Today at my sister’s house, I was sitting on her “hammock.” I use that word in jest because it was really a glorified dog bed- low to the ground and it didn’t sway.
The kids and I were outside on this beautiful afternoon and I was perched on the chaise… days away from having baby #3. I could barely shift sides to ensure they were playing fair and knew instantly that I’d have a difficult time getting up.
After watching the kids play “fetch” with the dog’s ball, I decided the exercise on two tired children would ruin dinner. And so I started…
“Eldest, come get my slippers please.”
Personally, I think both kids just enjoyed seeing mommy unable to do anything. Immediately I saw myself as the 600 lb woman stuck in her bed, waiting for the firemen to rescue me out of my room.
“Kids! Mother needs help getting up, come pull me.”
So…youngest tried to pull me. Then eldest tried to push me. Both laughed and laughed as Big Bertha couldn’t move. It’s not just the final hours of pregnancy, but the vein issue coupled with the fact that I feel as if my bones were glued together by a kindergartner.
Eventually, my nephew had to be enlisted to help with the push/pull to get me up.
It wasn’t until the final comment from my envious of a third child to be sister, that caused my water to break or urine to free flow.
“You need a makeover; look at you in your tan stockings and TV Guide slippers.”