24 weeks.

16 more to go. Sixteen. That's freakin' forever.

I'll take a picture of the Webbelly tomorrow. I have a feeling there will be even more of a difference this week. It finally feels like a pregnant belly - not like I'm faking it after a big meal.

UPDATE - The Webbelly at twenty-four weeks. I kinda look like a Weeble.

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.

Dear Bob,

• Describe your feelings for your baby and what it's like to know he's growing inside you.
I'm sorry, kid, but it's really flippin' weird. You make me have to pee all the time, and you kick my insides, and my ass is getting big because of little ol' you. I love you, but I can't say that growing you is the world's most magical experience.

• Imagine a perfect day with your baby and what you'll do together.
On your 11th birthday your dad and I will take you to a Twins game, we'll eat some sunflower seeds, get an autographed baseball from whatever star player the Twins have in 2019, and then we'll go home. As we are relaxing on the deck, an owl flies up, drops a letter on your lap and we realize you've been admitted to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I celebrate because not only are you a wizard, but I also don't have to clean your smelly prepubescent boy clothes for nine months out of the year! Hooray!

(God, I'm a nerd.)

• Write down your hopes, dreams, and wishes for your baby.
Yale undergrad, Johns Hopkins medical school, discovers both the cure for cancer and a perfect remedy for cellulite.

• Think about what being a mother means to you and your definition of what makes a good mother.
Truthfully? I just hope I don't pass my passive-aggressive nature on to my kids. I think that would be the worst thing I could do to them. And guilt, while useful in some situations, shouldn't be used on your kids. However, bribery is a must.



Love,
Mom

Shut up, BabyCenter.

This Week's Activity:

Write a letter to your baby. You and your child will treasure this gift for years to come. Go with your heart and follow your inspiration. If you need help getting started:

• Describe your feelings for your baby and what it's like to know he's growing inside you.

• Imagine a perfect day with your baby and what you'll do together.

• Write down your hopes, dreams, and wishes for your baby.

• Think about what being a mother means to you and your definition of what makes a good mother.




I just don't think I'll ever be as goopy and saccharine as the world expects me to be.

He's just going to have to be okay with that.

The Birthin' Mix

I'm working on an iPod mix for when I go into the hospital. I thought it would be harder than it turned out to be - I already have 8 hours of music and I'm only through D in the iTunes library. Could have something to do with the seven Beatles albums I put on the list...

On one hand, I want to have a ton of music available just in case I'm one of the lucky women who is in labor for damn near forever. On the other hand, I don't want to create a self-fulfilling prophecy by making sure I have 20+ hours of musical enjoyment.

It's a toughie.

Twenty Two Weeks.

Um... I guess two weeks makes a difference, huh? Not only are my boobs taking over the world, but my ass is becoming something out of Sir Mixalot's dreams (I act like it wasn't already...) - and my belly is thisclose to being able to balance a cereal bowl on top of it.

Mmmmm... cereal.



I bitch, but I'm still amazed that there's something IN THERE. I've become obsessed with feeling him move, and I think the kid picks up on that because he just won't.... then I get good and panicked and he'll kick me in the gut. Shithead.

There's really nothing new going on. The first trimester is for worrying and being nauseated, the third trimester is for being huge and uncomfortable and ready to get this thing OUT (even though we know what that entails...) I think the second trimester is just a lot of sitting and waiting. It's a good thing I have projects.

Speaking of - I was super productive yesterday. I pieced together a quilt top for my new nephew (Due May 27! Yay!). It's a pretty bitchin' quilt, I must say. I think today will be spent ataching the batting and backing and quilting that mutha. If I feel extra ambitious I might bind it. If there's an America's Next Top Model marathon all this might just happen.

Advice from my French Press:

"Children and Hot Liquids Should Be Kept Apart"



Armed with this knowledge I see Mother of the Year in my future.