22 Weeks

22 weeks and counting!

A few things you may or may not care about:

I'm growing a little bit every day. Baby Barnett has gotten really active and I firmly believe that his favorite past time is jumping on my bladder like it's his own personal trampoline. On a (non pregnant) good day, I go to the bathroom 10 times before lunch. You can easily double that number now that I'm pregnant. My time in between bathroom breaks is spent trying to focus on anything but running water.

My sweet friend Michelle offered up her Babies R Us registry assistant services, which I gladly accepted. I mean, how is anyone supposed to know that you need three different kinds of strollers and a huge tub of Boudreaux's Butt Paste to raise a child? Somebody who has four children of their own, that's who.

So last weekend I took Barney to Babies R Us to show him the stroller that I had picked out. Yours truly walked into the store with all the confidence in the world. My plan was to take the stroller for a test drive around the store and show off all of her features. (Not unlike a car salesman.) 

Well that didn't happen due to the stroller trifecta of death:

1.   I couldn't get the dang thing out of its "parking space" due to faulty brakes (I couldn't figure them out). 

2.   I forgot how to get the pumpkin seat out of the lock position to show J that it is not only a stroller, but also a nifty car seat. (So I just stood there pulling, yanking and slamming at the stroller until people started staring at me.)

3.   I kept turning the handle to get the stupid thing to collapse, so I could show James how it would fold up to conveniently fit in a trunk. (Apparently I was turning the lever that extends the handles.)

So I did what any sane woman would do. I asked for help and when the clerk told me she would be with me in 10 minutes, I cried and stormed out of the store. (Take that Babies R Us worker.)

Finally, I am starting to swell and it's oh so unattractive. I need to start looking for some bedazzled flip flops to wear to work. The days of wearing high heels (or my wedding rings for that matter) are numbered. To combat the swollen look, I'm drinking a ton of water, limiting caffeine and sodium, and even called about a spray tan. (It’s a scientific fact that tan fat looks better than white fat.) Deep down I know that the only thing that is going to make me look better at this point is childbirth and an ensuing maximum weight loss diet plan…oh, and for the fifteen pounds of water that I am retaining in my ankles and hands to go away.

I wanted to share some pictures that a good friend sent to me. They're from a blog called Pregnant Chicken (and I think she got them from Awkward Family Photo). Regardless, they are funny and the captions underneath make the pictures even better.(Which reminds me that I need to call Kelli and Daniel about my maternity pictures.)

"That's it, Steve. A little further back, a little further. Now crouch down. Perfect!" I think the ex-boyfriend may have been the photographer in this one.

At first I thought "Nothing symbolizes maternity better than a watermelon and a gun" and then I thought "Actually, nothing *does* symbolize maternity better than a watermelon and a gun". Bravo Mad'am.

Why do I feel like this woman was talked into this? I could see her thinking, "I'm just too tired to argue plus the kids won't be able to take off because hockey equipment will slow them down and I'll hold their heads. I'm sure it will look fine."

 

There simply aren't enough pregnancy/gun pictures.

"Okay, I'll do your 'Hoop, der it is' idea but just don't show my face"


There's a good chance that this baby is going to require sunscreen of SPF 50 and higher.



I can't help but hear the Jaws theme when I see this photo.



Jerry felt pretty cocky about taking the last bag of Oreos a pregnant lady was reaching for at Wegman's, until his dismembered body was later found in the forest just outside of town.


Proud and noble, Donna figured the tutu and legs she found at Build-A-Bear would cleverly disguise her growing belly.


It's all fun and games until someone gets ingested by a tree.



Hearing only "topless and melons", he was sorely disappointed when he showed up for the photoshoot.



Hush, hush sweet little man-baby. Everything's going to be alright.



I agree that the question mark is vital on this man's t-shirt. Where is he looking? Why did he feel the need to layer two black tees? Why isn't he happy? How do they get their hostas in the background to grow so well?



Cat's is the second longest running musical of all time, therefore, this image is timeless!