It’s the FIEEENNAAAAL COUNTDOOOOWWWWNNNNAAAAHH.
Can you believe we’re at 34 weeks and one day. How? HOW?
Which coincidentally rhymes with cow. COW. Funny how that works.
At this point in the game, there’s just not that much to say.
Ohhhh don’t get too excited. I still plan on draping you with mental armpit fart acid. You’re not getting that lucky, Chachi.
We’d originally planned on the A-section, and in a worse case scenario, the B-section, but they were sold out of those. So, the C-section it is! I have no idea why I put an exclamation point at the end of that sentence. Oh wait, it’s because I’m the world’s most annoying planner. Truth be told, when my doc brought the idea to the table, I actually chirped, “Okay! Sounds good!” She was like, “You’re . . . excited?”
Thing is, my boy is in a great position and has honed his craft at violently headbutting my colon. My girl on the other hand? That bia be transverse. Yes I just called my daughter a bia. What’s she gonna do, cry about it?
So as of now, January 6th at noon, you guys. HIIIIGH NOOOOON. I wonder if I should buy some birthing chaps?
Yeah that image is destroying my life, too.
2) Hospital Bag Essentials: As of fifteen minutes ago, I’m all packed and ready to go. (oh that rhymed) But, I want to run this list past you guys in case I’ve forgotten anything. And seriously, help me out here. I don’t want to leave anything important out.
1) a bottl – wait, box of wine
2) eighty spicy tuna rolls
3) a sack of poached eggs
4) a wheel of brie
5) the veiniest, stinkiest blue cheese this side of the Mississippi
6) a Dagwood sandwich the size of the Empire State Building
7) 429 pounds of caffeinated dark roast coffee
8) hair dye and face masks
9) all of the essential oils
10) a roller coaster
I mean, that’s it, right? I’m not leaving anything out? Can’t.think.of.anything.ellllsssse.
3) Oh! We got the car seats installed. It really puts us at ease to have this done, and it’s amazing how much safer we feel already. I can’t wait to get the medal of approval from the police department this week.
4) Breastfeeding Twins: Oh my Lord I’m just kidding. Like I would do that to you. Look at my face. Is that the face of someone that would put you through those kinds of thoughts? Those nightmarish, porno heifer, topless udder buffet thoughts?
. . . Actually, never mind.
5) Are We Ready?
HAHAHA no. I mean yes. Yes and no. Yo and nes? I have no idea. I mean, aside from the car seats, obviously.
Am I ready to stop walking like a drunk sloth? Yes.
Am I ready to not feel them wiggle around in me like hyper alien gummy bears? No way.
Am I ready to have them cut out of me? Ummmmm sure?
Am I ready to not feel like a bobby pin carrying a watermelon? (I carried a watermelon? name that movie.) Yes.
Am I ready to learn how to change two diapers at once like a calf roper at a rodeo? Bring it.
Am I ready to have a sprinkler system of vomit and pee and poop shot in my eyeballs 27 times a day? Eh.
Am I ready to not cry at all of the commercials? Even the beer commercials? (He’s with his friiiiiends. And they’re all so haaaaaappyyyy.) Yes.
Am I ready to not sleep for 18 weeks? I mean months? …wait, YEARS? No.
Am I ready to love them and sing to them and dance for them and nibble on their little faces until they go to college? Hell yes.
I’m so ready.
Plus, I’ve heard that with a C-section, a parenting manual falls out with the placenta, so we’re all good.
THREE. WEEKS. LEFT. Aaaaand I probably just jinxed myself.
Thank you so much for waddling through this journey with me. The barfing, milkshakes, heartburn, stretch marks, TJ Maxx molestation, stiffy B-Hickers, cowlicks, twerking, etc. have all been such a gas! Oh, and the gas.
I can’t wait to Instagram dirty diapers!
But probably not.
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