Happy Naughty New Year

We went to WalMart tonight and as we were standing in line contracting the next communicable disease from the shopping cart handle, Jake took the liberty of reading out the heading of one of the magazines in the rack: "Happy Naughty New Year!" I glanced around in embarrassment only to remember that the nine out of ten people in the WalMart lineup who may have heard him have their messy titties spilling out of their too-tight v-necks and would, in fact, find this magazine headline to be heart-warming. I rolled my eyes and exhaled, and then Jake asked me quizzically, "there are different sex positions depending on what sign you are?!?!?" and that's when I gave up and just put the skittles that the kids had been bugging me for in the buggy and moved forward a foot or two.

What IS with sex, anyway?

Last night Andrew and I took the kids to the pool and as we chilled on one of the benches to watch the kids swim we heard an old song come on over the sound system. It's the song, "As Long As You Love Me" by the Backstreet Boys. Have you ever really listened to those lyrics? Think about it. They go like this:

"I don't care who you are, where you're from, don't care what you did, as long as you love me." 

Say whaaaaat?!?!? So the singer is so desperate for love that they're willing to settle for anything with a beating heart? Like, hey girl... get that day pass from prison and bring your rashy body home to me, baby, because I just stocked up on antibiotics. 

Gross. 

I guess there are a lot of people walking around out there with their love tanks on empty that they'll bend over for whatever promises to fill the hole: sex, cake, alcohol, money. 

If we figure out how to fill ourselves with true love, the love that comes from ourselves, from our families, from a faith in a creator, then we won't walk around so damn hungry anymore. I dunno. Just a hunch. 

There's nothing inherently wrong with having a happy naughty new year, or even finding the best sex position for your birthday (I unfortunately spent my birthday last week hunched over the toilet trying not to cough up a lung or two, but there's always hope for next year). But it's just balance, you know? Be full of love yourself and then there won't be room in there for 18 rum and cokes or a toxic relationship with the newest sex infection carrier. With happypeacelove within, we can bump glasses with like-minded people, get a bit tipsy, and maybe even have ourselves a happy naughty new year.

Expansion

There's no theme or life lesson whatsoever in this post. It's going to come out randomly and messily, the way Christmas sprays Lego diarrhea.

Lately I've been obsessed with pregnancy blogs. I love analyzing the different bumps, rejoicing over the bloggers who have gained more weight than I have, and quickly closing up the pages of the women who have gained only 7 lb by 29 weeks (LIARS!!!!!!). I take weekly photos of my baby bumps (I have two: one in the front that houses our little love bug, and one in the back--my ass that seems to think it needs to balance out my body so I don't tip forward).

Besides the initial scare in the beginning, this pregnancy has been smooth sailing. It's not like much has been going on, you know, to give me a bloody second to even remember that I'm pregnant. We got married, we sold our place, bought a place, we move in four weeks, spent a couple of weeks in and out of BC Children's, devoted our free time to Christmas concerts, grocery shopping in bulk, and phone calls with vice principals and teachers (one of the five may have thrown a snowball at the vice principal's office window while she was standing there watching), stopped by the maternity ward twice to get some IV fluids to shush some persistent braxton hicks, and a partridge in a pear tree.

And that was December.

All the cutesy pregnancy blogs detail how they're sewing their own baby clothes and oh look! Professional maternity photo session of the adorable soon-to-be family of four as they walk through a serene forest of falling leaves and distant rainbows! Meanwhile we cram all seven of us into an ultrasound room to watch our baby boy blow our $150 on pics by covering up his face with his hands for the entire 45 minute session while his siblings punch each other out in order to get the best view of the screen.

It's a good life.

So I guess if I were to write up a 29 week pregnancy update it would go something like this:

Week: 29

Cravings: a meal that doesn't involve uneaten food scraps

Weight gain: a lot

Baby: HUGE! And active. And boy. :-)