If you know me...

...you will know why I broke down crying with laughter when I saw this ad.

FULL. TERM.

Jenny, I have taken your advice. Bring it on.

This morning, I am in the bathroom after my shower, drying off. Joe came in. Stopped. Really looked at The Belly. Said, "Oh my GOD you are round."

Yes. Yes I am.

Doc did an oil check on Friday. Said, "Whoa, he's low. You have to be feeling that."

Yes. Yes I am.

I am trying to keep myself as busy as possible. Monday night, we are going to dinner with some friends. Must. Watch. Football. Afterwards. See, Carolina must lose. I want my Saints to stay at the top of the NFC South. When I expressed my need to watch the game, somewhere other than my sofa, Joe joked, "You won't see the game if you're in stirrups."

Yes. Yes I will.

Tuesday...no plans. There is a full moon that night, though. Hmmmmmmm...

Wednesday. Asheville, for last minute shopping. Then the dentist with Seth.

Thursday. Breakfast with friends.

Friday. Oil check with Dr. Clark.

December Third

Sunday, I will officially be "full term." Thirty-seven weeks. And, as my parents can affirm, I am impatient as shit. Don't wanna wait. Want it NOW.

*sigh*

One last ultrasound tomorrow, at 8:30 AM. Just to check that all is well.

I've got elbows, feet, arms poking out all over the place. From my ribs to my hipbones. As ready as I am to finally meet Jackson, to get my body back, to walk and not waddle, to drink not a glass, but a BOTTLE of wine...I'm really going to miss being pregnant. This is it, the last time. I am torn between wanting to stay pregnant just a littttle bit longer, and wanting more than anything for labor to begin. Now.

I have only two more days of work left. Thank you GOD. My mind tells me that I can run around the restaurant and take every table that walks in the door. My body is like, "No no honey. Slow that waddle down now."

And let me tell you, I can't corner like I used to.

So send labor vibes. We are ready and waiting, all of us. Joe...Seth...me...

So...um...YEAH

Thirty-Five weeks.

Hold on...it gets better...





















Check out the side view.

Are you sick of seeing these pants? I am. And sick of wearing them.





















DAMN.





















I either...

A. Never got this big with Seth or
B. Conveniently forgot.

In any case, Dr. Clark says I am measuring just fine. I have begun dialating, just a little bit. And come December, it's game on. I am getting incredibly impatient.




















The view from our porch a few days ago. Today, it was 60 degrees. WILDNESS.

So, I make the decision to end my babymaking days. Get my tubes tied. I hate the way that sounds. "Tubes tied." Blech. Anywho, I head over to the medical center at the hospital to sign my fertility away. I detour into ER to ask a nurse the following:

"Been having Braxton-Hicks every five minutes for about three hours. Should I be concerned?"

Answer: Yes.

I am sent up to Labor and Delivery at 3PM. I am hooked up to monitors. Given an IV. Checked inside and out. Given a fetal fibronectin test, which will tell us all if I will have Jackson in the next week or two (HOLY SHIT, HUH?).

Turns out, no. Contractions were 3-5 minutes apart, but by the time I left at 8:30PM, they were sporadic at best. Jackson has not dropped, which I knew, because I can still walk. He is head down in the blast-off position. And all is well in the shire. The diagnosis was dehydration.

Soooooo...we know we've got two more weeks of baking the bun. Which is a huge relief. Aaaaaaand...on December 3rd, I will be 37 weeks along. Which means BooBoo can be born anytime after that, and be just dandy.

Bring. It. On.

Eight

Seth's eighth birthday. EIGHTH. Gawd. The Hoover's joined us for an afternoon of bowling, cake, soda, and fun. I couldn't stand it. I had to be a part of it. I weeblewobbled on up and bowled a 113. REEESPECT ya'll.















There was much thunder on our end of the building. The kids launched balls halfway down the lanes, then we all egged them on as the balls crept slowly to one bumper, then the other, then rebounded into the pins. The kids made a few spares. It was most impressive.

Then we had cake:















And opened gifts:















I highly recommend these holographic glasses for everyone. You can get them in the party supply aisle at WalMart. Joe tried them on the night before, paired with some hideous Bubba Teeth. I laughed so hard I peed my pants. Which doesn't take much lately. But whatever. These glasses are a scream.

Here, the adults pair the glasses with "candy sticks." Which is the PC term for candy cigarettes.















And you all KNOW what comes next.

"Hey kids! Ya'll come over and try these on! Put this candy in your mouths! Look real, real mean...OK...hold that pose..."

Past events

First, the good stuff you've all been waiting for. Just how big has Heather gotten? JESUS.

31 weeks...





















And 33 weeks.
























It's ok to be scared of The Belly. It defies all reason and balance.

On to Halloween. Seth was a samurai. Don't call him a ninja. He'll have to kill you. We hit downtown Blowing Rock for trick or treat with Ingrid and the kids. Seth learned about quality, not quantity. What he lacked in volume, he made up for in superior quality of candy. Butterfingers. Snickers. Milky Way DARKS. And Almond Joys! Joy! Yeah, there were some other things mixed in...a tootsie roll here, and Smartie there. But chocolate was the the clear winner.















I wanna be just like these two. I wanna be a skunk next year. I usually go for the slutty policewoman/devil/justplainslut look, but I have been swayed from my skanky ways. besides, skunk is way more "Mom-Appropriate."















Our assorted Jack O'Lanterns:















The one on the left is Seth's own design. I carved the little "BOO" one in the middle. For both, I used a dull paring knife and a steak knife. While carving, I broke a sweat and censored myself repeatedly, for Seth's sake. The one on the right was carved by our friend Luke, for our baby shower (details next). See the baby feet eyes? And the "JJ" in the mouth (for Jackson Jerry)?

The baby shower. Thrown by Kristin and Luke. (Kristin, if you just gave me a minute, I was gonna give you props) . Tons o'food, tons o'loot...Jackson is a lucky little dude.

Frustrated

Yah, I know. It HAS been a while since I've posted. I've been a bit...OVERWHELMED lately. Why, you ask?

Braxton Hicks are kicking my ass. It is hard to walk/bend/wait tables/breathe when your abdomen from crotch to ribcage feels like a rock. Quite often.

Housework. Housework. Housework.

Homework. Homework. Homework.

I'm tired, ya'll.

I know that this diet I'm on is beneficial for all. However, I'm not creative in the kitchen. I am getting incredibly bored with my food choices.

I'm nervous, ya'll. What if I have to have a c-section? What if Jackson isn't healthy? Whatifwhatifwhatif...

I know I am a lush. Those who know me know this, so they won't be surprised when I say I COULD USE SOME WINE. I know...it's OK to have one. I need a bottle.

My support system is my friend Amanda. Thank GOD for Amanda. She lets me vent. She lets my cry hysterically. She lets me be mad, all without judgement.

Laura, if you are reading...I'm about ready for Italy.

OK. Pity party is over.

Photo update

29 weeks. Non-maternity sweater, stretched to full capacity. Can you hear its scream of protest?















Yes, it has come to this. Gestational diabetes has returned, spreading joy and cheer to the land. Only instead of diet this time, it is diet. Insulin. And finger prickin'. Yeehaw ya'll!

I joke. It is not so bad. Wellllll...the pan of double chocolate chunk cookies that Joe was preparing to bake was not well received by me. And the constant snacking at work has been hard to curb (bacon, crackers, croutons, blue cheese dressing, butter tarts, mac n'cheese, hushpuppies, I'mgonnastoptherebecausethereismore...). But OTHER THAN THAT, it's all good.















The new car. She is so nice. *MWAH*















The new house. We are gonna try to stay here for longer than a year.

TRY, I said. Try.

I can hear ya'll snickering...















The Piggie Condo. Luxurious and roomy. Built by Joe. Ramp to the second level coming soon.

Redirect

Go. Go now. To Amalah's post for her son. I know I am hormonal. I KNOW. But the video at the bottom had me crying and snorfling and laughing...and then oh shit the UPS man pulled up. And I had to explain to him that yes, I am OK. It's just this video of this baby...and I'm pregnant (obviously), and...and...

He just nodded knowingly and smiled.

Charleston

We returned from Charleston/Folly Beach this morning. Joe's sis got married.

It was GORGEOUS. We did not want to come home.

Joe: "Look...that house is for rent. Hey...that one is for sale."
Me: "Don't tempt me."
Joe: "Tempt you? Let's just move."

Winter is coming soon. It has been cool and rainy for two weeks now. It was hard to leave that beach. We are staying put for now. But...

Things you should never say to a pregnant woman

Keeping in mind that I have THREE MORE MONTHS to go...

1. "You haven't had that baby yet?"
2. "Twins. Definitely twins."
3. "God, you're HUGE!"
4. "No way you'll get that baby out."
5. "You look like you're about to pop!"
6. "So, due any day now, huh?"

The last comment arrived today. I ate the person's head. It was tragic, but necessary.

I am taking suggestions for clever retorts to these image-boosting comments. In the meantime:

22 weeks...
























And today, 25 weeks...






















Um, I think I'm looking pretty damn good, in spite of all the comments. I LIKE being round. No stretch marks (furiously knocking on wood). Awesome, glowy skin. Not a hell of a lot of weight gain...'bout 15 pounds. Not bad for a 35 year old mamacita.

Geez.

Brief synopsis of the last few weeks.

We found a cool house to rent. Put a deposit on it. Signed off on the other house. Must move by August 31st. Yay! Owner of new house calls and says, "Hey! My neice is going to live in the house. So sorry." Retrieve deposit. Find different house by sheer LUCK. Have hellacious "disagreement" with Joe. All is better.

Get a letter from school about Seth. They want to discuss our options for Seth's classes. Of course, I am worried.

Go to therapy with Joe. Eh. New therapist I do not know, who spent half the hour talking about himself. $135.00 later, we're done.

Remnants of hurricane roll through last week. The week we must move. With a pickup truck and a Honda Civic. While moving, I get pulled for expired tags. I am hungry, wet, and tired from my six-shift work week. Mr. Policeman is an asshole. I start to cry (HORMONES SUCK), Joe pulls up, asks why his pregnant wife is crying in the rain, and we end up with seven good-ole-boy cops harrassing us. Now I'm hysterical, as is Seth. It is straight out of a scene from a movie.

Decide to take Sunday and relax. We all head to town to run errands, eat dinner, get ice cream. The car, as Joe put it, shit the bed on the way home. She basically blew her engine. But, with 207,000 miles on her, it was to be expected.

For dessert, I have a killer head cold. How can one body produce so much snot without shriveling up from dehydration?

So we decided to buy one of these.

It is silver. It is heavenly. And Oh My GOD we deserve it.

Too much on my plate

I might be MIA for a week or two. Here's why.

1. Moving. Again. And I seem to be the official packer. *sigh*
2. Family therapy. For me and Rick. For Seth. For me and Joe. All at separate times.
3. Still working six shifts a week.

Dr. Coward said it sounds like I need a vacation. But. No can do. With Seth starting school on Thursday, and work, and...and...all the other shit going on, vacation is just not happening.

*sigh*

Drum roll puhLEASE!

Jeannemama, sorry to make you wait!

And check out our BOYBOYBOY! He is an exhibitionist already. And squirmy.
















And! Our new due date is Christmas Eve, folks.

Boy. BOY. BOYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!

Fast Frank

I just wonder. How busy is life when making a hot dog takes too long? So, because of said busy life, you have to buy "Fast Franks," these hot dogs that come already IN THE BUN. Oscar Meyer...always looking out for us.

Then there is the microwave Kraft Mac N'Cheese. Because boiling water is a complicated chemical process? Oh wait, no...it takes too long. That's it. And Lunchables. What the...how does meat stay edible that long, outside of the refrigerator?

I mean, damn.

I forgot

I forgot...

• How HOT it is to be pregnant.
• The kicking-baby feeling. God, it's weird. I received the hardest kick yet, and it made my heart race and my adrenaline blow through the roof.
• What it feels like to have boobs. They get in the way sometimes, don't they? Like when you try to sleep on your side? It was nice to rip the sides out of a bra with the sheer force of boobdom, though.
• How gross maternity clothes can be. They are much improved. But it still makes me want to tear my hair out when I'm shopping. The jeans alone make cry.

From the homefront:

Seth has started therapy with Lynn. He had his second session yesterday, and he is looking forward to the next one. Lynn agrees that Seth has many signs of Asperger's, but will not make a diagnosis right away. To which I agree. And is why I trust Lynn.

Seth is a swimming machine. He is diving, doing flips underwater, swimming across the pool. So my obsessive fear of him drowning has been lessened. A little.

Work. Busy. Crazy busy. BUT! Received a hefty load of a bonus. AND! Put it in the bank.

Monday, August 14th. Ultrasound. Boy or girl ya'll?

Two weeks

Give or take. Until the ultrasound. Until we find out whether we are having a boy or a girl.

IT'S TOO LONG!!

Wannaknowwannaknowwannaknow...

Daily musings

Seth left yesterday to go to Louisiana. He will be gone for ten days.

TEN. DAYS.

I hate it. Now, don't get me wrong. The thought of having some Me Time is nice. Joe and I are going to South Carolina to visit his family, and I am looking forward to that. But! Seth is sooooo far away, for sooooo long. Ag. I am consumed with worry. Joe said he'll have to sedate me when Seth leaves for college. And he is right.















When Seth returns, he has an appointment with Dr. Coward. Rick and I went to Dr. Coward. And I trust him implicitly. No, he did not save my marriage to Rick. But that could not be saved. He DID help me with me, though. I sorted myself out. And this, my friends, is a good thing.



















Anywho, Seth had some problems in first grade. The school did extensive testing on him, with our permission. This included a psychological evaluation. The school psychologist thinks that Seth exhibits some signs of Asperger's and Oppositional Defiant Disorder. I say, maybe. I truly feel, deep in my soul, that the past few years have affected him. Divorce...remarriage...moving...new baby on the way...two different homes, with two different lifestyles.

Wish us luck. My baby is troubled, ya'll. And it breaks my heart. And I will do everything possible to help him.

On to a different subject...


















Behold, our first major baby purchase!















Damn, these things have advanced over the years.





















We just HAD to have the one, the only, "Z" handle. You know, so our wrists don't twist. And the one-handed steering thingee on the stroller. Yes. It is good.

OK. Off to shower, and get ready for work. Hopes for the evening:

• Generous tippers
• Heavy drinkers
• Pleasant, courteous customers
• Generous tippers

We have five servers scheduled tonight, including me. All female. Oughta be interesting...

To: Jeanne From: Heather

Pregnancy and piggies.

I just noticed all the fingerprints all over the mirror in the belly pics.

Introducing Griffin and Jameson, The WonderPigs. We love them so. Jeanne, you are going to teach me how to litter train them, right? Please? So now we have two piggies, a lizard, a snake, some fish, and a cat. Oh...and the raccoon I feed evey night on the back deck. And the flying squirrel who eats on the bird feeder. And all the BIRDS.

Cravings this week: anything high in carbs and sugar. I fell prey to the Scottish bakery tent set up down the street. Joe bought me a whole pound cake to stop my endless, gleeful squealing in the tent.

Total weight gain: Five pounds. What the hell? HOW?

New addictions: "What Not to Wear" and "Bridezillas." Oh, the joy!

I just had a piece of that pound cake. It is moist, and coconutty, and rum-flavored. I plan on eating another in, oh...2.5 seconds.