Sex, Diagrams, And A Cheesecake

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In case you didn't pick up on this from my last post, I am very, very, extremely ready to have this baby. Even more now, since I dislocated my hip (stupid genetic disorder) not long after hitting "publish" on the last post, and it's really difficult to heal a hip with all this extra baby weight pressing on it.

Awesomeness.

And my poor husband, well let's just say that the man should get some kind of medal, or nomination for sainthood, because I think that the wife he married and loves, has recently been replaced by a ball of weeping, eating, complaining, hormones.

I'm the green, and my saint of a husband is the gray, texting from his place of work.

 (Frank and George are our ferrets)

I admit it. I'm no fun to be around these days and I'm not super proud of it, and I'm going to try to reflect on it and change my attitude, but this blog has always been about honesty and so there it is.

Nine month pregnant women are sometimes people that you don't want to be around.

Especially if that person is me.

And before I go any further, I feel like I need to say that I am grateful for this pregnancy, because it is bringing forth my son. I know that many women struggle with infertility, and I know that I am utterly blessed to being going through this, but I also can't lie and say that every second is enjoyable. It's been a tough pregnancy, with a lot of complications, and I can't deny that it's taking it's toll on me.

But anyway, that's not what this post is about. This post, is about Valentine's Day, which for those of you reading from outside the U.S., is basically a holiday where you tell people that you love them.

I typically, am someone who goes all out for Valentine's Day. First, because I love my husband, and secondly, because I also like... doing grown up stuff.

#NoShame

But did I mention that I am like SUPER pregnant this year?

Two years ago, I got him this:

Which seemed like an awesome idea at the time, until I realized that I may have set the bar a bit high.

Because this year, started out more like this:

(Enter me messaging Frisbee Boy's Mom)

So you see where this was going.

I felt like the man deserved repayment for his sainthood, and yet at the same time... I'm still nine months pregnant and my inner bitch has drowned out my sexy side in hormones, cookies, and stretch mark prevention cream.

#TrueStory

So, I ended up going to the store and asking if they had any sexy coupons that I could give my husband, that had redeemable dates that started in April.

They did not.

Meanwhile, I wake up on Valentine's Day to this:

.... which was a note by my pillow.

And this:

.... which if you can't tell, is a cheesecake.

The man left his pregnant wife, a breakfast cheesecake.

#NailedIt

That was followed by a gift and a card that on the back, said it cost $6.99...

WHO SPENDS THAT MUCH ON A CARD!?

If you get a gift from me, you're lucky if I spent that much on the wrapping paper, because most of my gifts are gifted in Christmas holiday bags, in June.

Clearly I had to step up my game a bit, especially since I was already going out of my way to make the day nice for the kids.

I figured that if I could bake them cupcakes, I couldn't really use the excuse that I had no energy left over for The Guy.

So, it was time to step up.

And I did my best, even if I had to Google a few diagrams, and at one point leave the room because I was laughing so hard that I needed to pee, and then come back into the room and try to look sexy again...

But thankfully, neither of us died on Valentine's Day, even though I really was worried that I might roll over and kill him or something.

Can you imagine the blog that would have been?

((Shudder))

Please see also: send all your tips, advice, and ideas on how to encourage this baby to GET OUT.