He's scared

Tomorrow I am going away for 24 hours to a little girls spa outing with mom and sister. I mean how do you turn down an invitation to a spa from your mom that starts with the words, "Totally my treat"? You don't.

Of course I was gleeful not only because I was going to relax with no children in my general vicinity for a day, but also because Snarky Daddy was going to have all three kids by himself. I am evil like that. I want him to have a small taste of the experience I have for 112 hours each week. Not that I am counting.

But Snarky Daddy is scared. So scared he called his Mommy and asked her to come help him. Wah wah wah. Big man can't handle three kids by himself, apparently. Lame. Very, very lame.

Oh for the love of...

Snarky Daddy is spewing some nonsense over at his blog.

I refuse to acknowledge the content of his post, or any of his posts for that matter, based on the fact that he is most certainly NOT an Ultrasound Technician. I don't care what his degree from Dr. Google may say.

Coming tomorrow: Why my OB thinks I am going into labor next Friday. Alternate title: Why I am freaking the hell out.

Big love

The children had to dress up today and I used this opportunity to snap a little sibling picture. When did they get so big?



In other news, I am also getting big. I am now 22 weeks along and while I have all the energy in the world, I also feel like I am as large as the world. I also forget that I am far enough along that I should not even look at my regular clothes and try to wear pre-pregnancy items and then collapse in a little heap on the floor crying because nothing fits.

Case in point: this weekend it was 7,285 degrees and we went to Lollapalooza. You know, an OUTDOOR music festival. In the outdoors. Where it was 7,285 degrees. I was trying to be cute and thought a little skirt and tank top combo would look fabulous. Fabulous about five months ago, yes. Now? I thought the skirt was way too tight, the tank was stretching the limits of acceptable and I wondered why I even tried to be cute.

I asked Josh what he thought of my outfit and he paused for a second, then pronounced it fine. But if it was really fine, then why did he pause? Clearly it was hideous and five kinds of awful. He tried to assure me that no, it was fine, but I was already stripping it off and bitching about how disgusting I looked. In the end, I wore a pair of maternity capris and a T-shirt and managed to pass for somewhat stylish.

This is just one facet of The Crazy that takes over when I am pregnant. For some reason, I refuse to accept that I should just stick to actual maternity clothes, instead engaging in some battle of bizarre wills with my regular clothes. I implore them to fit, they don't because I can't button them over the belly, and then I get pissed because they don't fit.

And I wonder why my husband is telling the interwebs he has Prepartum Depression...

Now it's ON

Long-time readers will remember the hilarity that was Josh live-blogging Emmie's birth. Oh but he had a good time doing that. Not to mention the accolades that rained down from the blog heavens on his humor. He even quipped that he should start his own blog because he was just so funny. Mmmmhmmm.

Well lookee, lookee guess who up and got himself a blog of his own? Let me be the first to introduce you to Snarky Daddy.

I will let you form your own opinions, but I assure you, he is delusional. There's only one side of every story and that would be MY side.

Enjoy...