It’s a 1,000 degrees out. I am stuck in prodromal labor. And I am cranky.
As in watch out. Some jokes will not be received well. Such as: waving a chocolate bar anywhere near my lower half in hopes the baby will come out to grab it. Shouting “engage, engage, engage” while I walk. Or teasing me on how “HUGE” I look because maybe the baby will be 100 lbs.
I may just stab you with a fork if you try any of these things. I am blaming it on the heat because hitting the wall is so much harder when you are melting under oppressive heat.
I mean seriously. I am hot, pregnant & overdue now. This is #5! Come on, she should have a freakin’ yellow-brick road to follow that leads her right on out. It’s a proven path.
But maybe she hates this weather more than I do. Maybe my daughter is hoping to bypass heat that is so hot it can cook eggs & bacon on your car. After all it’s hotter than Hades out. In fact, Lucifer called & he wants his weather back. I say good, here ya go. I am done.
Stick a fork in me. I am done.
And I am hoping today’s highs of only early 90s allow for me to get a second wind & convince Baby Girl she wants to come before Momma gives up & just assumes she’ll be that one woman pregnant for the REST.OF.HER.LIFE.