Dead Bunny

Yes, I am pregnant! And yes, I failed to write a glorious and flowery post exalting the joys of new life growing in my womb. And yes, as Joan said, "Just checked your blog to see if there were any photos, ultrasounds, etc. And instead, what did I find? You decided to break the exciting news to the interwebs by burying it in a story about peeing in the woods?!" But really, excessive peeing, that about summarizes my pregnancy experience. Not much more to say ... I am pregnant, I must pee. Though, I expect Joan is a little bitter at my c'est la vie announcement since she and The Deuce may share the same birthday if The Deuce is actually born on her due date. And yes, I said her and no, I don't "know" that it is a girl, but dude, I know. Anywho, in my defense, I will say that The Deuce is perhaps one of the least photogenic fetuses of all time. We have had a couple of ultrasounds at this point and they all look more like Rorschach Tests. What, you don't believe me? Think I am using bad ultrasoundography as an excuse? Exhibit A, which incidentally I scanned into the 'puter with an actual scanner, none of the picture of a picture thing, so all craptastic imagery is due to um, I dunno, belly flub? Old equipment? The Deuce herself?

Anyway, exhibit A, the most recent picture:


Do you see a baby's profile? Or, do you see a storm coming our way on the Doppler 6000? I mean really. Thanks for the picture, but um, what exactly is it a picture of? A weather front?

Exhibit B:


Here we have a line diagramming the the length of the baby. I know this because they told me so. Without this knowledge, I see a coconut on the beach.

So, no lovely post with pictures because the pictures tell another story, a story of storms and beaches, which might be quite interesting, but are not related to my insides and also may have been made into a major motion picture starring Tom Hanks, and hello, copyright infringement. I've also been lax in my announcement as I've been dealing with a sick kid. Lady Bean has a cold and is channeling Sybil. She has also perfected the art of throwing herself on the ground and having a temper tantrum. Usually she hits a wall or door or pet on her way to the ground and injures herself, thus having an actual reason to cry. Good times over here at Chez Insanity. It was um, non-blissful enough that I decided I was going to invent a drinking game wherein you do a shot every time your kid throws a tantrum. It was a great idea until I realized I would have been shitfaced by 10am, oh, and that whole no drinking cause I'm pregnant thing was a hindrance too.

Speaking of LB, she just walked into the office with a ten dollar bill and the phone. The phone was ringing. I'm not sure who she was calling (pizza?) but she forgot to dial one plus the area code when calling that number. I figure this is my queue to exit stage right.

Enough

Apparently mother nature, or is it Mother Nature, is not through with me yet. This morning I was awoken by the most horrible noise. A kind of gargling, waddling, whiny, yodel. I also had a cat sitting above my head on the windowsill beating me in the face with his furiously twitching tail. Further inspection revealed what had cause the noise and riled Cat.



I WON'T PEE IN THE WOODS ANYMORE! JUST MAKE IT STOP!

I'm Not a Bear

Today I went for a walk with the kid and the dog. It was a lovely day for a walk and all was well until I had to pee. And I mean, I HAD TO PEE. Well, when push came to shove, I decided to pee in the woods. But I wasn't really sure where to go. I mean, I couldn't exactly pee right there on the trail, but I also had a dog and a kid in a stroller so I couldn't really go off-roading either. Which is how I decided to pee here ...



My cellphone camera photo quality is kinda shitty; it is empty state wildlife restoration area with a short path into the woods. Now I am not exactly sure what "wildlife restoration area" means as there were signs all over the place about needing your hunting license and what kind of stuff you could kill, and to me, that seems like the opposite of "restoration" but then, what the hell do I know. Me, I like wildlife, behind bars or really thick sheets of glass. So if you some how are restoring it by killing it, well, more power to ya. In any event, being that you could kill stuff, I figured a little pee wouldn't be too objectionable. And, really, the local was perfect. I was able to squat behind the stroller and view the path while at the same time shielding myself. I mean, as far as imprompto outdoor pees, I thought I was doing okay. And I think this totally sounds reasonable. Well, until you realize that there was a porta-potty about 10 yards away.



Now it could have been a spotless porta-potty, I have no idea. I chose to bypass the porta-potty because I had a kid and a dog and though I could have tied the dog to a tree, I don't think I could have done that with my kid. And I most absolutely, positively was not bringing her in there. Not gonna happen. There is no way that I could have held her and done what I had to do without one of us touching something bad. And, now, that you know why I bypassed the porta-loo, this all still seems reasonable, yes? Nothing bad had happened. Nothing evil or demented. Peeing in the woods, logical and a-okay.

So why is it that not twenty yards further down the path, I stepped on a dead field mouse? Why did mother nature feel the need to seek revenge? It was just a little pee. Heck, I haven't even had asparagus in weeks. And yet, there in the middle of the path, unknown to me, was a dead mouse (presumably) the size of a large marble. A dead mouse which was the color of asphalt. A dead mouse which was in my path. A dead mouse which I squished deader. While wearing flip flops no less. I can't begin to tell you how mentally scarred I am. I mean, I am the woman that can not step on a roach because, Holy fuckadiddle, the squish and the crunch and no! I don't step on shit. It just isn't me, I scream and I run and I sometimes jump up an down while screaming and running. So mother nature, she really picked a great revenge. I could have taken a picture of the carnage with my cell phone, but honestly, I never want to see that shit again. I mean just knowing that such an image could be stumbled upon in my phone, well, no. I have such vivid sensory memory of the feel and sound of the crunchy squish, that a picture, so not necessary.

So, the moral of my tale of woe is that you should not pee in the woods. No matter how bad you have to go, even if you're pregnant, you just have to hold it.