Cervical Overachiever

So, I'm on bedrest from here on out.
Apparently the trouble-making twin on the left is about as low as he could possibly be without actually taking up shop in my vajayjay, and I'm a centimeter dilated.

Which is interesting, because my cousin is also pregnant (a few weeks ahead of me) and also a centimeter dilated. As she put it, cervial overachievement must run in the family.

(BTW, isn't it wild that I'm allowed to talk about the status of my and my cousin's cervix on a public blog? Pregnancy is so weird)

Apparently, I'm supposed to be happy about this situation.
People keep saying, "enjoy it while you can, because once the babies come you'll WISH you were able to just lie around all day"
...which irritates me to no end, because 1) I'm fully aware that raising twin infants will keep me on my toes, Kthanxbye, and Sandwich) telling me that I'm supposed to enjoy bedrest because I'll eventually be frazzled and sleep deprived is like telling someone that they're supposed to enjoy water boarding because the next step is to toss them out in the desert to die. For the record, neither bedrest nor raising twin infants is supposed to be fun. Just because they're totally opposite forms of torture doesn't mean that one is any more enjoyable than the other.

And yes...bedrest is torture. This is coming from quite possibly the laziest woman in the tri-state area. Sure, it seems all glamorous to be ordered to lay around as much as possible...until you realize you're completely dependent on your overworked, under-appreciated spouse for everything, and any time you need a drink of water or your cell phone charged you have to ask him to stop doing ALL of the work around the house to further cater to you and your ridiculous needs.

It's like, "hey, babe, I know you're busy doing the dishes and all the laundry and cooking dinner and getting the nursery ready (because I procrastinated for the last 7 months), but could you stop everything and hand me the TV remote that's lying RIGHT THERE just beyond my reach? Thanks...you're a peach."

So you see...total suckage.
(at least, for anyone who loves and respects their domestic partner. If you hate them and want to see them suffer? Bedrest might just be right up your alley. Here's hoping that my ex-husband is married to someone on bedrest right now. Although the thought of him procreating scares the BAJESUS out of me. So maybe not.)

The only ones benefiting from my bed-ridden state are the pets. And I'll tell you, they are making out like bandits. As we speak, I have 3 domesticated animals lying on the couch in a glorious state of accompanied bliss. My lap is never empty, and the house is never quiet for all the contented snoring and farting that generally comes along with lazy, napping dogs.

Exhibit A: Milo spooning the couch cushion
(I had to call his name 6 times before he picked his head up. Life is tough when you're a dog):

So for the next few weeks, I'll either be blogging every day (from sheer boredom) or not at all (because absolutely nothing is happening). Only time will tell.

I the meantime, if anyone feels like taking a drive out to my house to keep me company...well...needless to say, I'll be here.

Me, a few in utero kids, a couple of lazy, good-for-nothing pets, and a husband on the verge of a nervous breakdown.