Here we are at 29 weeks and five days...which is crazy close to 30 weeks, which seems very DUN DUN DUUUUUN and homestretch-ish and frighteningly close to D-day. Our little bebe is now the size of a squash, which I find to be very unhelpful, thebump.com!! There are approximately 45 different varieties of squash! We want specifics! Is it a spaghetti squash? A butternut squash? Help these clueless kids out.

So, what's been going on in fetus land? Baby F has been getting the hiccups a lot lately which I find just adorable. He or she is active as ever throughout the day (including right now) and in the wee hours of the morning. Often, the movements feel more like rolls and flips, but once in a while there'll be a crazy flurry of really fast kicks and jabs.

Knock on wood, I've still been feeling great. I've been going to the gym as usual, pretty much every day, and eating normally too. I have a doctor's appointment next Tuesday and am anxious to see if I've gained weight. Even though baby is growing and is measuring right on track, and I can see my bump getting bigger, the scale isn't really budging. I'd only gained a pound over the course of my last three monthly appointments, so we'll see what's up next week. As long as the baby is healthy and measuring properly, I don't really care. As of my 26-week appointment I'd only gained about 10-12lb total.

I'm definitely getting more paranoid and protective of the baby. Last week, I stepped on a dog toy on the stairs, my feet flew out from under me, and I landed on my bum - hard - and skidded down four or five stairs. I was really shaken up and paranoid and of course I ran right to the trusty Internet to see what the geniuses on pregnancy forums recommended. (Side note: if you ever get knocked up, you should probably just avoid all computers. Don't even look at them.) After reading half a dozen horror stories about falls and their consequences I hysterically called 811, which is a service we have in Nova Scotia that links you to a registered nurse and essentially tells you whether you need to be seen by a doctor. She asked a lot of questions and reassured me I should be fine, and told me which symptoms to watch out for. I felt better after calling and better still after baby kicked and punched the daylights out of me for the next hour or so.

I also felt my first Braxton-Hicks contractions the other day - not fun. Anything ute-related sends me into a tailspin. Keep cooking, baby!!

A lot of girls get a real pregnancy "glow" and I don't feel like I have that. My skin's been haggard and dry no matter what I do, and I get ridiculous random breakouts. My hair doesn't cooperate. On the plus side, my nails do look better and stronger thanks to the prenatal vitamins.

Other things to note: Bending over is starting to suck, sleeping on my side is getting old, no strangers have touched my belly yet (WIN!!) and I've still been able to avoid buying maternity pants (DOUBLE WIN!!) Maternity clothes are atrociously expensive. Who wants to pay $40 for a t-shirt that's ugly and only going to be worn for a couple months? Not this girl.

Our nursery bedding arrived the other day - I'll post pictures once the nursery is 100% done but here's a picture from the website. We settled on owls. Unisex, cute, and not done to death.

Peter and I spent the weekend at a cottage in Cape Breton that was described by the owners as "rustic", which was fine with us. We were attending a friend's wedding on Saturday, and we wanted to get a place to stay that was pet-friendly so we could bring Rory. (He turned one on Saturday - and you can't abandon a dog in a kennel on his birthday! What kind of unfit parents would we be??)

So, we rented this "rustic" cottage in the country, and everything was going great. We brought some groceries, the owner left us homemade cream of mushroom soup, and we spent time reading on the deck and going to the beach as well as attending a lovely wedding.

We let our dishes build up in the sink yesterday, soaking in some soapy water. This morning we woke up early, packed, and set about tidying the cottage. I filled up the sink with fresh water and washed the dishes while Peter dried. What a little tag team.

When the dishes were done I drained the water and reached down into the suds to grab the gunk out of the drain and throw it in the garbage, as you do.

I grabbed something soft. I assumed it was a soaked piece of bagel.

IT WAS A DEAD MOUSE.

I screamed and ran into the bathroom and slammed the door, hysterically shrieking and dry-heaving. Peter thought I'd cut myself and was bleeding to death. Finally, he was able to deduce my screeches, got the dead mouse out of the sink and threw it away while I scrubbed my hands for a good 10 minutes and tried not to barf or cry.

We assume the mouse went for a peanut-buttery knife we'd left in the sink, fell in the water and the rest is history.

And it was only after we'd packed our car and were well on our way that we realized: Those dishes we'd washed, dried, and put away, ready for the next renters to use? Had spent the night soaking in the same water as a dead mouse.

Moral of the story: When you rent a house, cottage, cabin, whatever, wash the dishes before you eat off them, even if they look clean.

We may have stayed there before you.

It's writer's workshop day at Mama Kat's Losin' It and the writing prompt I picked today is: top ten reasons why you’re glad you’re done with school.

I enjoyed school with the exception of Grade 7 and Grade 8. We'll just call those the Lost Years and pretend they never happened. Other than that, I was always happy in September at back-to-school time and a little sad in June as the year started to wind down.

That being said, there are definitely benefits to being done with the whole book-learnin' fiasco.

1. Making money instead of spending it. In college I lived on a $50/week allowance that had to cover everything - food, clothing, entertainment, underage booze, legal age booze... Sometimes I wonder if I could go back to my old allowance. It might be an interesting little experiment. Either way, I'm glad I'm not restricted to 50 bucks each week! Also, my first job in high school (working at McDonald's) paid $5.60 an hour. I thought I was ballin' because minimum wage was $5.50 so right from the get-go I was earning more than my friends at the Wendy's across the street.

2. No more shoddy living arrangements. Also in college I went from living in a house with a religious fanatic AND a WITCH to a house with five cats. I can't even tell you which was worse. In both instances I spent as little time as possible at home and when I was there, I locked myself in my room. It's nice to be able to live with a person and animal I actually love now.

3. No more bus rides. Never again. From elementary through high school I took the bus to school. We had to share a bus with the Dorchester delinquents kids (because "we", the kids from Frosty Hollow, numbered in the single digits and obviously did not warrant our own bus, even of the short variety). So what did this mean? Getting beat up, getting my mittens stolen, having grapes and crackers thrown at my head, getting my hair pulled, getting my head bounced off the bus windows, having people pull on my backpack straps as I'm trying to get off the bus, etc from Grade 1 on. I guess it builds character.

4. Lunch variety. For the first six years of school, I ate a cheese sandwich for lunch four days a week. White bread and orange cheese. One day a week (Tuesday or Thursday) I bought lunch in the cafeteria - one of those round pizzas with three pepperonis. FOR SIX!! YEARS!!!

5. Less exposure to obnoxious children. There's always one kid in every grade that knows EVERYTHING. You know the kid I mean. The one that tells you Santa isn't real is the same kid that tells you where babies come from. It's the same kid that introduce you to things like the F WORD and the term "masturbating" and then you go and ask someone what it means and everyone thinks you're a creepshow. Anyway - last I heard, that kid is now in Alberta working on the oil rigs and my life is much less tumultuous not seeing his bright, shining face every day.

6. Less bullying in general. I was small in elementary school which made me an easy target for being pushed, shoved, chased, and generally molested by the big dumb kids. This has pretty much stopped happening in my adult life.

7. I spend less time sitting out in the hall. I used to get sent out in the hall all the time for talking and laughing, especially during silent reading. I have always had a problem with laughing at inappropriate times, and it started early. As soon as you tell kids to be "silent" they're going to want to make noise!

8. I understand now that Comic Sans is a hideous font choice. I actually remember handing in projects in high school that I had typed using Comic Sans! ON PURPOSE! I should have had marks deducted for ugliness. Live and learn.

9. I don't have to do math anymore. And when I do, I get to use a calculator. As long as you can count, you're golden.

10. I will never have to dissect another animal. Cutting up that frog and that squid in Biology 112 was deeply troubling for me.

Thanks Mama Kat for the prompt!

Why are you glad to be done with school (if you are?) And if you're still in school, what are you most looking forward to about being finished?

via

All the kids in blogland are already going crazy about fall, and honestly, I kind of want to give each and every one of you a little shake and tell you all to slow your roll. Fall will be here before we know it, and while I love autumn as much as the next person, be honest: you'll wear your knee-high boots a couple times and slam back one pumpkin spice hot drink of choice, and suddenly it's lost its charm and you're complaining about how cold it is, how early it gets dark, how the new TV shows suck and how your tan is already gone.

Fall is actually my favourite season, but I'm trying to cram in as much summery stuff as I can before it's time to pack away the flip flops and sundresses and bring out the sweaters and boots.

[+] I'm determined to get in at least one more beach day this summer, complete with a swim. Sitting on the beach in a hoodie for half an hour with chattering teeth, getting the pages of my In Touch Weekly all gritty with sand, will not cut it. I'm talking full on, lay out, sunburn, and jumping in the waves. One more time? Please, please, please?

[+] Our propane tank is empty but I would like to get that sucker refilled and have a few more BBQs on the deck. Burgers and veggie dogs just don't taste the same when they're cooked and eaten inside!

[+] Guess how many ice cream cones I've eaten this year? TWO! That's gotta change. One more before the ice cream stand closes!

[+] I haven't gone camping, which is fine, because fetus is hardly down with letting me sleep on a queen-size mattress let alone on the forest floor. However, you can still eat s'mores on a backyard fire pit. I would love a couple more s'more feasts (granted this is something you can do into the fall.)

[+] I still need to watch more baseball games, run through the lawn sprinkler, make iced coffee, eat corn on the cob, bake a blueberry pie, play catch in the park, and take a mini road trip.

I have done lots of summery things, however - this isn't meant to be an end-of-season pity party. We spent a week at the beach and I've been there two other afternoons. I've had fried clams, roasted marshmallows, ate my body weight in strawberries, watched Big Brother obsessively, worn coral lipstick, and went on a boat. My uniform the past two months has been sundresses and sandals (and not just because loose dresses are the only things I own that fit.) We went to the Buskers festival, ate dinner on a patio downtown, and took in an outdoor movie - not quite the drive-in but close. Overall, it's been a pretty decent summer!

I'm just not ready to pull out the sweaters and tights yet, and I'm hoping for a lot more summer fun before fall arrives.

1. Going to the Sunday farmer's market. I've only ever gone to our market on Saturdays, and by the time I get rolled out of bed and looking decent, it's usually late morning when I arrive. By then, the market is p-a-c-k-e-d. You can't look at the vendors' stuff, you can't browse, you can't even turn 360 degrees without knocking over half a dozen hippies.

But Sunday? Sunday is the day to go. There's like, one-fiftieth of the people there and just as much awesomeness. We got coffee and breakfast and enjoyed them outside and even picked up a couple bags of yummy pumpkin seeds. I think we're going to make this a ritual and actually start buying veggies and fruit there, too.

2. Owl bookends. Like so:



I'm on a serious owl kick lately. We ordered baby's bedding last week and it's covered in owls. Real owls scare me (the whole head-turning-360-degrees thing) but fake owls are fine. I've been keeping my eyes on these bookends at Chapters for weeks and this weekend I finally brought them home. Aren't they wise?

3. Long walks on the beach with my lover dog. He's allllllways ready to go, regardless of the time of day or the weather.

4. Friend time! I went to a BBQ on Friday and a wedding shower on Sunday and both involved awesome food and great company.

5. A Saturday afternoon cupcake under our favourite weeping willow tree at the Public Gardens.

Here we are at the 28 week mark!



Oh what - you didn't want to see the world's sexiest photo? You didn't ask to see my greasy face and humidity-inspired topknot 'do? I don't know what you mean by all that. Next you'll be telling me leggings aren't pants. Pffffft. Working from home, kids. This is what it looks like.

So...28 weeks. Some people would say that's seven months (four weeks per month...) but thebump.com says I'm still in my sixth month, so I'm going to trust the Internet. It's like science. And it sounds a lot less scary to tell people I'm six months along than seven.

What's new? Sleeping through the night has become a thing of the past. I have this fear of crushing the baby if I roll onto my stomach, and of cutting off its blood flow if I sleep on my back, so I need to sleep on my side. Thing is, this eggplant-sized bebe is making staying on my side harder and more uncomfortable, so I've taken to kind of straddling/molesting a pillow when I lie down. Every time I roll over in the night (which happens at least 20 times) I wake up and have to rearrange myself and my gut and pillow. Still, if this is my worst problem, I can deal with it.

Neighbours are starting to ask Peter if we're expecting. Crafty, aren't they, not asking me? Just in case I've been on a crazy Pop Tart and poutine binge all summer? (That totally hasn't happened. Skinny Cow truffle bars, maaaaybe).

I do notice strangers looking at my belly a lot when I'm out and about, and I don't like it. I don't enjoy staring at the best of times, and I especially don't like it when I feel like a bloated, warped, lumpy version of myself. The first stranger to touch my belly is getting their hands slapped. BUT! My friends are the greatest and always say lovely things that make me feel much better when I'm feeling like a lopsided chunkster.

The baby is still a character and kicks and punches the crud out of me every day and night. Sometimes we see a big round ball which we assume is either a head or a bum, and other times little pokey things that are either footies or hands. I love this little person more every day.

Last night I paid off my library late fees. Late fees that have been keeping me from going to the library SINCE 2007. For four years I have avoided the library because I was scared to get in trouble...over EIGHT DOLLARS AND FIFTY CENTS.

So in four years, I've bought an average of a book every other month, at let's say an average cost of $20/book.

$20 x 24 months = $480

$480 > $8.50

Well...that was silly.

Here are the offenders:



The first three, I don't even know what they are. Apparently I was researching New England. Stranger things have happened, I suppose.

Next up: April Shadows. This was a sleazy VC Andrews book that is still waaaay less sleazy than her older novels, which I used to read in middle school and underline the penis parts and then return to the school library.

Shopaholic & Sister is one of the Shopaholic series, which typically take about 90 minutes to read from start to finish, so I'm not sure why that was overdue at all.

The Weight of Water is an Anita Shreve novel and one I still love. She's one of my favourite writers. Same with Good in Bed, the next offender on the list.

So then I tried to be intellectual and read some William Faulkner - after all those Shopaholics and teen incest sex dramas, I guess it was in order. And The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, which is also a great book.

Now you know all my bad habits: a weakness for chick lit and an inability to return my library books on time. And being hideous at math.

Since I started working from home in May, I've been moving around our house each day, perching in whatever spot felt the most comfortable at that particular time without a real designated working area. I've spent time in the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, the back deck, the TV room, and yes, my "office". The problem with my office was our desk chair. It was too tall for the desk, resulting in sitting in a gross and uncomfortable hunchback position. It made working for any length of time impossible.

This weekend, I finally found a chair I liked that fit the dimensions of the desk, so I'm starting the transition of setting up my space (after only three and a half months. Procrastinate much?) I'm so excited to have a place in the house where I can set my laptop up and leave it, to actually use the bulletin board and whiteboard I bought months ago, to get my files and notebooks all organized and make the office a comfortable place to work. I'm hoping that having a section of the house dedicated to work will make me more productive and put me in a "going to work now!" mindset every morning, rather than just "going to sit in the kitchen with my computer!"

I want it to be neat, clean, comfortable, and tranquil and maximized for getting stuff done. I've started collecting little turquoise accent-y things because I think it's a nice, calming colour, as well as framing pictures of some of my favourite people and things (ahem, shoes) to give it a little personal touch. The office is a little girlier than most rooms in our house because I'll be spending a lot of time here and Pete probably won't, so I'm OK with things like flowery patterns and feminine colours in this room.

Here's a peek at the office as of right now:


My desk area. The red thing under the chair is Rory's bone.


My bulletin board with some of my favourite things: a postcard from Paris, a card from my first day at my new job, and a coaster from Boston Beer Works where we pregamed like champions before a Red Sox/White Sox game last year.


Framed photos, post-its and the ever-present water glass. Peter painted the mug for me at the Clay Cafe!


Every year for Christmas I get a page-a-day shoe calendar. How else am I supposed to know what day it is...gosh.


Then, when the calendar is old, you can frame your favourite shoes and enjoy them long past their daily page! Thanks to Ainsley for that idea! My friend Sara made the mosaic tile frame on the left.


The office just happens to house our pullout couch too. Perfect for midday naps and therapy sessions. I bought the blue pillows at Bouclair a couple weeks ago for 50% off.


I may end up moving this guy just because I think it's too small to be on that big wall by itself. It's a wall hanging my mom made after one of my wedding showers with well-wishes from some of the people that were there.

Other future plans include setting up a space for my craft supplies, adding more art to the walls, and maybe a rug for when the weather gets cold. Right now I'm loving the cool basement in the summer heat. I may replace the fugly plastic blind at some point and add more shelves eventually, too.

Do you have a home office? Any decorating or organizing tips to share?

What's up third trimester?! When I got an email from thebump.com yesterday congratulating us on making it through the second trimester, I cried. I had this overwhelming feeling of noooo...not yet. To say we are unprepared is an understatement. Ditto for me being terrified.

Our little beast has been cookin' for 27 weeks now and already they've developed quite the personality. For starters, they are a mover and shaker. This kid wakes up around the same time as me, bright and early in the morning - usually they wake me up just before my alarm at 6. And then they're up all throughout the day punching, kicking, dancing and I don't even know what else is going on in there. I knew I'd feel the baby kick often, but this is almost constant and can easily be seen from the outside.

If I scratch my belly, I get kicked. If I roll over in bed, I get kicked. Drink something warm? Get kicked. Drink something cold? Get kicked.

I'm pretty sure the baby loves rap. I was listening to Jay Z in the car and they kicked and danced like crazy. Then again, we were on a boat cruise a couple of weeks ago with a band playing and they were again having a solo dance party in there, so maybe it's just music in general.

At our 26-week checkup, the doctor put the doppler on my belly to hear the heartbeat and the baby kicked it hard enough to knock it out of place.

And even now as I write this they're kicking the crap out of me and doing what feels like somersaults, which is the weirdest sensation in the world and I can't begin to describe it.

The one time when the baby doesn't want to move? When I'm trying to show other people the movements. I'll be sitting on the couch with Peter or with my parents or whoever, and the baby's going nuts. I'll whisper, "look at the baby!" And they STOP. So everyone's looking at my belly all expectantly and it's completely motionless, and I look like a crazy nutjob liar.

So in a nutshell, I have an uncooperative early bird baby that loves to dance, but only in private. They suffer from a bit of performance anxiety. And they're a champion kicker.

I'm still feeling good, eating like a sane person, working out every day, refusing to buy maternity jeans, willing my belly button to stay an innie. Strangers are beginning to comment and I want to respond with a blank stare and an "I'm not pregnant..." and see how that fixes their little red wagon. We're still hearing that I'm "carrying high" which apparently means it's a girl. Well guys...you have a 50/50 chance of being right!

It's Writer's Workshop time at Mama Kat's Losin' It!. Today's writing prompt I chose is about swearing in blog land - how do you feel about it?

I still remember the first time I dropped the F-bomb. I was seven and my baby brother was just a newborn. I was one of those kids who somehow gets through the first five or six years of life without hearing the big kahuna of swear words, then gets to school and it's like, wait, what are they saying? I also took the bus with a bunch of juvenile delinquents from Dorchester so I heard it at least 40-50 times on the ride home from school every day.

Anyway, after school one day I was playing in my brother's room and he was laying on his tummy time blanket or whatever babies do, who knows, right? And I thought about my new word. And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to say it.

"Fuck," I whispered. I waited a few minutes and God didn't smite me so I got a little bolder. "Shit. Fuck!" I said out loud. (I'm not sure why I said "shit"...I guess I figured I'd already broken the seal so I might as well go all out.)

I felt chills all over. Not only had I sworn for the first time ever, but I said the worst words. I had butterflies in my stomach and ran to the bedroom door to make sure no one heard me. No one except my infant brother - the first incident in a steady parade of me being a good influence on him.

Fast forward to now. Times have changed and I know I swear too much. My little brother is 23 now and swears like a sailor and I take some of the credit blame. I try to keep it minimal, especially around coworkers and family, and I think I do a pretty good job of that. But there are some situations that just bring it out in me. Driving is really bad for the potty mouth. Drinking, obviously. Any time I get mad, sad, excited, or bored. I've tried to go a day without swearing before. I've never succeeded.

I do try to keep my blog fairly clean just because I don't know who reads it and I don't want to be screwed over by the content I choose to post. Then again, I do know it's read by adults. Adults who, presumably, use a foul word or two and have certainly heard and read those words. I'm not corrupting babies anymore. We're all grownups and we've all said the F word. Let's not get hysterical here! So, yes, the occasional cuss word makes its way into my posts and that's not likely to change.

I don't get offended by bad language, certainly not when it's used in a context that's not intended to be hurtful to someone else. I know not everybody is as lenient about it as I am but I'm always shocked when people are genuinely bothered by hearing a curse word. I understand there are always alternative words you can choose...but really? This is that upsetting to you? How do you deal with watching the news or going out in public?

Ever come across a reaaaally simple solution to an annoying issue and you're amazed you never thought of it yourself? This just happened to me and I have to share.

Sarah posted a link on her blog recently to this post on smallnotebook.org about how to achieve an uncluttered look in your home without it appearing stark and bare. This is something I have been bothered by in the past. Striking a balance between being clean and tidy and being completely sterile and boring. I like our house to be comfortable and welcoming and cozy but I hate clutter and messes.

The secret? Make sure your horizontal surfaces are always clear.

So maybe everybody reading this is like THANKS, CAPTAIN OBVIOUS, clearly if you pick up your crap your house will look better, but it makes so much sense. You can fill your home with interesting knick-knacks, books, flowers, art, whatever tickles your fancy, and as long as your tabletops and counters and furniture aren't scattered with clutter, you'll have a tidy, orderly-looking room without it being too pristine or unlived-in.

Basically, if you're lazy, just take stuff off your flat surfaces and chuck it in a drawer or a basket and you're golden.

Observe:

1. Our kitchen table, before:


Our kitchen table, after:



2. Our living room couch, before:


Our living room couch, after:


3. Reading chair, before:


Reading chair, after:


It doesn't get much easier than this - if you have two minutes you can make your home look presentable. I picked up all the magazines and put them in the wine rack-turned-magazine rack. Books went on the bookshelves. Flyers went into the compost. Junk was appropriately tossed out or put away. I also did the same thing to the bathroom vanity and the next stop is my desk. Bonus - keeping these surfaces clear means you can much more easily wipe them off and keep them dust-free.

This is a great trick for when company unexpectedly shows up or you feel obligated to tidy but don't have the motivation for a full-on cleaning. "Focus on the flat!" should be everybody's new motto. Go get some pretty baskets and make a habit of putting your stuff in them and your home will automatically look 100% better!

Sooo, today is the 26-week mark. There are 98 days left to go before my due date. It seems like a long time...but it's just over three months. I'm not sure if three months is long enough to switch gears mentally and go from being all carefree and spontaneous to being PARENTS.

Slowly but surely things are coming together. The nursery is all taped off and ready to be painted when I'm out of town this weekend. See?



This month I'm hoping to get a lot of the "big" stuff purchased so we can focus on stocking up on little things in the fall. I'm OK with buying onesies and facecloths when I'm the size of a small planet. Lugging furniture around and setting up a room, hmm, we'll see.

In terms of updates and how I'm feeling, the answer continues to be "awesome". I feel very blessed to be having what's apparently a pretty easy go of things so far, knock on wood. I have been going to the gym every day, eating like a sane person, and not experiencing too many meltdowns. My one side effect is that my belly button hurts. It's still an innie, but it's looking all stretched and shallow and awful and it hurts if you touch it. I know it's going to pop soon, and I know I will cry on that day.


My 26-week bump photo. I promise it looks more gargantuan IRL.

Every day our baby goes through a pretty rigorous set of exercises that we can feel and see really clearly. Seeing them move around never gets old, and I love it. I love tapping on my belly to wake them up and getting a cranky kick in return. I have little one-sided conversations with them throughout the day.

It sounds strange to say but I love being pregnant. It's not what I expected. I was anticipating months and months of throwing up, crying jags, peeing myself and constant discomfort but so far it's really agreeing with me and I'm trying to enjoy it now. Before long, bambino will be here and I'll be getting barfed/pooped/peed on and cried and screamed at. But right now, things are good and I'm having fun hanging out with my little buddy all day while they pummel my insides and try to kick their way to freedom.

*OR SO IT WOULD APPEAR

This morning, I got up at 6:00, bleary-eyed and crazy-haired, and opted to start my day with 60 minutes of cardio hell instead of something more sane and nice like sleeping or snuggling. I picked out my outfit in the semi-darkness and threw it on - gray yoga capris from Old Navy and my softball team t-shirt from last year (with my Twitter handle on the back...RECOGNIZE!) Needless to say, I try really hard to dress to impress at the gym.

Anyway, I went to the gym and suffered through an hour of cross-training madness. An old man lingered behind me when I was on the elliptical. He didn't seem to be doing anything useful, i.e. getting a drink of water or signing up for a machine. I kept giving him the side-eye backwards glare. Pervert. Who stands and stares at a six-months-pregnant woman's ass? It's bad enough when it's a regular ass.

I finished my workout which (unfortunately) included a few trips around the gym from machine to machine. I kept getting weird looks. Being all sensitive about being preggers I figured people are wondering if I'm actually knocked up or just fat. Listen, people, I'm at this gym six days a week - if I'm gaining this much weight without a bun in the oven you all better quit your gym memberships right now because IT AIN'T WORKING.

I went home and got ready to get in the shower, because, if you know me, you know that I refuse to shower in the gym, just like I refuse to watch reality shows about dancing or eat lobster.

I pulled off my pants and then I realized...I had grabbed the wrong pair.

THE PANTS THAT DON'T LEAVE THE HOUSE.

See, I have two pairs of identical Old Navy gray capri yoga pants. And one of those pairs I wore when we were painting our living room...and I sat in some paint. Mocha-coloured paint.

It left a stain right on my asscrack. Like right at the poop spot. And ever since then these pants have been relegated to at-home use only. They are housecleaning pants, sick day pants, dog grooming pants. I don't even go out to the end of the driveway to bring in the garbage cans with these things because of the paint stain, which looks exactly like I pooped myself.




In my half-awake state and rush to get out the door I grabbed the poop pants and wore them for a solid hour in public and now everyone at my gym thinks I'm fat AND that I shit myself.

FABULOUS!

I'm throwing these pants in the garbage.

Natal Day weekend was faaaabulous. It went by way too quickly but it was a nice mix of productivity, fun, good news, and all that lovely stuff.

Saturday it rained, so we spent the day running errands, going to the gym, tidying the house, and other odds and ends. We did pick up this little outfit for the baby, which I happen to think is pretty much the sweetest onesie ever:



I also got crafty and made this yarn wreath for the bebe's room while watching a couple episodes of Mad Men (which, if you're not watching it, Season 4 is cray-cray):



Sunday ended up being a nicer day so that meant we had a lot of outdoors time. We took Rory for a long walk on a nearby trail in the morning. He got hot and had to cool off in the river.



Sunday afternoon was mostly this: a cold drink, a good book, and sunshine.



Monday ended up being nice too and after spending the morning weeding the flower gardens, doing laundry, etc. I headed to the beach for the afternoon.



We also went to a birthday party on Friday night and an engagement party on Sunday evening, made it to the gym all three days (woo!), went out for breakfast, bought paint for the baby's room, barbecued some sausages and got all caught up on Big Brother. Pretty snazzy little weekend.