So. Cranky.

I.  Am.  So.  Cranky.  A cranky, cranky Canadian.  

I don’t want to talk about what happened Tuesday.  I’m busy immersing myself in my fantasy worlds of books about Angels and Vampires and TV shows like Super Girl and lots of chocolate and ice cream.  I’m rocking back and forth with my ears plugged and my eyes busy in fantasy-worlds and I’m not looking around me again until I’m back home in Canada.

Suffice to say I’ve had enough of American politics.  I am Canadian, after all, and therefore firmly believe it will all be alright, eventually.  Especially if I convince Bill to switch departments and move us to Calgary.  Fingers crossed mom and dad, fingers crossed.

So anyway, also I’m due to have the baby next week so there’s that.  I’m as ready as one could ever be to have their whole life and family changed forever.  

I am more than ready to get this little joy outta me and into the world already. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again – some women love being pregnant.  

Them ladies be crazy…although I am grateful and certainly blessed I am done with having my body morphed and pushed and pulled around by biology.  I spend my nights limping around on swollen and sore feet to the bathroom and back, muttering to myself and popping Tums.  I feel like my dearly departed Grammie Orser.  

Tendons in my feet are making funny twanging sensations when I walk.  My knees are giving out from time to time probably due to the extra weight and strain.  I woke up last night choking, thanks to acid reflux.  Thanks to a tummy that’s been squished to the size of a lemon.  When all that isn’t happening I’m lying awake trying to find a position where my bones and joints don’t ache.

Almost.  Done.

But I don’t like to complain.  (Yes I do.)

Well I’d blather on more but my back hurts and my eyes are tired and baby is kicking me in the appendix.  

Wish me luck next week all – if it’s a boy it’s Benjamin and if it’s a girl…they’ll be fisticuffs in the delivery room.  And then black-eyed Bill will concede.  It will be Emma.  Or Elizabeth.  Or Willow.  

And if the unthinkable happens and this is my last blog…well that sucks because all I did was complain.  Let’s hope I get another chance to redeem myself.

Really lastly…I.  Am.   So.  Cranky.

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