"Well, it's time to get your big-girl panties on..."

... a statement my Mother made, time and again, as I would throw pity-parties in my honor. Today, I'm going to beat her to the punch and and re-read that title after I finish with this post. I'm going to claim in advance, this one is as whiny as a Mom-blog can get. Hey, I'm nine months pregnant, I think I'm allowed at least one last pity-party. Grab a cup of joe and feel free to join in....

I've suffered greatly this time with pregnancy induced insomnia. True, my children are to blame for parts of this, (you can read about that here.) but, even after I deal with their mid-night shenanigans, I still find it extremely difficult to get back to sleep. Sometimes for hours. I've seen more episodes of Full House, Cosby Show and Roseanne than I ever did when the shows were actually on air in their hay-day. I've found myself watching infomercials that actually look appealing-- at 3am. I've had to quit flipping channels between the hours of 1-5 because I nearly bought a set of Sham-wow towels, a scrap-booking kit and another Jack Lalaine juicer. I don't scrap book, and we did actually own one of those fancy-shmancy juicers once upon a time. WAY too much work to clean, so we ditched it. I would so much rather pour a glass of Tropicana than clean that thing out daily.

All of these sleepless nights have caused me to live in a constant state of deliriousness, kinda like 11 year old girls at a slumber party who can't quit giggling over the prank they pulled on the one, sweet girl, who fell asleep before midnight, like a good girl should.

I'm still waiting for "nesting" to kick in. Though, I don't think it's going to. Folding eight loads of laundry, vacuuming out a nasty car, and washing all the dog's blankets that have been smelling up our back porch for the last two weeks does not count as nesting. That's called survival in this house. Regular routine. I need that internal drive, that voice that says, "All closets must be re-organized... oh, and don't forget the kitchen cabinets too, because your new baby must NOT come home to an un-organized house!" to speak up and push me over the edge to complete such tasks. Maybe that internal voice is trying to speak to me, but it's being drowned out by all the external ones screaming and squealing all day, and most of the night, "Momma!! Did you wash my school t-shirt? Today is wear your blue school shirt day and mine's not in my drawer!.... Momma, where are my tennis shoes? .... Hey, Babe, do you know where my brown belt is?....."
What's sad is, I do know where Bert's brown belt is. But why, why do I know that? It's not even MY belt. And why do I know that Thunder's tennis shoes were left in the garage? But, why didn't I know that Her Highness needed her blue shirt to wear for school pride day?? Oh, me. I guess there's really no need to nest too very much. Wouldn't want our new baby thinking he was actually born into a calm, clean environment.

Changing lanes here.... drastically.... Trick-or-treating-- If you're too old and too cool to wear a costume, then you're too old and too cool to collect candy from my neighbors. We passed several junior high aged kids, who looked like they were on dates, holding hands and making googly eyes, only letting go in time to ring the next doorbell. I mean seriously, when did trick-or-treating become date night for the big kids?? If we had been home to pass out candy, I would have refused to feed their raging hormones. No costume= No candy.

Next--- The whole Baby Einstein recall... are you kidding me?? Did anyone REALLY buy those dvds because they thought it would make their child smarter?? If you did, you must have seen an infomercial at 3am and bought them in bulk. Otherwise, you would have been thinking clear enough to realize, your kid's brains came from your gene pool. If you tend to be a shallow-end swimmer in that pool, that's not Disney's fault. Come on people. And the whole, "It may cause ADHD..." Ummm, just how many hours have you left your child in front of the tv anyway?? I don't think a 30 minute video here and there is going to rot any one's brain. But, if you were the one leaving your baby parked in their bouncy seat for hours at a time, then I think that's your fault. Get outside and play already. What is this world coming to? Don't be afraid to take responsibility folks. I'll be honest, the thought has crossed my own (ADD) mind to send them all back for the refund myself, cause we got a ton of them, but it had nothing to do with those reasons. My kids just don't watch them anymore. And like baby #5 is ever going to have the tv to himself long enough to watch one of those. When you combine survival of the fittest with who ever's loudest wins-- Power Rangers is usually the movie of the day. Talk about causing ADD, when will the Power Rangers do a recall for wasting boys' brain cells?

One more complaint-- Do grocery stores not have a policy against their employees randomly picking up two-year olds and trying to move them from the back of the cart to the front? True story: Yesterday while checking out at Kroger, the girl bagging my groceries asked Hail to get out of the back part, so she could put the rest of the groceries back in. Even though there was plenty of room underneath the cart, and in the front part for her to use. Hail confidently responded, "No, I not movin'." So, she then lifts MY two year old from the cart and tried to move him to the front. Hail went ballistic, and immediately began swatting and kicking at her. Even after I snatched him away and tried to comfort him, he continued to scream through his sobs, "She gonna git me! She gonna GIT ME!!! She IS!!!" I felt so bad for him, and mad at her. Strangers beware: DON'T TOUCH RANDOM CHILDREN!!! And NEVER try and pick them up without PERMISSION!!! I appreciated the nice, older lady who smiled sympathetically at me as we were walking out the door. I assumed she didn't know what was going on and just mouthed to her, "sorry." as I shrugged, with Hail's head still buried in my shoulder, screaming. She laughed and said, "Honey, don't feel bad! I don't want any strangers picking me up either!" I guess she did see the insanity displayed at register 7.

Don't say I didn't warn you... I woke up fussy. And, as I was running (for the first time in months) to put the garbage out by the road (since Bert forgot before leaving the house) and the giant truck was just about to pass, I felt something snap. And by snap, I mean literally, some muscle or something down there snapped. Maybe it will be a labor inducer and help to bring this baby on out. Perhaps then my attitude would change. At least it would cause me to write a sweet post and keep you all from thinking about how I've become a total fussy-britches lately.

Don't worry, Momma. I'm heading right now to put on my big girl panties.