Little dude! We made it to week 33, which means, allegedly, the start of month eight. And you know what, it's not that bad. I have been packing on the poundage, but I figure I'm supposed to as you're now around 17 inches and several pounds. Also, we've been snowed in for over 48 hours, which has meant chili, rice krispie treats, leftover enchiladas, pancakes and bacon, a multitude of snacks... and that was just this morning. I joke. Or do I?
Anyhoo, you're more active than ever, proving to be quite an efficient internal alarm clock, waking me up early even though work's canceled. But I'll take it. I actually look pretty pregnant now and it's fun to lay back and watch you try to plot your way out or redecorate or practice krav maga or whatever it is you're doing in there that causes the ripples in my belly. The downside is that we've grown so much in the last couple of weeks, that my belly skin is stretched to capacity, and we have a ways to go (7 - 9 more weeks, depending on your schedule). To combat the itchy-achiness, I've been taking lots of baths with bath oil while listening to This American Life. I'm pretty sure you now think that Ira Glass is your dad. And maybe he is. In my dreams. I joke, real dad!
Yesterday, due to being on weather lockdown, I washed all of your bedding, new blankets, truckload of clothes and anything else I could find. Yeah, I'll probably wash it all again before you get here to ensure maximum cleanliness and softness, but it was good to get a head start before I went all The Shining.
So, I think you're cooking along just fine, but we'll see ourselves on Saturday. My last sonogram was scheduled for yesterday, which was canceled. Obvs. So, I've been rescheduled for Saturday during hospital clinic hours before the doc goes on a two week vacation. Must be nice... Last time, I got totally sick during and was totally weirded out by the 3D images, but this time I'm actually looking forward to seeing your gigantic mama cheeks and your fat dad nose. If we could choose, we'd give you our best features, but since you don't need boobs, you'll have to settle for my brain and here's hoping you get your dad's height, but not till after you're out. Let's stay as wee as possible till you're on the other side, mkay?
See you soon! Not too soon, though.
In a related story - knocked up celeb couture as per Vulture.
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