So I Definitely Ought to Have More Super Powers

37 weeks tomorrow. To the medical profession, that counts as full-term. That is FREAKY.

I’m starting to really feel the weight of the Little Heifer in my back and in the fouchacha region. My friend A. has been really good about picking me up and taking me places where she knows I’ll walk around a lot, like The WalMart. But for the first time the other night I actually stopped and looked at the scooters and thought, ‘Yeah, bring on some of that sweet motorized cart action’. The greeter asked me my due date and told me she didn’t think I was going to make it to May 16, which I just never get tired of hearing. And she commended me when we left. I love to get accolades for shopping! A. just rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was jealous that no one commented on her terrific walking-around-the-store skills. The fat baby so enjoys spending time on the right side of my body that I have more stretch marks there now, and I've given up and accepted sleeping on my left side. I use the word 'sleeping' very loosely.

My latest fear, which I’ll share only with you, dear readers, is that Junior really is a boy and has just been hiding it a la The Crying Game. All those little smocked dresses, argh, it would break my heart. I’ve had several dreams where she was here and was of the male persuasion, but they can’t be trusted since in last night’s she/he was 6 months old and was singing along to the radio. Rapping, to be exact. My dreams are really screwed up lately.

I’m looking forward to the weekend – tomorrow afternoon I’m going to take some hooky time and go sneak out and see ‘Baby Mama’, which I’ve been breathlessly anticipating since I first heard it was coming. I have a total girl crush on Tina Fey. Then I’m going to spend some quality time scrapbooking and getting my flower seedlings and herbs planted, since I’ve put it off way too long. The scrapbooking is a teensy bit bittersweet, since I wanted to have a few pages about Junior’s biological father for her, so I spent a few hours going through old photos of Quiet and compiling a list of basic facts I figured she’d want to know (where he went to school, what time he was born, stuff I don’t even know about my father). I really hope we don’t ever lose touch so that if/when she has any unanswered questions I can ask him. I hate to think that one day she’ll ask, like, what his shoe size is and I won’t know and it will be terribly important like for a school project or a loan application and she’ll hate me. Even more.

In weight gain news, I am almost the same weight as Hellboy, apparently, but a foot shorter. So that's distressing.*

*Last week's EW had a feature where they lined up this summer's super heroes by height and weight. Like, Iron Man (which I cannot WAIT for!), and the new Hulk (who cares?). It was extremely upsetting for the Volvo-sized pregnant women.