Since announcing our big news, the growing a tiny human that is, I’ve discovered people like to share all kinds of advice with newly expectant mothers.
The input has been much appreciated and most welcome, although there has been a few zingers along the way. For example, which names are completely off limits (this within three minutes of telling them I was expecting) and why it’s time for me to move into a swankier school district. Insert eye roll here.
The one I hear the most though is I need to tone down my colorful verbosity. Granted, they stick to simpler phrases such as ‘stop swearing,’ or ‘your potty mouth has to go,’ but the underlying message is always the same. My reaction, of course, is to respond with a litany of profanity that would make Clark Griswold blush. Telling me I can’t do something usually isn’t a good idea.
Setting aside the studies, the ones which show a curse word here or there can actually put your audience at ease, I don’t plan on making the baby’s first word a foul mouthed one. Banana has a nice ring to it though.
You see somehow, despite my sailor made mouth, I’ve managed to do quite well in my personal and professional life. I’ve even been trusted around puppies and old people, so in response to those well meaning intentions, I thought I’d share some confessions today, Out Loud and Obscenity Free. Thanks for hosting Spoons.
- I pee with the door open when the Hubby’s not home. It feels like freedom.
- Bra Burn is the dark side of exercise no one talks about. It’s the equivalent of rug burn on your knees, without the happy release.
- I know all the words to Snoop’s Lodi Dodi and will occasionally bust out a rendition for specific company.
- Which is why I can relate a little too well to this.
- Since we’re talking tunes, when I was on a mad monkey loving ban, George Michael music made my loins ache.
- Good lord, the sex dreams…
- Oh and I ate bacon twice this month. I have no regrets.
- I was unable to say the word ‘baby’ the entire first and part of the second trimester, so I called the tiny human a Tomato. I made the Hubby and all our family do the same. I love them for indulging me.
- This past week, I’ve had to apologize to someone on a near daily basis. Hormones are a real son of an itch, not to be confused with their equally scandalous mother.
- I ate this entire Winter Pear Salad even though I’m not supposed to consume soft cheese. Sue me. If I lived in France, I’d be dancing on tables of Brie while popping back with a bottle (or at least a glass) of bubbly every now and again.
- I’m fascinated by the ever increasing size and weight of my chest, so much so, I decided to weigh them because that’s totally normal: seven pounds and counting. I’m curious to see what they top out at. I promise to keep you apprised.
- I sniff the Hubby’s beer bottles… sometimes at six in the morning when he leaves the empties on the counter. They smell so good.
- Despite my recent obsession with booze, I swear I’m not an alcoholic. Just pregnant.
Your turn. Do you have something you want to get off your weighty chest? Feel free to confess away. You’re in a safe zone here.