Caress Me Down

Today I got a prenatal massage.

You know what is awkward?  Getting a prenatal massage when you are 23 weeks pregnant from a woman who is 32 weeks pregnant...with twins.

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It felt so great.  But as always, my mind started to wonder...

Does she think I'm a bitch because I'm making her rub my back even though she is two months more pregnant than me, with twice as many babies?

I wonder where in Wilmington has the best Cookies n' Cream ice cream.

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I wonder if she noticed that I only shaved 3/4 of my legs before I came here.

Why is it that when you are pregnant you fart by accident all the time, but go poop on purpose basically never?

I wonder if that hard candy I saw at the front desk is any good?  I need to pick some up on the way out.

Why can't hours between your kid's nap and your husband's arrival from work pass as fast as hours spent getting a massage?  That would probably save moms so much money on wine.

Wine.  I miss wine.  And by wine I mean bourbon.

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I wonder if anyone will ever be as excited to see me as I am to see my husband come home each day. 

If my husband could just take a day off of work each week to give me a massage and play with our child while I sleep I would promise never to get mad about him using my soap.

But mostly I was thinking about how not hype the recording sessions are when they make wind chime soundtracks they play during massages and yoga.

I want more rubs.