Okay, so it's been a week, and one thing I learned when I got married is to write everything down right away, or the small details get forgotten. It's easy, you know, to forget. The first days after delivery are a blur because you have this brand new human, who is so small and helpless, and the hospital just lets you leave with them. Even if you're clearly not qualified to do this. So then the next couple of days, you spend just trying to figure out how to keep them alive, while trying to be alive yourself, and you don't get much sleep. Henceforth known as the zombie zone.

Anyway, Duke's birth story.



Let's start with his name. Ryan and I had a serious disconnect when it comes to taste in baby names. I was really gunning for Bryson or Anders, while Ryan had a more traditional vibe, like James or Luke. I had downloaded this baby name app and in the beginning, I would just scroll and scroll forever while we watched TV and throw out names as I came across them. We had a small list -- Benjamin, Brody and Luke -- that we agreed on, but one night I just stumbled on Duke and that was it. That was his name.

His middle name is another thing completely. Up until the day he was born (!!), we intended for his middle name to be Ryan. Then on them morning of his birthday, Ryan threw it out there -- "how do you feel about Benjamin?" Ben was a friend of Ryan's that passed away the week I found out I was pregnant and we both felt really strongly about honoring him, so in the final hours -- it just fit.

Now, onto the holy miracle.

Last week, on Monday, I went in for a routine appointment, and with my due date coming and going, I was expecting some good news. When my doctor told me that I was not dilating and my body was not progressing at all, I put on my spoiled brat face and was obviously visibly disappointed because he asked if I was upset. I rolled my eyes and said "no", but I mean, duh. Anyway, I begged him to induce me, but he wouldn't even talk about it until 42 weeks, which is when I really broke down sobbing.

I went home, moped around all afternoon and felt really sorry for myself.



Around 7:30, Ry and I ventured out to TSC to go buy some dog food, which was the highlight of my day for real because it had been a drag of a day. TSC is really not my kind of place, so I was being bored and looking at pink camo boots when I felt my first sort of contraction. Isn't that a special memory? I might not hate pink camo ever again. Anyway, I kind of shrugged it off, because hello, not dilating. Don't toy with my emotions, uterus.

The whole way home I told Ryan that I was feeling these contractions, but they weren't crazy strong and I didn't really even consider timing them. So we got home, Ry made me some tomato soup and I just sort of intended to fall asleep on the couch while we watched TV. He's been really into this mini-series called Harley and the Davidsons, which is actually alright, so we settled in.

Around 10pm, my contractions were sort of painful and I was whining my way through them still not convinced this was the real deal. But, just in case, I downloaded a timing app and starting timing those suckers. It's weird, because a week later, I still haven't deleted it, because I emotionally cannot. I need that contraction log in my phone for life. Anyway, I was in quite a bit of pain around 11pm and so I decided to go to bed.

Quick background -- Ryan had been salmon fishing with his brother for the entire weekend preceding. Getting up at 5am and going to bed around 2am. Basically he was already exhausted, so I tried to let him sleep. I thought, if I still feel contractions at midnight, I'll wake him up. Then when that rolled around, I decided to wake him up at 1am. He was so conked out, he didn't hear me moaning and cursing -- not in my indoor voice -- until I shook him awake at 1:30ish.

A rundown, because it gets kind of long here:

• At 2am, we made it to the hospital, where I was so sure they were going to send me home. I must have asked the nurse a good five times.
• At 3am, I had an epidural. God bless 'em. Really, modern medicine is the real savior here. 
• Then we waited. Ryan and I dozed on and off for a while, him a little more than me, because my baby's heartbeat kept dropping or disappearing off the monitor and a gaggle of nurses would come flying in the room which is actually 10000% scary. 
• They gave me an IV to pump me full of fluids, which fun fact, made me look like the Michelin man. 
• My doctor poked his head in the room early in the morning to say hello. He wasn't on call, but he saw my name on the L&D list, so he swung by. I was much kinder and we all had a chuckle about how quickly things had changed. 
• My sister showed up around 10:30am to keep me company, and Ry's mom came a little later. Lucky, because I had no idea it would be hours still before the little dude and I were ready to get things really started. 
• Not fun fact - they don't let you eat while you're in labor. I hadn't had anything since the night before and it was crappy tomato soup and stale crackers, so obviously I was starving. All I could talk about was food -- grilled cheese and mac and cheese and meatloaf with mashed potatoes and lots of gravy. 

Here we are guys -- well, actually, here I am. The end of my pregnancy, so they say, and still pregnant. Here's what I've learned in 9 months:

• Your due date is an estimation, otherwise known as a giant crock of shit. Doctors, weather people and FedEx -- we're all just guessing, okay.
• At the end, you will beg your uterus to feel pain on the off chance that it means labor is beginning. Was that a twinge? Yes please! 
• Not working and not having a baby is effing boring. If I don't have this baby tonight, I might show back up in the office tomorrow. I get a little jealous and teary-eyed every time Ryan makes a sale. Sniff sniff -- I used to do that, too. 

So anyway, we're literally expecting this baby any old time now, and my patience is wearing thin. But I'm trying. This weekend, we kind of decided that it's probably our last weekend OF OUR LIVES, that we're not parents, so we're actively making the most of it. On Friday, we went out for Thai food and requested our curry be 78% spicy, American, not Thai, and my lips were literally on fire. I thought, huh, I guess this is what it feels like to be stung by 100 bees, or get botox in your lips, whatever.

Then we went to see Sully, which was interesting, but not awesome. You know, good movie, I probably won't see it again though. I really like Tom Hanks and Ryan is really into pilots and airplanes, and we both like candy, so it was a pleasant "last" date night. (And for the record, I know it's not our last date night -- but it is the last one for a really long time that doesn't have arranging a babysitter and being home at a certain time in the mix.)

Last night, the first crisp fall breezes came through and it was awesome. I broke out the apple cider scented everything while Ryan cooked in the kitchen. We went to a potluck with a few friends and stood outside all night in hoodies and jeans. It's weird how good that all feels after a humid summer -- feels good every year.

Today, Ryan is salmon fishing with is brother, who he conned into coming up here with the phrase "this is the last weekend that I'm not a dad -- get up here!" And anyway, it worked. And so help me if I have not made that man a dad by next weekend.

A few other things I want to share, because we all like to laugh, right?

• Did you know I used to be an Admissions Counselor? Of course you did -- I don't keep it a secret, but  here's a little peek into why I left the weird sticky world of recruiting halfway adults. Laugh, because it's real. May we all avoid becoming helicopter parents. And also, dig more into the Admissions Problems blog -- it doesn't get updated anymore, but it's still hilarious. And here's another one, because JFC, this is our future. Swag, yolo. 
• You got a small taste of it earlier in this post, but maternity leave is freaking me out. Like most of us, I've had a job since I graduated high school, namely because I like buying things -- electricity, nail polish, the occasional $10 mojito -- you know. But there's also something to be said about the identity you cultivate for yourself as a professional woman -- and when that changes -- if fucks you up. 

"As a professional woman, I’m always doing two things at once...While multi-tasking is a key skill later in motherhood, during maternity leave my multi-tasking abilities became limited to changing a diaper and crying at the same time."

So, things to look forward to, yes?

Alright, now lets talk about this overcooked bay-bay. Featuring my baby daddy:

So, summer is over. Bummer, huh?

Actually, I don't even mind. I hate January thru March because that's the suckiest, most dismal time of year, right? But fall, you know, has its charms. Like cider and pumpkin candles and the birth of a child, please God.

I'm having a little anxiety about that right now, kind of randomly. Pinterest somehow knows my life story even though I have never shared the intimate details personally -- isn't it bizarre how all of your electronic devices suddenly know everything about you. Mine does, and I'm sure yours does too, but my phone will often tell me how far from work or home I am and it freaks me the fuck out. Anyway, Pinterest keeps popping up with a variation of the exact same article: "10 Things You Should Do Before Your Baby is Born". Or perhaps "77 Things I Wish I Knew Before Delivery". And the best, "Everything You're Forgetting".

They're all the same. I'm forgetting to pack chapstick, and I'll need to bring a pillow because hospital pillows suck, and breastfeeding is going to be the fiery pits of hell for the first few weeks-- blah blah blah, but seriously. Give me a heart attack. I was planning to just wing this delivery business, like I show up, the professionals give me some pain relief and tell me what to do, and 20-odd hours later, we'll have a baby. Sounds fair, right?

Basically I got overwhelmed making lists, changing them, rearranging them, and packing seventeen sticks of lip balm before I remembered that pregnancy has made me significantly less tolerant and maybe I can just stick to my original plan because I.Don't.Care about how fluffy the pillows are right now. I'm just going to walk in, ask for the juice, and let someone who's read more books than me guide me in the right direction.

Now for a couple of randoms, because this post is already getting lengthy and I haven't even said anything worthwhile yet:

• George has a brand new party trick: opening the deck gate. He already figured out how to get through the patio door, then this week he started opening the gate, and five minutes later, we're all "where's Georgie?" Gone folks, gone. In the river taking a swim or rolling in poop somewhere (another new party trick!)
• Ryan had  himself a birthday! We went to go see War Dogs and out for Thai food. All the spicy food for me, because obviously. 
• New, fun (!) obstacle here at the Hodges Nursery. Ryan assembled the crib in the garage, which seemed like a good idea because that's where the zoo of tools lives. But then - you know where this is going -- when he and his brother carried it into the house, it totally doesn't fit through the bedroom door, despite enacting every variety of 7th grade geometry that our teachers promised us we'd use when we're adults. 

Alright -- onward to the baby update. I'm combining 38 and 39 weeks because I'm obviously behind and because it's getting too late to catch-up. And because I've had "Full Term" written on my chalkboard since 36.5 weeks and if I don't use it now, I never will.

Well guys, here we are, closing out week 37 and I am formally and officially kickin' full-term. So, as a gal who chronically suffers from lack of patience in general, normal, only slightly exciting things, I am currently exhibiting the kind of patience that children have between the hours of 4 and 5AM on Christmas morning.

Zero.

Let's all join together for a moment of silence for my husband, who has agreed to stay within the general vicinity of home for the next few weeks and is currently living on a prayer. And the sound of my voice, talking pretty constantly about the baby. And stretch marks. And how hungry I am. And how much of a whale I feel like. And how I need to get. This. Baby. Out. Now.

He promised to love me forever and is at least contractually obligated to be with me for the rest of my life, so it is what it is. And anyway, we celebrated that legally binding commitment we made yesterday for our third wedding anniversary. How quickly the years go. The days are long, but the years are short, you know? I look forward to year four, especially with what is undoubtedly going to be one of the happiest moments of our life still in front of us. Isn't that something. When we are old, this time that we are living right now, and the most important moment of our lives coming up so shortly, is going to be such a good thing to reminisce about.

The countdown is on, but for now, here we are at 37 weeks.

First thing - let's address this -- the third trimester is officially the "all bets are off" part of pregnancy. I am weeks behind on this (and maybe just updating a few numbers to say 32 instead of 31 even though I mostly wrote this last week, because what the hell) and maybe I don't even mind.

But I will. I know I will. Once I have this baby and my energy is back to normal, I will mind exponentially, so here we go. I will have my memories.

****

You guys, why are weekends so short? Monday through Friday is exactly 37 days long, and then we get fifteen hour weekends. I'm not making that up -- that's fact. I decided to make some cookies for breakfast, and when I looked up from the mixing bowl, it was four in the afternoon.

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.

***

Happy Friday 2.0, you guys!

Happy first week of actual summer, you guys! Isn't summer the bomb? It's literally been like, 90-some odd degrees for the last several days and I'm pretty sure this is how God intended for my entire life to be. It's popsicles for dinner for the next three months and I'm all about it.

Last night, Ryan and I kicked it easy-like-Sunday-morning style and just hung out at home, and you know, I just kept thinking -- these are pretty tame Friday night plans, but someday, this is what I'll reminisce about. The dogs smelled like river water from  jumping off the dock all afternoon. We had Johnny Cash radio playing loud enough to hear in the yard, in the house, by the water. Ryan grilled, I had a refreshing glass of....root beer. It was such a good night.

As a quick side note, I read that babies can hear from inside the womb, and if you listen to the same music frequently in pregnancy, they'll actually recognize those songs once they're born. At this point, Baby H is going to recognize some really not okay music -- things I'm ashamed of -- so I'm back tracking hard by introducing the Highway Men and Conway Twitty in copious amounts to try and block out the Eminem, Snoop, and The Weeknd that plays in my car.

Speaking of babies, should we kick the weekly update that I'm totally behind on? Sure.




How far along? 28 weeks and formally cruising into the third trimester. We're in the home stretch folks -- eyes on the prize.
Total weight gain: +35lbs today. And I was weirdly unbothered by it. I just assume I'm going to give birth to a 30lb baby and drop the remaining five the day after delivery. Fair, amiright?!
Maternity clothes? Yeah yeah yeah. I have to literally talk myself into wearing pants these days though. For laughs, I tried on a pair of pre-pregnancy shorts, just to see if I could belly-band it. True story, I couldn't pull them up past my knees. My knees are seriously as wide as my hips used to be. I'm praying for a postpartum holy miracle. 
Stretch marks? No -- I can't even believe. Maybe that's my holy miracle. 
Sleep: I sleep really great -- but the baby's kicks are strong enough that I wake up from them now or they'll infiltrate my dreams, which is freaky weird. Anyway, mostly I just want more sleep + naps.
Best moment this week: I spent Saturday on a boat, in the middle of the lake, with the baby belly out and it.was.awesome. 
Miss Anything? Summer Shandy, skinnier thighs, and as much caffeine as I want. But we're down to less than 80 days (fingers-crossed) so the missing thing really isn't that bad. Besides, I'm making up for all of those things with soft serve dipped in sprinkles on the regular. 
Movement: All the time. I feel like he's walking around in there. When this is all over, the movement is going to be what I miss the most. 
Food cravings: That soft serve ice cream, dipped in sprinkles thing. Although, it's not really a craving if you've wanted that for dinner every day of your entire adult life, right? 
Anything making you queasy or sick: I've been getting kicked in the face with random returns of morning sickness again. Sporadic and not all day long like it was in the first trimester, but totally unwelcome. 
Labor Signs: Nope and I realized this morning that it's still going to be a good 10 weeks before I can safely start to expect some. It's like knowing you've got an exam at the end of the semester, but it's so far away, it might as well be never, so I'm not worried about it yet. 
Symptoms: Well. I'm officially at the part where people ask me if I'm sure it's not twins. If you don't know you look like a whale, someone will tell you. 
Belly Button in or out? Oh it's out in full force. And totally weird looking. 
Wedding rings on or off? They're off and they're not coming back on. I held out for as long as I could, but sheezus, I'm scared of losing a finger Jimmy Fallon style. So now I'm rocking this completely boring silver band because I'm not all about anyone thinking I'm an unwed mother. Call me old-fashioned, but it's not my thing. Whatever. 
Happy or Moody most of the time: Well, you know, I'm not sure if it's pregnancy in general, or just the lack of caffeine in my system, but I am hella calmer than I used to be. Which makes me happier in general, but also just not give a shit about a lot of things. I'd say it's a careful balance -- and one of which I'm not really in control.
Looking forward to: I'm sort of looking past delivery and thinking about having a little boy in my house. I was texting my friend Stephy this morning -- she has a toddler -- and I'm looking so forward to our boys growing up together. They both have dads who are obsessed with dirt bikes and jeeps and things that make loud noises, so I have a feeling they'll have a lot in common. And luckily, their moms like margaritas and day drinking, so there's lots of hanging out in the future. 

And since my little pregnancy update formula doesn't really leave a place for it, I need to tell you about two things: cotton candy grapes and the weird metallic taste in my mouth.

First of all, the cotton candy grapes -- go find them. Seek them out like the holy effing grail and thank me later. By some sorcery and witch craft, they're grapes, which are healthy, that straight-up taste like cotton candy, which is not. It's miraculous. You're welcome. I currently eat my weight in them daily.

Second, out of nowhere, I've developed metal mouth. I literally asked Ryan to sniff my breath and see if my mouth smells like pennies, because I'm pretty sure it must. It's the weirdest, most disgusting taste in the world, and there are not enough Doritos in life to get it under control. Weird, right?

 Happy weekending, you guys!

Yesterday, I read this article about women, and the individual comprehension of knowing when it was the right time to have a baby. I thought it was so interesting, because women all have different stories that ultimately end the same way: in motherhood. And of all the various desires that led to bearing a child, I found myself falling into one category -- I didn't know it was the right time, but I didn't necessarily think it wasn't the right time. So, it just sort of happened.

Anyway, the article got me thinking about how much I've really only been considering how much being a parent is going to change me. And I had this epiphany -- Ryan's life is going to change so much more than mine will. And I don't know why I hadn't considered that, like, at all. I mean, being a mother will change me, but ultimately after 12-ish weeks, I will go back to my 9-5 life. I'll go to work in the morning, and come home in the afternoon, and in the remaining hours of the day, I'll be a mom. So I probably won't Candy Crush it so much while watching Jimmy Fallon and lazily eating dinner on the couch. Trust me, I recognize that I'm oversimplifying dramatically, but my point is that for eight hours a day, and a large majority of the time that I am awake, I will return to exactly what I'm doing now: an office with adults and no babies. 

Ryan, on the other hand, is about to be a dad for every minute of those eight hours + the entire rest of the day. And I have not, for one single second, considered how much more things will change about his day. How many more diapers he will change, bottles he will warm up, and cars he will test drive with a baby in the backseat. 

I sometimes wonder if I'm going to have mom-guilt driven by a desire to have a career and an equal desire to be a rockstar mom. I wonder if I'll be jealous and resent the time that Ryan will get to spend with the baby. I wonder if it'll all be fine and our life will fall into a new balance and everything will just work out. Working mom friends -- any advice? I'm talking to you KJ and Stephy.

I don't have a conclusion to this wonder, because obviously at this point it's all hypothetical, but I know that everything can and often does become habituated. 

Alright, now let's rein it back in, because obviously I like to to think about me. 




How far along? 27 Weeks
Total weight gain: Last time I measured, I was hovering right around 30lbs, give or take ice cream for dinner the night before. 
Maternity clothes? All day, every day. You know what nobody tells you? You'll outgrow your underwear. I mean, obviously, but does anyone tell you that? I knew I'd have to buy maternity jeans, and shirts and all the other whatnot, but underwear? Yeah, that's not in any of the books. 
Stretch marks? Miraculously, no. I'm really focused on staying crazy hydrated and smearing that coconut oil on my skin, and I don't know if it's actually working or just the placebo effect, but I'm rolling with it. 
Sleep: Just give me more of it.
Best moment this week: I discovered that I can hear the baby's heartbeat with a stethoscope, and it is stupid how happy it makes me to hear that thump-thump every night. 
Miss Anything? I officially sound like an alcoholic for bringing it up three weeks in a row, but I could seriously go for a patio + a drink. 
Movement: I think things are getting tight in there, because I feel a lot more kicks and swishes than usual. I think I can even feel when he just turns over. And his kicks are getting strong, like he can take my breath away. 
Food cravings: None really. I eat like normal and don't really crave anything specifically. I have noticed though, that I can't eat very much without feeling really full and like my intestines are in my lungs, which is a feeling the opposite of delightful. A couple of days ago, I was in a meeting after eating a quick breakfast -- I was literally like, laying in my chair trying to breathe.  
Anything making you queasy or sick: Yes, my life. In all seriousness, I've had a return of nausea lately. It's sporadic and short lived, but 100% unwelcome. 
Labor Signs: No signs, but I am thinking forward to the actual labor a little more. I'm not afraid of it, which makes me think I'm either ill-prepared or stupid. Or both. Not sure. I'm just going to wing it, I guess. 
Symptoms: Tailbone pain that accounts for 75% of my suffering. Actually, I'm not complaining -- I feel very comfortable in this pregnancy, and a sore tailbone is the worst of it. Obviously in the grand scheme of things, it's not even that bad.
Belly Button in or out? You guys, it's out. You can see my belly button poking through my shirt, which is sort of weird. Like, is this inappropriate?
Wedding rings on or off? Still on most of the time, but off on humid days.
Happy or Moody most of the time: I'm a moody old cow.
Looking forward to: Kickstarting the third trimester because the countdown is ON. 

***
And a few things we're enjoying, because I swear we do things other than obsess about our fetus. And by we, I mean I, because Ryan is normal and doesn't obsess.

We brought Georgie to Northport today and introduced him to water. And of course, he went bananas. 
Vodka Cranberry. Just kidding. Cranberry Sprite -- so invigorating. 

So Memorial Day -- how 'bout it. 

I don't know about you, but I always get these high hopes about long weekends. Like they're going to be so relaxing and last forever and I won't need to make a last minute trip to the grocery store even once. 

But, you know, yeah right. Long weekends are always power-packed with fun and I'm always missing something in the fridge, so all the stuff about not going anywhere that isn't the beach or out for ice cream goes right out the window. I need a day off from my weekend to catch up on sleep. It was a crazy full weekend. 

A quick rundown? Sure. 
My sister-in-law ran a full marathon and managed to look like a normal human being at the end of it. I showed up for the moment of glory at the end.
My delight of a grandmother told me my face is getting fat because I "eat all day." 
Someone, ahem, fed my dogs people food all day long on Saturday and we cleaned up approximately 73242 puke spots on my floor. 
We West Bay'd it like tourists and ate Moomers ice cream like, three times. 
Ryan and I congratulated ourselves again on picking the best house ever. Also, we played in the river and my dogs went bananas. 
Shaq Attaq arrived in my living room and I tried not to hyperventilate. 







Now, along to the baby stuff --






How far along? 25 weeks.
Total weight gain: I've been pretty stagnant for a few weeks. 
Maternity clothes? Well duh -- there's no going backwards now. 
Stretch marks? None yet -- fingers remained crossed!
Sleep: I know every pregnancy is different, so I'm just going to be really grateful and acknowledge that my sleep has been pretty normal the entire time. I have weird dreams every once in a while, but otherwise, it's business as usual. 
Best moment this week: Hands down, one of the best moments of pregnancy -- on some weeknight -- I can't remember which, Ryan and I were being boring and laying on the couch watching Jimmy Fallon. I can feel the baby moving and shaking reasonably often, but this time, I told Ryan to look at a specific spot on my belly because the tap dance was on. And for the first time, our baby cooperated, kicked the bejesus out of my belly button and scared the shit out of his dad for the first time ever. And he kept going because Ryan was able to feel the kicks for the first time, too. 
Miss Anything? Oh man, Memorial Day weekend brought the patio drinking vibes. I really don't miss a drink here and there as much as I thought I might, but now that we're getting into the summer, there's just something really nice about a cocktail + a deck. Something that orange juice and sprite will not ever adequately substitute.
Movement: This is definitely his most active week yet. I feel him turning and kicking all the time, and see it fairly often, too!
Food cravings: Oh the normal stuff -- protein and too much sugar. Hail the ice cream shops that opened for business this weekend!
Anything making you queasy or sick: Nope. 
Labor Signs: Full belly braxton hicks. Still not uncomfortable, just startling. 
Symptoms: I keep dreaming about giving birth to a puppy. Like, in my dream, I'm cuddling something that I know is my infant, and it's all wrapped up in a sweet baby blanket, but it has a puppy face. Also, there's weird details that randomly go along with it that probably are anxiety related. Like, I'll leave the baby on the floor or forget to feed it or completely forget what I named it. Which I think are obviously related to unknown territory in being a mom and caring for child, with the bonus of "will we ever choose a name?!"
Belly Button in or out? Flat, mostly. 
Wedding rings on or off? This weekend they were off, but that's because my fingers are swelling anyway and the humidity was insane train, which puffed me out to sausage level proportions. 
Happy or Moody most of the time: Okay, I'm irritable. Like, really irritable. 
Looking forward to: Summertime and all the popsicles. 

And onto counting down to the 4th of July. It's going to be such a long, never ending and totally relaxing long weekend.