Cue Up The Music For Mr. Hicks

Mr. Braxton Hicks, that is. Apparently this is the week that Mr. Braxton Hicks decided to fly into my abdomen and stay. I really don't know what to think of him though, as his contractions always get me giddy and excited, but deep down I know they are pretty meaningless. With Jack, Mr. Braxton took up residence for months, but Jack still showed no sign of giving up his 9 month residency, and stuck around for 9 days post due date, until his final eviction notice was sent via Nurse Pitocin.

So, being that my due date isn't until January 24th...I need to just enjoy them and not get my hopes up too high that Baby Faith is going to kick out of here on her own free will. That said, if any child of mine has had the strength to break my water, she wins my nomination.

Oh...there's Mr B. Hicks now...see you again in seven minutes Hicks.

Meanwhile, I have been working today on sewing those bumper pads, and removing the cobwebs from what feels like eons ago since I had a baby (only 4 yrs.) It just occured to me yesterday that I need the simplest of things like wet wipes and nursing pads. I can maybe understand forgetting to order new nursing pads, but forgetting wet wipes???

Whatever Baby Faith is making is doing wonders for my body image, and has flushed out more compliments than I have had in 10 years combined --- (I wish I could bottle it) --- but she's also frying the synapses between my neurons faster than I can create new neuron paths for perserving my memory. Apparently, she's working overtime in the portion of my brain that houses names...as that feels like it has just taken a severe hit from an EMP bomb (electro magnetic pulse bomb).

Can you tell, we're in the middle of watching season 4 of 24?