May the Force be with You!

Mood: Radiant
Song: “Bicycle Race” by Queen

Children. Some want them. Others can’t stand them. While others can’t get enough of them. Me, I want a gaggle of kids driving me up the wall with sheer insanity in a home where wooden spoons are a means of discipline. I couldn’t imagine my life otherwise. According to my nausea and waistline, I’m on my way to increasing the Kitchen herd. “Mooooo-ve over weight loss something meaty this way comes! It’s been an interesting first trimester. As they say, each pregnancy is different and I can vouch for it. This pregnancy couldn’t be any different from Hunter, "I second that emotion!”

Something exciting is brewing in my belly pot!
Recently, my cravings have geared towards fast food like a swarm of flies to an Ethiopian village. On the double edged sword, my appetite has been nill. Furthermore, my tongue shrivels at the sight of fruits, vegetables, or the term organic and seasonal of the sort. This second coming, is determined to give me an ulcer. Like a mental patient refusing to take her meds, I forcefeed myself to eat fruits, vegetables that are of the term organic or seasonal. Although it taste like radiator vomit, I know I am doing the nation of Shellie a world of good.

In other sorted events, Nausea -my number one enemy- turns it’s gentle serrated edges into my gut letting me know who is Queen of this Kingdom. I haven’t had the courtesy of barfing (knock on wood), but the belly of the beast can always make it’s way to the surface. I beseech you oh Nausea to let me be. Meanwhile in the Northern Hemisphere, Sleep troops have taken the city of Consciousness by storm! Violently accosting the town with demands of rest and relaxation.

In relative news, deep in the jungle my emotions have beat me into submission. Sobbing has become my new pass time. Like a leaky faucet, I sob in tiny doses. When the surge of irrational current begins its up rise, I take a deep breath and lock myself in a padded room. Alright my bedroom is not padded, but my bed is soft enough to embrace the turbulence. Besides, Shane nor Hunter need not be an innocent bystander. Sometimes a nice bubble bath, jazz, and a novel are also good medicine.

Finally another menacing birthday is around the corner, I’m sprinting against time. I refuse to be a useless senior citizen when my children turn eighteen. The thought of being threatened by fall, resulting in breaking a hip is cruel. Suddenly, this whole teenage pregnancy hullabaloo is genius! A mother of an eighteen year old at age 33 is sexy! What was I thinking with college and traveling! Also, irrelevancy has become part of my morse.

Thankfully, I’m in my second trimester!

Release the shackles and let the slave graze the earth.
I’m still enchanted by this miracle. The creation of life is the shit! I can't believe my mom went through it ten times! I can’t wait to do it again. I am fortunate to be so lucky in this lifetime. In the meantime, goodness is growing in my belly!

This is Shellie exlaiming, "Something joyous this way comes!" Back to you Bob at the studio!