Oh my stars and garters. I have to take a break from the birth stories or I think I shall run mad. Instead of making the time go faster, it is making it crawl. Crawl, people!
When it isn’t crawling, it’s sitting on the curb picking its toenails, smirking wickedly in my direction and taunting you’re not the boss of me!
I am determined to ignore it, just as I urge my children to ignore their pesky siblings.
(They never do it, by the way. They usually just yell “I’m ‘noring you!” over and over again)
So for the next few minutes, I’m just going to pretend that I’m not pregnant at all, not anxiously anticipating the arrival of my twelfth child, not so bloated and uncomfortable that I would actually ask my OB to check my cervix to see if it was going to get its game on any time soon.
You know you’re nine months pregnant when you would actually request a probing.
So what’s new with you? Anyone have any news they want to share with the rest of the class? Ooh! Ooh! Pick me!
I…I…I’m due in 8 days!
Oops. I wasn’t supposed to remember that.
The trouble is it’s just so damn hard to forget the fact. It’s downright impossible to think about anything else for longer than 2.6 seconds. I can’t concentrate on schooling. I can’t focus on making grocery lists. I don’t know how to plan the next couple of weeks because there’s this massive, looming EVENT crouching around the corner somewhere, ready to pounce upon me when I least expect it.
And so I am boring myself to death.
Seriously, let’s talk about something else, anything! I need a topic…lessee….***casting mine eyes about the room for conversation fodder***
How about Webkinz?
They are taking over my house. I have five children who love them. One daughter just celebrated a birthday and that was all that was on her list. She got nine Webkinz for her birthday. Who will stop the insanity?
Not that I can’t understand it. I do. If Webkinz had been around when I was a kid (as well as computers and internet connections, come to think of it), I would have been in a plush, fuzzy haze of euphoria. My stuffed animals all had personalities and names and they all came alive at night (duh!) but they didn’t have anything compared to the Wonder That Is Webkinz.
At the Webkinz website, you can “adopt” a pet via a special code that is around the neck of the stuffed version, whereupon you will be “given” a cartoon version of the same critter. Along with the critter you are given “money” and a “house” and some “gifts.” The “house” is pretty bare at first, but with time you can play little arcade-type games and make more “money” with which you can then “buy” “furniture” and “food”and “clothing” for your little cyber “pet.”
I’m tired of typing quotes. From this point on, just imagine quotes around every other word.
You can buy a television for your pet. Then you can watch the television! Yes! They even have a cooking show! Your pet can watch the cooking show and be shown how to make a recipe. Then you can go to the store, buy the ingredients that you were shown on the show, bring them home and cook them up on the stove that you bought at an earlier time after playing arcade games ad nauseum. Then you can feed the finished product to your virtual pet and his little happiness meter will soar.
The two youngest Webkinz-addicts are not very good at the arcade games, sadly. They don’t make much money. For a while they lacked the big-screen televisions and swimming pools that their siblings’ Webkinz were enjoying. Such things were simply beyond their means.
Eventually, someone came to their aid, however. A good-hearted soul decided that she could play just a few games, just for a few minutes a day, and earn them some spending money. Just so their little pets didn’t waste away for lack of cyber-sustenance, you understand. It’s not like the little games are easy, after all. Some of them are downright challenging. Maybe even educational!
Okay, not educational. But very, very addictive.
Not that the kind benefactor in question would ever be addicted to a silly bunch of internet games. She’s far too mature for that. Not to mention entirely too busy. Much, much too busy. Busy NOT THINKING ABOUT GOING INTO LABOR IN THE NEXT WEEK OR SO.
Gotta go now. There are all-time-high-scores to beat, after all.
Posted in randomness
