Party Killer

Yep, that's me.  Yesterday I was grumpy and snappy on the phone with my mother until she retreated to "victim mode" and told me she'd just talk to me later.  In my defense, I was in the dressing room of a popular maternity chain store reluctantly getting fitted for a nursing bra when she called.  It was my third trip into the store--the previous two times I had left because the sales girls were all "OMG, when are you due?!!!  What are you having?!!  Are you soooo excited?!"  And I can't handle that shit.  Yesterday, on the third try, the sales lady had a nice motherly tone.  I found her tolerable and acquiesced to trying on some of the awful nursing bras that they charge way too much for.  Anyway, my mother called just after the sales lady had pinched a wad of the side-boob muffin top that was squishing out the top of my bra and gently suggested a different cup size.  Also, she kept saying she had each particular bra "in a nude tone as well."  As though it was exciting or something.  I'm telling you, not one of those bras had sequins.  I would've liked some sequins.  Just saying.  I determinedly chose two of the least horrendous ones I could find and got the hell out of there. 

Poor Roo, must be so sick of hanging out with me constantly in the "halfway house" by now.  I'm trying to be fun, but seriously....do I seem fun to anyone right now (don't ask my mother)?  Today I decided the timing was perfect to introduce my daughter to the wonder that is Chuck E Cheese's.  Neither she or I had ever been.  We got there, ate our food, and were industriously shoving tokens into games.  She was freaking out about the entire atmosphere, just running around being 5.  All of a sudden, I started getting these really painful cramping sensations.  The contractions that are my normal are merely annoying, they aren't painful in the slightest.  So...I started to panic a bit and yanked her out of there without the usual 5-minute departure warning that a 5 year old needs.  She was devastated and cried the whole way back to the house. Not the bratty, tantrumy cry.  The sad, heartbroken cry.  I felt like an asshole.  She had been so excited to go and was so happy to be running around playing. 

I decided to head back to the house rather than go straight to the hospital.  Because the house is a mere two blocks from the hospital, I felt comfortable going home to further assess before rushing into L&D.  Plus, the fetus was kicking away cheerfully.  As usual, the little guy has been oblivious to the chaos.  As I suspected, laying on my left side and sipping a bit of water made the pains disappear.  I promised Roo we would try again tomorrow. 

20 days to go...