Due Diligence: My doctor has officially moved my due date up by one measly day to October 3. I know this because I sneaked a peak at my chart while the nurse was doing her nurse biznazz at my unscheduled what-the-fuck visit this week. One whole day. Really? Well, at least it's one less day I have to be pregnant since I will buy some weird, skanky herbs from Chinatown and make some weird, homeopathic tea or whatever to start my own goddamned labor if they won't induce me by my due date. Not interested in overtime.
Shower Power Showdown: My mother-in-law is hosting my shower (great!) but is a major, major, major control freak (less great). Even my ideas (which pertain directly to what I, the guest of honor, like and desire) are subject to being shot down. She freaked out because I already had a super-awesome invitation picked out, that I've had my eye on since before I knew for sure I was even having a shower hosted by anyone, and the sample text in the picture didn't include "hosted by____." She didn't snap at me, but another relative, insisting IN A VERY SHOUTY VOICE that her name MUST APPEAR ON THE INVITE BECAUSE IT'S HER PARTY. Oh, boy. I wasn't there for this love-fest but heard all about it later. So, it's been explained to her that the sample text (key words) can and will be changed when we order, so that it does not also invite our guests to a fictitious Meghan's shower for which you can RSVP to a random invented phone number or email address. She told me last week that I could pick out decorations but then barked at the same relative, AGAIN IN A SHOUTY VOICE and in my absence, that SHE would pick out decorations for HER party. Yikes, dude. Am I carrying her baby? She totally means well, but is a tad territorial about things. I'm going over to her house this weekend to smooth it all over, because that's what needs to happen. The freshmaker. Or the peacekeeper. Or maybe just the suckah. But I am getting my super-kickass-awesome invitations and decorations to match the theme*. (Spiteful side note: I went out after hearing about all of the shenanigans and bought decorations, to fight assholiness with assholiness, but I won't tell her about that. It can wait until later. When I find a way to make her think it was her idea -- which by the way, it effing was. She told me, just keep the receipt. And FYI, the shower will be at my house, so I sort of feel justified in having a say in what gets taped to my walls and ceilings and whatnot.) Also, just for giggles: my mother-in-law apparently planned originally (a few weeks ago) to schedule the shower for mid-September. Yep. Two weeks before my due date. Uh, fuck no. That would interfere with my daily begging-for-scheduled-induction schedule. I even wish it was a little sooner than end of August, when it is now planned, because I will be huge, hot, and sweaty by then...but it's an improvement. Copacetic is my middle name.**
Who Needs Sleep?: I have not tried the Ambien yet. I've progressed to about 4 or 4.5 hours of sleep per night for the past week, which is a big help, so I'm going to keep riding it out to see if sleep improves any further. So, I guess KB will have to hold his breath for super-secret sleep-sex.***
*Theme = onesies.
**Don't mistake my kvetching for ungratefulness, because she is doing a Very Nice Thing and I do appreciate it endlessly. But seriously, can the mother-to-be have a little say?****
***After a 4-month arid-extra-dry spell, sex was had about a week ago. Not fueled by Ambien (it's not for everyone, mainly just philandering golf pros). It was sufficiently awkward with the growing belleh, but still long overdue. I'm guessing I'll give up my delicate flower [snort] again before I birth the baby, but don't bet the farm.
****I realize I am equally stubborn and control-y, and that I could just as easily let her plan the whole thing without a word. But to quote Woody Allen, the heart wants what it wants.***** And I want my one and only baby shower to have my stamp on it. Can't help it.
*****Yeah, I know what an inappropriate quote that is. But I couldn't think of anything else that fits my repurposed context. "Can you smell what the Rock is cooking?" just doesn't work.