I realized that it's been eleven months since I have blogged. Very sad. I think about it all of the time, I just can't seem to remember to sit down and put my thoughts onto my blog.
I am now a very 33 1/2 weeks pregnant. I can't see my toes, my clothes are already getting too tight (my maternity clothes...the ones with the stretchy waist bands...I'm in trouble with seven more weeks to go) and I want to sleep 23 out of the 24 hours of the day. I have noticed that "mama grizz" shows up a little more often than usual and I have developed so many pet peeves I can hardly stand myself. Josh spends most of his time with me giving me the "lighten up" look or trying to ignore my snide comments. Bless his heart. He is such a trooper of a husband. He really should get an award for having to put up with me this pregnant. Little does he realize that the next seven weeks are just going to get worse and worse before they get better. But I am trying to keep it under wraps. As long as I get a reasonable amount of sleep, can keep my house below 76 degrees in the day and have dinner somewhat under control, my life seems to run a lot smoother. I think it would help tremendously if I don't get daily comments from random people shocked that I still have seven weeks before I have this baby, or that my belly really is getting big, or the sad "ahhhh" when they find out that number five is, yet indeed, ANOTHER boy. The comments are getting less and less original and less and less amusing.
Which leads into my real reason of blogging tonight.
This afternoon I ventured to Smith's with my four little boys. Mind you, this hasn't happened for months and months and months. I refuse to take my brood to the grocery store. But I was feeling brave today. We were all put together. I had showered, done my hair and put make-up on (Dr appointment day... you know how that goes). My kids were dressed, hair combed and in fairly decent moods. So I thought, "what the heck, how bad can it be?" My kids were doing remarkably well. Luke stayed seated in the cart, my other three tagged right along next to me. Then it happened. Something I have never yet experienced. My four boys and I were alone in the ice cream aisle at the grocery store when I hear an outloud "OH MY GOSH". I turned around to find a gentlemen staring at me, counting my children and oggling my pregnant belly. He was either disgusted or dumbfounded, I really couldn't tell. He then said "whoa" and turned around and walked away. I wanted to say something like "oh this is nothing, I left the other four at home" or "my sister-wife has six, I'm trying to catch up".
It was amazing. First of all, that any person would actually stop and turn around in an aisle and make and outloud comment, all the while staring very rudely. And second of all, I have FOUR kids, not seventeen. Was that really necessary? None of my kids were being crazy...not one of them. They were quietly standing in front of the ice cream cooler choosing an ice cream flavor. I understand that I am enormously pregnant, but it's with my FIFTH kid. That's not an obsene number. I couldn't get that out of my head for a number of hours. I have come to the conclusing he is either #1 from Park City, has never been married or had his own children. #2 he has never seen a child before, let alone FOUR from the same family or #3 his mother never taught him any manners. Whatever his reason, I feel bad for him that it was appalling to see my cute little family. I, on the other hand, count my many blessings every day that I have been so blessed to be surrounded by such handsome little men. They are wonderful and crazy and dirty and sweet and every day is full of adventure. I am thankful to currently have five, soon to be six handsome men in my life. I am the most blessed woman on earth. So let that crazy man think what he wants. He just has no idea how much he is missing - and for that, I feel very bad for him.
