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The final stretch, the last hurrah!

Week 39, day 6
Baby boy
Name – I still don’t know!
Mood of significant other – Seriously fed up. I feel like she may start to resent me and our unborn child for life if he doesn’t make an appearance soon.

This will be my final blog post child free, & I fully concede that the daunting task of parenthood is still yet to sink into my tiny Northern mind. To date, the most significant responsibility ever stowed upon me was to locate and book a hotel for X Factor’ Wagner, whom later refused to stay their because it was so shit (full story here). Therefore, my latest challenge of raising a child may prove somewhat more difficult.

We will be 40 weeks officially on Sunday, and Robyn is more than ready now to get on with the finale’. As it can be any day now, every little twinge or cramp strikes excitement into the pair of us. It’s literally like waiting for Christmas day when you’re a kid, except instead of leading up to the big day with ‘Love actually’ and ‘Elf’, the long days are filled only with shooty arse and constipation. If you’re not familiar with ‘Shooty arse’, then here is a scientific explanation; A short sharp shooting pain you randomly inherit up your anal passage. Example.

Dave “arrgghhh”
John “What?”
Dave “I just had shooty arse”.

In response to our overwhelming excitement to meet the little man, we spend most days researching natural ways to induce labor. Most of the tips and tricks are common knowledge and I can honestly say we’ve attempted every single one, yet he’s still not here. Robyn usually starts the day with a spicy chicken curry, washed down with a liter of Pineapple juice. This sets her up nicely for a long walk, a good cry, and a hot bath. I recently caught Robyn on the solarium attempting the stepping machine. It was hilarious. I managed to observe her for a few seconds as she awkwardly bobbed along like a drowning penguin. Sweaty, unbalanced and flustered, she soon spotted me and aggressively told me to piss off. I did however have to return twenty minutes later when she realized she was stuck and couldn’t get off the thing.

Amongst all others, sex is rumored to be the most effective. In theory, this sounds perfect. What a fantastic excuse to try on that new man thong and crack open Marvin Gaye’ greatest hits. However in reality, it’s a logistical nightmare. In danger of dwelling on this too much (family claim they read the blog) I will leave you with a single image that will hopefully depict the difficulties involved. Interpret it at will.

We have been incredibly lucky that the last nine months have passed smoothly, and I’d like to think we’re all set for the big day. Robyn deserves a medal for the last nine months; I didn’t think it would be possible to be so proud of one person. I’m considering converting to feminism, however I’m not sure I can successfully grow an out of control pubic bush, and I don’t currently own a bra to burn.

So, wish us luck. I’m sure we will need it, & please note we will most likely bombard social media with pictures and videos of our ‘little heartbreaker’, even if he’s an ugly little sod. Here is a video slide show of Robyn expanding week by week…

My plan is to write a post labor blog, so follow the Pints to prams FACEBOOK PAGE here, and give it a SHARE.

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