It's Raining It's Pouring

I'd like to set the record straight about something. Something that I've been thinking about for a while.....Snoring. What's in a snore?

Growing up my dad snored. A LOT! Shake the house snores that would wake us up in our rooms DOWN THE STAIRS!!! And it just was. He was a dad. Our big cuddly teddy bear father who loved babies, loved his daughters, yelled in his sleep and snored like a grizzly bear. In my dating history I've known a lot of men who snore. One guy would snore so loudly, especially when he was drunk, and that was how I could gauge the depth of his sleep....or the depth of his inebriation. I'd hear my friends complaining about their husbands snores keeping them awake. My uncle would snore so much that it turns out he needed a machine to keep him from snoring because it made him stop breathing! Imagine an annoying sleeping trait actually being something that is dangerous. I never would have known.

One consistency about snoring? Men do it. Dad's, husbands, boyfriends, uncles...it's a manly thing to do! So it was a very shameful day when a few weeks after Mr. Bear and I started dating he said, "you snore. It's kinda cute.". "I know" I said...and I did know. There was always that awkward moment with a guy when they discovered that I, yes little ol' me, snored just like my pop (only maybe not so loud, and without the yelling). I had been a little congested and I assured Mr. Bear that I only snored when I was sick. Then I got pregnant. The snoring increased. "You see Mr. Bear, pregnant ladies get all this soft tissue in their nose, or something, and it makes them snore! I'll show you the article. Google it!". Then Spring hit and I made sure to let him know that when I had allergies it made me snore. And the rain! The rain was nice to listen to at night with the window open, but all the cold air made me stuffy and...you guessed it.....that makes me snore.

I could spend the whole year making up excuses for my snoring but it would be SO.MUCH.EASIER. to just say this one thing. Women snore too. Though you can imagine my delight on the days I get to roll over and say to The Bear, "you were snoring last night....". It's very satisfying to my womanhood (is that a word?).

I wonder if the Alien will snore like her Poppy too?

*Edit to say: Would you like to make a bet on how cute he thinks my snoring is now? Read: NOT AT ALL!!!

A Lump by Any Other Name....

I've been thinking that I would wait to blog until one of the following happened: I had some cool pictures to post and say "Ooo bright and shiny!" and that would be that, OR I actually had something really incredible to write about. You know the old clever, witty, funny trick that I used to be able to pull out of my magic hat. Alas, neither have happened and I realize that I just need to stop by my old stomping grounds and say that I'm alive.

These days I'm consumed with the fact that my bra hurts if I wear it for more than, OHHHH, 1 minute let alone the 10 hours a day I am required by fashion law to abide by. Or if we're really getting down to the nitty gritty details of what has become my life I should confess that sometimes (read: pretty much every day) I take my shirt off only to see crumbles of my after lunch snack tumbling down my big fat pregnant belly and onto the floor. I might stare longingly at those crumbs, notice the pink chunk mixed in, and sadly mourn that yummiest bit of frosting I couldn't manage to get into my mouth. Really those crumbs are remnants of the best parts of my day. Parts that don't include, "Ow, my back, I just...my legs, ugh, they are twitching...DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT IT HURTS TOO!!!" and just when I get comfy needing to get up to pee.

Mr. Bear might tell you what a delight I am to live with and how he really loves me more every day, and I agree that it's sweet, but unfortunately it's one big fat lie. I complain and whine and expect him to fix everything. I get tired just in time to skip out on dish duty and cleaning the toilet makes me sick (not a side effect of pregnancy fyi just regular life with me), I hog the covers, snore, sleep in a fortress of solitude, half fall in the shower leaving him to worry about my capability of walking without him standing behind to hold me up, and I gain 40 lbs so seeing me naked is no longer an enjoyable event. Also, I can't even reach into the washer so he had to change my laundry for me which is the worst part! But, on the bright side, my boobs have maintained their ginormous status and are likely to do so for some time to come, so I may be fat but if all else fails he can just look at my cleavage and know there is still an upside to this life with me.

In reality we are both really really looking forward to the day that the lump between our hugs is an actual fleshy child and not just a lump of hard belly. Things are bound to change but being able to snuggle, among other things, in comfort is one I will never take for granted again!