Two new discoveries...

I have made two new discoveries in the last 12 hours that have let my body image take a blow. 

1- I am officially having a hard time painting my toenails as my baby belly is getting in the way.

2- CBS will air the Victoria's Secret lingerie fashion show tonight.

REALLY?

Trust me, I am SO grateful for my growing belly as I am so pleased we are having another baby, but I feel as though I shouldn't be this big, this soon.  I have to remind myself I only have about 15 more weeks and yes, as the baby grows...so will my butt.

So with that said, I think I will stop by the store, grab some Ben & Jerry's Ice cream and watch those skinny beyotches strut their perfect bodies down the catwalk while I look at my sloppy painted toes...if I can still see them by the end of the day.

Ms. Uterus...you said what?!?!?

I had a regular follow-up appointment with my OB yesterday to check in on Baby Knight #2 (another girl, by the way).  I absolutely ADORE my doctor and his practice and enjoy my visits...well, until yesterday.  I try not to judge, but there are some patients seen there that make me wonder why some women have the mass-ability to procreate and others struggle their entire lives.  I showed up to my appointment, signed in, and gladly took my seat in the waiting room.  The room was somewhat busy for a Monday, but there were two women who stood out.  Not by how they looked, but by how freaking loud and open they were with their conversations (ok, really just one of them dominated the show).  The "louder" woman appeared younger than me (ok, really...Kerri "advanced maternal age" Knight...everyone is younger) and had very healthy lungs as made evident by her over-the-top tone.  She also apparently had a very healthy uterus as I was about to learn.  She was talking to the other woman about her kids.  She stated (and I quote...and will spell it just as she said it) "I used to love babies, but once I started having thum, I donst likes them anymore."  I sat there, in shock, staring at this person.  When the other woman asked her how many she had,  Ms. Uterus replied with "well, this is my fourth...but they just make too much noise and I tell my husband all the time I just need a break."  It took all I had to say "well, why don't you tell your husband to wrap it up, or back the hell off" but I just continued to sit there in shock.  Ms. Uterus (let's face it, I cannot call her anything but at this stage) sat there and took what should be an extremely blessed time in one's life and made it sound as though she was talking about a litter of puppies.  I could feel my blood pressure rise as the conversation went on...and on.  She finally got called back, the other woman left (apparently the baby she was holding was actually her grandchild...yes, she was about my age as well) and I was left there to reel in the moments I had just witnessed.  I went on to my appointment, got a big hug and congrats from my doctor with this line thrown in as well- "the fact that you are 23 weeks and we have a healthy baby doing so well is just a miracle.  I am just so happy for you, Kerri." And there it was--true concern and happiness that some of us patients are really glad to be expanding our families. With all that we had gone through --which I know others had gone through more and much worse--it is still just a miracle that we are here...with a new one on the way...growing inside...and totally kicking ass (seriously, I think we have a ninja on our hands here).  So, as I left my appointment- after taking care of my account with the insurance I pay for (sorry, had to go there)- it hit me...Why are some people allowed to pop out kids they do not even seem to be excited about, when others who are desperate to have them, have to go through so much to do so? I cannot answer that, nor will I judge God on his plan. I can say that it enfuriates me that a woman can be on her fourth child and feel so inconvienced by the "noise" yet she keeps on having them.  I welcome the noise in my house, bitch.  I cannot wait for nights interrupted by hungry cries, a small human being that my husband and I created who needs me, and having to change poopie diapers.  I look forward to my other daughter being a big sister who is just as excited--and has prayed for over a year now--for this to be happening for us also.  I guess I will add you to my prayer list as well, Ms. Uterus. I pray that you will not take for granted your ability to mass produce unsuspecting "noise-makers" and I pray they will know that you should not be "irritated" by their cries.  I pray you "get it" one day and realize where they come from and stop having them if you are so put out by them.  I pray that you will NEVER know what it feels like to not experience going full-term with a healthy child and I pray you get bitch-slapped...ok, that last one I am just kidding about..kinda :)

I don't know. I really wonder about the future and I really wonder about where peoples heads or at--I think some of them should worry where their ankles are.

A sign of true love...

When I met Jay, he was a farmer through and through and had the mentality to match (please note, this is a good thing).  When it came to animals, his beliefs were that animals were the be outside.  He was not a pet man, but they just had a place- outside.  Now, when I met him we had 30+ horses at our farm and I had my beloved black lab, Bailey who ...let me just state, had the loveseat to my sofa set as his own domain.  Jay and I met at my farm, and since Bailey was with me 24/7, he met Bailey then too.  Early on in our dating, Jay was at the house and said "hey, let's go for a ride...I want to take you to show you some land."  We started to head out the door and Jay turned and said "Bailey, c'mon."  As we are walking out to his truck, I realize that Jay is walking right into a test...a test he has no idea he is about to take.  Jay opens the back door and pats his hand on the seat to motion Bailey to sit in the cab of his truck-point for the boyfriend!  Bailey NEVER rode in the bed of a truck as he always sat in the cab of mine (yes, we both had farm/work trucks when were dating) and Jay Knight completely scored big that day with that little move whether he knew it or not.  Flash forward 10 years later -yes, the man has put up with me for 10 years now -and we have two dogs (two horses and well, you know...a crap load of chickens).  Our sweet Bailey passed last year, so we have Pam & Genga in the family.  Pam is our sweet little mutt that Jay wanted to take home- they now hate each other- and Genga is the fabulous German Shepherd who I brought into the house (ok, so I am partial).  On the day I called him to ask if I could bring Genga home, Jay reluctantly said I could but that she would have to be an outside dog.  I agreed (although I hated the idea) but wanted this dog so bad I said I would do it.  Now, for the record, Genga has a nice large pen/play area that is pretty sweet and she does spend her time out there when we are at work...she really likes her outdoor time- Jay's pick Pam, well she stays in and pees everywhere, but that is another story.    Genga started off sleeping in her pen, but was moved in the house shortly after her arrival due to the weather...it's south Georgia,it's hot!  Jay was very reluctant, but didn't fight me...well, I think he probably cursed me many a times, but not to my face so more points for the hubby.  Now we are 5 months in to owning Genga- she has her own room, she has the run of the land, she still has her pen (complete with a fan and automatic waterer that Jay installed for her) but she has lots of indoor hours to boot...lots!  Every now and then, Jay will say "Kerri, there is a large dog walking through the house" and I reply with "really?" and he just shakes his head.  Jay is very cool, he puts up with me, he fought a really good fight with sticking to the "outside dog" rules, but he has let me have my way in a not-so-direct way.  I knew I was pushing it, but have I told you that Genga is wonder dog?  She doesn't really shed (well, she does, but we addressed that early on in our ownership of her), she is clean (well, she takes showers...but we have to do it when Jay is out of the house as he is not a fan--he does know--that a large hairy German bathes where he does) and she doesn't have accidents.  She lets Caroline dress her and they play well so he tolerates that "inside" time too.  Now, one thing we (me and Caroline, my partner in crime) do is let Genga in the house in the mornings- after she is out to go potty- to spend some snuggle time with us.  This went from just letting her have full run of the house, to now some "in the bed" time with her little person, Caroline.  The first time Genga jumped in the bed (for the record, Jay was out of town) we were kind of surprised she did it, but she snuggled with Caroline and we were even more smitted--ok, the "we" being me and Caroline.  Caroline and I agreed to keep the snuggle time a secret from daddy as he is on a need-to-know-basis with this sort of information.  Well, we were doing really good...until this weekend.  Sunday morning, we were all in our room, and Jay gets up to let Genga in.  As Genga is eyeballing the jump into the bed, Caroline (God love her) opens up with "daddy, I need to tell you something...when you go to work, Mommy lets Genga in and she jumps in the bed so we can love on her."  Knowing I cannot deny it- nor "lie" in front of my child, I brace myself for the ending of what has been a really good stretch of "operation indoor dog". Before I can say anything, Jay leans over and says "I know, baby...the dog hair on my side of the bed has been a dead giveaway for the last few months."  Again, bracing myself for what I think is about to come, Jay kisses each of us on the forehead, pats Genga and walks on out...not saying a word.

Now...that is love and I know that my dear sweet hubby truly, truly loves me. 

Well, my news just got trumped. Apparently I have 18 more to go...

So, I am very excited to be expecting again.  I feel very blessed as it has not been an easy road for me and Jay.  We have been blessed with one fabulously sassy angel and after thinking it would never happen again, we are expecting a second little girl this spring.  With that said, I want to sidetrack away from our news and share news of something that has gotten under my skin this morning.  While I am working on not being mean--especially in the fabulous situation I am in--I cannot help but to be somewhat "pissed" at a news story this morning.  Yes, the Duggars (of 19 kids and counting fame) are expecting again.  Congrats on firing up that baby-factory again, crazy-haired lady, but there are some of us that cannot celebrate your news. 

Here is some of an article I read and I highlighted the points I would like to kindly remark on:

With a motto like "there's always room for one more," we weren't surprised to hear that Michelle and Jim Bob Duggar of "19 Kids and Counting" are expecting their 20th child. The entire Duggar clan took to the 'Today' show to announce the exciting news to a shocked Ann Curry who was trying to wrap her head around the idea of such a full house.
Due in April, 45-year-old Michelle Duggar knows about the complications her age may place on her pregnancy, that's why she's putting in a good hour each day on the elliptical she was given for her birthday.
"I'm really in better shape than I've been in 20 years," she said.
So could this be the last child for the big family?
"I don't know how it happened," Jim Bob joked. "We didn't want to stop at an odd number."
The couple explained that this is the farthest apart in age any of their children will be. Their youngest and 19th child, Josie, was born in December of 2009.
"We are so excited," Michelle said. "I was not thinking that God would give us another one, and we are just so grateful."
Just last month Michelle told HuffPost Celeb that although she wanted another baby, she didn't know if it was a possibility, given her age: "We would love more but, of course, I'm 45, so we don't know if that will ever happen again. But we love more."
So what's it like being pregnant for the 20th time? We have a feeling that the cameras will be there every step of the way to let us in on the chaos.

So, lets start with the mother of 19 designating 1-hour a day to her elliptical. Congrats on being in the best shape of your life in 20-years, but since the last 20 years you have been the in the shape of "round" really, what the f&%* is your comparison?  Also, who (with having 19 kids in the house) can designate 1-hour a day to work out?  I have one child and one on the way and I barely have time to make a lunch the night before school or get all of the chores done.  Oh yea, that's right...I also work 40+ hours a week so I can pay my bills since I don't have tv cameras in my home to film my mass-breeding abilities for a buck.

So, "I don't know how this happened" joked Jim Bob.  Ok, the only freaking joke here is the fact that your name is Jim Bob and you continue to use it in public. You have 19 kids a$$hole, this line is not funny anymore.  Maybe after the 3rd or 4th you could have used it, but how about...I keep impregnanting my not-in-touch with-wife, that's why we have the #20th on the way.

Ok, "we are so grateful" now, I cannot really argue with this one.  I am grateful that I was given another chance at being a mother.  After lots of loss, and stress on the family, I do feel very blessed to be able to experience this again.  With that said--you know what you have established (19 other freaking times) that you are super fertile...really, how could you be so surprised?

And lastly, "we would love more."  Ok, I would love more too, but c'mon.  I would also love more animals, but who the heck is going to pay to feed and care for them?  Again, I do not have camera crews filming my lame life (which I personally LOVE my "lame life", but I know of no one who wants to see it).

So, I am working on not trying to judge and be mean, but it is kind of hard here with this one.  I know of so many loving families who want to expand their crew and they cannot.  It is hard on them and to have stories such as this "glamorize" what really is (I think) not normal is hurtful and just doesn't seem right.  I am a christian and I know my God provides for me, but I am also aware that my God doesn't have an account at Commmerical Bank and can write a few checks for me to  bust out a few payments here and there for some of my wants.  Also, I know God (ok, lets keep this PC, and I will say "my" God) created us and designed us to be able to procreate and such, but you know...God also put people on this earth who are doctors, creators, inventors and well...even ones who have designed the condom and other forms of birth control.   Again, I don't want to sound hateful especially in my condition, but someone popping out their 20th human should not be a top news story when there are other more important things going on in people's lives.

3 more days before we find out!

Monday is the big day.  And when I say "big" I mean-- we find out if Knight baby#2 is a little miss or mister.  I have absolutely no gut feeling for one gender over the other, but I can just hear the doctor say "its another girl" and my husband's heart sink as he is faced with paying for another wedding and knowing he has a second one to worry about in the dating world.  I am just glad little one is healthy and I look forward to knowing so we can start planning-- coming up with names, planning on nursery decor, and well...planning on it all.  Caroline will not be with us for the appointment...heck, Jay may not even be with me due to his work, but I am using this weekend to decide ---ok, find-- a creative and cute way to tell our family and friends.  Part of me thought I would just keep it a secret--ok, if Jay cannot make it, I am going to hold out and make him sweat for a while before I let  him in on it-- but I have the world's worst poker face and cannot lie or keep something to myself to save my life. 

So, not that there are any prizes with it, but please feel free to cast your vote.  The good news is there is a 50/50 shot of one of the other so your odds are much better than a GA lottery scratch off.

To be a good person, or not...

Let me say that I do consider myself a good person.  I am completely aware that I am not perfect, and please note I have never claimed to be that.  I have done some really stupid things in life, but I have learned from them and use it to make myself better and grow.  I also consider myself a Christian.  I cannot toss out bible quotes on cue, I do enjoy my curse words, and I sometimes speak before I think, but I also feel as though God is my homeboy and we have a very cool relationship- so there.  Now, while I state all of this, I also think "good people" are entitled to be pissed off at times—let’s be honest, people who are always “perfect”; well they are full of shit.  I will not bite my tongue unless it means I will be kept out of the back of a police car, so if you hurt me or my family, take a strike against someone I care about, or jeopardize my family's stability,  I will sprout horns and be ready to strike.   Case in point- one person in particular is the reason (ok, main reason) I have to color my hair.  Someone else works themselves like a dog, misses out on time with loved ones, makes those needs a priority over their needs because they are hopeful they will get what has been owed to them, many times gets the cold shoulder for those times kept away, and seems to make sure this person can keep their head above water…or on the water (you know what I mean, jackhole).  Now, my loved one is not in the clear, but don’t I have to be supportive?  How many times can I keep fighting this fight before I end up in the back of that patrol car?  When can I just walk up and kick this person in the balls?  Yes, that is what I want to do---kick hard and more than once.  I don’t need to say anything to this person. They are aware of the situation, although I do not believe they lose sleep over it at night like I do, but why can’t I just walk up, say “hey” and nail them one (or, 10) time?  Why can this person continue to do what they do and not have something (or someone) ring their bell?  Why can I not be the bellringer? Why, oh why, cannot I just kick them in the balls?

I do not wish anything bad on this other person.  I actually can sympathize with this person.  I do not hate them and do not wish harm.   While not being able to pee standing up for a week or two isn’t necessarily a “good” thing, I just want a way to get the important point across.  I just want them to acknowledge how crappy things are and their role in it.  If they would just tell—tell me—“you know, I am truly sorry, I will work to make it right, or we will do something else” my desire to nail ‘em in the nads would start to fade away…well, after I get my good kick in.  I guess I need to go to church and pray.  I pray I will resist the urge to dwell on this.  I pray I will be able to let it go another day.  I pray that I will not have to see my hairdresser earlier than planned.  And I pray that a resonable solution finds its way soon.

I also pray that I can just get one good kick...c'mon, one good kick... in before all is said and done.

Open letter to my dogs...

My Dearest Genga-

You have only been in our lives for 5 months now, but it feels like you have been with us forever.  I never thought I would care for a dog so much after Bailey (the best Black Lab you never got to meet) but you have proved that wrong...no disrespect my sweet Bailey boy, but I have been blessed with two amazing dogs in my lifetime now.  You are sweet, loving, always happy to see me and quite honestly...you crack my ass up.  I appreciate how you let Caroline dress you like a drag queen and I appreciate you letting her jump, poke and chase you.  I am glad you didn't "make the cut" with your last gig as I would be so sad knowing how great you are and not have had you.  I feel safe when you are around and I know--even though you are a softie--you would totally kick ass in the event we needed you to.  I look forward to the days where you will stop your full-on-mortal-combat hugs as I am not going anywhere and I am always happy to see you too.  Seriously, you are too damn big to tackle me any more---dude, you can tone it down a notch.  I am glad you now feel at ease enough where you can snuggle and not wrestle when it is sleepy time and thanks for nipping the snoring.  Thanks for being the dog who was housebroken on day #2 and waking me up when it is time to go out...even if it is at 2 and 3am, I appreciate it.  I look forward to Caroline growing up with you and look forward to you guarding the new baby as well. 

Mommy loves you.



My Dearest Pam,

Please stop pissing on the floor.

Love, mommy