Which, for a 20-weeks-pregnant woman with a 2-year-old and 10-month-old translates to:
This weekend I spent an entire day feverishly packing a suitcase for four people and then driving three hours listening to Dora to spend the night in a home filled with the ghosts of painful reminders of my awkward and ostracizing youth to watch other people drink beer and ride wave runners as I wistfully looked on, baking my insides in the 105 degree heat.
But overall it was a fun weekend.
Our first stop was, of course, a mercy detour to the local Phillips 66 to pick me up some Busch N/A where we ran into a man wearing a diaper.
Planet Ozark, so I nonchalantaly grabbed my camera phone to take a picture to add to my Collection of the Fucked Up. What was unusual about this, though, was right as I snapped the photo my brother-in-law appeared out of nowhere and without a word they gave each other a hand slap and a finger snap.
When I asked him the next day why he had given the man in a diaper a high five he told me he might like to run for County Commissioner one day and he was, in his words, "Politicking."
Never mind that we were three counties from his home town and this strategic career move would take place when he retires from the Army in about 20 years.
Anyhoo, as we arrived at our friends' house I was feeling rather conspicuous about being very obviously pregnant and drinking what appeared to be a fully loaded Busch.
Which gives me an opportunity to vent a little frustration. I would really appreciate if the Budweiser packaging department would come up with a beer called "Don't Look At Me Like That You Asshole This Is Non-Alcoholic Beer. No, Seriously - Wipe That Judgmental Look Off Your Funny Face My Hormones Are Really Bad Today And You're About To End Up On The Business End Of An Episode Of Snapped." It would be bright yellow with hot pink lettering and maybe some flashing neon arrows.
But lucky for me we were in the really classy part of Planet Ozark and my self-consciousness about the font size of the N/A was quickly washed away as I noticed a woman fill up an empty Corona bottle with lake water and hand it to her toddler for a refreshing drink.
Watching this at least gave me a distraction from the obsessive thought that had been consuming my brain for the past 30 minutes - how much bacteria was in this water and whether or not it could make it far up my vagina enough to somehow give my unborn baby prenatal swamp ass.
I figured if the toddler was drinking it straight and still breathing it couldn't be that bad.
But we'll find out for sure in about two hours at my 20-week ultrasound.
Which, now that we're talking about it, if you have a spare moment please say a private prayer that this thing isn't hermaphrodite.
But no judging if you have a hermaphrodite. I'd just prefer it to be one or the other.