Thursday, June 02, 2005

32 weeks

Cal just hit the eight month mark, and I'm the size of a freaking dirigible.





Seriously, is it possible that we still have eight weeks left? Is this possible? how could we possibly get larger than this? And what's going to happen to me? Am I going to become the queen of the ant colony, all gigantic and gelatinous and pulsating, tended to by little worker drones because I've lost all of my appendages and therefore the ability to move? I mean, this pregnancy thing has been fun and all that from a science experiment perspective, but seriously, I'm kind of done with it at this point. Enough already.

I know I'm lucky, though, in that I've not had to deal with the following things so far during this pregnancy:

  • Any significant nausea
  • "Pregnancy brain" (the phenomenon of becoming unusually absent-minded while cooking the bun in the old uterus-oven)
  • Stretch marks (please karma, don't give me any now just because I said I didn't have any yet)

However, pregnancy phenomena that I have not been lucky enough to escape:

  • Sciatic pain
  • Back pain
  • Our friend the linea nigra (Joe: "Maybe it's an evolutionary adaptation to help the surgeon find midline!")

OK then. Eight more weeks. Let the countdown commence.


* * *


Now that it's warm out again, we've replanted our little outdoor urban garden. It was a lot easier than last year when we had to start from scratch--this time, we could re-use all of the same dirt, which saved a lot of time. Let's just hope we don't kill everything like we did last year.






We went with the petunias again, but planted these weird-looking purple spore-like flowers with spinach leaves. I have no idea what they're called, but I like them.






In the big planters, I put dahlias and calla lilies. The calla lilies I enjoy just for the fact of being able to say, in a Katherine Hepburn voice, "The calla lilies are in bloom again."

Now as long as we can keep Cooper from digging up all the plants, I think we should be good for the summer.


* * *


I'm on call in the PICU tonight. Second to last Peds call ever. Please let it be better than my last two PICU calls, I'm due for a good one.

Currently reading: Look, even the New York Times is convinced that Tom Cruise has lost it.


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