Every day I read the obituaries. I don't know why, but months ago I started reading them, scanning for names and ages. I accept this as some weird part of being an adult, as far as myself goes. I've noticed a surge in the Mildred's of Radcliff dying. Also, the "Buddy"s, "Sparky"s, and "Boomer"s. So, for those of you included in that small demographic, watch out, your number might be next.

I hate Christmas. Finally after years of resisting the movement of holiday hatred, I fell prey. And I'm guessing it's because we have kids and are broke half the time. I never noticed before, but starting after the Macy's Day Parade, the shopping commericals start. Pretty people with lots of money tell me where my holiday purchasing should begin, and end. And lets not forget the sales I can't cash in on, 80 percent off your entire purchase, be happy, get happy, it's all inside, one stop holiday shopping starts here. What a crock. Of boiling over priced shit. I do find some solace in the fact that OUR Christmas will be when tax returns are here. Boo.

I'm ready to have this damn baby. He is mean to me, he makes me sick and uncomfortable all the time. 31 weeks and counting, I was at 34 weeks when I had Jonathan so I've started freaking out, wanting to get things ready because now when I go to bed I am afraid I'll wake up in labor and not have anything done. And I don't care how much pain I am in, if I am at home when I do go into labor, I'm taking a shower, putting on clean clothes and packing a bag if it's not already packed. I'm so glad we managed to find someone to take this couch, and I have a few other things I'm wanting to sell and get rid of, plus an unbelieveable amount of laundry to do, and rearrange the bedroom in preperation of the second princes coming. I had some bad contractions this morning, for some reason when I woke up. Usually Jacob is only awake at night but I woke up with him kicking and rolling and then contractions, real ones, not just braxton hicks. I hate remembering what it feels like because I have to do it again. But it's the last time because I'm getting fixed. Thank god.

I think I'm about done brain farting all over this page...yeah. I'm done.

-Petra

written on 2003-12-02 at 2:32 p.m. by sweetsolace.

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