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Sprinkling

So, that was pretty painless…

Yesterday was the “Sprinkle” for Baby O. I have to say, I was a little nervous about having another party for, yet another, baby. Because, you know, I didn’t want to seem greedy or like I have no desire to see people unless they are bringing me diapers or whatever. But, after a lot of thought about it, I was convinced that, since I don’t need a crib (already have it!) or a swing (check!) or any of the big stuff that you register for when you have your first baby, a “sprinkle” would be an acceptable kind of party. I didn’t register. And I honestly didn’t really even expect gifts. I just wanted to get some of my favorite people all in one place to see this gigantic belly-saurus-rex (because this is the last fucking time this is happening to me and that is ALL I have to say about that…) before it is all over. And, you know, this time I was a much better sport and I even encouraged beer drinking (not for the other two preggos who attended, though…duh.) because, I have accepted my fate as a non-drinker. Because I haven’t been able to enjoy cocktails, and I mean REALLY enjoy cocktails, in over a year. Because I am always pregnant. Because my husband has super human sperm that are, evidently, resistant to every kind of birth control known to man. Even when all of them are used simultaneously. But I digress…

Anyway, there was beer. And I coveted it. But not like I did last year at my shower. Not at all like that. There were munchies and there was BEAUTIFUL weather and there were good friends and I wasn’t the only one growing a baby. And I was happy. And now I am staring at a stack of boxes of diapers nearly as tall as I am and I am remembering that feeling of, “HOLY SHITBALLS. I’m about to expel a person from my body” Only this time, it is more like, “HOLY SHITBALLS. WHAT THE HELL AM I DOING?!” And it still doesn’t seem real. At least, not most of the time. Until there is a foot in my ribs. Then shit gets REALLY real. My due date is just under two months away. And it is surreal.

On the one hand, I can’t wait to see Baby O’s face and kiss his little toes. And on the other hand, I wish I could just take a month break from being pregnant, enjoy some un-pregnant lady sleep and some adult beverages and then go back to this after I have thoroughly prepared myself for what is about to go down. Because, internet, some serious MOTHERHOOD is about to take place on this here bloggy thang…FOR REALS. The sprinkle just made it seem like the beginning of the end. Which is great, because pregnancy SUCKS a whole lot of ASS but terrifying because if I am not pregnant, that means that there will be another CHILD. One who will only sleep two hours at a time and will spit up on me 74 times per day and make me smell horrible and behave like a mom zombie for the next several months. One who will care less than Baby L does about how exhausted I am or how long it has been since I have had a shower. (Not a baby shower, though, because I have those at least weekly, it seems…)

All in all, though, I am really glad we had the party. Mostly because, even though I am acutely aware that this baby is surely happening, moreso now than before the party, I got to spend some time with some really great people. And, you know, they brought diapers and didn’t at all seem to think I was a greedy bitch for having another party. (Thanks, guys. You really do rock my face off…)