Hello belly brothers, I know it has been afew days since I commiserated with you, but life takes its toll, eh? You may not realize that when you hit the 2nd trimester you hit the doldrums of the belly time. Well past the initial excitement, well past others being excited for you, and well past the memory of the little blue cross that sealed thy fate. Like a sailor on the vast ocean you have forgotten the maidens waving to you from shore, tossing flowers as you embark on the journey. The smell of the salt air as you felt the rush of the boat when the trade winds filled your sails and the look across the bow into the vast ocean into the unknown. Filled with trepidation tempered with anticipation, you felt the sway of the sea and couldn't wait for the distant shores.
Well belly life is much like the sea voyage. The undulating of the vessel rolling you forward has now become the rythmic equivilant of water torture. You wake to the roll, you spend all day with the roll, and you go to sleep with the roll. But some time has past, and much time has yet to go. At the half way point, you are tired of all this freaking rolling. The belly is growing increasingly uncomfortable, and having difficultly doing what it did with ease a few short weeks earlier. The hormones have subsided, the estrogen is stable, but what they didn't tell you is they have been replaced with the new hormone, bossogen. This is the hormone that affects the belly and brings out a pronounced increase in the certainty that the belly is the boss. Of you, of the weather, of everything and everybody.
Bossogen is less unstable, but the downside is that it never wavers. At least early on, the mood would ebb and flow. A temper would flare and subside, you only had to weather the storm. But now my friends, the boss has arrived and you had better get used to it. Nothing you own is yours any longer. You think you had rights to your own home? Ha! You were so very wrong. Scenario: you are getting ready in your bathroom(admittedly you share with the belly, but heretofore it had a sort of squatters right, whoever was in there got to stay until finished) the belly rushes in, sees you engaged in activity, and says "I have to pee, get out". Now you could protest, in your half dressed state you might even ask a stupid question like "what?". But what you need to do is get out....pronto. I have a recurring nightmare where the police are called because I am standing in my underwear in my front yard because the belly has ordered my evacuation. The good part of the dream is the coppers are both belly veterans and when they ask me why I am in the yard in such a state of undress, I only have to say "my wife's pregnant". And they holster their weapons and drive away.
Up until now things have been going swimmingly, but I am coming the the realization that the belly is steadily losing brain function. Not her fault, to be sure, but still an alarming development. We went to breakfast, we reviewed the menu, I said how about the breakfast plattter? Scrambled eggs, chorizo, beans and potatoes. The belly responded, "fine, whatever, I don't care, I'm just soooo hungry". We got our food and I immediately noticed the sour mood. "what's wrong" I inquired? Well I misunderstood the direction of "I don't care". Now I have always understood "I don't care" as meaning lack of care or concern of the outcome. Well, clearly this is not the meaning of "I don't care". What it really means is I-don't-want-to-be-bothered-with-ordering-but-you-better-order-me-exactly-what-I-want-or-your-ass-is-grass. Evidently scrambled eggs are not what the belly wanted, nor is it, as I was informed, anything the belly likes, has ever liked, or will ever like anytime...ever. Luckily, I had a couple of over easy eggs on my plate and with a quick scrap of plates, the offending scrambled embryos were removed and order restored.
I had thought the belly was omnivorous, and as long as it was not fighting back, it would be consumed. But here is your cautionary note. Never, ever, order "whatever". 'cause even though the belly says "I don't care" the belly cares very, very much.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Friday, April 20, 2012
The real hunger games
Now we have said before that belly logic is unlike any other logic. Some say it's a higher form of consciousness somehow springing from the consanguineous connection of two bodies joined through the miracle of birth. But with the belly it seems like only the basics are covered. It's as if on Maslow's hierarchy she never gets off the first rung. So given this formidable task you must be prepared my friends in fatherdom, you cannot rest and you must be ever vigilant.
Let me give you an example: the other day I went to the store to buy the belly some Popsicles, I got home, and put a new unopened box of Popsicles into the freezer. The belly asked for a red one, which is by far the favorite. (as a matter of fact we put all the green and orange ones in the deep freeze to give to all the kids during the summer) However after giving her the requested red popsicle the notion struck a few minutes later that one popsicle simply would not do. The belly went to the freezer to get said popsicle and came back and immediately glared at me asking in all seriousness, “did you hide all the red Popsicles!?” now my immediate response was to gather the belly in my arms, hold her close, look lovingly into her eyes and whisper softly, “Darling I love you, but- you. are. bat. shit. crazy.”
However, this impulse was quickly suppressed, and in an instinctual flash of self preservation, and I leapt from my chair to dig through the box until a popsicle of the red variety was secured. The belly padded off happily and calm was restored.
Item numero dos:
You would think the belly would focus on the great news from the sonogram. Spine was there(thank you daddy for going to get the folic acid) two arms, two legs, three vessels in the umbilical cord(see previous post)good sized head etc. What was really great news, no, make that truly stupendous news was when the belly came back into the room and announced that she had in fact, lost a pound. As incredulous as I might have been, the belly was even more so. Little did I know that the phrase "shut up, I'm eating for two" would now be replaced with "I lost a pound". As I peered over last night’s cheeseburger, the belly looked me straight in the eye and said "don't look at me like that, I lost a pound"
The lost pound is evidently in great danger because the belly has been knocking me out trying to find it again. Two nights ago we went in search of that sucker via the Chinese food place. Now all of you will relate when I tell you the mood of the belly can best be plotted with perceived hungriness. And I had waited too long. Hungry had taken over. In one short trip, I was:
-Accused of deliberately not remembering the color the belly had chosen for the new dresser
-Got a back hand for rolling my eyes(my fault for getting caught)
-Told I was “driving stupid” (twice)
-Was told to quit being “so white”
I love the belly, I truly do, but man, does it have to be so hard for a guy to go get an eggroll?
The important lesson for all you in the preggo-boat with me, is there is a time to surrender as do as your told, and a time when you must stand your ground. You can’t be pushed around everyday of the nine months of bellydom! You have to be strong, courageous and lay down the law. Yes, my brothers-in-belly, it will be frightening, and it will be tough, and you will have to steel yourself against the torrent of hormonally charged emotions. There will be a time when you must be brave! You must not succumb fully to the tyranny of the belly!
That being said, if I ever find the time to stand my ground I’ll let you know.
Belly: however many points she wants
Me: -4 (I got one back for furniture moves)
Monday, April 16, 2012
Congrats, it's a .......
Okay the title is a teaser, shameless I know, but hey, anything to keep my fellow pop-to-be friends on the edge of your seats. Because the sex of the unborn critter is of significant importance and knowing so with the help of all the modern technology is truly a miracile. But before the good news, let's review how life is at 20 weeks.
20 weeks is a funny time, the belly is big enough to be a real thing, and the future is still unknown but clearly headed in the direction of babyness. But 20 weeks is also a time of what they call "nesting". Now my fellows, "nesting" seems like an innocuous term, but it is the the single most physically demanding period of your life. It is a time when you are expected to shrug off your old, creaky body and run around like a twenty-two-year-old stud muffin moving furniture and getting the home environment ready for the little bundle of joy to arrive. You will be worked to exhaustion, sore, tired, and stiff. You will be asked to grab large pieces of furniture and manhandle that crap by yourself, because the belly cannot be asked to lift anything heavier than 4.1 ounces and you will do it gladly. You will tell the belly to step aside as you heft ridiculous amount of weight, grunting and straining all the while uttering the phrase we all know so well by this point, "I got it". No, sorry old timer, you ain't got it. And by the sound of your groans every morning your tired body ain't got it either.
Now maybe I was wrong, (oh screw it, I was definitely wrong) in that I thought the belly would be relaxed and no-big-deal about the whole pregnancy. I guess I thought she would be relaxed and nonchalant regarding the impending miniature person. I was wrong. Very wrong. The belly has a notebook with quizzes and items to cover with the poor saps at the doctors office know as the preggo people. I have learned that this is the belly world and we are all just visiting.
And she has a plan for the baby room. This would not be a big deal for us, but now the that the plan has been formed, we will be driven like the slaves of ancient Egypt until that last son-of-bitch stone is put on the top. Not that this plan is clearly articulated, as a matter of fact, I have no idea what the plan is, but I realize I am just the labor force and the the big picture is not for my lowly status to understand. I am there to agree with the belly that the dreasser we saw is the one we do in fact need, and you, mr.-thought-this-was-laid-back-Saturday need to figure out how to fit it in the car. And so we had some succes in securing some of the the items the belly has said are necessary for the welcome home for the little one.
The organization of the belly has been quite remarkable. How does any one know the umbilical cord needs to have three vessels? I don't, and I consider myself somewhat informed. The sonogram was today. The poor tech had no idea that the belly was well prepped. (kiss my ass again Google). She knew the key item to check for, spine, fluid volume, etc. and kept a keen eye on the grainy black an white images. Thankfully everything looks good. The belly is excited and has been to the store to begin buying items that will be worn once and sold in the enveitable garage sale.
This is not a bad thing. Because today, we found we are going to have a baby girl.
I'm so excited I almost forgot to notice I have no idea how to deal with having a daughter.
I just hope she is cool with going hunting.......
20 weeks is a funny time, the belly is big enough to be a real thing, and the future is still unknown but clearly headed in the direction of babyness. But 20 weeks is also a time of what they call "nesting". Now my fellows, "nesting" seems like an innocuous term, but it is the the single most physically demanding period of your life. It is a time when you are expected to shrug off your old, creaky body and run around like a twenty-two-year-old stud muffin moving furniture and getting the home environment ready for the little bundle of joy to arrive. You will be worked to exhaustion, sore, tired, and stiff. You will be asked to grab large pieces of furniture and manhandle that crap by yourself, because the belly cannot be asked to lift anything heavier than 4.1 ounces and you will do it gladly. You will tell the belly to step aside as you heft ridiculous amount of weight, grunting and straining all the while uttering the phrase we all know so well by this point, "I got it". No, sorry old timer, you ain't got it. And by the sound of your groans every morning your tired body ain't got it either.
Now maybe I was wrong, (oh screw it, I was definitely wrong) in that I thought the belly would be relaxed and no-big-deal about the whole pregnancy. I guess I thought she would be relaxed and nonchalant regarding the impending miniature person. I was wrong. Very wrong. The belly has a notebook with quizzes and items to cover with the poor saps at the doctors office know as the preggo people. I have learned that this is the belly world and we are all just visiting.
And she has a plan for the baby room. This would not be a big deal for us, but now the that the plan has been formed, we will be driven like the slaves of ancient Egypt until that last son-of-bitch stone is put on the top. Not that this plan is clearly articulated, as a matter of fact, I have no idea what the plan is, but I realize I am just the labor force and the the big picture is not for my lowly status to understand. I am there to agree with the belly that the dreasser we saw is the one we do in fact need, and you, mr.-thought-this-was-laid-back-Saturday need to figure out how to fit it in the car. And so we had some succes in securing some of the the items the belly has said are necessary for the welcome home for the little one.
The organization of the belly has been quite remarkable. How does any one know the umbilical cord needs to have three vessels? I don't, and I consider myself somewhat informed. The sonogram was today. The poor tech had no idea that the belly was well prepped. (kiss my ass again Google). She knew the key item to check for, spine, fluid volume, etc. and kept a keen eye on the grainy black an white images. Thankfully everything looks good. The belly is excited and has been to the store to begin buying items that will be worn once and sold in the enveitable garage sale.
This is not a bad thing. Because today, we found we are going to have a baby girl.
I'm so excited I almost forgot to notice I have no idea how to deal with having a daughter.
I just hope she is cool with going hunting.......
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Run and hide, no one will blame you
There are mysteries that mankind has struggled to understand, the cosmos, the Mariana trench, the space-time continuum. But nothing has perplexed the scientific community, or modern thought, more than the inexplicable mind of the belly. Why I thought I could plumb these depths, I do not know. A little known fact: Stephen Hawking first began his studies in the psychology of pregnant women but abandoned it in favor of something easier- contemplating the cosmos. (it's true, look it up....well maybe it's not true but it seems reasonable, doesn't it?). Understanding the mind of the belly is not simply a vexing academic exercise for yours truly, it is the daily struggle for survival. Why the thoughts manifest themselves they way they do and the logic behind them leave me exhausted. I am trying to be empathetic, I really am, but sometimes I am rendered speechless faced with the logic and needs of the belly.
Last evening, on an otherwise uneventful night of dinner(the número uno priority) the belly announced that maybe she wasn't pregnant, and was, in fact, just fat. Now what would you say? Would you roll your eyes and essentially dismiss this statement as pure silliness not worthy of a response? Me too. You and I would be so very, very wrong.
For whatever reson, and in spite of all evidence, this thought had lodged in the belly's brain, and like epoxy, it had hardened and was not be dislodged by my feeble attempts of reason... Nor a jackhammer for that matter. You see there is no logic like belly logic. It is unshakable, unstoppable, and unmovable. Like an UFO believer, or a Elvis-is-still-alive wing nut, the belly was not to be derailed by mere trifle evidence. If anything the empirical facts only contribute to the conspiracy that everyone: me, the first response corporation( I know that's not their real name but I'm too lazy to go look at the box) obi-wan-va-jay-jay, the bastard stick, and the sonogram people is actually in cahoots to mislead her and she is not eating for two, but really just eating to get fat.
Now I and the belly have looked at the sonograms while in progress, and at 5 months there is no denying that the belly's dimensions are the outcome of the bun in the oven. But still, the belly looked at me with all seriousness and announced that we should stop what we were doing and take......a.... Pregnancy....test.
Ooooohhhkaaayyy, "honey I really don't think that is necessary at this point". To which the belly said, "why not, we still have one don't we?". Well, my friends what do you say now? Do you humor it and go open the test? Or do you take the easy road of cowardice? Any of you in my spot know the answer. You fake stomach pains and excuse yourself to the bathroom until the belly gets tired and goes to bed. I ain't proud, but I got a good nights sleep. They say modern man exists because its prehistoric ancestors were small rodents that hid in the rocks and crevasses away from the flesh eating reptile dinosaurs.
Man, I know how they felt.
Last evening, on an otherwise uneventful night of dinner(the número uno priority) the belly announced that maybe she wasn't pregnant, and was, in fact, just fat. Now what would you say? Would you roll your eyes and essentially dismiss this statement as pure silliness not worthy of a response? Me too. You and I would be so very, very wrong.
For whatever reson, and in spite of all evidence, this thought had lodged in the belly's brain, and like epoxy, it had hardened and was not be dislodged by my feeble attempts of reason... Nor a jackhammer for that matter. You see there is no logic like belly logic. It is unshakable, unstoppable, and unmovable. Like an UFO believer, or a Elvis-is-still-alive wing nut, the belly was not to be derailed by mere trifle evidence. If anything the empirical facts only contribute to the conspiracy that everyone: me, the first response corporation( I know that's not their real name but I'm too lazy to go look at the box) obi-wan-va-jay-jay, the bastard stick, and the sonogram people is actually in cahoots to mislead her and she is not eating for two, but really just eating to get fat.
Now I and the belly have looked at the sonograms while in progress, and at 5 months there is no denying that the belly's dimensions are the outcome of the bun in the oven. But still, the belly looked at me with all seriousness and announced that we should stop what we were doing and take......a.... Pregnancy....test.
Ooooohhhkaaayyy, "honey I really don't think that is necessary at this point". To which the belly said, "why not, we still have one don't we?". Well, my friends what do you say now? Do you humor it and go open the test? Or do you take the easy road of cowardice? Any of you in my spot know the answer. You fake stomach pains and excuse yourself to the bathroom until the belly gets tired and goes to bed. I ain't proud, but I got a good nights sleep. They say modern man exists because its prehistoric ancestors were small rodents that hid in the rocks and crevasses away from the flesh eating reptile dinosaurs.
Man, I know how they felt.
Monday, April 9, 2012
One step forward, two steps back
Been busy at work and haven't had time to update, so let me catch you up. Last week was relatively uneventful, we have settled into the doldrums of the 2nd trimester. Everybody knows the belly has arrived, and the newness has worn off. How quickly we went from from enthusiasim for the new pregnancy to to "how is the belly feeling". Which leads quickly to "enough about you, let me tell you about me, my kids, my blah, blah blah". The second trimester is the anticlimax of the the belly world, excitement ebbs, the symptoms subside, and you are stuck in a holding pattern as thrilling as waiting for the plane to land. Not unlike the flight, the takeoff makes your pulse quicken, and the g-forces pin you back in your seat, once in the air you realize you are stuck with a mass of humanity you don't really want to be with, the air is stale, the food is bad, and you have to wait in line to pee.
Since I've been gone the belly has had only a couple of head turning moments, one being last week. At work I got a text from they belly that read "what were we thinking? I can't believe we are going to have a baby!". Now a lesser man might be compelled to to empathize, to re-affirm the nervousness and anxiety of the impending babydom. But let uncle deebs give you some advice; do not, and I mean never ever agree with the belly about second guessing the road you have taken. This would be catastrophic, oh no, my friend, your job is to provide unwavering support and confidence in the babyness. My initial reaction was to say "I know, I'm nervous and scared and wonder why we thought this was a good idea.". Thank almighty god I did no such thing. Instead I texted back (a quick aside, texting is a double edge sword, you can give a reasponse without allowing the belly a chance to scrutinize your facial expression which would certainly give away your game, but you also provide evidence which can be used later to club you over the head) "no need to worry, our love is so great that it is too much for two people to keep to themselves, it is and our baby is just the outcome of all the extra love we have". Sounds good doesn't it? The best part of being an old dude is we know how to handle a situation! Well played sir, if I don't say so myself. The belly was calm, the belly was happy, and that is the best possible thing for yours truly.
The second update is the realization that he belly has no filter to the things it says. You know that little voice in your head that stops you from saying things you might be thinking, lest those around you would think to themselves, "you are a crazy bastard"? Well, the belly arrived and evidently took that voice and put it in a full Nelson and choked the life out of the poor f***er. For example the belly evidently had a whole argument with me about the size of the bed the 16 year-od wanted. I distinctly remember never having a conversation where the belly and I disagreed on what size she wanted. But when we went shopping for said bed, and the pronouncement was made that queen was the necessary size, the belly turned to me and exclaimed: "I told you!". Now I'm willing to admit when I am wrong, but what do you do with with a proclamation of how you were wrong when you never expressed an opinion? The answer is: you don't. There is no limit to the issues with which you must not respond. Your best bet is to take a deep breath and look at the floor. Listen up my fellow GBP's (Gonna be poppa's) the floor is your best friend, look at it often. When questions come your way, do not be tempted to be answer (or god forbid argue). Just look at the floor, it is your most trusted companion. Walking away will only trigger the attack response from the belly and it will chase you like a lioness chasing an antelope, it will not rest until you are caught, brought down and dis-emboweled. There will be any number of statements by the belly that require no response from you whatsoever.
For instance, when the belly looks at your feet in you new sandles and says "we should paint your toenails". Your job is to continue you to cook food for the belly and pretend you didn't hear the crazy shit she just said. Somtimes however this can lead to some awkward silences on the phone. Let me give you a scenario:
Me calling the belly on the phone: "how are you feeling"
Belly: "I've been choking on my own spit all morning"
Me: uhhh, where do you want me to take you to lunch"
You see, it is not about being right. It is about being there. Your job is to reassure the belly, make sure it is happy, full, and well rested. Don't question, don't argue, and brother, you might make it out alive.
By the way, I know I won a point earlier, but tonight I made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner(made a green salad for those worried about my dietary responsibility) but due to some genetic defiencincy I put the sauce ON TOP OF THE NOODLES! I swear I'm as dumb as they come. The belly didn't yell, but gave me the look that said "I have half your DNA in my gut and I am seriously wondering if I have made a huge mistake". Maybe she did, but hey, I aint all bad, at least I made a salad....
Penalized for stupidity:
Belly: 312
Me: 1, but minus 5 for the sauceness error
Since I've been gone the belly has had only a couple of head turning moments, one being last week. At work I got a text from they belly that read "what were we thinking? I can't believe we are going to have a baby!". Now a lesser man might be compelled to to empathize, to re-affirm the nervousness and anxiety of the impending babydom. But let uncle deebs give you some advice; do not, and I mean never ever agree with the belly about second guessing the road you have taken. This would be catastrophic, oh no, my friend, your job is to provide unwavering support and confidence in the babyness. My initial reaction was to say "I know, I'm nervous and scared and wonder why we thought this was a good idea.". Thank almighty god I did no such thing. Instead I texted back (a quick aside, texting is a double edge sword, you can give a reasponse without allowing the belly a chance to scrutinize your facial expression which would certainly give away your game, but you also provide evidence which can be used later to club you over the head) "no need to worry, our love is so great that it is too much for two people to keep to themselves, it is and our baby is just the outcome of all the extra love we have". Sounds good doesn't it? The best part of being an old dude is we know how to handle a situation! Well played sir, if I don't say so myself. The belly was calm, the belly was happy, and that is the best possible thing for yours truly.
The second update is the realization that he belly has no filter to the things it says. You know that little voice in your head that stops you from saying things you might be thinking, lest those around you would think to themselves, "you are a crazy bastard"? Well, the belly arrived and evidently took that voice and put it in a full Nelson and choked the life out of the poor f***er. For example the belly evidently had a whole argument with me about the size of the bed the 16 year-od wanted. I distinctly remember never having a conversation where the belly and I disagreed on what size she wanted. But when we went shopping for said bed, and the pronouncement was made that queen was the necessary size, the belly turned to me and exclaimed: "I told you!". Now I'm willing to admit when I am wrong, but what do you do with with a proclamation of how you were wrong when you never expressed an opinion? The answer is: you don't. There is no limit to the issues with which you must not respond. Your best bet is to take a deep breath and look at the floor. Listen up my fellow GBP's (Gonna be poppa's) the floor is your best friend, look at it often. When questions come your way, do not be tempted to be answer (or god forbid argue). Just look at the floor, it is your most trusted companion. Walking away will only trigger the attack response from the belly and it will chase you like a lioness chasing an antelope, it will not rest until you are caught, brought down and dis-emboweled. There will be any number of statements by the belly that require no response from you whatsoever.
For instance, when the belly looks at your feet in you new sandles and says "we should paint your toenails". Your job is to continue you to cook food for the belly and pretend you didn't hear the crazy shit she just said. Somtimes however this can lead to some awkward silences on the phone. Let me give you a scenario:
Me calling the belly on the phone: "how are you feeling"
Belly: "I've been choking on my own spit all morning"
Me: uhhh, where do you want me to take you to lunch"
You see, it is not about being right. It is about being there. Your job is to reassure the belly, make sure it is happy, full, and well rested. Don't question, don't argue, and brother, you might make it out alive.
By the way, I know I won a point earlier, but tonight I made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner(made a green salad for those worried about my dietary responsibility) but due to some genetic defiencincy I put the sauce ON TOP OF THE NOODLES! I swear I'm as dumb as they come. The belly didn't yell, but gave me the look that said "I have half your DNA in my gut and I am seriously wondering if I have made a huge mistake". Maybe she did, but hey, I aint all bad, at least I made a salad....
Penalized for stupidity:
Belly: 312
Me: 1, but minus 5 for the sauceness error
Monday, April 2, 2012
A few good men
All rise, the court of the bellyness is now in session. Today's case involves the defendant, accused of extreme imbecility. Gentlemen of the jury, please take your seats and prepare to hear the irrefutable evidence that the poppa-to-be is not only guilty of gross mis-management of the belly's state of mind, but also of inconceivable stupidity. How did we get to this, you ask? Well, let me paint you a picture of the events of this past week. The defendant had to travel out of town for work. Now this is a different situation than described earlier, in that permission is not necessary, given work is directly responsible for the happiness of the belly as it is what allows the frequent trips to the green grocer and the purchase of mini drumsticks that bring the belly much joy.
So off he went to the fair isle of Galveston to hobnob with others of his ilk, sleeping in a large bed with no responsibilities while the belly was left to suffer with the tedium of work, children, and meal preparation all alone. Truly this is a crime in itself, but not why we are here today. Instead, we are here to examine the events of of last Friday morning. The very morning the poppizzle called the belly at approximately 7:30 am, to check in and make sure the belly was awake and preparing for work. He uttered a phrase so vile, so unbelievably insensitive as to be almost unspeakable in modern society. What do you have to say for yourself, lowly vermin?
The following is a transcript from the deposition of the accused: "I spoke with the belly Thursday evening, I asked her how she was feeling, and she related she was very tired from her day. I said I was going to go out to dinner, and I would call her later, and she said she was 'so tired' and would retire early. I went to dinner, which lasted late as many business dinners do, and found myself returned to the inn at around 11:00 pm. Not wanting to wake the beloved I went to sleep and awoke the next morning with calling the belly foremost in my mind"
OBEJECTION! Pure speculation on the part of the poppy wannabe only to make him look like a caring hubbin' when clearly he is not!
Sustained, he is a weasel trying to make himself sound better when clearly he is something akin to pink slime, palatable only when treated with ammonia. Proceed.
Me: "anyway, I called the belly FIRST THING in the morning to check on her. I asked her how she was, and then after confirming she was 'tired' which was completely normal in my book, I mentioned that today was trash day, and that she should take out the trash now, as to not miss the sanitation engineers"
YOU DID WHAT???? YOU CALLED HER TO TELL HER TO TAKE THE TRASH OUT???
Me: "wait, not JUST to take the trash out, well I did say, no, wait, I also asked her how she... But your twisting my words....I, just, no, wait....oh god, your right! I did it! I wanted her to take the trash out! I am despicable! I don't deserve her....please have mercy!
There you have it, I abandoned the belly and tried to manage the practical affairs of the bellydom from afar. And failed miserably. What was my first clue I boo-booed? The text I got about an hour after our phone conversation, in which the belly said "I'm glad you just called me to tell me to take the trash out". You know that sinking feeling you get when you realize you stepped in a big pile of dog pooh? Well I had it, bad.
So I have spent the last few days serving my sentence, and as far as I can tell I am on probation for at least 5 more months. But I can tell all of you my brothers in preggoness, I am guilty, guilty, guilty.
Belly - 147
Me - still zippo
So off he went to the fair isle of Galveston to hobnob with others of his ilk, sleeping in a large bed with no responsibilities while the belly was left to suffer with the tedium of work, children, and meal preparation all alone. Truly this is a crime in itself, but not why we are here today. Instead, we are here to examine the events of of last Friday morning. The very morning the poppizzle called the belly at approximately 7:30 am, to check in and make sure the belly was awake and preparing for work. He uttered a phrase so vile, so unbelievably insensitive as to be almost unspeakable in modern society. What do you have to say for yourself, lowly vermin?
The following is a transcript from the deposition of the accused: "I spoke with the belly Thursday evening, I asked her how she was feeling, and she related she was very tired from her day. I said I was going to go out to dinner, and I would call her later, and she said she was 'so tired' and would retire early. I went to dinner, which lasted late as many business dinners do, and found myself returned to the inn at around 11:00 pm. Not wanting to wake the beloved I went to sleep and awoke the next morning with calling the belly foremost in my mind"
OBEJECTION! Pure speculation on the part of the poppy wannabe only to make him look like a caring hubbin' when clearly he is not!
Sustained, he is a weasel trying to make himself sound better when clearly he is something akin to pink slime, palatable only when treated with ammonia. Proceed.
Me: "anyway, I called the belly FIRST THING in the morning to check on her. I asked her how she was, and then after confirming she was 'tired' which was completely normal in my book, I mentioned that today was trash day, and that she should take out the trash now, as to not miss the sanitation engineers"
YOU DID WHAT???? YOU CALLED HER TO TELL HER TO TAKE THE TRASH OUT???
Me: "wait, not JUST to take the trash out, well I did say, no, wait, I also asked her how she... But your twisting my words....I, just, no, wait....oh god, your right! I did it! I wanted her to take the trash out! I am despicable! I don't deserve her....please have mercy!
There you have it, I abandoned the belly and tried to manage the practical affairs of the bellydom from afar. And failed miserably. What was my first clue I boo-booed? The text I got about an hour after our phone conversation, in which the belly said "I'm glad you just called me to tell me to take the trash out". You know that sinking feeling you get when you realize you stepped in a big pile of dog pooh? Well I had it, bad.
So I have spent the last few days serving my sentence, and as far as I can tell I am on probation for at least 5 more months. But I can tell all of you my brothers in preggoness, I am guilty, guilty, guilty.
Belly - 147
Me - still zippo
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