Ready to lose the pregnant brain...

...because i don't feel so very clever and witty lately.

There is a bum in my ribs. It feels like a big one. It's seriously hindering my slouching. Occasionally, there's a foot behind my ribs. Somehow, out of four babies, this is the first time I've had any stretch their limits. And boy, is he pushing it. I would like to say that with three weeks to go until D-day, there is a name for this kid--but the only thing sticking is a name my mom says is mean because of our last name. We'll find out if we end up using it anyway.

Today Mr Destructo got my Swiffer duster, extended the pole all the way, set a dining chair in the only open space of the kitchen floor and told me he was fishing. "I'm fishing to fill up my bu--et." He likes to skip consonants. And use w's for l's. Like, he wears wunderwear. Sometimes on his head. Once, popping up in the middle of church at the time we were supposed to be the very most reverent. Note: supposed to be. I do not set a good example of reverence. But the kids are so funny!

A month ago he went to Lagoon with his sister and dad and grandma and uncles. He came home unconscious--so tired he'd crashed in the car. I didn't know if he'd had fun until he woke me up the next morning at 7 fully dressed in Fly Lady style--down to his shoes--pulling on my arm to get me out of bed, saying, " C'mon Mom, we gotta go to Wagoon." In a "time to go to school" tone. He meant business. I think Santa should bring us season passes since we can't possibly need any more toys--considering there is no more room for them, especially when there's going to be a new roommate hanging around just eating, sleeping, and pooping and basically wanting everyone to cater to him and carry him around all the time and smother him with hugs and kisses. What a moocher. Kidding. The kids can. not. wait. Nor can their Grandma, I think.

Anyone want to lay odds he'll be born tomorrow so he can have a 9-9-09 birthday? Yeah, me neither, because I know I would lose, even if it would be nice to cut three weeks off this pregnancy. For now, I'll relish my sleep, and hearing the big kids hug and talk to the "new baby" (Lolly tells him she loves him and good-bye when she leaves for school--or anywhere--and Mr D tells him to come on when he's telling me to come too--I guess we move too slow for him, and the S-man just tries to find a comfortable spot when he wants to lean back and chill on my lap), and tiny feet in my ribs. And lungs, it feels like. And hope I don't knock my kids over with my belly too much. Yes, it's already happened--they just bounce off.