It’s 12:39am, so don’t expect this post to make a whole lot of sense. Or any sense, for that matter.

Now, before I get things thrown at me, let me preface this with the fact that I am in no way equating my tribulations with that of my beautiful and pregnant wife. Or any other woman that is now, has been, or ever will be pregnant.

There. Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way with… I have to say that I’ve been surprised with how tiring pregnancy is on all parties involved. It really is a frantic time. At 25 1/2 weeks, we’re quickly approaching the third trimester, and it just seems like time is speeding up. There hardly seems to be enough hours in the day to get things done anymore.

Us guys really do (or should) actually work our tails off when the significant other is preggers. Lately it’s been more chores around the house, weekly grocery runs (which are utterly joyful when you live on the third floor with no elevator), litter-box duties (of course), and whatever else you can pick up when the Pregnant One just isn’t feeling 100%. Also, bedtime discomfort and frequent potty breaks generally means lack of sleepy time for the dear husband. Again. I’m not bitching. Just observing.

On a personal level, I’m almost done with school. The reason I’m up so late right now is a long and involved analysis I had to write for my Global Business Management class. In January I started doubling my course-load specifically so I could be done with school and my degree before the baby arrives. Our due date is July 12th, and my estimated finish date with school is June 12th. It will be so worth the hard work, but my goodness I am getting my ass kicked. It doesn’t help much that I’m a bit anal-retentive about my GPA. As I was telling a friend tonight, my Xbox 360 is convinced that I’m cheating on it with another game system.

On another random note, my 18 pound baby of a cat has been scratching his ears a bit lately, indicating that it’s time again for his ear drops. So I pin him down, do the deed, hold him for a bit to keep him from shaking the stuff out, and let him go. He now refuses to speak to me, and has spent the last 4 hours watching me type my paper and glaring at me in that special way that only cats can. If looks could kill.

Enough of my whining though. The Pregnant One is enjoying a recent onslaught of heartburn (apparently indicating a fuzzy-headed baby), achy back, a belly that is growing at an astonishing level, and a belly dweller that had suddenly become very, very active. On a cool plus side, she has stopped taking the dandelion root extract for her PUPPP rash. Why? Because it’s gone. Completely. It’s not supposed to be, but it is.

Alright. That’s it. I’m going to bed.