YOU MIGHT BE IN THE 3rd TRIMESTER WHEN...

In the past 2 weeks, I've had three different women comment to me - out of the blue - "How great my ankles look for being this far along." Wellllll...aren't they just sweet as suga'! I didn't even know women checked out pregnant women's ankles. Did you guys? Unless someone points it out to me, I'd never think to look. With us being in Florida, I wear dresses almost every day just to keep from getting over-heated. I guess my ankles are quite visible due to my legs being exposed. Problem is...I soooooooo don't feel like my ankles look great for this stage in the game. In fact, when I walk thru the house during the day or night, I envision this theatrical sound of what King Kong sounded like as he stomped thru NYC in that movie and trampled the entire town - crushing buildings and cars with one step of his foot. Yeap, that's me - that is my third trimester. With 6 weeks and 6 days to go, I am totally shamu with feet. No joke. I moan and groan with every movement made to the point where I'm sure it appears to an outsider as though I'm dying. And when I switch sides in bed at night...God for bid you have to hear what kind of noise and process that takes. We are talking action-adventure soundtrack. You think I'm kidding - but I swear I'm not. I don't know that our big king size bed can handle my big king sized butt much longer.

The other night, Brent was laying beside me with his hand underneath my belly. (I was laying on my right side. Baby Seaman was kicking up a storm and rolling over like nobody's bin-ness'. Brent wanted to feel him and in doing so, he got the shock of his life. At two different points he belted out..."Oh My Gosh!!! Oh My Gosh!!!" He couldn't believe how prominent the kicks were and just how powerful the lil' man was inside there. He's like..."That is almost like an alien trying to get out from inside there." At that moment, I was reminded of Sigorney Weaver in the movie "Alien."

Oh yeah...that is totally what this child looks and feels like when he gets to rockin' and rolling in my tummy. I was cracking up at Brent and his shock over how powerful he was. He asked me if I remembered Brennen and Kenidi being that strong when I was pregnant with them and yes...I do. This baby is no different.

Not only have I definitely hit the uncomfortable stage but I've also definitely reached that hormonal stage now too. The other day I was walking thru a restaurant wearing a shirt that read "Rockin' my bump." As I was headed to the restroom, I passed by a table with about 5 women sitting at it - they were maybe early 30's in age. One of them proceeded to read my shirt allowed with a very condescending tone. I heard her say..."Rockin' my bump???" You could tell she said it to be a smart ___ but didn't in turn realize just how loud it rolled off her tongue. She clearly never intended for me to hear her. However, I did. It was in that moment that the ol' Angie DeNease came back inside me. I refer to my younger era as Angie DeNease - the days of high school when I was considered body guards for all of my girlfriends. Angie DeNease was the girl that took no crap from anyone and if you so much as looked at me wrong or dared date a boyfriend I once had - you were screwed. Yes, that was "Angie DeNease." I'm soooo not proud of that girl. In fact, I'm extremely embarassed by her. My temper back then stemmed from the genes that my mother passed down to me. My Mom was the chick you didn't mess with when she was younger too. I have vivid memories of my Mother in street fights where my Dad would have to pick me up, put me on his shoulders, and walk away to get me away from the action and what I was witnessing. It wasn't a pretty sight but that was life up until I was maybe 8 years old or so. In fact, my Mom STILL carries that gene and it has caused her some embarassment in her day as well. I have haunting memories of being 7 years old and getting thrown into a thorn bush by an older girl during a fight outside in the neighborhood I lived in with my Mom. When I got home to my Mom, looking for comfort as I poured blood from every square inch of my body from the thorns that were now embedded in my skin...instead of comforting me, she took one look at me, grabbed my hand, slammed open the front door and marched me right back down the street to the girl who did it. Needless to say, I lost the first round with the thorn bush but didn't loose the 2nd round as my Mom stood there almost as if she was ringing a bell in a fighting ring. She wanted me to let this older girl know who she was really messing with. From that day forward, I was taught to never, ever let anyone see fear in me. Never ever let anyone whoop my skinny scrawny little butt and to never be afraid to defend myself when necessary. Truth is...that life lesson created more of a bully in me than teach me anything of worth. I have found myself apologizing to many, many girls that I tortured in high school due to my behavior back then. In fact, that behavior today would land me in kicked out of school and probably in juvenile with the way bullying and fighting is no longer tolerated in schools. Am I glad that my Mom taught me to fend for myself and never be afraid of anyone? Yes. However, that lesson was taught the wrong way in my opinion. No worries...my Mom knows how I feel about all this now. Rarely do I ever feel that temperament come out in me like it used to back in my younger days. Thankfully I've grown up, matured, learned the value of forgiving, and tried to steer as far away from that genetic temperament trait as possible. And needless to say, my kids are being taught differently. Wayyyy differently. LOL! Anyway, as I was saying...I rarely sense that "Angie DeNease" (my maiden name by the way), come out in me like that anymore. But when the girl at the restaurant loudly expressed her need to make fun of my shirt that I was wearing the other night, she almost got a quick glimpse of the old Angie. I told my Mom - when talking to her about the ordeal later - that I hadn't felt that feeling in years. This chicks condescending tone stopped me dead in my tracks - right in front of her table - with her and her 4 other compadres' awaiting and watching my next move. Naturally, my stopping on a dime and the look I proceeded to deliver to her after she made her comment caused her sudden grave concern. She immediately knew the damage she had done and by the look on her face, she needed to come join me in the restroom to clean herself off. When all was said and done, she looked at me and every so nicely said..."Oh I'm sorry - I was just reading your shirt." Uh yeah...sure you were! I don't know if she thought she was safe because a pregnant woman would most likely not "throw down" with her or what. Truth be told...she should reconsider before ever getting ready to make fun of an 8 month pregnant woman given our raging hormones at this stage in the game. I calmly regrouped and gathered my composure again and then began placing one foot in front of the other as I headed back on my way to the restroom. I had to laugh because I can only imagine what kind of psycho I must have looked like to each of those girls. I mean come on...there were 5 of them and only one of me. They could have easily jumped me and whooped my butt without a second thought. But at that moment, the old "Angie DeNease" in me didn't even think that far. All of a sudden...I was 7 years old again and a pit bull on a leash getting ready to be turned loose on someone who had taunted me and poked at me to the point of no return. Amazing how childhood memories stick with you even all these years later.

So...in a nutshell...you know you are in the third trimester when you're ready to knife someone for even looking at you the wrong way. It wasn't one of my proudest adult moments in life and was one that I had to repent about later. (once my nerves had settled back down and I realized just how hormonal I was at that particular moment) I guarantee you that the woman who crossed my path with her condescending tone will think twice though before she ever goes to mock a pregnant chick again. And when I came back out of the restroom and had to pass their table to get to mine, I noticed that low and behold...every single one of them had left. Gone. Just like they had seen a ghost or something.

On another note, at my OB check up this week, I got medicine for the heartburn and I'm so proud to say that my pain and issues surrounding heartburn are totally gone. This prescription is working like a charm. It took about a day to get into my system and begin working but now that it is...I'm in total heaven. They gave me a medicine called protonix. It's safe during pregnancy and it makes me a happy girl again. I go back to the doc on the 27th where we will get to see our little guy on the ultrasound screen yet again. That also makes me a happy girl. I started putting some things in my hospital bag and in baby Seaman's diaper bag last night. I figured now was a good time to get that process started. As I was packing for the two of us and our hospital stay, the butterflies started again and the whole process was ever so surreal. Six weeks and six days.

Even with only 6.5 weeks to go though, with the way I feel at this moment, I'm totally ready to tell my OB that it's time to "smoke this little guy out of his hole" as if he were a mole or ground hog running rampant thru my yard. Let's get this show on the road. :0)

xoxo, Angie & baby Kr_____