Baby is:

• Get out.
• Get out.
• Get out.

I am:

• Get out.
• Get out.
• GET OUT!

Oh, the memories:

• Seriously, get out.

Surprising:

• You haven’t lived until you’ve been 40 weeks pregnant in the summer.  I love my old doctor even more for inducing Lucas at exactly 39 weeks because GET OUT.
• Getting a mix of contractions and Braxton Hicks all day, all  night.  So far the closest they have gotten together is 10 minutes, but if they hit 6 I’m to go straight to labor and delivery.  Do not pass Go, do not collect $200.  And some of them- ouch!  This kid hates me already.

Lots of love this week to my friends with pools who have had pity on me and let me be a beach whale in their backyards.  You saved my life and made these last few days of pregnancy as enjoyable as they could be.

I’ve ended this adventure about 30 pounds heavier.  “Healthy” for my weight range was 25-35 so I pretty much nailed it.  My blood pressure still rocks, baby’s heart rate is still awesome, and no alarming swelling.  If I didn’t hate being pregnant so much, it would look like I’m great at it.  But alas, I’m like a turtle on its back and move about as quickly as a sloth.  My 2 year old knows how to put on my shoes for me and likes to remind me that he’s “too heavy for mama to carry” which is an adorable slap in the face.  At least he’s too small to realize that he can use this to his advantage and willingly does what I ask instead of throwing himself on the ground.

Yesterday at nap after I read Lucas a book and we were snuggling in the “big boy bed” he showed me his Mickey Mouse doll (kid’s favorite toy.  I’m rarely allowed to take it long enough to put in the washing machine) and said proudly “I’m going to give this to baby brother when he comes.”  I cried big, fat, hormonal tears over how sweet my little boy’s personality has become.  We play this game where I’ll say “I love you” and Lucas says “I love you, too” and I’ll say “I love you, too, too” and you get the idea.  This week he came up to my belly and said to his brother “I love you, too, too, too!”  I hope this baby grows up to be as sweet as Lucas is growing up to be because I’m loving my caring, snuggly, little toddler tornado.

And if all else fails, they’ll make for great slave labor.