33 Weeks - 49 Days To Go and Counting

Ah...Monday. It used to be a day I dreaded. I was one of those people who always had a serious case of the blahs for at least half of Sunday (because I was anticipating Monday's arrival) and the entire 24 hours of the day itself. I resented Mondays because Mondays meant I was losing my freedom and returning to the workday grind. No sleeping in. No leisurely strolls or friendly brunches. Nothing but workworkwork.

Why now do I feel pretty damn good when I come to work on Mondays? I don't wake up with a scowl. I don't growl at my cats or kick little old people on the bus just for the savage joy of watching them stumble (well...I never actually kicked the old people, but there were days when I seriously considered it because some of the Geritol Gang are just rude. And pushy. And annoying). These days I get up on Mondays and it is just another day. I head to work...plod through my day...and I don't feel angry about it. PROGRESS! (cue singing birds, rainbows and frolicking kittens)

How did this happen to me? I'll tell you how...I'm pregnant so our weekends aren't filled with party invitations followed by hazy booze-fueled bouts of silliness followed by a late morning wake up call and a trip to our favourite brunch place followed by a lazy family nap. Noooo. Our weekends are hectic, expensive, and depressingly utilitarian for the most part.
Laundry? Check.
Dishes? Check.
Groceries? Check.
Paint? Ummm...soon?
Crib, stroller, car seat, glider chair, baby clothes, diapers, changing table, diaper cream, baby tub, dresser, SNOT SUCKER, etc etc etc? ... ... ... ... (followed by the sound of a door slamming as Leigha and Scott run from the room to hide their shame)

Yeah, that pretty much describes our weekends in a nutshell. We're hitting the panic stations just in case our child fails to take after her perpetually late parents and actually makes her debut early. I admit, there is little chance of this but we're determined to be prepared. Are we done yet? Are we even close to being done? Not a friggin' chance. There are a million and one things left we still need to do, buy, move, paint, pack, donate, organize, clean, etc. before we can sit down and start feeling even remotely ready for what is to come.

In other words...we don't look at all like these two jerks I found while surfing the web looking for my weekly Baby Centre update. I noticed the picture on the 33 week intro page is of this calm looking couple who are obviously happily anticipating the arrival of their baby without a care in the world. Tra la la-de-dah. Isn't life just sooo wonderful for these two smug SOB's? Since Scott and I are NOT looking anything like these two, I feel like pulling out the handy dandy sniper rifle, hunting these two down and using them for target practice just because they've made me feel so inadequate. Justifiable double homicide, people, and I should know...I'm a lawyer.

This seems to be more in line with how things are in the Worth/Craig household right now and I'm apparently not the only one feeling the heat. Scott seems to be on his way to a full blown meltdown too.

Fun Fun Fun.

So before I degenerate into a beebling idiot, here's the Baby Center update and the 3d update and blurb can be found by clicking here.

Holy Crap. Reality Hits the Fan! (Part 19)

Tomorrow I'll be officially in my eighth month.

I'll be in my 8th month and already people are always saying stuff like: "oh you must have everything ready for baby now, hey?" or "you must be close to finished her nursery now, right?

umm...

well...

(blush)

Oh who the hell do I think I'm fooling? I suck, ok? I suck! I suck!
EYEEEEEE SUUUUUUCK! *shamed sob*

My nursery-to-be still looks like a bomb loaded with loose paper went off in it (although the paper fallout is far less than it used to be...)

Sadly, if I went into labour right now, Bug would have nowhere to sleep, nothing to wear actually purchased by her parents in anticipation of her impending birth, and her father would be forced to run out to an all night pharmacy to stock up on the diapers, bum wipes and diaper cream (etc, etc, etc) just so she wouldn't be left lying naked on the corner while both her parents try to figure out how to install the damn car seat we just bought yesterday. (for the edification of the expectant grandparents: behold! Here is the overly expensive safety device we splashed out for yesterday that will protect your granddaughter. Nice colour, hey?)

I guess I could always distract Bug from the harsh reality that her mother is a disorganized loser by dangling the sales slip showing that I did actually buy a crib in front of her although I'm not sure how comforting she would find that once she actually needed somewhere to sleep.

Believe me, I know that things gotta change but just in case I needed an extra kick in the pants, tonight the gods arranged for one but good. Scott and I went for a nice leisurely walk earlier this evening and a couple of blocks before we made it home, I was doubled over with Braxton Hicks and pelvic pain. I knew it was nothing...but it made me think.

This. Kid. Could. Come. At. ANY. Time.

Gottacleanupthenurseryrightfrickennowdammit!

No time to write...feeling the need to organize things. And paint things. And buy things. And...

11 weeks along!

Hey all.

Another week and more important developmental milestones have passed so if you want to take a look at the Baby Center update for this week then just click here and the 3d rotatable view of Buggero is here. Finally, The Visible Embryo is giving an update as well so just click here if you're interested.

Personal Update: I hate to say it but the easy ride is most definitely Oh Vee Eee Are. I've been feeling sick almost 24/7 for the last week and my hormones are working overtime. Add to that that I'm not sleeping well and I've morphed into the stereotypical pregnant woman who eats too much and cries at the drop of a hat (sobbed my eyes out watching Heroes last week and NOT when Nathan died). Luckily for Scott, he was in Kamloops for 4 days with his buddies on a yearly golf trip so he missed the emotional shit show I called a weekend. If I didn't know this trip had been planned months ahead of time I would call the timing suspicious to say the least...

I actually feel bad for my cats. How many times in one night can an animal be chased down and forcibly cuddled by a woman turned into a sobbing maniac by a tv commercial or random storyline before it all gets to be a bit much? I guess we can all breathe easier now because Scott's home...he is, after all, much easier to chase down than the cats.