Ready or not, here comes mama!
Blogarella must look pretty good from behind. While grabbing some napkins and a straw at the coffee stand at the gas station, she was approached by a man. He said “Hey baby, how you doing?” I promptly turned face front and excitedly replied “I’m great! How are you?” To which he said “WHOAAAAAA! Look at Mama!” Yep, mama’s still got!
Do you know what it feels like for a girl?
Whats it like being in the home stretch before bambino? Hm, lets see…have you ever swallowed an entire Thanksgiving turkey bones and all? Imagine you did, and then you decide you need to bend over, but you have a wing sticking into your ribs. Or perhaps you need to drive somewhere and look behind you, but you have to rely on mirrors because your stomach is too big to turn around? (note: this may have resulted in me running over the neighbor’s bush in their front yard). Next, imagine the turkey in your stomach comes to life and starts rolling around like its looking for an escape. Its about as comfortable as sitting in a traffic jam on a hot day with busted air conditioning.
Alas, I have had to submit to the awesome power of the boppy. I didn’t want to do it! Stupid hype! Hype makes me crazy, especially when it revolves around a $45.00 pillow! However, one was given to me as a gift, and I was told that its for feeding the baby. Guess what, baby isn’t here, so its for supporting big momma! I’ve been wearing it around my back because I’m going around looking like an elderly woman with sans the walker (another note: my grandmother’s walker is pretty pimped out and I hope that I’m that bad ass when I’m her age). I boppy to the car, I take it to bed, and when I wake up to go to work and say goodbye to Mr. Blogarella, he is wearing it around his neck. Baby doesn’t get boppy, baby gets bupkis, its mine mine mine!
Walking sucks ass and when I see a person who has to use a mobility scooter, I get jealous. At work I asked if they would just wheel me around on a dollie and they laughed – I wasn’t joking! The worst is when you finally get yourself situated comfortably, well, about as comfortable as you could possibly be as if you were on a 5 hour car ride sandwiched between two family members, one has their head on your shoulder, and the other is sleeping so comfortably their legs are spread wider than an actress on the set of a dirty movie. So, you’ve finally reached that point where you move around and sort of feel ok enough to relax, but then something dumb happens, like your neighbor knocks on your door because he had another fight with his wife and he wants to use your phone to call 911 on her – again, not joking!
But I’m sure this is all worth it, false labors, mood swings, and all. Mr. Blogarella is told how much I hate him at least twice a day, and I’ve banned him from ever touching me again unless I get spayed or neutered. Or, I could just torture him and subject him to hours of annoying children’s programming. My goodness, having this much power is dangerous!
Contraction Blogging
And why the hell not! For over an hour my stomach has felt like I have something growing inside of it the size of freaking Godzilla. It hurts damn it! Ever see those commercials where they wet paper towels and squeeze them out to show you how absorbant they are? Imagine that, only in real time, and its happening in your freaking body!! I’m only able to type this stupid post because my stupid doctor hasn’t called my stupid ass back. I keep reading about “false labor” and I guess if a baby pops out right here, then it wasn’t a false alarm. I want to punch somebody, but mostly my doctor, well, my husband too for getting me pregnant. I’ll keep you all posted, you’d never know it, but I love my readers, but lets not make love to celebrate the love because babies are going around like the flu and I don’t want to catch another one this soon!
Elvis has not yet left the building!
Blogarella is told on a daily basis that she is lovely and absolutely glowing. What these people don’t see is that the offspring is exhibiting rock star-esque behavior. She might not have a hotel room to trash, but my internal organs and my rib cage will make a worthy substitute. A kick here, a punch there, and who knows, maybe something might get broken. I can’t bill her for the damage, but I can reserve it for punishments later in life. If she wants an allowance, I’ll simply send her a bill for the 9 months that I carried her.
However, thats not to say that mommy hasn’t had some rock star behavior of her own. Recently when a flight was excessively delayed, I said aloud “If this plane doesn’t come soon, I’m gonna have a baby!” Apparently there were several mortified looking onlookers and Mr. Blogarella asked me to refrain from making such statements again. But, I think the worst was when I had to call Mr. Blogarella after receiving an incorrect bill in the mail and I told him “I’m so pissed off I’m having contractions!” He’s smart enough to tell me to “breathe” when I’d rather “punch” but all and all, I think if he can survive my pregnancy, then he becomes eligible for the Husband of the Year Award.
The Evil Pregnant Woman and her “Prohibited” Flight Item
While travelling with my super sized tummy, courtesy of il bambino, I was screamed at by airport security. He came running over screaming “YOU HAVE A PROHIBITED ITEM IN YOUR BAG!” The woman next to me looked me up and down and said “but she looks so innocent!” The angry security officer reached into my bag and pulled out the prohibited item, which was not lighter fluid, WD-40, or even fireworks. It was a lonely bottle of Teddy Bear honey that I drink with my tea. Clearly I’m going to hell.
Irony
When your husband tells you he won’t go to your baby shower because its gay, and as you are opening your gifts, he’s across the street getting hit on by a man.
Held Captive: Week 30 (or 31, or something like that)
Yes, I’m still pregant, and I’m beating the bars of a prison with a tin cup! All foods result in severe and extreme heartburn. I’m thinking that a strange man could possibly lure me into his bedroom at the promise of an endless supply of Tums…or perhaps an erotic massage using Phillip’s Milk of Magnesia? Not that it matters, because my tummy is so big, I can no longer see my va-jay-jay. So if anybody has any advice on one handed ”grooming” pre-doctor’s visits using a lipstick mirror in the shower, I am all ears!! Oh, and if there is any way I can relieve that incredibly sexy “I’ve just swallowed John Goodman” feeling, please let me know!
In other news, I got on my high horse, got out my lasso, and roped Mr. Blogarella once and for all. I made an “honest man” out of him on June 28th.
Esculent – Pulling a meal out of your ass
Blogarella is morphing into Old Mother Hubbard, but not because she had to fetch her poor dog a bone. She actually suspects that her poor dog might be eating better than her since he often solicits neighbors for food when they are trying to feed their own canine companions. Today was a late day at the office and the cupboard was bare. While I love convenience, there comes a time when you’ve seen one too many dollar menus and its time for an actual meal. I contacted Mr. Blogarella and was informed that he had eaten all of our sausage, and now he was working on our bacon. This meant that I had to find something to do with the bacon before he got to it. Frantically, I dialed a parent. Upon answering, I said “I have to make dinner and all I have is bacon!” They went on to rave about a dish called carbonara. When I asked how to make a carbonara, they replied, “go on the internet.” Wow! The parental units have certainly become saavy! After scouring my poor cabinets, I discovered that there was zero pasta, but plenty of rice. So after some intense googling, I came across a Alex, somebody I may never know, but I was able to adapt his recipe for rice carbonara, and I’m happy to report that it was eaten with a smile by Mr. Blogarella who said “you really pulled a rabbit out of a hat tonight.” It was true. Here is the recipe from Alex, or as I like to call him, the man who saved dinner:
- 2 pieces of Bacon, diced
- 2 Egg Yolks
- 1/4 cup Romano or other Hard Strong Cheese
- 1 1/2 cups Short Grained Rice
- 3 cups Water
- Salt, Pepper & Basil
Cook the rice as according to the package.
Cook the bacon until almost crisp then put in a large bowl (straining out the grease).
Whisk the egg yolks with the cheese and add to the bacon. Stir in the cooked rice and add the seasonings to taste.
Esculent Recipe – When Mac & Cheese Alone Won’t Cut It
Some days, you just don’t have time to care about what is being put on your dinner table. Sadly, Blogarella feels like this most days, and uses pregnancy as her scapegoat. Why? Because she’s carrying the future Miss America in her womb, therefore she gets to pull the “tired” card more often than most. Blogarella encourages other pregnant women to do this, and while you are at it, go ahead and say anything you want to your man, anything! You can always blame it on the hormones later. Its not often in life where you will get a get-out-of-jail-free card that lasts for 9 months, so embrace it, nuzzle it, rub it all over your naked body!
Blogarella hasn’t shopped, and thinks its perefectly acceptable to eat frozen pizza with self rising crust most nights of the week. Mr. Blogarella does not agree with this, something about nutrition? I don’t know, mostly I think he just despises the world of convenience and uses nutrition as a scapegoat (sounds familiar). Sometimes when he is in the middle of a nutrition related rant, I hum Dolly Parton songs in my head to block out the noise, sort of like I used to do as a kid when my brother would play really crappy records. Last night was the usual “We have a frozen pizza” discussion, the one that Blogarella hardly ever wins. Therefore, a meal of uber-convenience, little effort, and high flavor had to happen, somehow. So I present “When Mac & Cheese Alone Won’t Cut It!” I am confident this is not the last time I will have to turn mac & cheese into something slightly more fabulous, so here is take 1:
Tuna Mac & Cheese
1 Box of Mac & Cheese (the stuff that has to gooey cheese envelope included)
2 Cans of tuna fish
Italian style Breadcrumbs
Garlic
Pepper
1. Boil mac & cheese according to instructions on box. When its done, drain the water, and dump the mac into a bowl. Add the 2 cans of tuna fish (make sure you work some magic on this with a fork first, unless you like super chunky tuna bites). Sprinkle some garlic powder and pepper on top. Add cheese and stir. Gradually add some breadcrumbs to the mix, and voila – or something like that!
In Sickness and in Phlegm
As women, we wear a lot of hats, most of which we do not get on sale. Most recently Mr. Blogarella and I had our first ever joint bout of the dreaded lurgy. Being one who likes to share, it was no surprise that he came home, kissed me on the mouth, and then told me his throat was scratchy. Despite all my avoidence tactics, I still got the bed time snuggles complete with coughing and the sensual sounds of cough drops being chewed directly in my ear. Ah love! Isn’t it grand?
I did my best to take care of him when suddenly I had the scratchy throat. I decided to simply suck it up and do what I had to do when my vocal chords were taken over by the voice of a drag queen. This was fun while it lasted because I was saying things to Mr. Blogarella like “come over here big boy, I have something I want to show you!” But alas, I’m full on sick, no voice, no energy, and only annoying hand signals to communicate what I am feeling. Naturally the most used hand signal involves the middle finger. My primary caretaker is a male who is clearly more concerned with breaking his current record on Tiger Woods Golf. He should be thanking me for being sick because due to my ailment, he’s been able to play even more and is now ranked in the top 800 in the world in the online standings. And yet, I still get stuck having to eat delicacies that have emerged from our freezer and can be reheated in a toaster. Woe is me indeed. If I have to eat another corn dog, I’m going assault him with the left over stick. I will continue to love honor and cherish him, but I think next time he gets sick, I’m going to throw a party.
Update: There has been an official apology, however, I still plan on ratting him out to his mother as soon as I can talk.
