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I don't care what this picture says. This baby is not normal. It's mother has been cut in half and appears to have been drained of all of her fluids.

Ignore everything I wrote on Monday.  It’s crap.  It is now February and I am still not working.  I have been sick for the last two days and my creative output could only be described as a dribble if I were feeling really generous.  My Hotmail account was fouled up for hours on Tuesday.

In fact, at this point, there is only one thing that makes me really happy right now: baby kicking.

Stop.  Do not start yelling at me.  I don’t mean kicking babies around like footballs.  I don’t even mean gently prodding babies with your toes.  (Maybe that’s a fun activity, but I have never tried it, so I don’t know.)

What I mean is when babies themselves start kicking, and in particular when the baby currently hiding inside my wife starts kicking.

It started out as just a few gentle pokes that were barely discernable from my wife’s involuntary abdominal twitches.  But over the last month or two, Baby has been ramping it up.  We’re now seeing some major spaz-outs, where Baby appears to be flailing with all of her limbs at once, along with solid hip checks and head-butts.

Of course, this begs the question of why she is deciding to go all Jackie Chan in utero.  Are there things that just set her off into a fit of rage in there?  Does she get annoyed when my wife’s kidneys are pumping too loudly?  Is she frustrated by having to listen to her parent’s play Rockband with their friends?  Does her right-of-center political bent get her all fired-up when MSNBC is on?

Maybe she’s dreaming.  But again, what would she be dreaming about?

“Oh man, that was a messed-up dream!  I was in my mom’s uterus, but it wasn’t really her uterus, you know?  I mean, I know now that it was a different uterus, but at the time I was thinking, ‘This is totally my mom’s uterus.’  And the placenta was there, but it was different somehow.  Spongier, maybe?  I was talking to it, and it was talking back to me, which is weird because the placenta hardly ever talks to me these days.

“Anyway, we were talking about how I have this tube sticking out of my belly, and how when I grab it too hard, I get light headed.  The placenta pointed out that I probably shouldn’t do that too much, and then everything started to shake.  And that’s when I started to freak out.  I woke up back in my mom’s uterus (the real one this time), and I felt kind of hungover, which is weird because I don’t drink and I’m not born yet.”

At this point, I can’t think of anything else that the baby could be dreaming about.  I figure that the sensory input is limited to muffled noises and the occasional dim red light from when I project movies on my wife’s belly.