Breakfast On Pluto

Please excuse me for this post. I'd like to start out saying that I am in no way racist and the only reason race is even brought up is because the first thing I thought before my event occurred was that the woman about to ring up my gas in the gas station looked JUST like this. 

In fact, had she not opened her mouth and said what she said, this post would simply have been titled, The Day I Met Tyler Perry's Aunt in the Gas Station. And that would have been the end. 


This is what went down. I was down to 13 miles of gas left. I was forced to pull into a gas station, one I frequent regularly. Usually I just use my card but today I had $20 of cash on me that I thought would be best used to purchase gas, rather than sit in my purse tempting me to buy things I shouldn't. So I, a petite 37 weeks and 4 days pregnant woman, wandered unsuspectingly into the gas station to purchase my gas. Upon entering I found who I can only assume to be Aunt Madea behind the counter, and one of her friends who either worked there with her or enjoyed spending her spare time in gas stations. 


Before I could politely state my request, this lady busts out with a loud "OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH NO." "........?" my face said. "GIRL YOU ABOUT TO DROPPPPPPPPPPPP WE NEED TO GET YOU OUTA HERE WHAT DO YOU NEED??" "............?!" my face said. "$20 on pump one" my smiling mouth said. So I hand her my money and laugh a little, ready to accept the regular bout of hahaha teasing am I not funny how fat are you etc. that I put up with. She takes the cash and looks back at me. I look at her. She looks at me. I look at her. "YOU NEED ANYTHING ELSE? A RECEIPT?" "..............??!!" my face said. "Uh, no, no I'm good" my mouth said. Her face said this:




 "MMMKAY WELL YOU NEED TO GET OUT RIGHT NOW BECAUSE ALL I GOTS HERE'S A BANDAID AND I'M NOT TOUCHING THAT *%#$." I assume she meant afterbirth. "...........???!!!???!!!" my face said. "Ok, bye" my mouth said. And I turned around and walked out, both women staring at me like I had just walked in with the black plague, french kissed them both, and walked out again pumping my fists into the air victoriously. I got to my car, pumped my gas, all the while trying to keep a hold over myself. I felt like laughing, crying, and walking back in there to try and purposely give birth on her floor. Instead I got into the car and drove home, all the while trying to figure out why it bugged me more than the average comment.


Rob was pretty mad and told me to write a letter. Perhaps what most "grinds my gears" (family guy anyone?) about this scenario is that in the past you always get that awkward friendly grin that accompanies biting remarks. You are fat, stop eating donuts, hahaha I'm so funny aren't we like best friends now. Either this woman's sense of humor is so wack that she doesn't know how to impart the idea that she is in fact joking either on her victims or herself, or she was dead serious that I may drop a kid onto the floor at any moment. This was serious. This was sad. Maybe this was meant to be funny, maybe this was meant to be hurtful. Anyways, I hate to admit it but it bothered me all the way home and it bothered me as I told my husband the story. A day later after what I like to call "pregnant brain" has had a chance to simmer down and forget 90% of my goings on as usual, I can look back at this and laugh pretty hysterically over the situation. 

I have new, tangible proof of how much my husband loves me.

Granted, every day that he buys me food, puts up with my grumpy, preggo self, calls me beautiful amidst a bulging belly and means it, and a whole host of others things prove his love to me. However, he went above and beyond the husbandly call of duty yesterday.

I had spent the night before trying to be as pleasant as possible under the circumstances, and maybe amidst all the pleasant commentary I threw in a few gripes about how long it's been since I've played Mario Party. Now in order to understand my husband's act of pure selflessness, you have to understand two things about Mario Party. One is that whoever came up with the game thought it would be great fun to let the characters, in a sense, beat the crap out of you. By this I mean that no matter what you do, the computer characters will find ways to beat you in any unreasonable way possible. This includes but is not limited to: landing on spaces with secret stars and coins (which you never land on), receiving choice items that enable free or awesome things (which are never available to you, literally), getting the best rolls, the most amount of money, and lets not forget the games. Oh, the games, where you think a 9 year old should be able to play this and have fun. No, they make the computer characters (on Easy, mind you) perform unimaginable feats. Oh, they go to great lengths to beat you in this game. God forbid the human player wins. I guess they figured after so many times of winning the fun and challenge would be gone. Regardless, Mario in this game is pretty much the devil.

The second thing is this:  I don't mind this too much. Yes, its annoying. Yes, I have spent hours screaming at Yoshi because in my mind there was no possible way he could have finished the last level of the game in .3 seconds when I was over 50 feet ahead of him. But somehow it hasn't hindered my ability to enjoy the goofy game to the utmost.  Rob on the other hand...oh Rob. After about 5 times of playing this game within our first year of marriage in Chicago, the hatred was so fully formed that I didn't even have to say the words without his face turning bright red.

You can imagine my surprise then, when I received a text from Rob at work saying, "Will you have a mario party date with me tonight?"

I don't know what was sweeter to me, the idea that my husband asked me out on a date formally again or the idea that he was willing to play Mario Party with me. I am in true true love. :-)

**ps** we spent a lovely half hour playing mario party and eating Rob's famous popcorn. During which the game tried to make amends with Robert by providing him with over 320 coins while I managed to walk away with...about 6. Ah well, you can't play your Mario Party with a husband and win it too, I guess.

Today I'm playing the waiting game. After months of Rob insisting that the baby was coming today, I've been rather expectant. No sign yet but he's still got about 12 hours.

I've decided that there are a few things about being pregnant in society that need to change.
1) Just because I'm pregnant doesn't give you leave to talk to me and joke about my giant belly. Calling me fat and telling me to lay off the yogurt, while hilarious to you, is just annoying to me and only makes me want to stifle your laughter by taking said large belly and smacking you with it over and over until you pass out on the ground, where I end both our misery by crushing you with my newfound weight. Obviously I'm pregnant, you are a stranger, leave me alone to do what I need to do in peace. STRANGER DANGER!
2) When I complain how I sick I am of being pregnant, don't interrupt me by telling me that she needs to stay in there longer, how good it is for her, how bad it would be if she was born right now, etc. Just shut up. I didn't say. "Wouldn't it be funny if I could force the baby out and ensure that she stays in the hospital for 3 months just because I'm selfish enough to want to stop carrying a watermelon underneath my skin?" Shame on you all, because if you are a man or a woman who hasn't given birth you don't know what I'm going through, and if you are a mother then try and remember what the last bit felt like. OF COURSE I'm at liberty to complain.
3) Finally, and this is the big one, don't condole me by assuring me that she'll be here before I know it. Guess what? I know it! I've known it for weeks! Months! And she's not here. So though you are trying to make me feel better, please don't. If you really want to condole me, buy me chocolate or send me off for a massage or pedicure.

Once these few social faux pas get straightened out, pregnant women everywhere will become a little less grumpy, I promise you. Because although underneath the strained smiles, daggers of hate are being shot into the air, we really just want to laugh the whole thing off and enjoy the few moments in between the misery. Don't ruin my few moments with your idiocy. Thank you.

I'm just gonna say it: This week has been the week of snow cones. There's been nothing better. When I'm grumpy, sick, hot, not hungry, tired, you name it, the snow cone heals all. I've had 2. Today may be my third, depending on whether I decide to drag myself to the snow cone place.

Rob rolls his eyes the very minute I mention this tasty treat. Is it a craving? Possibly. Its definitely a cheap indulgence I have allowed myself and the more I think about them the more I want one! In hot Orlando there's nothing better than cold ice with a hint of delicious flavoring. My Snow Cone Place hosts no less than 50 different flavors, from typical cherry and grape to exotic mango and passion fruit. It even has flavors like Hurricane and Tiger's Blood, where you must venture out on a limb to try a tasty flavor concocted by the Snow Cone Man Himself. They'll even layer it with ice cream, add some sort of cream to make it a creamy icy slush, cherries, whip cream, chocolate. You name it, they'll do it.

Anyways, aside from the tasty tasty snowy treats, my days are getting longer and harder to get through, and I'm still working (although I may be done after next week). I say its time for Baby to get here! So far days we have as birth days are May 5th (Rob), May 13th (our friends who realized the thirteenth is a friday this month) and May 16th (me). Lets start taking bets!

Happy May! Its baby month!!!

Rob brought home a headboard for us, painted it, and it nicely matches our dresser! I'll take a picture of it later today and put it up in the post, promise :-) We are still on the lookout for some nightstands and another tall dresser, although we really won't fit the dresser into our room until baby's crib gets moved back into her room along with the rocker.

Its been hot here lately, and this weekend the weather was cooler (Funny how 82 can feel low!) with a nice cool breeze, and we celebrated by mowing the lawn and cleaning the house lol. Sunday was restful, we made a trip to Walmart to pick up the dresser (thank you Kaje's mom!) but didn't set it up because our Sunday afternoon nap left us feeling groggy and a little crappy. A snow cone run helped but didn't inspire the need to set up the dresser or get anything else done, and we spent the rest of the day enjoying doing nothing. We ended the night with a marathon of Mythbuster episodes. Sometime this week we'll get the rest of the baby stuff set up, hopefully, because if Rob's bold prediction is correct baby will be here Friday. Ha. Wishful thinking, if you ask me.

I can't recall any funny preggo antidotes, so today will just have to be a usual boring post. :-)

PS- Mommy Power to Ashley! I don't know how you did this 3 (going on 4) times in a row!