As it turns out, I don't say everything I think

Ever make soup and then get a cold and think, "dang, what a good thing I made soup!" That happened to me this week.

Did you know hemorrhoids are actual vericose veins in your ass? That's your gross and generally unimportant information for the day. Thank you pregnancy websites for teaching me all I simply must know to have a baby.

Ever poop green? Of course you do. I always want to tell someone when it happens. Why is that? I never do though. Which is weird because I tend to say everything I think. Or as it turns out, almost everything.


I don't want to talk about the baby thing lately. Someone very close to me had a miscarriage. Almost exact same story as mine. Same no symptoms/concerns. Almost the same date. 12 weeks instead of 11. I can't stop thinking about her. I'm terrified for her to go through everything I did. I hate thinking that she might be sobbing uncontrollably and unexpectedly at a time when she should get to be happy. I hate thinking how I spent every ounce of energy focusing on the good things in spring last year and worrying how hard she must be trying. She sounds better than I did. But I probably sounded better than I was. So where does that leave it? I want to call her all the time and talk to her about it or just jabber on so she can be distracted. Sometimes someone else talking and just giving me minutia to think about really helped. But I'm pregnant. I feel stained and like I should keep it to myself now. I don't want it to hurt. I know how pregnancy can hurt when you're looking at what you would have had.

My next door neighbor had a baby something like four days before my due date. The one we share a duplex with. I've never been so aloof toward a neighbor as them. And that was all pretty much why. It may have turned out to be a good thing though. They have raucous fights and their daughter screams every night around 7:30 for about an hour in a way that makes me think there are some lacking parenting skills there. Their fights involve banging against the walls that make the pictures shake. Did I mention they called animal control on us while we were out of town? While they knew we were out of town. Apparently ChompSki sneaks over and poops on their lawn from time to time. But they never said anything. How would we know? Why would they think we wouldn't try to remedy a thing like that? So yeah, maybe we dodged a bullet avoiding that friendship. And now, I have to say, I won't feel bad in the least calling the police during an uproarious fight. Nice move, prick.


But I do want to talk about the baby thing. Because it kind of dominates my every minute so I'm not sure what else to say. Except, I pooped green. Oh and I threw a plastic bag away yesterday, drove home, and then realized that I had a sports bra and tanktop in there. I also ran over the recycling on my way out of the driveway. I do lots of smart stuff lately.

I'm seeing further into my innie than I ever wanted to. It could become an outie. So strange. Also strange is how preggos get the oppositve of plumbers crack- buddha belly. Its where your pants creep down (without a waist to creep toward) and your shirt starts sneaking up and next thing you know= Buddha Belly. Makes me feel like gross smelly trash.

But I dressed up and that made me feel all romantical. I never realized how if you have a really dope wedding, then later when you go to other people's weddings, it makes you feel all smooshy mooshy and nostalgic and romantical with your husband. I refuse to say hubby. I'm married to a man, not a muppet.

Maybe I'll go ahead and hit publish now and puke the rest of my thoughts into another post in the future. Happy Thursday. Sorry I missed hump day.