If I had the money - ha, I start sentences with that phrase waaaaay too often - I'd fund a research study on pregnant women's though patterns. I have a theory that there's some hormone that blocks all non-baby thoughts. Seriously, I annoy myself sometimes with, "is that all I can think about? Didn't I used to contemplate other things at one point?" I think Babies-R-Us would block all my research funding, though.
My ticker says 12 days. 12 days! I remember gazing at those tickers and willing them to advance to 12 weeks pregnant, and now they say "12 days to go!" Amazing.
All tests and scans and procedures and appointments this week looked good. Check the kiddo's blog for more info.
Maternity leave is going very nicely, but that's partially because Bob's been home for a 4-day weekend, and I'm spoiled with his company, and all the stuff he does around here. He's got a full week of school this week, and it's a very busy one for him - so of course that means we'll probably have the baby this week. (I wish!)
I still have Christmas things to do, writing out the cards, buying the gifts, buying the picture frames that will become the extra gifts for family, etc. Everything baby-wise is pretty much done. Right down to the extra tube of Desitin sitting in the changing table attachment to the pack & play downstairs. Damn, I'm good. That daunting list that's been on the fridge for a month has almost everything checked off now, and that feels good. I just have strike a balance between running around town and doing everything that needs done, and getting some R & R. "Put your feet up, sleep, eat well, relax, take some time for yourself" they all say. Yeah, yeah, yeah... I bounce back and forth between that mindset and the "oh my God I have to finish Christmas/Baby Gear/House-related stuff".
SOOOOOO tired of being pregnant. Whatever fru-fru, earth-mother, granola-crunchy freak decided that this is supposed to be some magical, beautiful time in a woman's life was clearly on some kind of herbal remedy-induced high. One night trying to sleep as a 9-months-pregnant woman does would straighten anybody out pretty damn quick. You seriously lie there and contemplate which discomfort you'd rather deal with: your painfully swollen bladder, the charlie horse in your leg, or the sharp achey-weightiness you'll feel if you actually attempt to get out of the bed and do something about either of the first two problems.
I'm good birth control, aren't I?
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