At this point... leaning dangerously towards annoying.
So... I adore my mother. I really do. I know it's her job to worry about me. She's my mom.
She loves me and wants me (and Squish) to be healthy and happy.
I get it.
I know that if I'm not healthy... then neither is the baby.
I know she isn't here yet... but my instinct to protect my offspring is strong.
So... I went from working 24 hours one week, to working 40 hours in the week that just went by. Someone was on vacation so we got a boost in hours, which is a good thing seeing as I need the money.
Bad thing?
I was not used to being on my feet for eight hours with 13 extra pounds sitting on my waddly frame. Yes. I've only gained 13lbs.... and yes I waddle. My brothers both find this absurdly amusing. It's also apparently hilarious when I try to tie my shoes.
I think they're trying to catch it on camera and put it on YouTube.
No lie.
Thankfuly I'm now on vacation. So I have some time to rest.... and wear flip flops. Lol
But lastnight, I was chilling after work, watching tv, with my feet up on the table.
Crazy was being randomly snooty and told me to get my feet off her table.
I'm like... "But they hurt."
In my best "I want my mommy... can we have ice cream for breakfast cause I don't feel good?" voice.
Yes I am 27 (almost). Yes I still pull that shit. It works sometimes.
The instant I say my feet hurt? Yeah. Crazy blows a gasket.
Comes running over to me and yells for my dad. They both sit there looking at my feet for ten minutes... okay so Dad sat there with me staring at her like she'd finaly gone off the deep end and Crazy was staring at my feet, trying to determine if they looked swolen.
She's instantly worried about my having Preeclampsia (hig blood pressure during pregnancy) and says maybe I should go to the hospital just incase.
For the love of cheese... I've had perfect blood pressure the whole time.
Even with the increased blood volume! It was spot on last week at my appointment (which by the way have been increased to every two weeks now that I'm 33 weeks.).
Not kidding.
My blood pressure was 110/80.
Daddy had to take Crazy in the other room to calm her down, which he did by telling her that freaking out was going to upset the baby. I'm still not sure if he was talking about me or Squish. Daddy still calls me his baby sometimes... it's cute.
She came back in after a little while and said sorry for freaking out. She has reason to though. She almost died when she had my older brother (her first baby) because her blood pressure got so out of control and she didn't have prenatal care.
We talked for a while... and I reassured her that I felt fine otherwise, and would tell her if my feet hurt this week. They shouldn't. I'm planning on vegging out quite a bit and cleaning.... and getting the crib set up and things like that. But setting up baby stuff... that pretty much means pointing and telling my brothers where things go lol. So I doubt I'll really be on my feet that much.
I love my mother... but I don't need to go to the hospital because my heels hurt.
Love Bipolar Inc | Image: Photobucket.com
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