You do the math.

I had an appointment with my doctor yesterday - things continue to be uneventful. I couldn't be happier. Bob is measuring right on, his heartbeat is normal, the kid is doing just ducky. I am also doing well. My blood pressure is good, I haven't gained an atrocious amount of weight (though I have some eating habits that leave much to be desired... cookies just taste so good!).

Oh, I have to go in for a glucose test at my next visit. Apparently they make you drink a supersweet beverage of some kind (I've heard it tastes like fruit punch, orange Crush, and the Devil's piss - it depends on who you talk to.). Then they take your blood and check the sugar levels. I would like to avoid gestational diabetes, please. Yet another reason to lay off the Girl Scout cookies.

My doc is cool and seems genuinely happy to be helping me get this kid grown and out in (preferably) one piece.


Oh, and reason #9,384 why pregnancy math pisses me off:

Mom: So you're how far along now?
Me: Well, it'll be 24 weeks on Saturday. So, six months.
Mom: Wow! There will be a baby in three months!
Me: Nope. Four.
(silence)
Me: Four months. Pregnancy is 40 weeks. 10 months. They lie. I will be 10 months pregnant at the end of July.
Mom: Really? Huh.


She acts like she hasn't done this twice before. Granted, the last time she did it was 27 years ago so she might be rusty.