As I mentioned in my previous post, poor Jonah does have some emotional issues, but as with all mothers, I’m pretty sure most of it is my fault. In the midst of his drama on Sunday (see The End of The World…Before Breakfast for THAT), I recalled an incident that happened when I was pregnant with his little sister and he was 2 1/2:
I was 8 1/2 months pregnant with my daughter and THOROUGHLY miserable.There comes a point in pregnancy (usually between months 7-9 depending the person & what number pregnancy) where mom is just DONE. Why you ask?
- Aches & Pains. Your ankles, feet, legs are swollen, your back KILLS from lugging yourself and another person around all day, your organs hurt from being smashed and your abdomen hurt from being so stretched .
- Everyone needs to to STOP TOUCHING and talking to your BELLY! HELLO, we are not just a box to talk through to the baby, we are a living, breathing person too.
- Stained Shirts. Thanks to the constant spilling of food and drinks on your stomach.
- I CAN’T forget when the “sweet baby” (see the sarcasm font there) decides to kick, punch or cuddle on your BLADDER! Surprise! Time to change your panties…AGAIN!
SQUIRREL!! OK sorry for that tangent, but seriously I could go on for HOURS on the “wonders of pregnancy” (there’s the sarcasm again), and I probably will in another blog, but back to the story.
You know how when you buy a turkey from a store to cook, and they have the “Done button” (that’s not the proper name I’m sure, but that’s what I call it) that pops out when the turkey is cooked? Well my belly button had popped out, and this Turkey was DONE. I knew that one way or another, I wasn’t going to be pregnant much longer so I did what every young mom hoping to have a baby soon does: tried my very best to…wait for it…SHAVE my LEGS! Why? You ask? Because you KNOW that once you’re at the hospital, every doctor, nurse, resident and maybe even Med Student if you are LUCKY like me, will be coming in to check your Hoo-Hah to see how far along you are, so you at LEAST want shaved legs and some…landscaping…perhaps.
ANYHU. I went off into the shower with a mirror and a razor with the grandiose plan to clean up my legs (which MAY or may not have gone 2 months unshorn). Another helpful bit of insight into late pregnancy: When you look down YOU CANNOT see past your belly, so if you try to shave, you are going blind. First I tried my hardest to bend over and shave. NOPE that belly is NOT moving out of the way to let me shave. As if to punctuate that point Aria (that’s the little Hellion in Utero) kicked my bladder. “OW! FINE!” At least I peed in the shower and didn’t have to wash yet another pair of panties. Since we had a tub/shower combo I thought maybe I could balance on one leg while I propped the other up on the tub ledge to shave it. That KIND of worked, but again, I couldn’t face my leg because of the dang belly, so I had to stick my leg being shaved off to the side, then I could reach the middle of my calf. This was going OK until my OTHER poor leg (the one holding the weight of my fat ASSets and the baby) started going numb, so I shifted to give it a break, but I SLIPPED and BABOOOOOM!!! “OWWWW!! $#@&*^&%#^!! THAT SUCKED!”
OK, so since I was now sitting I tried turning my upper body to the side while straining to reach the rest of my leg. OOWW SCIATICA!! SERIOUSLY?! But NOW that I’m down in the slippery tub, HOW do I get up again without a CRANE or a FORKLIFT? I yell for the hubby: “JON!!!” No response. I take a deeeeeep breath, and summoned my mighty Sicilian voice (there is the word Daily Post) and hollered at the top of my lungs in the acoustically perfect shower: “JOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNN!!!” I must have startled Aria because she jumped within my stomach and punches me. “OWWW.” Still no answer. UUG the boys must be upstairs or outside. Fine. I take another deep breath, I’m going to have to do this myself. After getting on my hands an knees like a 90 year old, I manage to haul myself up after about 5 minutes. By this time I have been in the shower long enough that the hot water is beginning to run out. I feel around for my thighs, do my best at at applying shaving cream and blind shaving. Then I VERY carefully propped the leg up on the tub side and blind shaved the rest. I switched legs, and at this point the water is getting colder so I rushed through my poor left leg. I felt like a conglomeration of Helen Keller meets Edward Scissorhands! My legs were burning, and based on the color of the water running into the drain, there were more than a few superficial nicks, but I was exhausted and just wanted to lay down.
At this point I opened the sliding doors on the tub and grabbed a towel. I was drying my upper self when the bathroom door opened (MOST unfortunately our bathroom in the old house didn’t lock) and in toddled Jonah. He was smiling when he initially walked in, but the minute he saw me his eyes FILLED with horror and he stopped dead in his tracks for a brief moment, then he screamed “MOOOOMMY!!!! NOOOOO!!! OOOOOW!!!” and started wailing.I lifted my leg to step out of the shower and go comfort him and find out what was wrong, and that’s when I got a glimpse: blood. everywhere. I must have looked like the lower half of my body had been surreptitiously ran over by a lawnmower. This was just WAY too much for my sensitive little Jonah, who was quickly escalating to hysterics.
Of course NOW is when hubby comes in and as he opened my mouth to ask what on God’s Green Earth was going on, I started crying (DANG hormones)! “I JUST wanted to SHAVE my LEGS!!” I wailed.
I now have a very good friend who is an EXPERT in hair removal (WISH I knew that 6 years ago)! Who just LOVED this story and used a (less graphic) snippet of it on her webpage. So the moral of the story: If you are knocked up…I mean pregnant,” check out my friends Naomi’s Hair Removal website, or just CALL ME and I’ll come shave your legs!!