Hey! I know what you're not tired of hearing about yet!

The fact that I'm still pregnant! And that I can't coax this baby out with pineapple or tea or threats or various other measures that I may or may not have tried!

So it's a darn good thing we DIDN'T find out the gender of this child or people would probably be throwing rocks at me every time I opened my mouth to complain about still being pregnant. (There is still some element of surprise and I'm assuming that's why anyone is still here reading this.) I have decided to call a truce with Second Baby and allow him/her to come out on his/her own time. I realize this was always going to happen from the beginning, but maybe actually SAYING it will trigger some sort of reverse psychology in his/her brain. We'll see.

In related news, I am now 38 weeks into this 40-42 week adventure. Steve's prediction of my giving birth during the 37th week is now officially kaput. He is no Nostradamus. So this leads me to believe that there is a boy in here. Steve still holds strong to his guess of a girl. Only time will tell I suppose... What do you think? (I've created a poll in the top right corner, so vote away! Maybe there will be a prize for the winning team of guesses? Like some leftover fudge? AHAHAHAHA just kidding. There is NEVER any leftover fudge; y'all should know better than to believe that.)

My mom saw the photo of Steve and me before the ball and said that it appeared my child was attempting to escape via my esophagus, which loosely translates into, "Honey, it looks like you're carrying a little high, but you look fantastic." I will agree that this baby is high, despite the fact that my doctor told me last week that it looked like the baby dropped. Dropped? Dropped where? Out of my ribcage? Possibly. I'm thinking this is one long kid because s/he has the ability to head-butt me in the bladder while simultaneously Riverdancing on my lungs. There is a POINT to all of this rambling and the point is that I carried Sam high as well. I didn't ever notice him "dropping." He was also breech up until the point of no return, but after some crafty acrobatics off the side of the couch, I convinced him that he'd be safer taking a look at where he's going versus trusting his skinny little hiney to break his fall upon entrance into The Real World. It is the one time he decided to listen to me. And I was thankful.

I was supposed to have my 38-week appointment today, but due to a lack of a babysitter, I rescheduled it (conveniently) for next week. It's not like they're performing any new tests or doing any fun ultrasounds now; we are all basically just laughing at how much I weigh (ok, I'm not laughing so much) and marveling at my innate cup-peeing abilities. These are things I can deal without doing on a week-to-week basis. But according to the stupid emails I still haven't unsubscribed from (and subsequently, cannot stop reading), my baby is the size of a leek- another vegetable I have never before consumed in my life. The email also says that s/he is "plumping up." Well, I am having trouble believing that as well because there was not a single roll to be spotted on Sam at birth (or anytime afterwards). And we all know that my pregnancy diet habits have not changed THAT drastically in such a short time. I will admit that I never consumed fudge on such a regular basis with Sam, so maybe there's chub hope for this baby yet.

Steve pointed out to me the other day that he is looking forward to Second Baby's arrival and my not being pregnant for a while. I OBVIOUSLY took that to mean that I must be a no-fun fuddy duddy while pregnant and refused to give him the last piece of fudge. He CLAIMS he just meant that we have been married for something like two and a half years, and I have been pregnant for well over half of that time. He would like the non-pregnant version of me that he married back. I'm ok with that, I guess. I like non-pregnant me as well. Non-pregnant me is more fun (usually because she has a glass of wine in hand and doesn't have to pee every 3.5 seconds). But non-pregnant me also doesn't make fudge on a weekly basis, so there are clearly very big drawbacks as well.

Ok, enough pregnancy talk. I promise that the next time I'm back here blabbering away, it will be about something BESIDES Second Baby. Unless I give birth before then, in which case, I will probably be talking A LOT about Second Baby (and his/her real name) and there will most likely be many MANY typos since I will be a half-drunk, (there WILL be wine!) super-happy, non-pregnant zombie.