Tomorrow is the big day. Not due day, we aren't ready for that type of shit. Tomorrow I get my ultrasound. I am excited-ish. I don't really like finding out, but if I hear one more kid fight over what the new kid on the block will be I swear I will loose my shit. Seriously, it is a daily argument and to be fully honest it has led to someone kicking someone kicking the bejesus out of their sibling, more than once. I'm becoming less of a fan of sibling blood-letting by the day.
Originally, I wanted to do something fun with it. I made plans for a babysitter after my morning ultrasound so I could get bent over paying for balloons to wrap. Really folks, they lock that damn helium up and charge so much it's like it has properties of cold medicine. We all know what kind of madness that causes. Since I don't want tweakers stalking my blog thinking I have an "in", we can't spell it out for the naive.
Ok, I drove off the road a bit, long story short- I wanted to do something cute. It was in the cards too, until storm "Q" had to show her bitch card. I had no chance at the not knowing bliss. I don't have the chance to just wake up and find out the day will turn into a clusterfuck of the kid's "snow day-high". If you have kids and live anywhere that it could remotely ever happen, you know exactly what I am talking about. It blows. I needed some damn bliss, going to bed not knowing is better than the worry of impending doom. That jerk school ( btw I love the kid's elementary school- just not today) called it off before dinner. And of course half the kids are smart enough to use a remote control so they found out. Damn it, I really hate smart kids.
So tomorrow there will be no "fun" telling, those runts are going to annoy the piss out of me until I break down and just give up and scream out the gender.
On a side note, #4 has changed his name. It is now Max, and he has convinced some of the staff at kindergarten that Max is his second middle name and he has the full right to use it as his name. It is not, it's funny how those saps believe him though. Anyway, last night "Max" had an idea about the gender reveal. He told me I could hide a "p" if it has a penis and a "b" if it has a bagina. I couldn't breathe, set off my gag reflex and literally pissed myself laughing. I tried to convince "Max" it is vagina with a "v", I googled it to try and prove my point. After the images popped up I decided to let him still go on believing it is a bagina, probably until he is at least 34 maybe 86.
Since drinking while pregnant is highly frowned upon, have a drink for me or throw me a prayer. 5 kids locked inside with an impending ice storm and power outages and them riding my nerves for the gender - I am waiting for dad to come home so we can tell them together, and it's tax season so it may be interesting. And the fact that that damn Ana White has me thinking I can take over the world one nail at a time and there are 346 projects running through my head AND wood and building supplies everywhere, not to mention I have a big work project and I woke up at 1 am because I was pissed out of my own bed and have chosen the floor over the puddle, tomorrow will be a LONG day.
Ps- I know that is a run on sentence that could clothespin half the lower 48 if it was a game of red rover, but it kind of really needs to stick together. So ignore it and pretend I'm not adjust writer snuggled on top of the heat vent at 2 am typing a blog post on my phone with my baby bump hanging out the bottom of my shirt. If we are pretending, I am much too glamorous for that... and we will go with the mistaken idea that I edited this too...