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Hi.

Welcome, friends! This here slice of the Internet revolves around lattes, bookshelves, Pinterest, Emily Henderson, white wine spritzers, China, brass anything, passports and my sweet family. Grammar and important worldly events? Not so much. Consider yourself warned.

Notes from the Underbelly

Notes from the Underbelly

So Tuesday marked a very important milestone for me. According to my due date, I am officially 36 weeks pregnant. That might not mean much to those of you who have never birthed a human, but to anyone who has (or is about to) it means a whole heck of a lot.

Medically speaking, it means:

  • Your baby is almost fully developed. Full-term is technically at 39-40 weeks but, in terms of due dates, this is somewhat arbitrary; some babies come 2 weeks early, some come 2 weeks late. While it is preferable that the little nugget stays in there until they are “fully cooked”, by 36 weeks you are sorta out of the danger zone.

  • You now have to visit the doctor once every week so they can tell you nothing new and charge you a lot of money (at least this has been my experience).

  • Your baby is the size of a head of romaine lettuce. Thank you Babycenter for that interesting little fact.

In essence it means: Damn. You are about to have a baby.

For me, it also means that:

  • standing up for more than like 30 minutes at a time makes my ankles (correction: cankles) look as though someone took a bicycle pump to them and inflated them to their absolute fullest.

  • I can no longer successfully shave my legs.

  • I walk a bit like a penguin at a bowling alley.

  • People (often times, complete strangers) walk by me and audibly utter things like “Whooooa” or “Damn”. Not like they would if they were trying to express that they think I am hot. More like they just witnessed a serious car crash. I might be starting to scare folks.

  • I need to deal with this nonsense with the quickness. And buy some diapers.

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Cupcakes and ice-cream have never tasted better. Seriously, start emailing me your post-baby workout plans. I’m gonna need ’em.

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Brado has just now started to say things like, “Can you believe that we are about to have another baby?”. To which I say, as I look down at the very far protruding portion of my body, “Yes”.  Ahhhhh, what a luxury it must be to not have to think about having a baby for 8 out of the 9 months.

  • I need somewhere in the neighborhood of 5-7 pillows in order to get a semi-comfortable night’s sleep.

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Beau has about 1 month left of blissful only-childness. Poor thing. I feel like his world is about to get rocked.

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I have exactly one item of clothing that I can wear on the bottom half of my body. It contains approximately the same amount of fabric as a 2-person tent.

  • It is about to get a little more girly up in here and I am all about it!

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I need to start being a responsible cell phone owner. For example, I should: a.) actually remember to bring my cell phone with me when I go places b.) charge it and c.) put extra credit on it so that I can actually make phone calls. It would seriously be so classic and typical (and tragic) if I went into labor and did not have a way to make a phone call to Brad to let him know. If I wasn’t so afraid of this happening, I would almost say I deserve this. But Dear Lord, if I have indeed stored up enough good karma, please see to it that this does not happen. Please. Or at least can you make sure that I don’t go into labor during the car show week? Traffic is seriously horrendous.

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I am scared. The reality that I, and I alone, have to get this baby out is really starting to sink in. And no, I have not “forgotten” the pain I experienced from having the first one. That seriously has to be a dirty urban myth. Do people really forget that? How? I honestly don’t understand how could I EVER forget that shit.

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At this point I am more scared of labor than I am uncomfortable with pregnancy…which probably means I still have a little ways to go. I do remember with Beau that there was a point at which I was so uncomfortable being pregnant that I was actually looking forward to labor. I’m not there yet.

  • I feel so cautiously lucky. As much as I complain about my swollen feet or increasingly larger pant size, I feel beyond blessed that I have had the opportunity to experience the wonders, discomforts and craziness of pregnancy…twice. It is not lost on me that getting (and staying) pregnant is not a “given”. And if a genie were to visit me right now, my very first wish would be that every woman out there who wants to experience pregnancy and/or motherhood would get that chance. It is only fair…I really mean that. In case you were wondering, my second and third wish would be that someone would rub my feet and bring me a cookie (not necessarily in that order).

  • I have pregnancy and babies on the brain. I apologize in advance if this blog becomes overly slanted in that direction. If you aren’t into that sorta thing, check back here in about 2 years or so…I am sure by then I will have something more interesting to say.

In other news, the poo poo present basket is now officially empty and “we” have yet to have an accident. There are a lot of questions being fielded about where the presents are and when there will be more, but no accidents. Note: if you have no idea what I am talking about and think I have officially lost my marbles, read this and get caught up.

I hope I don't jinx it but I'm gonna call it a success!

I hope I don't jinx it but I'm gonna call it a success!

New Tunage

New Tunage

Operation Poop Christmas

Operation Poop Christmas