You guys, Friday nights are the hardest for me to give up on. I will keep myself awake for as long as I can, because you know, once you go to sleep, it's over Fifty First Dates style. And Friday is the best best best part of the weekend. Everything is still alive -- the weekend is still in front of you, there's all kinds of promise lingering there -- it's as good as Saturday night, but with the promise that Saturday is still coming.

Last night was extra hard for me to call it a day, because -- obviously. Fridays before 3-day weekends are even better than regular Fridays -- is there a song about this? If I were a different kind of person, I might write a poem, an ode rather, to the mystical 3-day weekend. Anyway, three-quarters of Ryan's sibs showed up last night and with a bonfire and a beach and some ice cream, it's no accident that I didn't drag my drunk husband to bed until 2am.

Friday kicked the weekend nicely:

With every single fiber of my being, I know that this is true: this is what life is about. There's a lot of menial things we do in the meantime, but there is nothing more important than spending time and cultivating our families. That sounds a little cult-y, like building your family to power pack the kingdom of Heaven, like on Big Love, but whatever. I'm not even attempting to buy a one-way ticket into everlasting life, just a happy one right now. And so, bring on the dogs, the kids, the grandmas, the drinks, the tunes we don't agree on and throw in a bonfire and s'mores for good measure. There's your one-way ticket -- it's stamped and you're good to go on the happy train.

How far along? 29 weeks -- in this update. I'm behind, but you know, whatever.
Total weight gain: A lot.  I saw this random rant on the internet about how women who use contouring makeup look like clowns and spend too much time in the mirror, and I just thought, "that chick has never been knocked up." Girl, we need contouring, just to prove we still have cheek bones. Cheers to bronzing powder -- I'm about five minutes from contouring my arms, calves and if I could reach 'em, feet. Just to remind myself what bone structure looks like. 
Maternity clothes? Well yeah, but that orange dress, so not maternity and I'm really pushing my limits with that one. 
Stretch marks? Nope. I'm so surprised. I know that these kinds of things are genetic and my sisters have stretch marks, so I've just been waiting for them. Obviously I'm not out of the woods yet, but I can't believe I haven't seen a stray one here or there. 
Sleep: Like a rock. Seriously, I'm just out all the time, wherever there's a slightly comfortable spot. If it rained and I put a movie on a loop, I bet I could sleep all day long, and then crash out at night too.
Best moment this week: Having Ry's family here for the holiday is just the best. 
Miss Anything? Well, let me preface really quickly with this: if there is a next baby, he'll be born in the winter because I am DONE with leg shaving. I'm officially shaving my legs via muscle memory, which is super dangerous, and what I'm missing right now is the ability to see and reach anything south of my navel. 
Movement: Tons, all the time. And here's a new one, sometimes when he kicks, I can feel a little foot -- or something, I guess. Tiny little appendages. 
Food cravings: I don't think I really crave anything, but I did pass my glucose test this week, so candy is back on the menu. 
Anything making you queasy or sick: Speaking of the glucose test, I was crazy nauseated the morning of, and already just feeling ready to blow (yum!) when I got into the office. So they give you this orange drink that the internet preaches is disgusting because it's flat and crazy sugary -- blah blah blah. So anyway, the nurse hands it to me, tells me to chug it down, and she presents it like this: "If you puke it up, you'll have to drink it again." Luckily, sweet is my jam and it tasted pretty much okay to me, so everything stayed in place. 
Labor Signs: Nah. 
Symptoms: Charley horses that better count as a work out, because these muscles are SORE. I had one in my clutch foot a couple of days ago, and for a full day, my entire leg wobbled when I pushed the clutch in. Yikes.
Belly Button in or out? Out. It's obscene, I think. I mean, we all know that if you see nipples through a shirt, you're bordering on soft-core, but I'm not sure if belly buttons are somehow exempt. I might put a bandaid on it.
Wedding rings on or off? So off.
Happy or Moody most of the time: I'm not really an emotional basket case, but I'm still really prone to easy irritation. Maybe this is who I was meant to be my whole life, and pregnancy just wore off the Emily Post my mom tried to instill. We'll never know.
Looking forward to: The countdown. I mentioned to Ryan last night that I'll be full term in less than seven weeks. The conversation went a little like this:

Me: Ry -- our baby could be here in seven weeks. Seven! (add some creative nagging about finishing the trim in the baby's room)
Ryan: Seven? Are you sure? That's really soon.....shit. This is real. It felt like just an idea until right now. Seven weeks? I need to go on a motorcycle trip.

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Happy Friday 2.0, you guys!