The 'Tude

Ever since we found out that the little monster was sporting some external plumbing, we've pretty much slowed down on the ultrasonic stalkerazzi act that was previously replacing my daytime job. It's now limited to special occasions like when Nana Joyce comes to visit, it's Wednesday, or crazy Auntie Jazzie hasn't seen Disco Stu lately. I'm trying to stretch it out to once weekly at most, but we're seeing how long I can go in between this time. It's like everytime I see the baby, I get a hit of crack or something, because it's soooooo addicting (like McD's fries and Little Debbie).

There is one other tiny, little, itsy bitsy deterrent keeping me away from the high tech machinery. That would be the fact that my baby has developed, let us call it an 'aversion,' to being spied on. He is totally my child because he's already developing some serious social phobia, doesn't like his picture taken, and when he doesn't get his way, he throws a fit. Now, if you've never seen a 14 week fetus throw a temper tantrum, it's a pathetically cute sight to be seen.

So, there I was, minding my own business, staring at my unborn child via transducer and LOTS of cold goo on my ever-expanding belly. He was being his usual diva self and sleeping (of all the rebelious acts), so I couldn't get a good profile and I couldn't get a good between the legs view to confirm our previously toy truck loving prediction. He was just lying there on his side, sucking his thumb (as evidenced by his little lips moving around his hand--SO CUTE), completely content to ignore me for the afternoon bonding session...or napping, but that doesn't help me rationalize what is to come next nearly as well. So, what did I do? What any good mother with absolutely no patience and egocentric 'he's doing this to me on purpose' feelings would do. I jackhammered that transducer into my belly to cause a little local earthquake measuring a magnitude of 10 on the Richter scale.

What did I hope would happen? That he'd lazily open an eye and roll away from me (his usual 'can't wait to be an apathetic teenager' act) so I could get a better view. What happened? Apparently I woke him from a really good dream which pissed him off something fierce. You know what it looks like when a newborn infant is crying and throwing a fit and they get their arms and legs flexing and extending, but not synchronously so it looks like a crazy little dance, except they're screaming and turning red so it's only a funny-ha-ha for a second? Well, lets just say he woke up and instantly started into this little display of pure crazy making mommy-dearest A) wonder if this was some sort of abuse/neglect, and B) wonder if I should start taking prophylactic seizure medicine for his obvious condition. Had it stopped there, I wouldn't have been too crazed with guilt. However, he did not stop there. After his full minute of epipleptic behavior, he grabbed ahold of his cord and began doing front flips like a cirque de soleil performer at a never before measured velocity which assured me of his impending doom via cord knot/some type of decreased blood supply to his little developing brain.

This is where my panic attack began, prompting me to yell 'nooooooooo,' throw the transducer at the machine and sprint from the room promising never to do that to him again. This was extra funny for everyone else but me since my belly was full of goo, my pants weren't done up completely, and I tripped out the door and rammed into the supply closet causing an impromptu 're-organizing' of all the casting supplies. Dramatic? Yes. Rationalized as crazy preganant hormones? Of course. Have I gone back to ultrasound again? Not a chance.

Maybe I'm already being a bad mommy and showing him that a little temper tantrum will make mommy do whatever he wants. Don't know, don't care and no judgement because you weren't there for the exorcist act.