Child birth.

The squeezing of a large bowling ball like object out of a small receptacle known as my wifes vagina. And this is happening anytime soon. There will be much grunting, screaming, cursing, (At me) and at the end, i will have another son. My wife will sit, basking in the glory of her hard work, and i will love even more than ever.

Thing is, it cannot happen until tommorow, it has been decreed. She wants a home birth. She wants to scare our neighbours. Im half convinced that someone will hear the screaming and call the police, and theyll come and arrest me for putting her through such torture, and generally be a nasty man.

But more importantly, im on a sex ban.

Why, i hear you ask?

Because the introduction of sperm to my other halfs cervix could set off labour, and if she starts squeezing before tommorow, she will have to go to hospital. Also, i have been having no blow jobs, (This has a higher chance of sending her into labour) no hand jobs, because this will wind her up, and shes feeling rather... How can i say this.... Frustrated.

Lets say it like this: I have balls the size of melons, im constantly around a woman i find more attractive than ever before and want to leap on and rip the clothes off of on an hourly basis, and her tits seem to get bigger every time i see them. A difficult situation. So whats gonna happen?

Hopefully what i want tonight and tommorow morning! And yes, this is REALLY selfish, but i hope she doesnt go into labour for at least a week, so we can try through sexual manners to get her to go into labour!

Ok, so toasted cheese sandwiches at 3am may not be the brain wave it at first appeared to be.

oh well. Bring on my midnight steed, and we will ride!

On nights like tonights, everything seems to go wrong. You forgot to put the heating on, and now your feet are cold. The baby is awake, your jelous because your partner is asleep, and your wondering, just when will it be that you get to go to bed, knowing that there is at least six hours sleep waiting for you to slip into its embrace, only to harrow you through the night with dreams you cannot grasp the meaning of. Tommorow will probably be a day of snappish arguments, of anger and flared tempers, all because a certain small person was woken by uncaring neighbours who argue, slam doors, and hoover at ridiculous times of the evening. Half eleven, you get to bed, and an argument starts. You dont care what it is, but you just wish it hadnt happened. Because now, its 3am, and the baby is still awake.

Tommorow will be better.

You hope.

"The Kitten was meant to chase all of the rats away".

I saw this lline in a random blog i saw today. (Being two in the stupid fucking morning, courtesy of Joe-mail. Little bugger.) For some reason, (I dont know the context. Im too tired to do context) i thought it was sad, and it makes me want to write a sad sad story about a little kitten.

But i think not.