Home Sweet Home

Well, I'm on my way to what will hopefully be my last gp appointment before the baby arrives. Seriously, these jaunts get more and more difficult with every passing week. As the small one is now firmly pressed against my cervix with a good grasp on my bladder to boot, walking anywhere has become top on my list of "Things to avoid doing if at all possible."

It is closely followed by "take toddler in giant buggy on the bus to town in pouring rain" and "sit around in waiting room full of sick people trying to keep the snot queen from molesting the germ infested teddy bear she inevitably makes a beeline for at every visit. Try not to inhale."

Next on the list is "Pee in cup the size of my pinky finger." Honestly, what idiotic, lame brained owner of a y chromosone came up with the brilliant idea of having a woman whose protruding belly makes locating the cup, let alone being able to pee into it with any accuracy thus ensuring a lovely urine soaked hand everytime, pee into something you couldn't fit a goldfish into? Not cool.

Seriously, it only makes me appreciate my midwife visits all the more. My lovely, wonderful, charming midwife who comes to my house and who will, if all goes as planned, deliver my baby there as well, thus negating any and all hassle of me having to worry about anything more then pushing a human being out of my vagina, which, I think we can all agree, is more then enough to concentrate on.

Oh yeah, and she doesn't make me pee in a cup. She lets me pee directly on the stick itself. Good Woman.