Today, oh sweet goodness, today! Today starts my third trimester.
Little MB sleeps, kicks, and generally just makes her presence known. And this pregnancy has been so very different. So, SO much better. Some days I think I might be able to do this again... and then there are those days that I have to laugh because this is tough. Last week was my last flight to Augusta as the doctor has grounded me from long distance adventures.
Like the other day, I was in Augusta and had to call my mom to help me out of the shower. That was humbling. And funny. Not so funny that I am going into details as it truly was humbling. Those are the days I want to table pregnancy.
Or, traveling with LMC on a plane. With a belly. And she has to water her garden.
Have you been on an airplane lately? They're kinda small. And then, the bathroom is just a haha kinda funny.
It's probably 18 inches by 18 inches, not counting that silly small stainless steel bowl they call a toilet. Not to mention the three year old. Lil' MB is doing the polka on my bladder. And to get up, finagle that wild three year old and the incubating one down the exasperatingly small aisle to the bathroom- it's a new level of comedy that words cannot describe. If my fellow travelers were not staring at me, they were begging to not make eye contact with me, finding their shoelaces much more interesting than us. Seriously? They're shoe laces. That little tab at the end is called an aglet. The running LMC and pregnant mother are more entertaining. Stare. I would if I were in your aglet ended laces.
Standing in place and reaching my right hand over to my left side to lock the door with my back to it while LMC is standing on the lid seems to be the best scenario. Then, only to move her to the sink, drop her pah-nies, lift the lid with my foot while holding the child who is SCREAMING with glee, "MOMMY! I GOTTA GO [water the garden]!" ... to move her back to the potty where she has discovered that button that's lit up with the word "FLUSH" over the top. She presses it as the water starts to flow. And screams, crawling up her mother who can barely see the child from over the belly... still tinkling.
It gets on the floor.
It gets all over the floor. It doesn't get on the mother. Surprisingly.
And at this point, only one of us has been to the bathroom... the other has a new hate for the jumping trampoline that has since been renamed from bladder.
Try cleaning it up without getting your head in the toilet vacant of three year old relief as you drop paper towels on the floor and pick them up by sliding them up the side with your shoe. Oh, with LMC sitting on the sink, clapping her hands and saying, "Mommy! That button is LOUD! Please I press it again?"
Like I said-- I've been grounded. I don't know why doctors ground pregnant women. We ground ourselves when the time is right. Welcome to the third trimester.