It Takes A Village (To Survive Bed Rest)
I spent the morning at the Frizz Salon, the only hair cuttery I know of where you can sit on your bed and have your hair trimmed by play dough tools, where your barbers stop mid cut to give you lots of hugs, and where your hair cut is followed by a lego back massage.
Incidentally, it's also the only salon where your barber might forget what he's doing and decide to accidentally whack your head with the hair dryer.
Really, I deserved a morning of pampering because yesterday the Trig-Dog decided to slip his collar while my sister was walking him and managed to escape off base. I spent the afternoon in agony, first imagining how I was going to tell my husband his beloved dog was lost forever or possibly run over by a car, and then, wallowing in embarrassment when two of the awesome cops the Man works with had to spend close to an hour chasing down Trigger on foot.
Good thing that the donut eating cop stereotype doesn't apply on base.
Also, it may be another year before I show my face at the squadron again. Just saying.
Part of this is because when Trigs got returned to me by the two sweaty and out of breath Security Forces guys I was still in my pajamas and rocking unwashed hair (day four of unwashed hair to boot). The other part is just unadulterated shame because this is not the first time that Trigger has single-handedly re-tasked half the squadron. Lastly, Trigger may or may not have eaten through 2 whole bags of the K9 units dog treats during the chase down process (he's sneaky), and I have no clue when I'll be able to get to the store to buy replacements.
Incidentally, if I had been chasing down that dog while carrying a weapon, the Man might have come home to a taxidermied Trigger.
Anyway, on a completely unrelated note, you should know that it's getting hard to type on my laptop these days. The belly…it just won't stop growing. I told a friend today that I actually wished the Man was a little bit of a fatty so that I could still fit in his shirts at this point, but no luck (see above comment about donut eating cops). Instead, I'm wearing maternity dresses as shirts.
The truth is that I watched my sister do a Jillian Michael's work out today (in fact, our whole family watched, especially Trigs who kept trying to see how close he could get to her and then accidentally got kicked in the face), and as she diligently mountain climbed and super-manned her way through twenty minutes, I realized that even if I wasn't on bed rest, I am completely incapable of doing any of those exercises now. Well, I might be able to pull off a plank, but my belly would be resting on the ground.
I will tell you what I did do though. On Saturday, I busted out of bed rest. Yes. I did. I'm a rebel. Well, technically, I got my doctor's permission and took with me all my medical records for this pregnancy (which could've thrown me into active labour because they're starting to rival War and Peace), but I drove an hour away and got family Christmas pictures taken! Sure, three other adults had to go with me in case I spontaneously decided to push out the twins halfway between here and there and I wasn't allowed to go into the Target with everyone afterwards, but I. Did. Something! Other than sit in bed and grow twins, that is.
That's where the title of this blog comes from though. It seriously is taking half the base to keep me sane and taken care of right now. It's a little ridiculous. Soon, though, I plan to enlist at least two of my friends to stand next to me fanning me with peacock feathers at all times because I'm not going to lie--the hot flashes this time are a beast.
And that is my rambling, completely nonsensical post for the week. The End.
Incidentally, it's also the only salon where your barber might forget what he's doing and decide to accidentally whack your head with the hair dryer.
Really, I deserved a morning of pampering because yesterday the Trig-Dog decided to slip his collar while my sister was walking him and managed to escape off base. I spent the afternoon in agony, first imagining how I was going to tell my husband his beloved dog was lost forever or possibly run over by a car, and then, wallowing in embarrassment when two of the awesome cops the Man works with had to spend close to an hour chasing down Trigger on foot.
Good thing that the donut eating cop stereotype doesn't apply on base.
Also, it may be another year before I show my face at the squadron again. Just saying.
Part of this is because when Trigs got returned to me by the two sweaty and out of breath Security Forces guys I was still in my pajamas and rocking unwashed hair (day four of unwashed hair to boot). The other part is just unadulterated shame because this is not the first time that Trigger has single-handedly re-tasked half the squadron. Lastly, Trigger may or may not have eaten through 2 whole bags of the K9 units dog treats during the chase down process (he's sneaky), and I have no clue when I'll be able to get to the store to buy replacements.
Incidentally, if I had been chasing down that dog while carrying a weapon, the Man might have come home to a taxidermied Trigger.
Anyway, on a completely unrelated note, you should know that it's getting hard to type on my laptop these days. The belly…it just won't stop growing. I told a friend today that I actually wished the Man was a little bit of a fatty so that I could still fit in his shirts at this point, but no luck (see above comment about donut eating cops). Instead, I'm wearing maternity dresses as shirts.
The truth is that I watched my sister do a Jillian Michael's work out today (in fact, our whole family watched, especially Trigs who kept trying to see how close he could get to her and then accidentally got kicked in the face), and as she diligently mountain climbed and super-manned her way through twenty minutes, I realized that even if I wasn't on bed rest, I am completely incapable of doing any of those exercises now. Well, I might be able to pull off a plank, but my belly would be resting on the ground.
I will tell you what I did do though. On Saturday, I busted out of bed rest. Yes. I did. I'm a rebel. Well, technically, I got my doctor's permission and took with me all my medical records for this pregnancy (which could've thrown me into active labour because they're starting to rival War and Peace), but I drove an hour away and got family Christmas pictures taken! Sure, three other adults had to go with me in case I spontaneously decided to push out the twins halfway between here and there and I wasn't allowed to go into the Target with everyone afterwards, but I. Did. Something! Other than sit in bed and grow twins, that is.
That's where the title of this blog comes from though. It seriously is taking half the base to keep me sane and taken care of right now. It's a little ridiculous. Soon, though, I plan to enlist at least two of my friends to stand next to me fanning me with peacock feathers at all times because I'm not going to lie--the hot flashes this time are a beast.
And that is my rambling, completely nonsensical post for the week. The End.
