Where Are You???

Dear Squirt,
It's February 20.

You were due... yesterday.

And..... yep... you're still not here yet.  Despite my best efforts to get you to come into this world sooner rather than later.  Yep. Let's recap the last couple of weeks for you so you can see that yes... Mommy is trying to squeeze as much living into her last days of freedom for a while... while also hoping that all the activity will encourage your arrival.

Last Wednesday, I went with my girlfriend Kaylene to the musical Hairspray.  I figured that with my luck, I would go into labor in the middle of it and be THAT chick.  But, no... no baby.  But, a really fun play where we got to see some of our friends perform.  I got home that night at about 11 p.m. and was still so exhausted by the next morning, that your Daddy had to get Hazel ready and drop her off at day care, while I slept in.  When I woke up, I seriously debated sitting around the house for the rest of the day (sans pants) simply because I didn't feel like getting ready for work.  But, I went in anyway... something that makes my immediate supervisor happy.  Just because he likes seeing me uncomfortable.  And has made that clear to me.  Often.

That Friday, your Daddy and I headed downtown to a free Ice Cube concert on 25th street.  Yea.  That may not have been our brightest move given the fact that there were close to 10,000 people there.  And an untold amount of weed.  And a 9 month pregnant belly?  Didn't really fit in well with the crowd.  After an hour of standing in the street, squished like sardines... we had to make a break for it right before Ice Cube took the stage... by scrambling under a table and pushing our way through a mass of high concert goers.  We HAD had a really good view of the stage prior to bailing and had we stayed and risked our lives, we would have actually gotten to see the man... but as much as we wanted to be able to tell you that the night you were born we had been at an Ice Cube concert... we thought that risking our safety and your safety was going a bit overboard.

We ended up going to the back of the crowd where there was a little more room to breathe... but then it wasn't like the air we were breathing was good for you or me, so after about three songs (in which I enjoyed several flashbacks to college) we left and headed home.  By 10 p.m., we were showered and in bed.  Because that's how we roll these days.

But, you KNOW we had to do a bump pic at the concert...

Week 39!

That Sunday, we headed up to Snowbasin to watch the Super Pipe of the Dew Tour.  Which meant some "hiking" for me.  We hoped that the change in elevation and the physical exertion would do the trick.  It. Did. Not.

But, we still had a good time and your big sister got to enjoy one last weekend being the center of our world.

We went to the doctor for our finally appointment last week and it turns out that while you're ready to make an appearance (and we know this because your cute little head is nestled securely on a nerve that makes my special place cry out in pain all day long) Mother Nature isn't really moving things along the way we would hope she would.  So, all of that planning to just wait until you're ready to make your big entrance into this world?  Well, those plans got tossed out the window because, quite frankly, I'm kinda over the pregnancy.  I want to get on with things, you know?  I want to be mobile again.  Your Daddy REALLY wants me to be mobile again.  I want to be able to lift up Hazel without pain and I really, really, REALLY want to get out of my maternity clothes.

But most of all, I want to meet you.  I want to meet the little girl who causes me to pee five times a night and who gets the hiccups multiple times a day.  I can't wait to see what you look like and discover your personality.  I can't wait for Hazel to meet you and I look forward to the two of you being best friends.  I can't wait for the Nadolski's to be a family of four.  I can't wait to see if I have learned anything from all of the mistakes I made with your sister... or if it's true, that I can't be taught.

So, we're inducing tomorrow morning.  We were a bit surprised that the doctor suggested it... normally, she likes to wait five days after your due date to start an induction, but decided that the pain was enough to warrant only waiting two days.  

We are so looking forward to you making our family complete, baby girl.  We knew when we had your sister that we were OF COURSE going to have you.  It was a given.  We decided that the very best gift we could give Hazel is a little sister.  And the very best gift we could give you, is an older sister.  The very best gift we could give ourselves?  The two of you.  It may have happened sooner than we expected, but oh my... we wouldn't have it any other way.

See you soon, baby girl! Our family is waiting to meet you!

Love,
Mama

Bump Watch - Weeks 34-36

Dear Squirt,
Well... we're officially on the countdown.  Only 25 more days until your arrival!  I can't tell you how much we are looking forward to it.  Or how much we've discussed what to name you.  We've had several "helpful" suggestions from friends and family, and I think now is a perfectly good time to document some of the names that have been ruled out... or vetoed immediately.

- Pearl
- Juanita
- Agnes
- Millicent (your Daddy had a spit-take when I pulled that one out.)
- Zoey (we both love the name, but you have a second-cousin by that name)
- Lila (again... love the name, but cousins already beat us to it!)

Those are just a few of the many, MANY names that have been thrown at us (or by us) in the last couple of months.  I think that the name we're most comfortable with is going to be perfect and I've already been calling you by it just to test it out.  It seems to work!

We went to our doctor's appointment yesterday and got to see that you are head down (right on my bladder) with your bummy shoved up into my ribs and your feet kicking whatever organs are left on the right side of my body.  This has led to the reemergence of waddling.  Which is never a good sign.  And the bummy in the ribs  is constantly leaving me out of breath.  But right now, it's the head on the bladder that's driving me batty.  I don't remember having to pee this much with your sister.  And sometimes it's a total false alarm.  I don't like those at 3 a.m., sweetie.

My friend Sarah came to visit last weekend.  She's pregnant, too.  About 29 weeks in this pic, I believe.

 35 Weeks!

But, as you can see... I win.  In the belly AND the hair department.  Good grief!  Who lets their wife go out like that?

Your nursery is about 90% complete. I finally ordered the wall decals and Daddy and I put them up tonight.  It's super cute and when the room is finally finished, we'll post pics. Just a quick FYI... we took so much care with Hazel's nursery when she was still in utero... everything had to match.  With you?  Well, we got real.  And we scored a free crib.  So you're getting Hazel's old changing table and dresser... still the nicest piece of furniture in the house... and she's going to have to settle for a new dresser that may or may not match the rest of her room.  But honestly?  Who cares?  Do I really think that it's going to upset her if her dresser is white and her crib is dark?  I will not raise a diva.  I. Will. Not.  And you won't care, either, that your dresser is dark and your crib is light.  You wanna know why?  Because there are bigger issues in the world.

Issues like the fact that Mommy needs to use the bathroom right now because you keep head-butting my bladder. 

You've gotten the hiccups quite regularly and it's one of those things that I get to share with you... and no one else knows.  It's kind of fun.  And Daddy finally got to feel you move the other night.  The first time he's gotten that opportunity. You've been moving around a lot more at night, so I guess I can kiss my dream of having a baby that automatically sleeps at night GOOD-BYE.

We are so excited for you to join our little family.  We're even more excited to see if we can actually do it better this time.  Because if you don't know by now, we were pretty much ginormous screw ups when we brought your older sister home.  I truly don't know how she survived those first few weeks with us.  But, she taught us a ton... which we hope we can put to good use on you!

I remember the night Hazel was born... right after delivery when your Daddy was giving her her first "bath".  I remember sitting there... coming down off of all the drugs... and being completely stunned. 

Stunned that we'd finally done it.  Stunned that there was actually this little person that had come out of me and that I was somehow supposed to take care of for the rest of her life.  Stunned at all of the emotions swirling around me.  And stunned that our coupledome was officially over.  Our life... as we knew it... would never be the same.  Of course I thought about that pre-delivery.  Even thought about it pre-pregnancy.  But it doesn't sink in until you're sitting there in a hospital bed, on top of an ice pack with two Tucks pads in your undies and after having a nurse help you to the bathroom so that you can lose whatever is left of your dignity... all while watching the man you love tenderly wash the sore head of your baby for the first time. 

You always think you're ready.  You're not.  And I'm sure that we won't be completely ready for you to make our threesome a foursome.  But we're way more prepared mentally for whatever changes you bring into our lives.  And are so looking forward to it. 

Goodnight, Squirt.  Sleep safe and tight in there for a few more weeks.  We already love you.  And will forever. 

Love,
Mama

18 Weeks? 18 WEEKS??

Dear Squirt,
Forgive me for not writing sooner. There's much to be said about the differences between a first pregnancy and a second pregnancy. Especially those pregnancies that are less than a year apart. With your sister, Hazel, I had plenty of time to document and yes... wallow... in every aspect of the pregnancy. I could write about how the smell of canned corn made me want to throw the can at your Daddy's head. I could talk in detail about every detectable feeling of nausea and every time I felt a tiny movement inside my ever-expanding waistline. I talked in great length about my cravings of hard-boiled eggs, watermelon and orange juice.

But with this pregnancy? With you? I've been more than slightly remiss in documenting. But I have two good reasons.

1 - Your sister doesn't leave me a whole lot of time for pondering all of the wonders that is the pregnancy. I don't get the luxury of falling asleep at any time, in any place. Or being nauseous and not wanting to even think about food. When I come home from work, my day isn't even close to being over, as it was during the first pregnancy. In short, I don't really get to wallow in this pregnancy. Because the minute I do, your sister will be in the bathroom cabinet (that has not yet been baby-proofed) eating the AJAX.

And I guess that somehow you know this? Because...

2 - Were it not for the fact that I've seen several sonograms and heard your heartbeat repeatedly at said sonograms... and were it not for the fact that I started showing at like 4 weeks? I would NEVER know I was pregnant. No cravings. No super sniffer that's requiring the ban of certain foods or household pets in my vicinity. However, I will say that for the first trimester, I had an overall feeling of nausea just kind of lurking below the surface pretty much the entire time. Nothing that would prevent me from eating or anything (my waistline thus far can attest to this) but always there... lingering. It doesn't help that midway through the first trimester the whole house went through a bit of the stomach flu. Keep in mind, Squirt, that it takes a special something to get your Mommy to actually toss her cookies. And usually that something lands her in the hospital for three days. So when my turn with the stomach flu came through, I fought it. And fought it. And fought it.

And failed miserably. But, at least I got it out of my system. And I feel like I can still declare that I have never thrown up due to a pregnancy.

But, I digress. To put it more fairly, this pregnancy is completely different from the first one. I guess that's the most notable part of carrying you, so far. It makes me wonder every day what you're going to be like and how you're going to be different from your sister.

I suspect that you, my dear, are going to be a pretty laid-back little baby. But I also predict that of our little family, you're going to be the Tender Heart. Your sister... she's the Playful Heart. I can say this because while she caused me a ton of heartburn (of which you've completely skipped thus far... preferring to go straight to the acid reflux, thankyouverymuch), you've actually caused me a lot of absolutely unnecessary tearing up. Over anything and everything. And sometimes these random tearing up leads to full on bawlfests... for NO. GOOD. REASON.

It doesn't matter if it's a commercial about coffee, adopting a dog from the shelter, or a good price on milk. It's beginning to get a bit ridiculous. As evidenced by my emotional breakdown at the airport last week. I missed a connecting flight from Phoenix to Flagstaff. Entirely not my fault... other than the fact that I elected to go with US Airways initially and SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER.

Anyway... it's not like I've never missed a flight. And it's not like it was a big deal. It really wasn't.

Except... except when I went to the ticket counter to get rescheduled on the next flight I broke down and sobbed. SOBBED, I tell you. I had just run a full-out sprint (as much as I could, in fact, sprint) from Terminal A to Terminal B. And something about my adrenaline spiking at perhaps the same time as my hormones? Well... this is all supposition, but there was SOMETHING going on there. And the result was your Mommy blubbering like a 10-month old and trying to explain to the agent that "Really... I'm fine. Just need a moment. I'm not even upset." And yet, these words are pretty much meaningless when mascara is running down your face and snot is leaking out of your nose and you just can't seem to get control of your affect so that it actually matches what you're feeling and trying to express to those innocent souls around you who have suddenly found themselves trying to calm a hysterical pregnant woman... who knows there's no reason for the hysteria and yet, can't. stop. crying.

The good news, I suppose, is that the agent felt bad for me and I scored a free water and an exit row seat on my next flight. I'm not sure if it was the emotional breakdown (which, btw... everyone in line stared. yes. they. did.) or the fact that I told her I was 4 months pregnant with a 10 month old at home and she figured I needed something to help me cope!

So, yes... right now I'm currently riding a tide of tender emotions... all of which I'm blaming you for. And I can't wait to see if my prediction is correct. And I really hope that once you come to join us, this doesn't mean that you're going to be crying more than your sister did the first month of her life... because honestly, I'm not sure that's even possible.

Ogden River @ 18 weeks!

Love,
Mama

The Final Bump Watch - 38 Weeks

We are now in the official Sitting On Our Thumbs phase of the pregnancy. The hours tick by sooooo slowly. And I often wonder if you can actually drive yourself insane by listening to the tick-tock of the clock. It's a creative form of torture, actually.

And the really bad part about all of this is that since I'm working from home this week (so I don't have to wear pants and look all nice for work) is that I'm literally 30 feet from the kitchen. And at 39 weeks pregnant, and bored to death from waiting for the baby to show up... well, it's just. not. good., mkay?



Seriously, I don't know how stay-at-home mom's aren't all 300 pounds. I'm just sayin'.

My boss is allowing me to work from home this week and it's actually been pretty, I dunno, SPECTACULAR?? I can't believe how productive I've been and how well the Office That Benny Built In The House That Jaynee Made Really Salty Cornbread In (long story), is working out.

This week, Benny's been battling a bit of a cold that just won't go away. And yes... that's made him a bit of a Cranky Pants (it's true, babe... in fact, I do believe you TM'd the phrase Cranky Pants). I understand why he's grumpy though... this whole time he's been working out to be in the best possible shape and condition for Tweet's arrival... and then he gets sidelined with a stupid cold. Not cool.

In the good news department, even though we haven't been taking too many precautions to keep him from infecting me, I haven't managed to come down with whatever he has. There are many theories to this phenomenon from me just having a strong immune system even while pregnant, to his Phoenix genetics betraying him whenever the weather changes in Ogden. But I must admit, I'm more likely to believe that the cause for my immunity is simply that I don't waste my time with petty colds. I like to go for the exotic diseases like whooping cough and maybe scarlet fever thrown in there for color. That's just how I roll in the health department.

This week we've also been putting the finishing touches on preparing for Tweet's arrival. We recently dropped a good portion of our life's savings (don't worry, it's not like we had that much to begin with) at Babies-R-Us to get the rest of the stuff that was on our registry. And, by the way, Babies-R-Us is a total scam. They tell you to put everything you want on your registry and that within two weeks of the due date, you can come and get everything that's still left on your registry for 10% off. Sounds like a good deal, right? WRONG. What they DON'T tell you is that every four months, Babies-R-Us has a huge turnover and most of the stuff that you have on the list, they NO LONGER CARRY. So, unless you don't register until a few weeks before your due date, you likely won't be able to find that cute diaper bag or swing that you registered for. MAKES SENSE, DOESN'T IT?

Yea... you can color me upset with Babies-R-Us. Oh, I'll be back... of this there is no doubt... but I WON'T like it.

We also finally got the curtain up for the closet. I picked out the fabric last month, and my mom put it together and brought it up to us this weekend. I won't get into the debacle THAT proved to be, as I only try to think happy thoughts the week before baby girl is supposed to arrive. But, I will tell you that apparently, I'm not the only one in the family who struggles with measurements and numbers.

After we finally figured out what we were doing wrong (*cough*fourhourslater*cough*) Mom and I headed to the spa to get a pedicure. I've been needing one for a while and decided to pull the trigger so that I didn't offend the doctors and nurses during delivery. And, you know... I also wanted to see how Mom would handle someone other than herself touching her feet. THAT WAS WORTH THE PRICE OF ADMISSION ALONE.

Benny's brother and uncle came up to visit last weekend, as well. We decided to bite the bullet and buy his brother's awesome SUV that runs like a dream. And yes... that now officially makes me a hypocrite for railing against SUV's in the past. But I don't care... it's now the safest car we own AND it has a sunroof. So there.

Actually, the need for the SUV presented itself when we realized that the Sonata has like, I dunno, ZERO room in the back seat? And with the way Benny likes to recline his seat while he drives, there was just no way to fit a car seat back there. Guess who didn't think about THAT when they bought the car a few years ago?

We had a great time with Benny's brother and uncle, and with my family. It made the days pass by a lot quicker... well, with the exception of the four-hour debacle with the curtain. But the fact that the curtain debacle kept me from hearing the tick-tock of the clock? I suppose I can live with the inconvenience!

And because I promised you months ago... here are the pics of the finished nursery:

The curtain!

Closeup of the print

Crib and rocking chair

Closeup of the decal over the crib

Changing table

Decals over the changing table.

Bump Watch - Week 37

Also known as... I'm Sorta Getting Over It Week.

It's not that I've had a tough pregnancy. Quite the opposite, actually. No hemorrhoids, no particular complaints other than the constant fatigue and, now the apparently inhuman snoring that Benny's privy to every night.

In fact, yesterday morning I woke up with a really sore throat and shrugged it off as caused by the change in the weather. But Benny confirmed with me that "HOLY COW! I have never heard anything as loud as your snoring last night. I mean... no wonder your throat is sore! The noises coming out of you were NOT human. I bet you couldn't make that same noise while you are awake!"

So, I've got that going for me.

Tweety-Pie is progressing nicely. And bonus! I only gained one pound this week!

Benny and I are getting anxious for the Tweeter to arrive. We're busy running last-minute errands and getting things in place. And, we finally pulled the trigger on a chair for the nursery. And, no... it's not the $700 chair I drool over whenever we go to Babies-R-Us. Nope... we had to have a reality check with that chair. That chair lost.

This chair, however...


WON.

I know, I know... but we like to say that while it may be big and ugly, it's not huge and atrocious. So there.

So, we're pretty pumped. And yes, I know we still need to put up pics of the nursery, but we want to get the finishing touches done before that. We should be done by this weekend... nothing like procrastinating until the very last minute, right?

In other news, I finally broke down when it snowed last week and got some cold weather maternity clothes. I know I swore I wouldn't... but I forgot this one thing about myself: I. HATE. THE. COLD. And, so... with Benny's blessing, I proceeded to drop a good portion of my paycheck off at Motherhood Maternity. This... this is getting old.

Tweet's moving around quite a bit these days... even though the books all tell you that you won't feel as much movement towards the end. These "books"... they LIE.

Benny and I spent the weekend in Park City where I had some meetings for work. Which meant that HE got to spend the day tooling around Park City (or would have, if it hadn't snowed... and by the way? SO NOT READY FOR SNOW!) and I got to spend the day in meeting after meeting after meeting. So that was fun. It was even fun trying to play hide the huge ankles so that people wouldn't stare too much. That game... it's a lot harder than it sounds. As is the game where I try to hide the swelling in my face. Who knew?

Anyhoo... I can't begin to explain to you all how much we are ready for Tweet to join our little family and make it whole.

And... I can't begin to explain to you how at the same time, that thought terrifies me. What if I'm not a good mom? What if she comes out already walking and talking? What if I accidentally drop her??? What if Tweet doesn't have the sweet, laid-back, gentle personality that I pretty much explained to Benny was my requirement for any baby to come into the House That Benny Built and Jaynee Sobbed In Twice A Day Last Week? What if the baby doesn't respond to me? It's happened before... I have this way with babies. And that way is, as a rule they don't like me. What if I can't ever fit back into my pre-pregnancy pants again???

What if, what if, what if???????????

Twelve days, people. TWELVE. DAYS. Am I at the right level of panic yet, or should I consider taking it up a notch?

37 Weeks!!!

Bump Watch - Weeks 35-36

Really.... at this point, can we still call it a "Bump" Watch? Or should we give it a more fitting name? Like... Whale Watch? Lay-Off The Doritos Watch? Or, Remember When It Was Just A Bump Watch?

The last two weeks have been probably my least favorite of the whole experience. The first eight months of this pregnancy? Cake. With frosting. Of which I had not one, not two but THREE times at different baby showers that friends and family have thrown for us since August. And, yes... a full report on all three are upcoming. I'm just trying to find a pic amongst the many that were taken at the parties that doesn't include me breathing through my mouth, shoving a whole piece of cake into my mouth (while breathing through my mouth), or the bump obscenely featured in the pic... whether I wanted it to be or not. But, I guess that's what the parties were for, no? A celebration of the bump? And, by the way... I may have some of the greatest friends in the world for showing up to the showers. I mean, trust me... I KNOW that going to a baby shower loses its appeal after you're 18 - or, after you've been to 18 - so I was grateful to those who showed up to share in our excitement. Seriously... I think I've finally figured out why girls rock and realize that I actually have a lot of girlfriends. MUCH TO MY SURPRISE!!! Thank you, everyone!

But, I digress... where was I? The first eight months of pregnancy have been low-key. And even though in the last few posts I may have led you all to believe that I've been freaking out and having a meltdown every other day, that's not exactly true. That may have just been me exaggerating for a good story. Who woulda thunk it??? Although, the story about my meltdown in Babies-R-Us? Completely true. I will own it, as I believe that whenever you do truly lose your mind, you have to be held accountable.

And as smooth as the first 8 months have gone... as quickly as they have flown by for both Benny and I... I have to say that the last week? THE LONGEST IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD.

I've had plenty of friends who have had children and without fail, no matter if they had an easy pregnancy or not, I remember all of them saying the same thing about the final month of pregnancy. Time slows down. You start to really feel the pregnancy. You just want it to be over. Blah, blah, blah.

And I have to admit that whenever I heard them talk like that, I would appropriately sympathize with them (to their faces) while thinking to myself: Please. It's just one more month. How hard can that possibly be? I mean, you can do ANYTHING for a month. After eight months, what's one more?

What's one more? I'll tell you what one more is:

• More snoring, less caring that you're snoring.

• More waking up to ankles the size of your hip and toes the size of Wrangler Hot Dogs. The ones that plump when you cook them. Oh, they're cooked alright. They're. Cooked.

• More experiencing a pain in your booty whenever you sit on your office chair for more than 5 minutes.

• More wanting to punch the next person who tells you that most first-timer's don't deliver until at least five days past their due date. Which is a lovely thought. REALLY. Tell me some more about how I'm going to be pregnant FOREVER.

• More heavy breathing... and not the good kind. This heavy breathing is because your lungs are the approximate size of a pea. And your nose is stuffy. And swollen.
  

• More not fitting into your maternity clothes anymore, but not wanting to shop for any more because you only have four more weeks and because the changing rooms HAVE MIRRORS.

• More putting up with every woman - friend, foe, complete stranger - who feels the need to share with you her labor and delivery HORROR story. Because, look at me. Right now, I look like a woman who's totally calm about the whole thing. Better take me down a notch.

• More acne showing up randomly when you've had a relatively acne free pregnancy.

• More falling asleep each lunch break to Judge Alex, less caring that people know I actually watch Judge Alex at lunch.

• More acid reflux. Because five months of it isn't quite enough.

• More needing your husband to roll you out of bed in the middle of the night so you can use the restroom. Five times a night.

*Ahem*

In the good news area, I am so completely on top of everything on work, that I truly don't know what to do with myself in the office right now. I'm literally out of things to do, as I've cleared my calendar so well in preparation for the possibility of an early delivery (which, according to every woman in the free world is simply not possible and I might not give birth until week 45). But it is a huge help to my psyche to know that if the stars align and were I to go into labor this very second, no one at work would be put out too much. Oh sure... if something goes wrong while I'm gone, I fully expect to be blamed... that's what I would do if I were in there shoes. But knowing that I've done everything I need to do before maternity leave? Priceless. All I have to do is make it through this week of work, which includes two days of meetings in Park City, and it will be all downhill work-wise for me. And that's how I like both my marathons and my work!!!

Also in the good news department, Benny and I completed our birthing class last week and we feel just about as prepared as first-timers can possibly feel.

This week, Benny and I also got to see the Tweeter again. We had our 36 week appointment which included an ultrasound to check the position of the baby, and two required violations of my body. Really... I can't wait for labor and delivery and the soon-to-come violations. I had to go home and shower after the appointment. You can imagine how well I'm going to deal with being in the stirrups for hours when the Tweeter is born. Yowza.

Anyhoo, currently Tweet is head down right on top of my bladder... which explains the need to get up every 90 minutes to head to the restroom and pray for a miracle in that I actually will have urine to expel this time. Also, her cute little booty is shoved up against the right side of my rib cage and her legs are tucked on the left side of the uterus. She's constantly moving right now... so I guess there goes our hope for a chillaxy baby that doesn't really do a lot other than eat, sleep and poop until she's five, when she can then go to kindergarten and be the smartest kid in the school. Look at that?? Four weeks to go and already my dreams have been shattered for my child's future. Cuz that's how I roll right now, mkay?

This weekend was the big Mountain-2-Metro/X-Terra National Championship/Harvest Moon Festival here in Ogden. And yes... all of that went on at the exact same time and Benny and I were in the thick of it. We both volunteered for the Goal Foundation on Friday. Benny did a lot of set-up and I got to do body marking for all of the athletes. And let me tell you about those X-Terra pro's. They are no. joke. Hard-bodies... all of them. Which, when you're 8 months prego can make you feel a wee-bit LOSER-ish, and you can't help but accidentally-on-purpose knock them over with your big belly. Because what are they going to do? Get mad at the pregnant chick? Please.

As we were leaving the park after volunteering all day, we noticed a guy who had a 6-foot boa constrictor and was letting people hold it. Because, that's normal, right? It's a Friday... better take the boa constrictor to the park in case some pregnant chick there wants to freak out her husband.

Even more normal, I suppose, is the fact that a small brown spider on the wall will leave me in tears just for existing... but snakes? No big deal. A 6-foot boa constrictor? "Yea, hi! Can I hold it for a bump watch picture? THANKS!"

36 Weeks!

Tweet, meet Steve the Snake. Steve, meet Tweet. And Steve, I know you can smell Benny's fear from 6-feet away. It's not you. It's him. Well, it's him seeing his wife with a boa wrapped around her neck. And not the feathery kind.

Bump Watch - Weeks 33-34

So, it looks as though the expectation I had of posting once-a-week has been blown out of the water, and the best I can do is twice a month. Which, I suppose will have to do... considering that I've been so busy getting the house ready for Tweet and trying not to cry when I watch an ASPCA commercial that I've barely had time to update my Facebook status from Jaynee is going through The Daily Show withdrawals, to Jaynee just found ANOTHER grey hair... much less blog about my ever-expanding waist.

So, without further ado... I welcome you to Weeks 33-34.

The word for weeks 33 and 34 is: HORMONES

Really, it was a toss-up between hormones and nesting, until I started crying today for no good reason.

AGAIN.

I mean, let there be no doubt that I'm in full nesting mode... in both personal and professional life. I've had more than a few bees in my bonnet these last 14 or so days. Including cleaning the windows and screens in the house, forcing Benny to spray the house for spiders since I saw one last week (and where there's one, you know there's about to be an all-out seige by our eight-legged enemies) and re-organizing and re-constituting the pantry and spice cabinet.

That's right... we have a spice cabinet. Who knew? The spices have been organized and moved to a cupboard that allows me to see that yes, we do have fennel seeds (whatever THOSE were bought for) AND cream of tartar. So, we're pretty much set for life. And Tweet can be assured of an attentive mother and father that don't have to worry about whether or not we have access to some Alum. You know... in case we come across an obscure recipe that actually calls for it. Assuming that by the time THAT happens, it hasn't expired. Does anyone know... can Alum expire? Better yet, does anyone know WHAT Alum is and WHY in the world we have it?

But, I digress.

At work, I've been in a bit of panic mode trying to get everything organized so that when I'm out of the office for three months or so, things don't blow up and no one can blame me when something does blow up. Kind of like what I do with the interns. I've been this way ever since my girl Bernee sent me an email congratulating me on making it to week 34. Something about when she said: "Just remember, I had my first at 32 weeks, and my next three at 36... so you could go at ANY time."... well, it kinda set me off.

There was something else in there about making sure I get a lot of rest and blah, blah, blah... but I really cannot comment on andy of that because my brain exploded right there in my office and I spent the rest of the day cleaning up grey matter.

The good news is that all my files are in order, I've caught up on the last of the reports that needed to be written and were my water to break today, the only thing I would be stressed about is the fact that OH, RIGHT... WE'RE HAVING A BABY. Well, that and the fact that the required bag-o-goodies for the hospital stay has yet to be packed. Probably because I can't bend over to get the bag out from under the bed.

So, yes... nesting has been front and center these last two weeks. But, the hormones (which I do believe are also involved in the nesting) pulled ahead in the voting the last week or so. And can I just state for the record that I could really do without the hormonal breakdowns? ARGH!

Don't get me wrong... I've always been one for a good cry now and then. It cleanses and resets the system. Much like Benny's after nap showers. But yesterday when I started crying because I was soooo tired and just couldn't fathom doing anything BUT crying... which made me cry some more? RIDICULOUS. I mean, there's emotional and then there's "Geez, Nadolski! Get it together!!!"

I think that week 33 really marked the point where I'm officially uncomfortable. Like... REALLY uncomfortable. I don't sleep well at night. Because I wake myself up to turn over from my left side to my right side. And then inevitably have to empty my bladder because, you know... it's been five minutes. How I long for a night of tossing and turning... when you can do so without grunting or waking your husband up to help roll you over so that you can start snoring on your right side, instead of your left.

Oh? Have I not mentioned? Apparently, I've taken up snoring this week. And by "taken up", I mean that if snoring was an Olympic sport? Gold medal, baby.

I didn't know I was snoring, but I did know that I've got a little drainage as I'm fighting a touch of a head cold right now. And, I knew that I was having a hard time breathing at night since my lungs are currently the size of a standard chicken nugget. The ones without the hormones. But it wasn't until Benny handed me his phone the next day and asked me to listen to the recording he'd made that I realized that this... this is no good. Because when I listened to it, I asked him where he'd recorded a frog in heat in a swamp, with a chorus of other frogs and the sound of a river running in the background.

And the sad part about that story? COMPLETELY TRUE. I had no idea what I was listening to was my own snoring... and Benny's own personal nightmare. No wonder I can't sleep at night. Perhaps I'm not actually waking up to turn over. Perhaps I'm waking up when I swallow my tongue and don't get any air? It's anyone's guess. Personally, I'm wondering when Benny's going to throw in the towel and move to the bedroom downstairs to get away from the snoring. Unless he's a glutton for punishment and really wants to experience the pregnancy.

This week, I've noticed an increase roundness in the belly... as well as an increased itchiness. And it really doesn't matter where I am or who I'm with. If the belly needs itching, the belly needs itching. And if you can't handle a pregnant woman scratching at her large belly? Well, then... I FEEL SORRY FOR YOU.

34 Weeks!!

We did have a minor freak out last week... er, rather, I freaked out and Benny tried to be the voice of reason. If you can possibly imagine THAT scenario.

We went to our weekly check-up and I got the seasonal flu shot. That night, I didn't feel Tweet move even once. And she's usually quite the kicker around 9 p.m. But... NOTHING DOING. The Tweet was silent.

We had gone out with Shane, Krista, Supa, Dev and Emily(also known as The Skinny's) for some sushi at Sapa's in SLC and while everyone was laughing and having a good time... and at times touching Devin inappropriately just in time for a picture - because, really... how can you resist with that great beard of his? (see below)... all I could think was: The baby's not moving. The baby's not moving. The baby's not moving. OMG... the flu shot! The flu shot killed her!!!

Because, this is how a normal person reacts.

The next day, after she still hadn't moved by noon, I called the doc and left a message. And, of course, as soon as I hung up, Tweety kicked back to life and everything's been good since then. This morning, in fact, I was convinced that rather that have the whole labor and delivery process, Tweet was planning on clawing her way out of the womb and fully expected her hand to stick out through my belly as she made her way out. I'll take that over the no movement freak out any day.

Benny and I have been hitting the pool to get a workout in and I have to admit that I LURVE it. It's the only time that I feel weightless and I can stretch some muscles that haven't been stretched in weeks. In fact, I love it so much, I will disregard the meltdown I had at the pool last week when I got there and realized I didn't have my swimsuit. And do you have any idea of the drama that unfolded poolside with Benny when that little piece of information was spoken aloud for the first time? It was a Sunglasses On Indoors moment... so no one would see me crying. Of course, the loud sobs gave it away.

Luckily, cooler heads (Benny's) prevailed and he was able to give me some workout shorts he'd worn for Boot Camp that morning, and I was able to wear a tank top in the water so I could get my swim on. Benny also made sure that I was covered by a towel when I got in and out of the water... since the tank top was a teeny, TINY bit see-through.

We also rode our bikes in the monthly Critical Mass downtown. Oh... and by the way, while I support Critical Mass and what it aims to promote, I don't think I'll participate in the future. Not because I was offended by anyone's behavior. Not because I think that it's too big and should not be allowed on the road. No... I'm offended because even at 7 months pregnant, I still think that it's okay to go faster than 6 mph and yes, yes I WILL pass you even if we're only supposed to be two abreast. Because YOU'RE RIDING 6 MPH and even the most unfit pregnant chick can hit 14 mph easy. LET'S MOVE, GRANNY.

Benny kept telling me to slow down... that it wasn't a race. But c'mon... even if it's not a race, at least let's have some dignity here!!! Oh... and btw? EVERYTHING'S A RACE, BABE.

Yea... I don't know how he puts up with me either. But he does an awful good job of it. We ended up leaving the group after they headed back to the start and doing another lap to get our heart rates up... and then proceeded to cancel that out with a stop at Farr's Ice Cream... which just happened to be on the route.

Birthing classes started last week and I can't wait to fill you all in. Benny is by far the most excited Father-To-Be in there. As evidenced by his jumping up and volunteering to be first among the men to wear the maternity suit. He's been a great partner throughout this whole process and I can't wait to bring Tweet into the world to meet her Daddy.

Bump Watch - Weeks 31 & 32

These last two weeks have been relatively low-key… which is surprising given that I almost started crying the day I realized that my stomach was now resting comfortably on my lap. AND I WAS TOTALLY OKAY WITH IT.

Benny and I had a chance to go to a couple of concerts in Ogden these last couple of weeks. The first was Accapellastock, where amazing talent from around the country come to perform. Personally, I think the local group we have here is just as talented as anyone… even if this year’s show wasn’t nearly as energetic as last year’s show.

Tweet, incidentally, is a HUGE fan of beat boxing. And I was a huge fan of the caramel Kettle Korn that I insisted was necessary for me to maintain living. And since Benny’s a fan of keeping me alive so that he finally gets to spoil his baby girl, he handed me his wallet and told me to get whatever I needed. That’s right ladies… eat your heart out.

Last night, we went to a concert by the Lovell Sisters at the Nature Center. Benny was in charge of snacks… and apparently thought that we were feeding all of the concert goers because when we showed up with a bag of food and full ice-chest, we got some curious looks from the people next to us who had brought the standard red wine, cheese and bread. Obviously, we didn’t get the memo… but that didn’t stop me from digging into the watermelon, apples, bread, cheese, grapes, chips and salsa. All this for a two hour concert.

I only regretted that I hadn’t brought a corn dog as well.

Ah, yes… my new craving. CORN DOGS. Fresh corn dogs. Not one of those health risks you get at a gas station after a long night of “Book” Club. And do you know that the only hot dog joint in town, “Hot Dogden”, doesn’t carry corn dogs? How is this even possible?

A quick mental review assured me that there wasn’t a corn dog vendor in the food court of the mall. And just like that, we were in Code Red. IS IT SO HARD FOR A HOT DOG VENDOR TO OFFER CORN DOGS??

I mentioned this to Benny when I got home that night… er, rather, when I woke up that afternoon from my lunch break and decided that perhaps I was going to take a half-day of sick leave. Perhaps I haven’t mentioned it (much) but good grief does this baby development leave me exhausted. Even Steve the Squirrel chattering on about nothing to no one - which would usually leave me pondering how much I truly enjoy wildlife compared to how much I truly enjoy sleeping and wouldn’t it be tragic of Steve got blasted by a jet of water from the hose next time he opened his little yapper? – couldn’t bring me out of my slumber enough to at least close the window and instead left me covering my head with a pillow. Thus making my difficulty in breathing EVEN WORSE.

Have I not mentioned how hard it is for me to breathe at night now? In the last week, my lungs… which are currently the size of baseballs… have decided that the only time they will function correctly is when I’m sitting in the coffee shop, writing this post and drinking an Italian Soda. They refuse to function when climbing the stairs, watching the Nightly News with Brian Williams and his eyebrows and… sleeping. You know... only the three most important elements of my day. KIND OF A BIG DEAL.

I’d always heard that pregnant women are uncomfortable when they sleep on their back. Personally, I had never had a problem with this. No pain, no discomfort. Nothing. Until these last two weeks. It’s interesting… the feeling of suffocating because your teeny-tiny lungs can’t keep up the demands of a huge pregnant body. Left side, right side… nothing works. And just when I think it can’t get any worse and I’m about to “accidentally” smack Benny across the head while he sleeps because if I can’t sleep, why should he?… well, that’s when the bladder kicks in. Five times last night alone.

I have this theory that if I empty my bladder, that will somehow give the lungs more room to do their job. And… I think this theory works... for about 5 minutes. You know… before the lungs realize I’ve tricked them and before the bladder re-fills.

But… wow, I REALLY digress. This was about corn dogs, wasn’t it? Yes, I believe it was. When I sent Benny to The Center of the Universe for milk last night, I casually mentioned that one of my Facebook friends had clued me in that Arctic Circle has a kids meal with a corn dog… and if he wanted to, I would be okay with him bringing me one.

Honestly, I didn’t expect him to do it… #1 – it’s Arctic Circle and I don’t know if we’ve ever voluntarily gone there in our adult lives. I don't think their secret sauce is A) a secret or B) a sauce. And, #2 - I have had a problem with all Arctic Circles since about 25 years ago when my dad ordered a taco salad from an Arctic Circle in Preston and it had an earwig in it. And I have since painted all Arctic Circles with that same Earwig in My Dad’s Taco Salad brush. Because you may be able to take the earwig out of the salad, but you can’t take the earwig in the salad out of my temporal lobe.

So, you can imagine my delight when Benny came home with this:

That's right! Honey. Crunchy. Chicken. Corn. Dogs. 28 of 'em!!!

This should last me until the end of the week.

It's impossible to explain to the never-been-prego layperson how HUGE this is. Especially because Benny's not so much a fan of the processed food on a stick. But I'll be damned if he didn't join in the celebration and eat two of them himself. Obviously, given his stomach discomfort that evening, I need to review the finer point of corn dog consumption with him. The finer point being: Stop while you're ahead.

Other than the breathing problems and the meat on the stick madness going on in our household right now, things with the pregnancy couldn't be better. Tweet is kicking and tumbling up a storm. The doc says she's right where she should be in terms of growth and she has a heart beat of about 140.

We start birthing classes next week and everything is just getting more and more real. I'm scrambling to get everything done for work that I need to since I'll be gone for two months... and I still don't know that it will be enough. And we're both trying to figure out how we're going to handle the adjustment.

I guess you don't really know until you're living through it. And then you just figure it out as you go. Luckily, I've got a great partner to go through this with. One who brings me corn dogs and has even gone so far as to not dry heave when I ask him to put lotion on my feet. This is progress. And this is also what love is.

Tweet's one lucky little girl to have a dad like Benny. I can't wait for her to realize it.

Bump Watch - 30 Weeks

What can I say about week 30? That I had a meltdown? That I can feel myself getting dumber by the day? That the elephant-sized underwear that I refused to wear at week 18 is now a bit SNUG? That I can't stand the way I smell and am constantly showering or reapplying body spray, deodorant and perfume? That the jerk who parks in the parking lot where I work and drives the Infiniti GT 35 is one more double-parking day away from having a very nasty note stuck to his window explaining that while I understand his car is way better than every other car in the WORLD, and he doesn't want any door dings, the lines are not there merely as a suggestion and unless he wants an unbalanced pregnant woman jumping him like a fat kid on a cupcake, he needs to shape up and fly right because I am THIS CLOSE to losing it.

ARRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

That was nice to get out of my system. Where were we?

Ah, yes.... the meltdown. One of a couple, I believe. But I'll just fill you in on the one that mortified me. As in: MORE.... wait for it.... TI.... wait for it some more.... FIED.

A few weeks ago, Benny and I decided that we'd just have to bite the bullet and purchase a nice changing table combo unit for Tweet's room. This was after hitting yard sales and every cheap furniture store we could find to no avail. The problem for us was three-fold.

#1 - We wanted to the changing table to match the crib... which we thought would be easy. We. Thought. Wrong. Cherry espresso isn't so much a primary color. Who. Knew?

#2 - Benny and I are on the tall end of life, and knew that we needed a taller changing table for both of us to feel comfortable and not throw out our backs. Yes... both of us. Have I mentioned that Benny's got a lot of pregnancy sympathy pains? I suspect this will bleed over to the actual raising of the baby.

#3 - We wanted a changing table combo unit so that Tweet could have her own dresser when she got older. We also wanted to make sure that while she's only able to poop, cry and eat, she's be sufficiently spoiled with the nicest piece of furniture in the house.

And, as we soon discovered, the only place in this world where all three of our demands could be met was the Place Where Paychecks Go To Die.

I know, I know! We, too, were shocked that we couldn't find something at the Center of the Universe! There goes our theory that if Costco doesn't have it, we dont' need it.

Anyway, we ordered a combo unit from Babies-R-Us on a Sunday, and the next Saturday, they called to tell us that it was ready to be picked up. Benny and I were thrilled because that meant that we'd be able to have the nursery ready for when Bart, Helen and the boys stopped by to visit. But, when they rolled out the furniture, we were surprised (and, yes, a little disheartened) to see that instead of our beautiful dresser/changing table, it was instead a six-foot dresser. And while I mentioned that both Benny and I are tall... a six-foot dresser? Not really feasible for changing a fussy baby. Even I know this.

Obviously, they had ordered the wrong piece of furniture and as I held back tears from my stupid, stupid hormones, they reassured us that they would get the correct changing table for us and it would be ready the following week.

The next Saturday, they called us to inform us that the item had arrived and we could come pick it up, so we braved the 80 degree weather and headed back down. When the clerk went to the back to get it, Benny cracked-wise about the previous mistake: "How mad would you be if they ordered the wrong one again?"

I pseudo-laughed and think I said something about losing my mind... but I can't be sure because right then they wheeled out THE SIX-FOOT DRESSER.

AGAIN.

All of the remaining working synapses in my brain went off at once. I do remember saying: "No way... NO WAY.... NO. WAY!!!" to the poor clerk pulling the dresser. I also remember her eyes getting big and the blood draining from her face. Personally, I don't blame her since I've seen myself in the mirror at 30 weeks. Add an angry face and I'm your worst nightmare if you work at Babies-R-Us.

I also remember that I tried to say something else, although nothing but a bunch of gibberish came out and I finally had to just turn away before I bit the poor girls head off.

And yes... believe me when I echo your sentiments that IT'S JUST A DRESSER. I get it. I do. But right then? It was the Holy Grail. And we were once again stifled on our quest.

Luckily, cooler heads (Benny's) prevailed and he politely asked the clerk if maybe that dresser was the one from last week and if there, maybe, wasn't another dresser back there?? One that wouldn't make his wife's brain explode all over the floor here at the register and cause a completely. unnecessary. scene?

Turns out, the clerk just hadn't checked the numbers and had only seen the name on the box... and ours was still on the dresser from last week. She went back and wheeled out the correct dresser. Or, rather, had someone ELSE wheel out the correct dresser. Because I had just made a complete ass of myself and she'd rather not face me again.

To say that I was mortified at my behavior would be putting it lightly. I apologized profusely to all of the employees who witnessed the meltdown and asked if they would please tell the clerk that I had yelled out that I'm really not a yeller and could not be more embarrassed at my behavior. And please tell her that if she wants, I'll name the baby after her. What's her name? Oh... maybe I'll just bring her a Frosty from Wendy's. Would that be okay?

Benny and I left and headed home with our new booty, excited to get it into the nursery. On the way, neither one of us discussed "The Incident". Perhaps he knew I was too humiliated to even laugh about it at the time. It wasn't until the next day that I could finally actually bring it up in a conversation with my parents as we were heading to Babies-R-Us so they could see me drool over a $700 rocking chair.

Yes... you read right... SEVEN. HUNDRED. BONES. Cuz that's how I roll. After having sat in it, nothing else will do. And since we all know that we'll never pull the trigger on it, I've already made plans to breastfeed the baby once a day down at Babies-R-Us... just to enjoy the experience on a $700 rocking chair.

(Side note: Babies-R-Us should be ashamed because it's NOT really Babies-R-Us, now, is it? It's more like Babies-R-Only-Those-Who-Can-Drop-$700-On-A Rocking-Chair.)

Anyway, I digress. As I regaled my family with my bit of pregnancy hysteria, Benny tried to downplay The Incident and did what he could to make me feel less of a crazed lunatic.

"You know, sweetie... it's Babies-R-Us. They deal with crazy pregnant women all the time. I bet they even have a board in the back with pregnant meltdown stories. They'll just add you to the list."

Yea... for some reason, doesn't REALLY make me feel better. Maybe it was the crazy. pregnant. woman. reference?

So, in a nutshell, that was week 30. Not only a great example of a meltdown, but also of me getting dumber because I lost the power of speech and couldn't think logically that this may have just been a simple mistake. Add to that the snugger fitting elephantwear and you've got yourself a ticking time bomb. Satisfied only by bloodshed or some spaghetti squash. Whatever I have on hand.

Benny and I are both hoping that week 31 turns out a lot better than week 30, but you never know.

Tweet had a good week, though. And really, that's all that matters. She's been tumbling around in there and at least once-a-day, I can count on a case of the hiccups. Which is just about as adorable as a panda hugging a puppy.

Week 30!!!

(Brought to you courtesy of the Ogden River... one of my favorite pregnancy accessories!)

Bump Watch - 29 Weeks (According To Benny)

The post brought to you by Benny's memory, because mine is THE SUCK.

Really... week 29, is it? I only ask because every day I feel like a brick fell out of the sky, landed on my temporal lobe and gave me amnesia every five minutes.

So, Benny... he who is currently wrapped around the finger of a fetus - did you know that was even possible?... just rattled of a list off what happened in the pregnancy this week. I believe him only because my Benny has only ever lied to me about the presence of chocolate in the house, and whether or not spiders have ever set foot in our bedroom. And even if I can't remember the exact answers to the above issues, I know I still love him for lying to me about it.

Anyhoo... I give you Week 29, According To Benny:

According to Benny, my energy has been good... I even tackled the garden and the crab grass again, so as not to bring down the value of the properties surrounding us. However, he has noticed that when I have a big day of gardening or picking my nose while passing judgement on the neighbors walking their dogs, I tend to hit a wall BIG TIME the next day.

Today, for example, after a great weekend that included back-t0-back BBQ's and a visit from Bart, Helen and the boys, and my first baby shower... well, it wasn't so much that I hit a wall, but that a wall hit me. Right between the eyes. And I had to take 1/2 day sick leave so I could go home and sleep it off. I didn't help the situation this morning by forgetting whether or not I'd taken my Zantac for the day. This is because I woke up at 5:30 and couldn't sleep one more minute, so I decided to get up and have breakfast. Then I went back to bed at 7:30 and slept until 8:45... just in time to see the family off to the airport. And at that point, everything that had happened prior to 8:45 was a complete blur. So, it's entirely possible that I took the pill, but who knows?

So, in an effort to not OD on the stuff, I figured I'd wait and see how I felt and if I started to feel acid-refluxy, I'd know I hadn't taken it. It was a fool proof plan until at 10:30 when I started to feel sick. But then I was still sure I'd taken it and maybe I was just sick because I had eaten nothing but bread pudding and funeral potatoes all weekend and WHO WOULDN'T BE SICK?

By 1 p.m., I knew it was a lost cause so I headed home and hit the sack. I discovered that if I didn't move too much, the vomit stayed down in my stomach. And I still didn't take the Zantac. Cuz that would have been admitting defeat. Yep. That's me. The bright one. We only hope that Tweet gets her brains from her father and her stubborness from me.

Anyway, I held out until 3:30 and then decided that: SCREW IT... This misery cannot be good for the baby. I felt so much better afterwards that I realized that, yep... hadn't taken the pill this morning. AND IT DESTROYED MY WHOLE DAY.

Acording to Benny, I'm not getting up nearly as much in the middle of the night to pee. I'm down from 6 trips to the bathroom at night to 1 or maybe 2 depending on the Sprite situation that day. Oh, and btw... before I forget, can someone explain to Benny that the Sprite is for the pregnant woman who doesn't get to drink the latte's that he's gulping down and not for him? And to please stop screwing the cap on so tight that I break a tooth trying to open it? Thanks.

According to Benny, watermelon is still clutch in week 29. But I've become particular about my watermelon. And watermelon that does not toe the line is quickly disposed of and the husband is sent on another watermelon mission to The Center of the Universe with orders not to come back unless there are plenty of bee stings on the watermelon (indicates level of sweetness). Or all hell will break loose.

According to Benny... my toes are still chapped. Apparently, he's noticed and wants to bring it to my attention since I can no longer see my toes. I say the answer to this is a certain father-to-be lotioning up the chapped toes so neither he nor others in my life will be quite so offended.

According to Benny, the belly really firmed up this week and Tweet is kicking non-stop. Which is really very cool. Really. And I'm seriously not even going to complain about it keeping me up because I'm getting so used to it that it helps me fall asleep... except when she grabs both sides of the womb and pulls them together like she's attempting to close the curtains in a hotel room and the two ends just. don't. meet.

According to Benny, my lungs are way smaller than last week. Dr. Benny made this prognosis when we went for a walk in the neighborhood and I repeatedly had to ask him to slow down cuz I was about to pass out dead on the sidewalk.

According to Benny, my hair has continued to grow long and luscious. Er... as long and luscious as I've ever been known to accomplish. My hair has an unwritten rule that all growth must stop just past the shoulders. But I think he's most excited about the fact that right now I'm losing exactly zero hair in the shower... which means that our pipes are getting a big break right now.

According to Benny, I might have had a teeny-tiny meltdown in Babies-R-Us (aka: Whey Paychecks Go To Die). They had called to inform us that our changing table was in and (hooray!) ready for pickup. But when we got there, they rolled out a 6-foot dresser... and how in the world do you expect us to change a diaper on a 6-foot dresser? And this was NOT our mistake because I know what I ordered and it was not a 6-foot dresser!!! OMG! IT'S THE END OF THE WORLD! HOW WILL TWEET SURVIVE IN MY WOMB KNOWING THAT WE DON'T YET HAVE A CHANGING TABLE FOR HER???

*Ahem*

That may, or may not, have been the way it went down. But either way, it was awfully close to reality.

According to Benny, week 29 was awesome because it was so freaking cold in O-Town. Like, highs. of. 80. cold. THIS IS HOW ALL AUGUSTS SHOULD BE. EVERYWHERE. It was beautiful... so beautiful in fact that I actually got up and made myself a hot chocolate three days in a row. It's football weather... only without the requirement of going to a football game to enjoy it.

According to Benny, I make way too much noise getting in and out of the car, or bending down to pet the cat. Wait until delivery... I'll show him some noise.

According to Benny, pregnant women should not have to mop the floor or clean the house. Or, was that according to me and forced upon an unsuspecting Benny? I can't remember. Just know that Benny jumped on that particular grenade for me this weekend and I cannot thank him enough.

And finally, according to me, I made the best decision of my life when I married Benny and decided to bear his children. Tweet cannot possibly have a better father and in 10 weeks? You all will see first hand what I mean.

29 Weeks!

But, wait! There's more! A two-fer! This one with skin!

Bump Watch - 28 Weeks

Oh, week 28. Where did you go? What do you mean I slept you away?

Actually, it's not so much that I slept week 28 away... it's that week 28 started out well each day, until about noon when I ran face-first into a big wall and had to take a 90 minute nap. While drooling on my pillow.

This... this does not work well when one is being paid to actually work.

In a job.

That requires me to be awake.

Or at the very least, semi-conscious.

I mean, even if I wanted to pull a George Costanza and sleep under my desk... let's just say that my "svelte" athlete's body has officially LEFT THE BUILDING, and if I was actually able to get myself to fit under the desk, there is no guarantee that I'd be able to get out.

And then we'd really have a situation on our hands, wouldn't we? Because when the firemen came and cut the desk open with the Jaws of Life, I'd have to then move to Canada so that I WOULD NEVER BE HEARD FROM AGAIN. And DO THEY EVEN HAVE FACEBOOK IN CANADA?????

Last weekend, Benny and I hit the Farmer's Market on 25th Street. I've been going to this thing for years, and couldn't believe just how big it is this year. We wandered down around 11 a.m. Saturday... right about the time things usually start to thin out. Nope. Even by noon, there was barely enough room to maneuver the belly through the crowd and although I've been known to hyperventilate for no good reason in big crowds, that day it didn't bother me. Must have been the free samples of corndogs that melted in your mouth.

We also were in time to watch the Patriot Guard ride down 25th. They were in town last week after escorting a replica of The Vietnam Memorial to Ogden. Apparently, they ride all over the country doing this, which is very cool.

28 Weeks!

I would guesstimate that about 500 of the 5,000 bikes came downtown that day and the riders decided to take in downtown O-Town and the Farmer's Market.

Even this tough guy and his little buddy.












And yes... you are correct. Those are Doggles. THEY DO EXIST. Sersly, if you must have a teeny-tiny yippy dog, this is the only acceptable version.

Oh, and if you're a mean-looking Harley-riding Patriot Guard with a MOM tattoo by the name of "King".. you can pretty much have whatever size pet you want. The man could have been carrying a guinea pig dyed pink with painted toenails and people would have given him a wide berth.

Leave it up to Benny... the guy who just shaved his legs for a bike ride the day before and carrying a pink camera case to ask for a picture from King.

For his wife. That chick over there wolfing down a corn dog.

Speaking of which, week 28 also marked the week wherein I realized that I still have something like 12 weeks to go... and even though in the back of my mind I truly thought that this was as big as I would get... as big as anyone could possibly get... the hard truth is that it's just this week that Tweet is going to start gaining weight. A lot of weight. Perhaps from the corn dog? Perhaps from the zucchini bread that I made and ate in one night? You can never tell with these things. The point is, from here on out, the chub rub of the thighs will no longer be an occassional gripe. And the help I need from Benny to get off the couch? Not going away any. time. soon.

Shattered dreams, I tell you. SHATTERED. DREAMS.

Also last week, Benny and I got to experience the first time we actually saw the belly move. I was sitting in my office... as close to the desk as I can now get, which means that I need to put on my glasses to read email from a distance... and I actually saw the belly jump! I told Benny about it that night. I think he was a little bummed he missed it, but he happened to have his hand on the belly when she did it again! She moved his hand! It was amazing!

Also amazing? I used to have a deep, deep inny-belly that used to collect lint for me. Which was particularly handy when camping and I needed something to help start a fire with. But, I digress. The lint-keeper is no more. I can actually see the bottom of my belly-button as it starts to make it's migration outward.

I've also noticed a sharp decrease in my memory and an equally sharp increase in losing words while I'm speaking with someone on the phone. And then in my frenzy to find the right word for square or banana, I forget what we were talking about in the first place. I also can never remember whether or not I've taken my Zantac.... and in an effort not to OD the baby on it, I just sit tight and wait to see if I feel like I'm going to throw up for no good reason. That's the only way I know if I've taken it or not. Which has equated into a couple of sleepless nights where I realized I hadn't taken it but it was all the way out in the kitchen, and I'm all the way back here in the bedroom... and maybe if I just don't move the sensation that all of my stomach acid is burning a whole in my esophagus will go away.

Which is why I usually get up and stumble to the kitchen at 3 a.m. and down a Zantac. It's an awful, awful cycle.

Unfortunately, I'm not the only one responsible for keeping me awake at night. Because everyone's sweetheart Benny has taken sleepwalking to a whole. 'nutha. level.

Through trial and error of the six years of marriage, we've discovered that I can usually wake him up from a sleepwalk (which is much less walking and much more doing crazy stuff like trying to dig a hole through our bedroom wall) by calmly saying his name and telling him he needs to go back to bed. The only way I even figured this out was his former roommate from college told me that usually worked with him.

However, we've also discovered that there are times when he's panicked and cannot be talked down from the digging of the hole in the wall (because the bedroom was on fire and I was being a hinderence) and it's best to just let him do his thing. Even if that "thing" turns out to be him walking outside at 2 a.m.. Sans PJ's.

But last week, I was just too tired to A) notice his unusual uptick in episodes and/or B) if I did notice, have enough energy to do anything about it. Which is why Sunday night, when he turned on the light in my bathroom at midnight and I mumbled something about it, I didn't even bother opening my eyes when he started yelling that I WAS THE ONE WHO WANTED HIM TO FIX THE DAMN THING! SHEESH!

I do believe he ended up waking himself up a few minutes later when he went to his bathroom and turned on the light. But, I couldn't be bothered, because Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz......

So, that was week 28. This weekend, I have my very first baby shower... something that I never thought I would EVAH have. Just like I never thought I would have a wedding shower, or, you know... a wedding. I just wasn't one of those girls that ever thought about that. And now that I am thinking about it, I'm freaked out. Sersly. Showers like that are a rite of passage for women... am I really ready for this rite of passage? I mean, I've still got a couple months to prepare myself. A baby shower in a few days is a HUGE DEAL.

We also get to see some family who will be stopping by. Bart, Helen and the boys are taking a detour home from vacation and Helen will be able to come to the baby shower, which is nice.

Also nice is that we found out that the new Birch Creek Mercantile, which serves Farr's ice cream, is OPEN ON SUNDAYS.

This pregnancy? Now managable.