So when I was pregnant with Sadee, there was a LOT going on in our lives. Beebs had to leave mid-gestation to go to a law enforcement academy in Georgia, three states away, for six months. We were living in a DFW suburb in a rental and the neighbors didn't care who, or where or what we were. They never even smiled at us. No cookies either. Assholes.

So there I was, unemployed, big and getting bigger and all alone with two beagles. My folks were building their dream house about an hour south of us and his parents live another 20 minutes south of them. So I had options. I could always stay with one or the other to defeat the swollen loneliness.

So on the nights when I stayed with Beebs' parents, I had my own room and I could do whatever. On the nights when I stayed with my parents in their "barndominium," it was all three of us in the apartment of their big ol' 60 X 40 workshop. The apartment is very cute, very tastefully decorated and very homey, but it was not built for my parents and their larger than a bouncehouse pregnant daughter. So to accommodate me, mom would place a blow up queen size mattress at the end of the bedroom, just beneath the light of the TV – plenty of room to be splayed on for the whale that I was.

Here's where it gets sexy, people.

My dad snores. It's something about him that we all know. We all know it because we can be on the other end of the house and hear it as if we were sitting beside him. It's loud folks. I am not exaggerating. So to combat this, I would wear earplugs. No problem. Then, mom is an insomniac who has to go to sleep with the TV on. Remember where the air mattress is set up? Right underneath the TV. So yeah, I had to wear one of those silk eye masks they give you on a trans-atlantic flight. Also, it smelled a little like Summer's Eve. Ewww. I know you are having a hard time trying to resist imagining how incredible beautiful I am by now, but wait, there's more.

Here's where it gets crazy. By the 7^th and 8^th month, the asthmatic that I am had a REALLY hard time breathing. My little saviors in a box were the flesh-colored Breathe Right Nasal Strips. My child was able to obtain all the oxygen she needed to develop and I was able to breathe without sounding like the dead paratrooper on top of the hill in Lord of the Flies.

Try to control yourself when you think about how sexy I must have looked. I know you will all rush out today and pick up your ensemble to become instantly irresistible, but please, for the sake of my next child, save some Breathe Right Nasal Strips for me. I have a feeling the wheezing will be epic this time around.