Juxtapose

I've gotten used to the Spaz-O-Rama party in my gut. Sort of. Every time I get a moment to sit at work (which happens only about, oh, four or five times during the day), suddenly Baby gets fidgety just in time for me to stuff down lunch, displacing my organs as I try to munch down my sandwich. It feels like there is a fish in there. I feel like a fishbowl. This happens at any given relaxing moment when I feel like settling down. This must be how it feels for Mark to sit next to me - the second you try to settle down on the couch to enjoy a movie, suddenly I have an itch, or my toe feels funny in that spot, or my arm falls asleep. I know I'm no prize in terms of the art of sitting still. Even so, I find it ironic to be on the receiving end of fidgets. Sorry, Emvee, you're right - it really does stink to be you.

Also, despite the cuteness factor of this big belly and the excitement it brings to me, I have to say that this baby has no regard whatsoever for my personal comfort and has decided to kick my right lowest rib lately. Either that, or wedge its head there. I'm not sure which end is which. Does that make me a bad mother?

I feel confident that the "which end is which" question will be much clearer in a few months' time.