You know how on Thanksgiving you get the turkey and there is that little red thing that pops up to tell you it is done in the oven? While this morning I took my shirt off and my belly button was waving this huge red flag that said, "hey lady, we are done. We Are Freaking Done!" That about sums up this week for me. This turkey is cooked. I wish some medical professional could just tell me that delivering at 39 weeks is safe and that this baby is ready to come out and see the world. Because you know what, I would have them break my water on Wednesday, and start enjoying life with my three men, and be happy not to be this huge pregnant lady anymore. Now I know what you're thinking, because I've been thinking it too. Why wish away this time? Your life is about to become some crazy, fast paced merry go round that people can't ride without a seat belt. I'm just not good being this person. Crabby, lazy, HUGE. It's a sad day when your almost two-year old gets mad because you can't get up off the floor quick enough to get the ball he just threw into the kitchen.
OK, so that's it. This is my rant and I will try not to blog anymore until I delivery because apparently I have nothing nice to say and my mom always told me, "when you don't have nothing nice to say, don't say anything at all!" Here's to you mom...I'm signing off until D day. Full moon work your magic on me...PLEASE!
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