As Time Goes By: Nearly thirty-two weeks. And hoping for an early induction, say, around 38 or 39 weeks. So, 6-7 weeks to go if the universe (and my OB) will cooperate. Holla.
It's Raining, It's Pouring: Oh, the shower drama. I could have the next reality show pitch for Bravo brewing up in here. The guest list has expanded to include ~40 people (we are now, apparently, letting folks bring their young kids to my non-kid-proofed house), whereas my house comfortably accommodates around 25 people before it gets a little warm and elbowy. I only offered my house as a location in the first place when I was assured that the guest list included ~20 people. Well. And plans now, apparently, include all the things I loathe and/or cannot have: shellfish, cold cuts, alcohol, and games. Ugh, the games. Can I simply refuse to participate? I will not allow anyone to measure my belly or guess how rotund I am or be forced to diaper a doll in some timed display of asshattitude. I will totally go all humbug on their asses. I am just kind of bummed because I was really explicit about my feelings regarding the games and anything remotely stuffy or fussy or prissy, and that doesn't seem to count for shit. This party is being planned for the over-60 set to suit their taste, and I am going to have to suffer a barf-worthy display of disgusting pastels, sherbet punch, and retarded parlor games. And yes, I am behaving like an absolutely ungrateful twat by complaining about someone throwing me a party, but all I can say is: so? My request for a simple, low-key party has ballooned into a circus in which I am forcibly the main attraction. Boo to that.
Nesting vs. Resting: We are finishing the last of the nursery furniture assembly in a week or two, and then I just have to nail some decorative shit to the walls and wait for the shower swag to show up and wash/assemble as needed. I guess I should go buy some diapers and asswipers, and maybe some creams and gels for the baby's behind and my tatas. But all I want to do is lay around and rest...and nap...and not move a muscle. Mah belleh hurts. It's beeeeg. I need a second wind to kick in pretty soon so I can get these last-minute tasks checked off my mental list.