Barftastic Addendum

Party #1 has notified me that the birthday girl has the pox. Let's see how well this new fancy varicella vaccine works.

Anyone want to place odds on both my charming darlings being covered by itchy red welts by the time I return from reunion this weekend?

According to G-ma the pox has a 10 incubation period. so that should land squarely on Daddy Day (also known as Wednesday to the uninformed) Won't that be fun for H?

Also, I like to say pox. say it with me "a pox on both your houses" see, it's fun.

Updates on Screaming and Boobies

last night everyone screamed from 1-2am. Then I gave in and nursed them. I think I will try Eva's suggestion/ previous experience and make a "no boobs before midnight" rule and then go from there. I think this is a rule of thumb everyone should follow. Regardless of your lactation situation. There is rarely a good reason for boobs before 12. I speak from experience.

On another, not totally unrelated front, I am breast pump free at work today. There are some big girls at my house today whith whole milk in a sippy cup.

I know, gasp, shock and awe. Also, how big are your boobs today.

Gi-Freakin'-Normous. Seriously, I had to borrow a safety pin to keep them contained. I thought about using it to deflate them, but I have feeling I will only spring a leak.

swollen & self-loathing

sorry for the long absence. What can I say? I am a crappy blogger. And also, my internet connection was a little spotty. And I'm feeling sorry for myself. So it's a trifecta of discontent here at Chez Platypus.

Where should I start...I had my u/s last monday and the babies are pretty freakin' big. Baby B (on the right who likes to kick me in the liver) was a little over 4lb . Baby A (on the left who head butts me in the bladder) was harder to get a read on. She was coming up 3lb 9oz. Now, that's not such an accurate measurement as it was almost impossible to get a head circumference. Why is that? Well, perhaps it is because her head is jammed as close to my cervix as is possible. With baby B trying to head butt her out of the way. So if I had to make a guess, I'd say they are both around the 4lb mark.

That gives me 8lbs of baby ramming their little baby skulls into me in some weird race to be first. this does not bode well for my future...

It also doesn't bode well for me feet. sadly my feet are worse. "no", you say, "it cannot be?! They have already defied the logical limits of foot swelling". Well, they hadn't and now they are worse. If I didn't tell you they were feet and they weren't positioned at the ends of my tree stump like legs, you would be hard pressed to identify that anatomical part.

So U/S Monday night and by Tuesday morning I was begging to be seen in the office again to show my feet and plead my case for foot amputation. I had gained 14 lbs since my visit the week before. Let's see that figure again. 14lbs. That's a lot of water folks. But fear not, my OB had some wonderful advice:

Stay off them.

Like I'm here running on the treadmill and doing jumping jacks.

So now I have been confined mostly to bed. Which gets me to the self-loathing portion of today's post. WHY ME??? I'm not good at laying around doing nothing. And my bedroom is small and boring. I have a TV, but TV is boring I can't really watch more than an hour at a time when I'm not all cranky and swollen and being licked by the cat because he knows I don't feel well, but doesn't understand that licking my feet does not make them feel better. Even the internet is boring. I've read every magazine, took parenting and breast-feeding books out of the library and watched almost every movie I can stand.

I guess the good news is that my blood pressure and everything else is normal. I had an NST yesterday. That's a fun little test. I lay down in a recliner and they strap two heart rate monitors for the babies and a third to measure contractions. I am old hat at this. This is what we do on our trial runs to the hospital. But now there's an extra component. I have to push a button every time someone moves. Do you have any idea how many times I pushed the damn button in 45 minutes? I asked the nurse if I could perhaps push the button when I DON'T feel movement. She thinks I'm a loon. They will definitely never hire me to do their genetic counseling.

In an effort to gear up in case the little doll-babies decide to show up early, H spent the whole weekend working like a maniac to set stuff up. He is a saint, seriously. Here's what he accomplised in two days:

• went to babies r us WITH MY MOM and finished off the necessities from the registry
• went car shopping WITH MY MOM
• mowed the lawn and weed whacked the forest growing along the fence in the driveway
• did two loads of baby clothes and two loads of our laundry
• put all of these clothes away
• washed and hung two more loads of baby blankets and our quilt on the line because I didn't want them to go through the drier
• organized baby gear and put it away in either our bedroom, the nursery or the basement, frequently involving 2 flights of stairs with large plastic toys, mattresses etc.
• cooked all of our meals
• ate them in bed with me so I wouldn't be lonely
• did one million loads of dishes
• went to the grocery store and ran other errands including renting me extra movies to supplement my netflix
• and woke up with me every time I started crying that my feet hurt. he would get up, get me cold washcloths to put on them and then put lotion on my poor stretched skin to keep it from stinging and burning. seriously any man who would touch those feet is a prince. or mentally insane. jury's out on that one.

I think that by yesterday he was so happy it was Monday just to get away from me and my whining and list making. Last night he cajoled the financial planner in his office into coming up to the house (from manhattan where this guy lives and works) so that we could talk about life insurance for the two of us and get started on making up wills to have in place before the babies come.

H is awesome.

That's pretty much the news that's fit to print. If anyone wants to see me, they can pull a chair up in the bedroom and marvel at my girth. Otherwise, I'll be here. Gestating. and swelling. At least I have a/c. and my very own H.

Because, H is awesome.

oh, and today he's designing the thank you cards for the shower. so I can write them tomorrow and people will stop complaining about what an ungrateful wretch I am.

Yes, H is totally awesome

Foot Update 2007

Thanks for the foot pics ladies :) I am pretty sure I've got you both beat though. I am planning on begging the OB for an intervention this week as I'm only 33 weeks and I don't think I'll make it another month or so if I can't get some of the swelling down. I'll keep you posted.

Today I am at my mom's and headed over to a friend's baby shower. I just spent the last half hour or so sitting in her recliner with icepacks on my ankles and now I am slugging back a quart or so of water. It's not pretty.

On an unrelated and somewhat normal note, I went to the movies at the actual movie theater last night. I had to sit in the handicap aisle so I could stretch my feet out, but I made it through the end of the movie and even through most of dinner afterwards. We went to see Knocked Up. Now, I'm sure it was funnier given my current status, but I highly recommend it for a good laugh.

Although, I'm pretty sure all that sitting in the theater and restaurant are directly related to the 3am crying that my feet induced. Poor H. He may never sleep again.

Yes, boys and girls, those are my actual feet. I know you are jealous and wish that you too could have Miss Piggy feet. Actually, even my toes are swollen. They look a lot like vienna sausages.

The funny thing about it is that they don't hurt until I try to stand on them. Today I can't do much. I managed to watch two movies and balance my checkbook. Oh and eat. I can't stop eating... I can only hope it's going all to the babies.

I'm feeling kind of guilty about all my complaining. I sort of wish I was enjoying this more. I mean, I'm actually really excited about having the twins and meeting them and seeing if their personalities match up with how they are now. I can tell that one is way more active than the other and they like different books and songs. I really wish I could get a decent video of my belly jumping around, but it seems like whenever I call someone's attention to it, they stop. That also figures.

Thanks to everyone for the fear inducing comments that my feet will get larger and the itching isn't going away. Yeah, thanks a lot... I guess I'm just starting to get nervous about feeding and changing and cleaning up after two babies at once. Especially if my feet are enormous and if I have to have a c-section. And we all know how I deal with lack of sleep. It's not going to be pretty.

But how bad could it be? I mean, I took orgo, biochem and genetics with hideous fly-lab in the same semester. That was truly horrific. Yes, I know I had a nervous breakdown, but I'm not entirely sure that was from the workload. It may have been from the drinking. Which may have been caused by the workload. Or it may have been caused by my tragic love life... I'm going to go with blaming it on a certain boy and the cheapness of beer in Ithaca. right? that sounds right to me...

Now I am off to request some books from the library. I've gotten some suggestions about books for breastfeeding and just generally dealing with two babies at once. Hopefully I can check them out for free first, plus the library is only around the corner so I can walk there.

that is if I can find shoes to fit on my feet. I have retired my flip flops to petey. Why fight the inevitable?

Dromedary V. Pachyderm

Apparently, Petey wears flip flops. this is the only explanation I can come up with for the mysterious disappearance of one of my flip flops. the other he has dragged under the crib where I cannot possibly reach it. He truly enjoys sharpening his little claws on the soft, oh so comfy, and totally non-enviro-friendly, foam rubber that constitutes my most favorite and coveted reef flippys that jen the riddler and I bought in our carefree days when we could just up and fly to Miami for a long weekend, because, what the hell, we had extra vacation time... Aaaah the good ol' days...

Sunday we had a lovely baby shower. here's a shot of me (and twins) with their gifts. They had a rockin' good time and ate three pieces of icecream cake.

Photo of icecream cake not included as I ate it all

we had a doctor's appt yesterday where I pleaded again for mercy for my poor swollen self. Apparently the swelling is now made it's way from my piggy toes to my hands. I wake up in the morning and cannot even make a fist with which to punch H for doing this to me in the first place. So unfair!

The doc told me to suck it up. well, she was kinder than that, but it was the gist. I also asked her (Ed. note: Reader discretion advised. you are about to find out way more than you ever wanted to know about my nether parts. Or maybe you did want to know. According to tuckiliscious there's an internet market for everything) what's the deal with the itching. I am itching. all night long. and we aren't talking belly scratching here people (although that itches too). Apparently I'm retaining water there too which is causing some very delicate skin to stretch. Great. Any day now my transformation to the elephant woman will be complete.

Now, I did not just post that to gross you out. (That was the purpose of the butt cyst post... i'm working on pics for you kathryn, but do you have any idea how hard it is to photograph your own ass?) I'm actually curious to see if anyone has either had this problem or heard an urban legend about the woman who had to move to the sewers for the remainder of her pregnancy, lest her husband kill her for keeping him up all night with the scratching and swearing.

anyone? anyone? bueller?

right, so I'm also taking commentary on cloth diapers. I got my order from the diaper service and now I am just waiting for the twinlets to arrive and start pooping in them. I ordered premie sized from the service, but they said I can call and switch them out for newborn size should the little monsters decide to hang out until they weigh more than 6lbs a piece. Any advice on cloth diapering twinfants?

oh, and if anyone feels the need to comment on my long run on sentences, I say, Fie! to you. You try lugging around two bowling ball sized babies and not sleeping while a cat plays hide the twistie tie in the blankets and see how fan-fucking-tastic your grammar is.

Careful Observation

The time stamp on this post is 5:43am. I've been up for a little over an hour. I really don't do either side of 5am all that well, but I'm getting tired of watching the sun rise.

Here's the disclaimer on this post. It'll most likely be graphic and somewhat grouchy. it's 5am and I'm tired of "watching" things.

#1. Watching my feet and ankles swell and deflate. Tired of that. Also tired of none of my shoes fitting and feeling a bit cliched as I shuffle, (not walk... can't actually walk) barefoot, around my house with what feels like water filled socks on.

#2. Watching the clock to count my contractions and try to discern what is an actual contraction vs. baby movement vs. just plain old uterine grouchiness. Basically the entire area of my torso is a battlefield right now.

I feel this bizarre need to quantify both of these rather irritating phenomenon. Perhaps it's a way of distancing myself from the atrocity of becoming a fluid filled sack of muscle spasms. I had a very similar (and equally disturbing to onlookers) reaction to my two most painful quasi-surgical experiences. And since it's still not 6am, I am going to subject you to both of them.

#1. After a lovely church led outing to a local "action" filled amusement "park", I sustained 2nd and 3rd degree abrasion burns to my right leg, left arm and face as well as two torn ligaments in my right ankle. I was 13. They poured liquid bandaid on the burns without cleaning them and sent me home with the advice of "take a bath" when I got there. The next morning, my mother took me to the doctor where they poured hydrogen peroxide on the wounds and used a surgical scrub brush to clear out the gravel and debris. I watched the whole thing and repeatedly pointed out spots that they had missed and should go back over with bubbly foamy peroxide and a plastic scrub brush. The nurses were a little afraid of me.

#2. In college I drove the world's coolest and possibly filthiest Ford Thunderbird, affectionately known as BOB, the luxury vehicle (as he had power window AND door locks). The excessive amount of driving that I did in this car I'm sure led to a very large and very grotesque Pilonidal Cyst. Check that link out. Isn't that disgusting? By the time I got around to having it checked out (the first time) it was roughly the size of a grapefruit. Again in the doctor's office, I had that bad boy lanced while I bit on a washcloth. No, I'm not kidding and no, this did not take place in the old west. They packed the wound with gauze and sent me home to soak in an epsom salt bath and remove the packing. My mom came in the bathroom with me to help get the gauze out of my ass. She was trying to do it slowly so that it would hurt less. I grabbed the side of the tub with one hand and the gauze strip with the other. That bathtub still has fingerprints in the porcelain.

When it happened again a few months later, I went to the emergency room, laid down on a gurney and had an intern stick a needle roughly the gauge of a bendy straw into the same spot to drain off more fluid. This time I had no washcloth. I do, however, have a lovely scar along the base of my spine. In case I'm every horribly disfigured in an accident, but my ass survives the fire.

What's the point? Other than grossing everyone out? I guess it's that I'm not that big a baby. But this shit is killing me. I can't walk. I can't sleep. I can't sit comfortably. I can't even lay down. My feet constantly swell and deflate, but never to the size or shape of actual feet. Plus I have this truly fantastic, low lying pressure as if someone were repeatedly head-butting my cervix. Which kicks off the charming cascade of irregular contractions, trip to hospital, shot of terbutaline, shakes and heart palps, ending nicely in coma.

So if you don't hear from me for a day or two, that's where I am. Either in the hospital or in a coma. don't worry, I already woke up H and asked him to work from home today. He responded by asking me if he needed to put pants on now and then rolled over and turned off the alarm.

Happy Mother's Day

You know what's awesome? Going to the store on Mother's Day with a big giant belly and even though it's Sunday morning and the place is mobbed. Everyone smiles at you and jumps to get out of your way.

You know what's less awesome? Spending 4 hours in the triage unit at Vassar on a lovely Saturday afternoon because your uterus is feeling irritable and doesn't care that you have things to return at kohls or that your lawn looks like the australian outback.

Don't worry, everyone is fine. The irritable uterus got a smack down of terbutaline and H mowed the lawn while I passed out from said smack down. but at least I finally got some sleep.

The funny part is that I may or may not have had a follow up appt with the OB today, but I was so fogged from the drugs when she discharged me that I can't remember. Oh, well. I feel ok, so I'm not going. Besides I have my regular appt on Thursday after my monthly u/s.

So, get excited for Friday people. I have an u/s on thursday and a new computer and scanner in my very own house so H doesn't have to be in charge of uploading photos. Won't he be thrilled :)

I have only one clear picture from last month's scan of baby A, but here she is:

You can check back on Friday for hopefully two good 29 week shots. If you are lucky and I am not hideous, I will perhaps take my own picture in the bathroom mirror to post. However, any comments on the clutter situation in my bathroom will lead to your immediate ejection from the comment board. for life.

on the Petey Parker, Spider Cat, front: The petester is still eating fur like there's no tomorrow and H and I have decided to limit his food to only the hypo-allergenic dry food from the vet. This is not winning us any friends in the feline world.

"Please leave me to wallow in my hatred of you"

My Fancy New Ankle Bracelet

In case you've all been wondering where I've been, I'll fill you in. I've been here. At home. I've been ordered to D/C working. That's what my doctor's note says. In reality, I'm under house arrest.

Here's the back story:

Tuesday morning I got out of bed and my left ankle was a little stiff and swollen. No biggie, I thought, I must've just slept on it funny. Actually I did sleep in sort of a weird tangled up position Monday night, but I was just happy I slept. So I took a shower and went to work.

Throughout the day on Tuesday, my crazy ankle continued to swell. Then I ran out of ankle so my foot started to swell. and my calf. Pretty much everything up to and including my knee. But only on the left side. Now, come on, who only swells up on one side of their body at a time? It absurd.

I sat all day with my feet up on an upside-down trash can (I know, can you stand the glamour?) but it continued to get worse. I finally called my OB around 12:30 and left a message that I had pretty ugly edema of just my left leg. At 3:30 they called me back and told me to come in. Except they close at 4:30. And I was in the Bronx with my feet up on a trash can. I made an appt for the next morning first thing.

Wednesday morning I woke up and my left leg was less swollen, but still stiff and I could barely get my foot into the most wide and comfy dansko clogs. I limped down the block with H and went to see the OB. I felt pretty stupid since my leg was no where near as hideous as it had been the day previous, but I went anyway. Mostly because my mom and H were threatening me.

While I sat on the exam table waiting for the doctor to come in and laugh at me, my oh, so cooperative lymphatic system decided to re-inflate my left leg. The doc came in, looked at my legs and told me I needed to come up with a "plan" for the rest of the pregnancy. Then H told him about my wierd stabby hot-poker chest pains. So I got an U/S for gall stones (which I don't have thankfully) and a script to "D/C working". I started to ask if that was really neccessary and the doctor actually told me I was being ridiculous. His actual words where "You cannot work over an hour away and be pregnant with twins. It's ridiculous"

So here I am, not being ridiculous, but trying to find things to do that can be accomplished while I keep my feet elevated for a majority of the day. To tell the truth, I'm pretty exhausted as it is, so the rest is somewhat welcome. Petey however, feels differently. He keeps looking at me like, "when the hell are you going to get out of my house?" He is a fan of me opening the front windows for him to glare at people on the street. Maybe we'll come to an understanding...

Anyway, so that's the news that fit to print. I am here. In my house. With my feet elevated. My big outing for today was to the pet store for Petey food and next door to the bagel shop for...furniture, duh, bagels. I got to drive the '94 Shadow that's filled with spiders and the driver's side door doesn't stay open. Wasn't that a pretty pictured. Now I'm back in the recliner trying to come up with a daily schedule so that I don't lose my mind as I slowly become one with the sofa. I just realized I'm wearing a beige sweater that blends nicely with the upholstery.

HELP!!!

Extra Saturday

I would like to formally request an extra Saturday. I feel that I am not granted enough time with my current allotment of one Saturday per week.

This weekend we were incredibly productive. We went to my co-workers house and picked up a whole slew of baby stuff, most notably a port-a-crib, a brand new full size crib mattress, another pack n play, a ton of linens and some toys and a rocking chair (that of course wouldn't fit in my car with all the other stuff.

Then we hit Babies R Us. You may or may not have been aware of this, but there is, in fact, a genuine portal to hell located right next to the breast feeding accessories. This is must be where all of Satan's minions are filling the store from. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I have never seen so many freakin' people shuffling aimlessly through crap they don't need. We had to wait over an hour to get a scanner to start the registry. In the meantime, we walked, no, shuffled, the same route as everyone else in yonkers through the labyrinth of plastic crap. Just as we were done compiling our list of things to put on said registry, they called our names to come back to get a gun. So we walked the whole damn store again, scanning crappola.

After that, we unloaded (ha, I unloaded nothing. I sat upstairs with Petey and we watched H unload) all the stuff out of the car and tried to rearrange the furniture so there would be a path through the room.

Sunday involved way too much laundry and reorganizing the basement in order to empty the upstairs closet. Never got to the closet.

This is why I need an extra day.

Also, apparently babies do not like walking around Babies R US / Hell's Gate as I was up every hour from 2 -6 am on Sunday. Apparently, someone decided to stab me with a hot poker in the ribs. I am assuming it is a hot poker as it is someone who is womb-bound and I can't actually see what they are torturing me with. Where would they get a hot poker? I can only assume was at aforementioned aperture to the underworld. H imagines it to be some sort of bizzarro baby inquisition, complete with Spanish accents.

Rib Stabbing is the new baby past time. It has already replaced Sibling Wrestling as a favorite among the 18-22 week demographic. Rock on!

In an effort to combat the anti-sleeping hex that has been sent my way, I finally broke down and bought one of those absurd body pillows. That's the only thing that allowed me to sleep from 6am to about 9 on Sunday and most of last night. I managed to wad the pillow up enough to force myself semi-upright in bed. This makes rib stabbing much more arduous (but not impossible as I am sitting at my desk in a very upright position and they are managing quite well). It also annoys the crap out of Petey as he is rapidly running out of room in the bed.

According to H, Petey spent a portion of the evening giving me and body pillow dirty looks and snorting in our direction. So, yeah, he's going to handle the babies really well. Can't wait for that.

Too Many Feet...

{parental warning: there are some very very bad words in this post. If you are not accustomed to my propensity for profanity, you may want to skip it. Or at least sit down with a nice cup of tea and your church pastor on speed dial}

Too many feet and hands and heads and butts....

H and I trekked to the end of the block last night and had a level II U/S last night. Everything looked good. We saw 8 chambers in 2 hearts, 6 vessels in 2 umbilical cords, 4 little bean shaped kidneys, 2 little round stomachs, 2 bladders filing and emptying, 20 fingers and 20 toes. But definitely ZERO penises (penii? what's the plural here?)

In essence, everything looked great. It took forever since they decided to wiggle all over the place and wriggle themselves on top of each other. They are basically laying in a big #7 with everyone's feet over on my right side. This might explain the excruciating back pain that's wrapping around that side. On the other hand, that could be from my cantaloupe sized boobs. You think I'm exaggerating? We're on our way to honeydew... I'm sure we'll surpass watermelon by August.

That sounds like a blast right? I mean, every freakin' pregnancy book, magazine, website etc. are all extolling the virtues of bigger boobs. Fuck you people. really. Fuck all you all skinny little boobed people. go to hell. i hate you. and your little boobs. Sorry to anyone's mom who may now be having a seizure due to my lack of restraint on dropping F-bombs, but I'm serious here. This is some seriously painful shit. I know they don't have to be this big.

I am currently awaiting my delivery from Lane Bryant. Mille grazie to F.fanny in advance for her tip that they have a maternity section where us plus-sized pariahs can go to find enough stretchy cloth to cover our monstrous mammaries. They tell me the wonder slings should arrive on Monday so perhaps by Tuesday I will be floating on a cloud of supportive wire-free bliss. I'm not getting my hopes up too high.

I know you all think I am exaggerating just a tad. Not that I have ever been known to hyperbolize for entertainment or levity.... But I actually had to spend Wednesday in bed. In. The. Bed. I could not go to work and sit in my desk chair. As a matter of fact, I had a hard time sitting on my own toilet. It was absurd. And it brings me to my next rant:

Why when I call in sick does it have to involve a separate phone calls to everyone I work with. What the hell? Don't these people work together. I mean, for chrissake, you all have offices within shouting distance. Someone yell out "Jeanne's not coming, her boobs are too big to allow her to stand upright!" So I called the secretary and the other counselor and got a gripey message from the doc saying that if I was going to call out, could I please call him at home. it's only fair that he, as the director of the program, should know who's going to be in and out.

{get ready, here's the last bomb of the day, I promise}

SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS. ALL THE WAY. WHEN YOU THINK YOU ARE DONE, YOU AREN'T. JUST KEEP ON SHOVIN'!

really, don't these people know not to taunt a pregnant lady? Especially one who likes movies where people pummel each other to death and is prone to day-dreams involving torture. You're signing your own painful death warrant.

Now isn't everyone glad the twins are girls? Could you just imagine boys with H's size, my freakish muscle structure and that temperament? Yeah, I know, it would totally rock!

p.s. H thinks they look "sweet" on the ultrasound. I think this is wishful thinking :)

ZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

How on earth could one person be this tired? I am waiting for my last patient of the day to finish watching the very informative amnio video in a language she probably doesn't understand and I am seriously concerned about keeping my eyes open through the entire session. I tried to grab a few Zzz's on my exam table about a half hour ago, but no one really liked that plan as my phone would not stop ringing. I'm sure you can all get a nice visual of me hauling myself up onto the exam table and trying to flop around gently so as to not fall off the table or make too much noise. Yeah, that's always priceless.

It is possible that my extreme fatigue is due to food coma being as how I ate 2 pieces of eggplant rollatini and green beans, then put on my coat and shuffled across the street to the deli to get a turkey and cheese on a roll and washed that down with a yogurt smoothie and a few (thousand) chocolate covered pretzels. But I was starving!

Now my poor little belly is feeling like an over inflated beach ball and all I can do is sit here and hope I don't actually explode. I fear that would be messy.

Sorry for the lack of posting for the past day and a half. Thursday is my day off and if I want to write anything I have to go upstairs and fight withthe behemoth desktop or use the mac with the partially busted screen. Neither seemed viable.

Today H and I bagged work based on flooding and general malaise. He's getting a cold and well, I couldn't roll myself out of bed. Petey is sitting on my lap trying to type, grab the pen sitting next to the laptop and eat soy yogurt while alternately yawning and putting his paw on my face to make me stop typing and start petting. As I have not cooperated in any of his evil cat plans, he's leaving. But not before using his back claws to leave the 'Mark of Petey' in my thigh.

By the way, soy yogurt is pretty foul and I should let the cat eat it. it would serve him right. Although he'd probably like it, he eats niblets made of fish parts and lick his own ass.

Sorry for the boring post. Even Petey left. I really don't have anyting exciting to say, except that both my skin and pee smell like maple syrup. H's suggestion: Start peeing on pancakes.

A Rush of Blood to the Head

Increased blood volume and flow is one of those things you read about and think, "Hmm, that's kind of neat" until you are sitting at your desk one day with your feet up on your paper shredder to control the size of your ankles and your earlobes start throbbing.

It is literally making my earrings move. visibly. I just checked in the mirror.

Too Many Boobies?

Is there such a thing? Actually, there may be. When you have to derail your Sunday afternoon plans to play legend of Zelda in search of a bra that doesn't make you cry (complete with magic flute... it was an interesting day), then, yes, you have boob issues.

(note: I warned you people this wasn't going to be pretty. and yes, I am compiling your most burning twin pregnancy questions into a post that Susan can use to quiz herself with, but these things take time)

Back to the task at hand: holding up the world's most enormous and currently useless anatomical structures.

We all know that I was never lacking in the booby department, but things have gotten out of hand. I mean, it's almost funny when the girl in the maternity store (maternity store ffs!) tells you that if you want a bigger size, you will have to order it online. I mean, it is funny. Until you get home and take a good look at the red raw half circles created by your underwire pushing on your belly and vice versa.

Does anyone have any suggestions? Seriously. Bueller?

crickets .

Yeah, that's what I thought.

On a less horrific note, it appears that the babies like H better than me. surprise surprise. But whenever he puts a hand on the belly they all jump around. for me, again with the crickets. sigh

as an almost post script, my esteemed colleague's suggestion for evil-bra-of-death-medieval-torture-device? Take it off. Commence laughing.