Pardon the use of the word “I” in this post – sometimes I re-read these things and can’t stand how I come off like the biggest ego-maniac!!!!

The faux copper tin ceiling that led to the meltdown.

…or should I say, STRETCHING?

The beginning of the wrap up here in Pregoland.
I love pregnancy it just does not love me. I swear they should do medical studies on me or something – I am like a freak of nature. From week 6 on, if it’s not one thing with me, it’s another. Oh, if I could be like some ladies I know, all warm and gentle with pregnancy. Graceful and non-complaining. No puking and so full of, “Oh, I Love being pregnant!”
I am not really an “if I could do it all over again” person – not much for dwelling on the past, after all, I love me some Miss Scarlett and we all know her mantra, “Tomorrow is another day!” HOWEVER – sometimes I wonder if I had not waited to long to start a family if I would fair these pregnancies a little better. I got married so young (20) and waited TEN years to have a baby. After 2.5 grueling pregnancies and my head over heals love with Motherhood, I wonder if our culture doesn’t have the whole thing pretty messed up. I bet I could have done this a little better at 21. Hmmmmm….then when would I have taken all those trips to Paris???
Anywhoo – this is really just a post to complain but then the minute I start I feel guilty because I am so blessed, I think about getting pregnant and it happens (by the Grace of God) but I tell you what, those 3 months of puking all day long, the dreadful, gimping hip pain, the tail bone pain, the complete trashing of the pelvic floor and all it’s proper functions, the fire breathing dragon heart burn, the golf ball feeling in my throat that has me back to puking twice a day…well, it’s all getting a little old. Not to mention the sluggard like, complete and utter lack of energy. (Better yet, maybe making them and chasing after them at 15 years old is an even better idea!) I miss the old Ang, the bouncing off the walls at all hours of the day Ang, the hey, today I think I’ll work out, lift weights, make three pies, pull two tubs worth of weeds and make a four course meal and then want to Tango in the living room after the kids are down Ang.

Where is she? Lost in Pregoland. Her boobs are starting to do that thing where they begin to wrap around the sides of her back. The expanse of her thighs – well, it’s doing that east and west, third trimester thing. The old lady liver spots on her face seem to get darker every day and well, quite frankly, the gas is out of control. My diaphram is being squished like nobodies business and I don’t know how many more weeks I will be able to sing at church. When you are singing the melody…mic’d and can’t catch you breath you really can’t HIDE it! Screeeeeeeeaaaaaaaach!
But then, I imagine little starched white clothing, warm, needy skin and milky breath not to mention that “Thank the Lord I am not pregnant!” feeling!
I remember after 28 horrible hours of drug free labor with Aidan within seconds of him being born I sat up and practically shouted, “WHEN CAN I GO HOME!” I was rearing to go! (Aidan, sadly, was not born at home, they made me go to the hospital at 17 hours, 11 later he was born. We are praying for another successful home birth this time just like Amélie’s was!)
So, someone requested a belly shot and here is one (though not attractive since I was on the job with Big Daddy and the kids). He needed me on a job a few weeks ago so it was take your family to work week. That about did me in, I came home and had a little prego-hissy fit, one of those “I can’t stop crying, none of my friends have to faux finish a ceiling at 7 months pregnant!” fits. It was not becoming. We got paid well to do the job and, it’s got to be good for small kids to see how their daddy makes a living.
So, there it is. My fat rant. Please, please don’t get me wrong. I praise God every day for this baby in my belly but sometimes you got to let it out to the girls since hubby can’t really wrap his head around it.

This was a job I did 7 weeks pregnant with Amélie a couple years ago and they called us back to darken up the faux stucco and bricks. Joel does very good with faux finishes but with the more artistic stuff I get called in.

Praise the Lord for well behaved children. I am sure I am spoiled because I imagine there aren’t many who could take an almost 2 and 4 year old to a blue collar job site. They were SO GOOD! We did not even know they were there!

A view of the clients new bar, the additional stucco we did and the darkening all over.

Aidy-baby. What an imagination.

And finally – the belly as I try to get a handle for how much to darken up the walls. I can’t believe I am putting this photo on the web! YIKES!