It's the final countdoowwwwn . . . .

Aaaaand now I have Arrested Development in my head. And so should you.

Am 36 weeks pregnant now. As of next week(?) I'll be full term-ish, so this baby can feel free to show up whenever. Except I kind of hope he waits until I can get the carseat installation checked.

And until I get my hospital bags packed.
And get registered at the hospital.
And finish filling out my FMLA paperwork.
And signing up for life insurance.
And putting up the shelves in his bedroom.
And going to the party Cicada is throwing.
And getting a new microwave to replace the one I killed.
And practicing my Hypnobabies exercises.
Plus, hey, I still have all those sleeping pills that don't actually work. Might as well finish them off.

Also I have a pedicure and a haircut scheduled for next week and I'd especially like to make it to those things or I will look like a crusty hobbit with three-inch dusty bat poop roots in all the upcoming pictures and maybe no one will want to hold my legs while I'm pushing because they'll be afraid I might gouge them in the face with my toenails and give them some sort of flesh-eating disease.

So . . . really, I'm kind of swamped. He can just feel free to keep on cooking for a little bit longer. But if he wants to stop butting me in the bladder/cervix with his head, then I would be amenable to that.

Posted in: pregnancy