Still Crazy After All These Months

So I keep coming up with all these awesome things to blog about, but it’s at like 11 pm and I’m nowhere near a functional laptop or pen or chisel and stone tablet. I end up forgetting what brilliance I had composed in my head and writing about, like, my terrible eating habits. Sorry. You deserve better. And Junior deserves less corn dogs and more bright green veggies.

We’re getting down to crunch time, and the show is finally getting on the road with some thinning, although definitely not in my midsection – I gained 4 lbs between last week’s appointment and today’s. I wouldn’t have thought that was medically possible without ingesting lard sandwiches and cake smoothies. Mmmm… cake smoothies. Anyhow, I found out my practice will induce if I haven’t shot out Junior by week 41 which is in -18- days if you aren’t compulsively counting like me.

I am utterly and completely useless at work, I’m irritable with the nice strangers who want to talk to me even more because of the conversation-piece-belly, and I AM GOING OUT OF MY MIND. I can’t be any more ready than I am, and there’s only so much Baby Story one person can watch. I had to drop Battlestar Galactica because I’m not smart enough to watch it right now (plus I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it, and it’s really a watch-and-discuss type of show, I’ve learned). The scrapbook is as done as it can be without me photoshopping in someone else's baby. I'm not allowed to buy anything else. I'm not allowed to hang or paint or install or organize anything else. People who aren't prepared are dropping babies like crazy, but Junior is taking her sweet precious time AND IT'S KILLING ME.

Happy Cinco de Mayo – please have a drink with some salt and some lime for me. The commercials for the summer beers are starting to come out, and I drool every time – and I’m not even a beer drinker. I just need to hold it together a little longer…