The Labor Day that wasn't

A holiday called Labor Day is just a bit ominous sounding to a woman who is desperately trying not to. But we're near the end of it now, and no labor in sight. Not of the uterine variety nor physical labor. The sofa knows me well. I've been so hungry all day, and I take that as a good sign. My babies want to grow! I've only gained 25 pounds so far, which doesn't seem like enough. I want to pack on another 10 before they come. If they take half of that, that'd be awesome. I must say, it's kind of a cool time of life where weight gain and eating like a pig is a goal. I've got to take advantage of it! If only food would magically appear whenever I rang a bell. Dean must get tired of feeding me six times a day. Perhaps we could work out some kind of slop-and-trough system. The pig metaphor really works for me. I took a bath today and was contemplating how much my huge, stretched, pink belly resembles a mature sow. I AM glamor.

I was starting to get disheartened this evening. I'd played with the kids from the couch position, read a Justice League graphic novel, played some games on my phone and read magazine articles. But the blahs were overwhelming. Then we solved it--I just needed to get outside. Dean got a borrowed wheelchair and pushed me around the block. The evening was cool and breezy and so gorgeous. Sometimes I forget how much I need Outside. Outside is awesome. Just don't tell my babes. We want to keep them Inside for as long as possible.