies can only do so much!), this bathroom always manages to remain questionable.  Whether it be a mass of wet toilet paper clogging up a whole basin or the invisible stanky remains of some one's most recent meal. . . it's GROSS.  Who are these dirty women?

To help identify the skanks, I have put together a little quiz.  It will, without a doubt identify a person as a nasty hose-beast.  Let's do it!

1.  Have you ever, in an attempt to shield your bottom from someone else's bottom crud, used a toilet seat cover (Made from tissue?  Not really protecting you from anything?) and then LEFT it on the seat rather than flushing it down?

2.  Have you ever manually manipulated your waste product and left evidence of such on a privacy structure?  For you slow folks, have you ever handled your own poop and then smeared it on the wall?

3.  Have you ever attempted to discard of your menstrual accessories and failed?  Let me reword that, too. . . have you ever dropped your used tampon or pad on the floor?  And left it or evidence of its presence there?

4.  When you leave a stall, does it smell rosy fresh like the air freshener in the bathroom?  Or, do you leave it smelling acrid and rotten?

5.  Do you leave the restroom without washing your hands?  Keep in mind, ladies, washing your hands does NOT simply entail running your hands under the sprinkle of water.  You need soap.  And copious scrubbing.  Don't just rinse off the chunks.  Go ahead and lather off a few layers of skin.  Really.

If you answered "YES" to any of the above - even just ONE, you are a dirty skank.  Change your evil skankstress ways!!

REVIEW:  I use the restroom at work sparingly.  If it weren't imperative, I wouldn't go.  But, for fear of bladder infections, I suffer the stank and outright disgusting environment.

PITFALLS OF PREGNANCY

Of the many dangers associated with but never discussed about pregnancy is the sudden appearance of a large but invisible HOLE in the bottom of one's lower lip.  It is through this new orifice that many drinks of water and delicious nibblies and morsels come tumbling out.

Be forewarned, oh those with empty uterus!  The sloppy hole in the lip has many nasty side-effects in and of itself! 

BEWARE!  the stains where no stains lived before!  Like new clothing will suddenly be acursed with chili spills and apple juice remains!

BEWARE!  the desk top at work sprinkled with miniature puddles of iced water!  Careful where you set your papers - you risk turning them into translucent sheets muddled with rainbows of gel ink!

**Brought to you today by a concerned pregnant citizen and "Shit They Don't Talk About"

THE UN-POSSIBLE

In the past week, I have finally given in and accepted that I am simply not a giant ball of methane and otherwise putrid gas.  Instead, I am opening my arms and saying "YES" to the fact that all of the motion I have been detecting in my abdomen has not been waste product - but rather, THE BABY.

There has been so much movement that I have been able to track my future daughter's awake hours.  And let me tell you. . . she keeps my insane hours.  Crazy?  Crazy, indeed.

Of course, I have taken great strides to ensure that the Hub doesn't feel left out.  Every time the Spitfire stirs, I make a point of letting him know.  Some times, I even force his hand against my belly and hold it firmly until he feels the movement.  That's gratuitous, but I'm pretty sure that mowing the lawn isn't that important!
What?  You're eating?  Our child is dancing on my bladder!  Come feel this!??!%*(^@#!

All of this time, the Hub has been so quiet and confused every time he felt the movement.  "Clearly that can't be a real kick?"  I assured him that it was and that I was assured several times over by the ladies at work that farts don't kick back.

So, I let it go thinking that he was basking in the surrealism of becoming a father. .  or feeling over-joyed with first contact. .  or waltzing blindly through wonderment.

No.  This was not the case.  As we were reading our weekly pregnancy guide last night, as we do every Sunday before sleep, I think it finally sunk in.  Our baby, measuring 7.75". . . from crown to rump.  I have read something similar to the Hub every Sunday night for nearly 20 weeks.  And last night, it finally sunk in.  All of this time, my Hub has been mystified that something measuring only 7.75" could be making such significant knocks from the inside of my belly.

I love my Hub.  He's so damned attentive.  ;)

TCH TCH TCH.

In the beginning, my nipples felt like they were rubbing off with every step I took.  I learned to soothe them with really soft materials stuffed just inside my bra cups.

Things have changed.  A lot.

The typical areola darkening that many pregnancy books bullet point?  I've got that.

Growing Montgomery's Tubercules?  Yeah.  Bigger and brighter.  Check.  Check.

Now that I have gone 21 weeks, another change has surfaced. . . . SCRITCHY-SCRATCHY-HELL!

I'm pretty sure I was scratching my nipples in my sleep.  I was dreaming of it.  Hot, right?

As to why I'm playing Tune in Tokyo all by myself?  All signs point to the continued growth/expansion of the areolas.  But, I'm not so concerned with the cause as I am with the solution. . 

Which happens to be cocoa butter and shea lotion.

You are welcome.

WHAT IS IT?

My stock answer?  "I'm hoping for a Newfoundland Puppy - you know, webbed paws and all."

But, since we found out last Monday, the Hub and I really kept the gender as secret as possible.  READ:  My Mum doesn't even know because she has been busy all day and unable to make our "gender reveal party"

So, the Hub and I used our future child for an excuse to eat, drink and make merry.  There were Tequila-Lime Chicken Wings, Deer Brats, Kosher Dogs, Pulled Pork, Salami Sammies, Taco Layer Dip, Dessert Dip, Veggie Salad, Cookies, Chips. . . NOM!

Then, we had cupcakes.  15 chocolate and 15 white cake.  Each topped with white frosting, sprinkles and a question mark.  (FYI,  sprinkles are really pointless.  They don't have taste and are actually really gross if you eat them alone!)

. . . Let's see the results, shall we?

So many questions. . . so little time.  They were absolutely delicious - from what I hear - as they came from Lubely's Bakery.  This is the same bakery that did my wedding cake.  They are fresh baked and never frozen.  If you are in Saint Louis, make sure to check them out!!

. . . The chosen victim

The decorations were simple today.  Other than Pink and Blue napkins and plates, everything was normal.  In fact, the house is so clean still!  Thank goodness for grown-ass friends! 

. . . And the verdict?

I'm carrying a little girl.  This was a surprise last Monday during the ultrasound.  I was pretty sure we were going to have a boy.  I should have known that I'd get what I want.  ;)

Meanwhile. . . now that everyone has cleared the house, I need to go bleach the bathroom and get cleaned up for bed.  Life is good.