Mike: If you have this baby on my birthday, I will just shit.
Mike is hoping that I give birth tomorrow which means I have a lot to do today including having wild, sweaty jungle sex (which is difficult with mama-san in the vicinity, but that’s why there’s a Target down the road!), eating a small country’s worth of garlic pizza and of course, major truck-surfing and off-roading action.
And if I don’t give birth tomorrow, I’ll be okay. I slipped into a small puddle of woe-is-me last week when I thought that I would never give birth and I would just have succumb to the polar bear blubber that has blanketed my body. Even though I haven’t gained any weight in my last four appointments, I’m still somewhere between fat and that 1,200 pound guy in Mexico who can’t shut his legs. When I signed the papers to induce my labor, I thought, “Wow, there’s an end to this?”