I've decided it's time to blog; if nothing else, to satisfy the needs of my ever-growing Chinese audience. Any other bloggers out there experiencing a surge in Chinese spam? WTF? I never write about anything having to do with China, Chinese food, Chinese people or even Asia in general. Of course, now that I bring this up, my Chinese audience will revolt, my blog will become even more of an outcast among blogs and I'll find myself with absolutely zero commenters, my mom not included. So maybe I should embrace all things Chinese. Here we go: I, SuperJanel, hereby declare that I. LOVE. CHINA. Bring on the Chinese bots and spam and egg drop soup... it means someone or something is paying attention.
So... what's new in your world?
It's raining here. Again. It's been raining all morning and it's got the dog all sorts of discombobulated; he won't step out from under the cover of the porch to pee and he's rather pissy about it. (Sorry, Pootie, I don't control the weather.) I took him outside earlier with the umbrella and the galoshes and the whole garb only to stand in the yard while he stood in the garage, looking at me like I'm the one with issues.
I'm still pregnant, despite my best efforts to evict this child from my womb. Actually, that's not true. I have not yet issued an eviction notice. But this baby has been playing mind games with me about when he'd like to make his appearance. Thursdays, so far, have been his favorite day to pull the "let's-cause-contractions-and-other-annoying-labor-like-symptoms-so-Mom-and-Dad-will-disrupt-everyone-else's-business-and-drive-to-the-hospital-just-to-be-told-that-they're-more-likely-to-win-the-lottery-on-that-given-day-than-have-a-baby" stunt. This baby is so grounded whenever he arrives. You're in a heap of trouble, mister Z. You hear me? As of Wednesday, we'll be considered full-term (37 weeks along) and that's when I'm going to sit down and have a serious discussion with my uterus.
We've moved. I think that was going on about the time that I last blogged. Yup, we've moved and we're all unpacked and organized and settled. My OCD wouldn't have it any other way, are you kidding me? Despite the fact that our new town lacks a 24-hour supermarket, I actually kind of like it here. It's quiet. Not a lot of traffic. We live far enough away from everything that in order to get anywhere I get to hear more than one song on the radio. Our neighbors are nice, a little crazy, but it seems to be working for them. All the more reason we fit right in...
We bought a double stroller over the weekend, seeing as Brodie is still pretty attached to being pushed around where ever we go and it's pretty rude to make the new baby walk. I feel like I'm pushing a Smart Car; it's kind of heavy and bulky and even worse since I have zero depth perception so I can't tell if I'm pushing the child in front into inanimate objects in stores or not. I'm relying on Brodie to let me know when I have him pinned to a clothes rack and I'm not sure how that's going to work out. But if he's in front then there's less chance of him poking Baby Z's eyes out and for the moment, that seems to be the extent of the relationship Brodie has with anything his size or smaller. Actually, his victims aren't always smaller than he is - I've had a couple close encounters with my son's fingertips that have resulted in near bruising or the ripping of my eyeball from my socket. He's getting good with nostrils, too, the little shit.
I believe the Bee is experiencing some baby-related stress. I found him sitting straight up in bed last night, panting like he'd just run a marathon (or at least up the steps) and sweating like a mofo. I asked him what he was doing; he replied, "I'm waiting for stuff to happen." Hmmm... That and the bi-hourly text messages ("R U OK?" "R U STILL OK?") are leading me to believe that he's a little worried about the whole second-baby thing. Or maybe it's the being present while I'm giving birth thing. Or being a dad again thing. Or perhaps it's the "your water broke in the parking lot of a Chinese restaurant and then continued to leak all the way across town and into the hospital" thing and he's concerned that at any given moment we're going to find ourselves wading through a pool of amniotic fluid and/or the damage it might do to the leather seats in the car. (Will seat warmers still work if they've been doused with baby water?) I'm far too preoccupied with being a raging hormonal bitch to offer the poor guy much support, other than to tell him that that's why God invented beach towels and dish soap.
But I don't have time today to sit around and wax poetic about the joys of pregnancy and motherhood and marriage and pet-ownership and all that jazz. Much to do, much to do - I mean, it's close to lunch time and I haven't decided what I'm eating yet. So you guys all have a great day (or is it nighttime in China? Sorry, I'm not good with time zones and moon phases and calendars and things of the sort.); I'm going to go stand in front of the refrigerator and wait for inspiration.
