Yes I fucking can.
Maybe I can't smoke (and believe me, I've been CRAVING a smoke.), or drink, or shoot heroin, but I CAN drink coffee, dye my hair, and eat the occasional tuna sandwich.
Here's a tip from me to you: Unless you are a doctor (and by that I mean an obstetrician that has been hired by the pregnant woman in question), do not tell a pregnant woman what she can and cannot do. DO. NOT.
In actual baby news - nothing much. The Webbean is still dancing up a storm between the hours of 5pm and 11pm every day. It's kind of nice, but it also makes me a little pukey. I can only imagine what will happen when this thing is punching me in the lungs for weeks on end.
I'm getting bigger, too. I already had a belly, so it's hard to tell, but I can't suck my gut in quite as far as I used to.
We're steadily collecting baby things - they all reside in the crib for now. It's a really useful storage unit. Also, piling things in the crib means that the cats can't sleep in there. For a few days they were SURE that we had bought a pretty new bed just for them.
We have another NP (nurse practitioner) appointment in two weeks. I get to be weighed again (Bitchin'. Especially after a week of cruise food.), but I don't know what else they are going to do to me.
Oh, and our "big ultrasound" is March 3. I shall put up a poll and the three people who actually read this blog can vote on whether I'm having a boy or a girl.