Bathing is overrated.

I just had a bath.

*Sort of.*

**Well, okay. Not really.**

Daddy was putting the boys down, and I'd just nursed Little Miss D down and I was lying there thinking to myself

When was the last time I took a bath?

hit me, hit me, HIT ME!

Hit me with your Rhythm Stick, a UK 'hit' pop song in the late seventies, is also apparently a euphemism for having sex, according to the Urban Dictionary - Momma's bloggy bible!

What I haven't been able to work out is; did Ian Drury know full well what his lyrics meant when he was speaking 'em (cos you can't really call that singing)? OR, did the euphemism come from this chart topping hit....?

See, it's supposed to be a line the GIRL says to the guy she's hoping to knock boots with - not the other way round. Was Ian Drury hoping for someone to hit him with their 'rhythm stick' (i.e. dick in cockney rhyming slang)?

no use crying over SPIT milk!

Our first few weeks home with baby sister were a breeze - easy peasy lemon squeezy (don't forget the mac 'n cheesy!) 

Then I had to go and open my BIG mouth, and start bragging to the hubs about how I had this newborn malarkey down pat. 

*sigh. Silly Momma!

The weeks of squirming, gassy, I-can-scream-like-a-banshee baby that followed this over-confident bluster, serves Momma right! 

Please DON'T spew on my Moby!

Enter the dawn of a new (baby wearing, ball bouncing) era - MOBY Mommadom ..... but that's a whole other blog in itself! 

The moment where typical third (i.e. best behaved) baby evolved into the 'baddest' baby on the block (or at least in the Bisett household) was somewhere around day ten.

I'm not logging each day's events down in a journal or anything like that - remember, this is our THIRD baby - I just recall asking our pediatrician about it at her two week wellness check.

OK, I know. I've said this before; What Mother would refer to her own baby as the 'baddest'?

anticipation....

Both kids are down for their noon time naps. So what on earth is this crazy 'on the Go' Momma doing up and blogging when I should be stealing my Zzzzzzs?

After all, it could all kick-off this afternoon (and I'm not talking about the Olympic soccer heats).......

Don't I need all the pushing power I can get?

Frustratingly I was almost asleep less than ten minutes ago - I had my nose nestled against our littlest's, with our breathing in sync and I was just reaching that delicious fuzzy about to drop off the edge of the world feeling, when a squeezing sensation in my intestines woke me right back up.

Straight away my brain shifted into high gear and all the cogs started whirring around, setting my body on high alert. Is this it?

You'd think that after two pregnancies it would be easy to recognize when my primed preggo bod is under 'starters orders' - but not so the case!

A heavy dose of anticipation makes it too easy to misread the slightest tummy sensations.

The onset of labor (at least for both boys) felt very much to me like a period poop. I know, I know - TMI right? I'm sorry, but there's just no better way I can describe it. 

So that's what I'm eagerly waiting for.

When I start to have slight period cramping in my tummy combined with a dull ache in my lower back and the urge to poop it's a fair guess that the little lady is on the move.

That wasn't quite the feeling that just woke me up, but it was close enough to get me excited. Just a bit of bladder pressure combined with a genuine urge to poop (easily mistakable).

Getting up off the bed for a potty break - especially without alerting baby boy to the fact that Momma is vacating the nest - is no easy fete.

I've mastered a somewhat nimble maneuver using my leg to brace my weight while I pull up to sitting. Then I can butt skooch to the edge of the bed. Alternatively, there's the rolling onto my hands and knees and crawling backwards off the bed option.

Either way those extra 38 pounds make it harder to keep Momma's momentum under control and each tiny shift can create an earthquake rippling effect across the family bed with the power to wake the dead (or at least the wee nipper...)

But not if I inch off ever so slowly..... and with girly pushing hard against my bursting bladder I often have to swallow some sharp and nasty blows during an already painful and painstaking process!

Once I've mastered getting off the bed, standing up is an even bigger challenge. Gravity can be such a bitch!

I don't remember having to cup my crotch before. But now, for some reason, I find it excruciating to waddle to the bathroom without holding on tight to my girly bits!

Thank God it's not an all day problem and I don't have to publicly grip my goods on my way to the ladies! Only when I first get out of bed and baby girl is sucked back down into a fully engaged position, does my hooch cry out for additional support....

Anyway, It turned out to be a false alarm of course. Just a regular everyday poop I'm afraid....

I probably should go back to bed - but I'm too damn excited.

I managed to squeeze in another prenatal check on Monday. I was hoping to be done with them weeks ago!

I even held off scheduling next week's appointment until today. I don't think I'll be needing it though....

OK, so I know even now (at 38 weeks) it's still a little premature to be expecting lady gaga to join the ranks, but I'm just so anxious to meet this bitty broad who's been bopping my bladder like crazy the last few weeks - and stretching my tummy in ways the boys never did!

She's been very generous on the stretching - until a week or so ago when a swirl pattern emerged around my belly button. My bump suddenly looks like a washing machine on full spin!

To be fair, I've been incredibly lucky on the stretch mark front - I guess I must be blessed with stretchy skin! My second baby was nice enough to give me a few battle wounds on the underside of my tummy, but those have since faded away to nearly nothing. 

Baby boy number one never left a single mark on my tum - barely any trouble at all that kid (both in and out of my belly)! 

He did, however, create strange stretch marks in a more - shall we say - unconventional place. And that was before stretching his way out of my vagina (btw I wasn't meaning my vagina....)

I remember Googling about stretch marks..  you know... in the...ahem... 'a' hole vicinity. I even plucked up courage to  ask the Doc, who you'd think would have seen everything.

Apparently not.

I remember feeling mortified when she asked somewhat aghast, 'How did you even find them?'

Oh c'mon! Doesn't everybody check themselves out in the mirror? Surely I'm not the only curious cat out there? Incidentally they seem to have disappeared altogether now... (Thank goodness for that - my porn star prospects aren't completely scuppered!) 

Which reminds me - this time around I'm hoping to watch the birth through a mirror. 

(Already rethinking this one!! A few accidental live birth image hits while searching for some (in)appropriate blog pics has this once-upon-a-time squeamish Momma quaking in my knickers!) 

I forgot to ask the Doc if they're set up for that - I could always get the hubby to hold a hand mirror if they're not...

Last week I put on a whopping 5 pounds! The Doc was very quick to reassure me that we preggos retain a lot of water in the last few weeks - nothing at all to do with the brownies then, eh? 

Baby belly was measuring spot-on though. I'm hoping she'll stay nice and tidy within the 7-8 pound region. My boys have made sure I'm already nice and prepped for that. 

Anything more and we'll be having to work on widening the gap..... not a pleasant thought!

The hubs has neglected to massage my perineum this time, and admittedly I'm not pushing for it. 

As intimate as the act may be, it's never been the most stimulating experience, having fingers and thumbs pull down and stretch the backside of my vagina opening - not exactly the foreplay you'd think it might be!

Instructional image showing *D.I.Y perineal massage.  

I'm not sure if the prenatal practice really does anything other than provide a hint of the sensation that is to come during crowning - and who the hell wants a taster of that? (unless of course, there's a hint of truth in that crowning orgasm legend....) 

The pinnacle burn - when baby's head finally pops through - is that rightful '10' on the pain scale that the nurses like to go by. It's a little tricky to provide an accurate number until the worst has happened.   

That stretch and burn - even without a rip - bites like a beeatch! 

When the hubby got out the olive oil last pregnancy I thought I'd handle the massage like a champ - I did have an experienced vagina after all. Who was I kidding!? And what a weeny I turned out to be! 

All the massage did was refresh my memory of the intense birthing pain that I'd buried in the deep dark depths of my mind - deep enough to make procreation only 9 months later seem like a top idea! 

This time I don't want to remember the pain until I'm thrust into the throes of it once again. That's probably why I'm not rooting for massaging my perineum and possibly why I declined the cervical check for the first time ever this week. 

The nurse clearly gave me an 'out' and I surprised myself when I took it. I've been given the right of refusal for the last three weeks now - and I'm really starting to get the impression that the Docs don't believe it's necessary. 

I think it has to do with this being my third baby. 

In spite of my curiosity I know the measurements don't really mean a jot. If I'm destined to leap from 5cm to 10cm and skip most of transition (like both my previous labors) I hardly think knowing whether I'm 1cm or 1.5cm will make much of a difference at this stage in the game. 

Daddy was a tad disappointed when I told him. I think he was hoping that a little 'Doctoring' would kick-start the birth. I'd rather not mess with mother nature thank you very much - although if Daddy wants to have a 'hand' in doing some agitating he's welcome to bring it on.....! 

The upshot is it could happen any time now. It would be convenient (and most considerate) if baby girl would oblige after a good 8 hours sleep, and before my sister-in-law leaves the state. 

Whenever she does finally decide to get a wiggle on, I'm sure we'll be ready for her!  

no babies allowed!

Our almost 3 year old is such a friendly and outgoing kid. He'll walk up to anybody and say 'Hi!' with a big smile on his face - especially other kids, all of which he calls 'friends', even the ones he's never met before!

I'm finding his super social side somewhat terrifying and fabulous all at the same time. He's not shy and doesn't know to exercise caution around strangers. Mommy on the other hand is obsessed by the ever present dangers of strangers! I don't want to scare him into his shell, but at the same time I don't want him climbing into the back of  a transit van, lured by the offer of a puppy to stroke or a pack of sweeties!

The other downside to his super-friendly nature is dealing with rejection. It's an incredibly heartbreaking thing for Mommy to cope with when these 'friends' don't reciprocate his offer of friendship!

And recently I'm finding the meanie-kids hard to deal with on my boy's behalf. As opposed to corporal punishment as I am, when a much older kid is mean to my loving little manny I'm feeling an unwelcome urge to smack em one!

Luckily so far, he doesn't seem too phased by the kids that are not so friendly towards him, at worst he seems a little confused at their reticence to respond or join in.

It's happened to him on a few occasions now where an older kid has told him to 'get out' or 'go away' because 'babies aren't allowed in here!'. I feel like someone is squeezing my heart and it's all I can do to stop my own tears from falling.

Yesterday he was dancing in his Grandma's studio, and he invited some older girls hanging about outside the room to come and dance with him.

"Come dance please!" he smilingly welcomed them into the studio in his high pitched voice and gesturing with his hand. But they didn't answer him. He repeated the invitation a few times and they just looked blankly at him. He looked to me confused and I just smiled and danced him into distraction.

Today was the worst yet though. My little fella was decked out in a Spiderman costume at a friend's house party. He loves dressing up, and he was overjoyed to find this superhero suit just waiting for him in a playhouse outside.

This one had a proper hooded mask which he eagerly pulled over his head, so he was really well disguised.

There were a lot of bigger kids at the party playing in the bedrooms, where all the toys were at, and my master of disguise had disappeared in one of rooms.

I went in search of him, and found that one door was closed, and I could hear a kid inside saying 'There's a baby in here!' in a not-so-friendly tone, followed by 'We don't want babies in here!'    

I didn't mess around knocking! I went in to find my super little guy had climbed up onto the top bunk of a pink princess bed and was stroking a kitten. He looked adorable in his costume and strangely vulnerable too.

And the meanie kid - who was about seven years old, and looked just like the really annoying know-it-all kid on Polar Express - had climbed up the side of the bed and was leaning over our little one telling him he wasn't welcome.

I couldn't see the look on my boy's face due to the hoody, but it was fairly obvious he was glad to see me. He showed no signs off upset, except he wanted out of his Spiderman clothes - 'Take it off Mum' is all he said, then he jumped down into my arms.

I made sure to keep a happy smile pasted on my face, though I was seething at the bigger boy's rotten behavior. And my tummy was in turmoil that my baby's feelings had been hurt.

I'm sure I'll have to contend with much worse in the future, and our kid will eventually realize not everyone in the world wants to be friends with him, but for now, I'd like to keep him bubble wrapped and safely away from all the meanie-pies out there who might rain on his happy parade!