Pregnant Fairy

I'm sure you're wondering what the hiatus was all about, well, let me tell you, living with a pregnant fairy is not as Walt Disney as it sounds. We've got a little morning routine which involves me being woken up by a few not so surreptitious kicks in the ankle. These nudges basically mean "get your butt out of bed and make me something to eat before I throw up on you!" So I crawl out of bed, let the dogs out after checking to see if they've peed on my couches (a new trick of theirs), feed the screaming cat while making the love of my life a bowl of Cheerios or Rice Crispies (depending on the flavour of the week). What makes this little routine really crappy is that I have to do all this while trying to wake up without the added assistance that my morning cup of Jacobs normally gives me because said pregnant fairy can't handle the smell of coffee!
She's trying to get me to take over gestation duties! I don't know where this idea that pregnancy is like shift-work came from, but she's sure she can just hand over to me and go clubbing or something.
"You take it...it's your turn!"
"But baby, you wanted to carry, I said we should adopt!"
"Well, I've changed my mind."

She wants to be normal again. Normal?? Please all you deity's out there.....let her be normal again!!
Let me justify this little plea...
Most people understand that there are several hormonal and behavioral changes that occur during pregnancy. It's "normal" for the pregnant fairy to become moody, have cravings and aversions and to burst into tears for no apparant reason because you've just agreed to do something for her and she now feels guilty for asking in the first place!
What they don't tell you is that she turns into a bit of a...I'm trying to think of a word that won't get me slapped....damn, I don't think there is one...ok, she turns into a bit of a BOY! My wife has never been one to let go of any bodily gases. If one happens to slip out whether it be from above or below, she turns beet-red and apologises for days. Not any more. Ever since the alien implantation, she's become like the quintessential man who does the "pull my finger" routine!! And there's no more embarrasment, now it cackles like the wicked witch in Hansel and Gretel and fans everything in my direction because I have to be a part of everything during this pregnancy. My dwindling bank account is going dip even more because gas masks are apparently quite expensive!
Another big change is a personality one. My wife is normally the sweetest person around. She has adopted an elderly lady up the road and regularly visits to read to her and do her feet etc. This elderly lady recently told her that all these pregnancy pains and nausea she's having would not have been tolerated in her day, she would have been told to shush and go about her business. Pregnant Fairy's response?
"Well if you'd broken your hip 30 years ago, they would have put you down!"

She's not so nice anymore and I'm afraid.

Sproglet shows his face

I think its unfair to be left alone in your Gynae's office when she has one of those operating game-type models of the uterus lying on the desk. All I wanna do is play with it, but the wife won't let me because she reckons I'll put the Cervix where the Fallopian should be and vice versa. Mind you, she's probably right...
We're waiting to do our first scan and wifey and I were ready to go and bouncing off the walls about six hours before the scheduled appointment. Not that we're excited or anything!!
Our appointment was for 10.15, so we arrived a rather respectable 45 min early only to be told that the appointment was for 11.45!!!
Now please note that I'm not blaming Kris for this mix-up (at this point blaming Kris for anything is tantamount to signing my own death warrant, loading the gun and pulling the trigger myself, and I'm not that stupid!), so after some stern words to the receptionist we get bumped up the very long waiting list and finally get shown into the office with the aforementioned Uterus game.

By the time the Gynae decides to join us, I have named every angel in the office (there were 18! Who has 18 angel figurines in their doctors chambers??!), re-organised her pens according to colour, length and amount of ink left and shoved two prescription pads down the back of my pants. Ok, so I'm lying about the last one, but let me tell you, it would have been really easy to do if I was a druggie type person!

Finally we get taken to the room with the ultrasound machine and still no stirrups (I don't think I'm ever getting to see these legendary marvels of modern medicine!). Gynae decides that an internal scan is the way to go and bypasses the big recording mic-looking device and reaches for the one that looks a bit like an electric toothbrush minus the bristles. Being the self-respecting Lesbine that I am, it's been a while since I've done the whole condom thing, but let me tell you, this chick is a pro. She has that little jiffy bag open and stretched over the Oral B gadget so fast, I reckon prostitutes would pay for classes!
Next on the agenda is enough lube to run a John Deere tractor engine for a couple of years and before we know it, she's digging around inside the wife with all the care of a jack-hammer operator.
The images start appearing on the little monitor and I keep expecting to hear "one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" because all I see are images of the lunar landscape, but then she stops and I have a perfect shot of a little Mexican jumping bean with a perfect head and little stumps which will hopefully grow into arms and legs!
It was rather strange that at this exact moment some tiny little insect or other decided to fly into my eye, because it started watering the minute I saw the little bean (that's my story and I'm sticking to it!)