28 weeks

We are 28 weeks pregnant today. It feels more like 28 years.

Cut and Paste, as they are affectionately known, have entered into a pact to see who can kick the ever loving crap out of me. Initially they reserved their antics for the morning. I'd be sitting at my desk and feel a little twinge on one side, then a little twinge on the other side. Those were the good days. Now they roll, squirm and punch like two fly-weights embroiled in a death match. In the evenings, after we put Bubba to bed, I sit on the sofa and we watch in fascination and horror as my stomach bulges and the skin twists, kind of like Linda Blair in "The Exorcist" before the priests exorcised the demon.

I know I shouldn't complain. The babies are on track in terms of size and weight, no serious health issues, and it took us almost a year and half to conceive them. I should be grateful and shut the hell up.

But whining feels so good.