I won’t be held responsible

I think now would be the perfect time to use my pregnancy powers for evil. I have a lot of rage these days.

Drawing kidnapped from the talented Allie Brosh at Hyperbole and a Half… she’s just so good.

Here are the reasons for the rage:

1. My feet are so swollen that it feels like my skin is going to split open with each step and spray my foot guts all over my house… which needs to be cleaned anyway because I’m so huge now I can’t keep up. How do you explain to the cleaning lady that the reddish brown stains on the floor and wall are the guts of your now hideously deflated foot?

2. I can’t walk my dog and I feel like a horrible fur baby mommy :( She keeps staring me, then at her leash hanging by the door and making the most pathetic whining sounds. It breaks my heart.

3. I cry ALL THE TIME! Mostly over sentimental things these days because most people in my daily life have learned not to tread anywhere near topics that could possibly hurt my feelings. So, knowing this, why do I keep watching those stupid birth shows on TLC?

4. I’m unemployed, pretty much confined to bed, and bored out of my mind. That’s why.

5. You’d think I’d be using this time to be creative or something. After all, I could scrapbook, blog or play the guitar from bed fairly easily. Nope. I have zero creativity these days. It sickens me.

6. I haven’t slept through the night since May.

7. If I don’t eat I starve, if I do I get wretched heartburn and/or throw up. Can’t win.

8. After a week in bed I no longer fit into any of my maternity pants. I was late to an ultrasound yesterday because it took me 15 minutes to squish my fat butt into a pair of pants. I then got to the ultrasound and the receptionist and ultrasound tech thought it would be appropriate to comment on how uncomfortable I looked, and on how tight my pants were. Yeah. Thanks ladies. I hadn’t noticed that I have a 6.5lb fetus trying to simultaneously stomp on my bladder and burst out of my navel, and I really hadn’t noticed that my painted on pants were brining tears to my eyes. I will try to pay closer attention.

9. Trying to educate people on the dangers of second and third hand smoke to an infant is just killing me, not to mention boggling my mind. The nerve and ignorance of people on that topic is killing me slowly. Or quickly… not sure. Haven’t had my blood pressure taken in the last week. If I have to hear one more person tell me that their [insert relative here] smoked with them in the house as they were growing up during the 70s and 80s and hey, they’re just fine, I will probably commit homicide. Firstly, you don’t know that you’re fine. You could be one of those non-smokers that will ultimately develop lung cancer. Will you still feel that you’re fine then? Yes, many people smoke well into their 90s and die of something unrelated, but many more die much younger of smoking related diseases. So, shut up. Shut up shut up shut up. It’s my kid, and if I tell you not to smoke around him or to hold him after you’ve smoked, then you politely acknowledge my wishes or keep the f*ck away from us. I don’t care who you are. You deserve to be relegated to a life full of neon and forced to listen to Journey on repeat.

10. My brain keeps screaming GET THIS BABY OUT OF ME NOW! Then I feel guilty because at 33.5 weeks there is no way his lungs are ready. Then I scold myself on wishing for something that is so bad for my baby and feel like I’m a bad mother already. And then I cry.

I don’t know who drew this, but it suits my purposes, so I’m stealing it.

Why now is a good time for crime:

HORMONES! There are way more of them coursing through my body than I know what to do with. From making me laugh to making me cry to making my pelvis feel like it’s being pulled every which way to making my knees feel like they are going to give out, these babies are just out of control. Oh, and I’m having a son, so all aggression can be blamed on all that lovely testosterone he’s sharing with me. Besides, no one would blame the pregnant lady. She can hide behind that bump for as long as it lasts. Unless she makes stupid internet confessions, like so:

And even then, I’d have this excuse:

“I’m so sorry officer. It wasn’t me. It was the testosterone exposure from carrying a male fetus to term. It’s like those bath salts, except I didn’t choose to take them. I couldn’t control myself. I’m sure you can understand.”

All is forgiven

I won’t be held responsible.

21 Responses to I won’t be held responsible

  1. I so hope we have a daughter. lol. I’m so sorry.

  2. What is it about those birth shows on TLC that make you watch them even though they’re clearly not that great for keeping it together? I’m guilty of the exact same thing… Cry every time, still tune in the next day =/

  3. This was a flash of creativity! You are slugging homers with a heavy bat. Reading this missive one cd feel the additional weight of fingers on keyboard.

  4. I am sooo with you on the smoking! My brother smoked like a chimney when we went to visit him a couple weeks ago. I told him to please stop for the hour we were there and then I told him he couldn’t be around the baby smoking. He got all pissed. Sorry, dude.

    • I get that people smoke, but I just cannot believe that they don’t get that they shouldn’t smoke around a baby! AAARRRRGGGHHHHHHHH! Your brother is officially a victim of my rage… and he has no idea I exist. lol

      • Good! He deserves it!

      • I just realized that I said I get that people smoke… that’s funny. I should say that I acknowledge that they do it, but really don’t know why. And I agree. He does deserve it. Your baby deserves a clean start and it’s common knowledge that smoking in the house is a direct contributor to SIDS. SO. MUCH. RAGE.

      • Hahah. You wanna know something weird? I smell cigarette smoke in my nose all the time. The doctor said its my sinuses since getting pregnant. So annoying.

  5. I’m so with you – especially #7 and #9… and #8 is brutal! I can’t believe anyone (particularly who sees pregnant people on a regular basis) would even consider mentioning the fit of your clothes. EFF OFF, people. (And OMG, the bladder-stomping. I’m so ready for that to be over.) Sorry the going is rough!

    • Liquid Gaviscon is, I’m pretty sure, the love of my life. Sure, it tastes like crap, but really we always overlook some of the more annoying attributes of our partners. They can’t be perfect all the time.

      And yeah, I seriously almost cried at the ultrasound. It was just too much.

  6. Foot guts. You said that. Lolz. I understand the preggers rage all too well. I’m sorry those ladies commented on your pants. That’s just wrong. Mean, bad ladies. There is special karma for them.

  7. OH. MY. GOD! My girl crush on you is so so so epic! Except we’d be miserable at making out because our giant bellies wouldn’t let us get close to each other at all, so I will just have to settle for loving your brain and every. single. word. you write.
    And people who smoke around babies should be stapled to a wall and set on fire.

  8. Pingback: Let the Universe Do Its Job « The Best Life

  9. Pingback: The Haves and the Have Nots « The Best Life

Questions? Thoughts? Absolute and utter adoration? Spill it!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s