Do I even have to say it? Still. freaking. pregnant. I am as mystified by this as anyone. The April baby my OB was convinced I would have is looking more like a mid-May baby as he has already passed up his due date and shows no significant signs of making his appearance.
I have yet another AFI/NST tomorrow morning at like 8, so we’ll see how my amniotic fluid is holding up. It has been on a pretty steady decline, so we’ll see how long they let us go. I wouldn’t be surprised if we were below the threshold of 5cm tomorrow, I was only at 6.5cm of fluid on Thursday.
I haven’t watched the Chopped All Stars finale, but please please please don’t let Penny have won. We’ll be watching it before bed tonight.
After 4 weeks of doing nothing, my husband finally made me get off my ass today, and you know what? It was nice. We went to the farmer’s market and got tamales and strawberries and then later took a trip to a amusement park type place and played a round of miniature golf. I lost by a stroke today, which is very, very unlike me, so naturally, I’m blaming the baby. Surely this is all his fault.
I do not understand people who run marathons. I mean, I used to run, I remember loving the rush you get from running a race, but 26 miles? I’m sorry, I don’t even really like to drive that far, let alone run. I once ran 13 miles and when I finally finished I realized I had just wasted 2 hours of my life and vowed to never run that far ever again. And I have kept that promise to myself. In fact, I have kicked that promise’s ass.
Husband and I (ironically, given my last rant) drove 25 miles for crawfish tonight for dinner. It isn’t really New Orleans-y enough, but it more or less satisfied the craving I was having. I would kill for a good crawfish boil right now.
There is a MIL situation brewing that is making me completely crazy. My husband gave me permission to write about it, but I’ve hesitated because I don’t want to bad mouth her too much, but dude, I am about to lose it. Her stupid ass dogs keep showing up in my apartment, she has reminded me 800 times that labor is going to last for days and that I’m foolish for hoping/thinking it could be any shorter and oh, my SIL is making a huge mistake with everything in her life. Newsflash: I hate your fucking dogs, labor will last as long as it needs to, I have zero expectations, and my SIL can make her own decisions without everyone weighing in.
And that’s not even everything, but it’s where I’m cutting myself off before I scream again.
I made homemade granola bars tonight because that’s how badly I didn’t want to go to the grocery store to buy breakfast foods. They only took a few minutes to toss together. If they end up tasting good, I’ll either share the link or demonstrate the recipe. We’ll see how strapped for time and blogging material I am after the baby arrives.
If he arrives.
And with that, I’m going to watch Chopped All Stars and go to bed. Hopefully tomorrow will be the day, but let’s not hold our breath, just in case.