a picture's worth a bunch of words

So. Far. Behind.

I have been a bad blogger. I apologize. Not only have I failed to post in over a week, I missed the 24-week mark belly shot. So, to make it up to you, I will share all of my informative and/or amusing anecdotes from the last week, AND I'll post a 24 week, 5 day belly shot. Hopefully that is the price for forgiveness.

First, the pictures. Because, honestly, that's why most of you are here:



The belly grows.

I also took a front shot, but now that I'm taking the pictures in a tasteful, clothed fashion, the front shot is less exciting.



See? Told you.

Now for the update. Last Wednesday Caty and Jim arrived for Thanksgiving with gifts in hand. Caty was horrified to learn that I wore jeans and Danskos to a club, so she brought me an incredibly cute maternity dress. I think it will look great with tights and Danskos. Don't tell Caty. They also brought a book for Tater. It's the story of an alien tickle monster. It comes with mitts for the reader to wear while tickling the listener. I love it. Brad is not a huge fan of tickling, so he refuses to be the listener. I will likely spend countless hours teaching Tater how to read just so he can sweet talk Brad into letting him be the reader. Don't tell Brad.

Randy arrived on Wednesday. He is still ridiculously excited about Tater's impending arrival, but he is freaked out by my stomach. Randy is married to the stork story and has decided to pretend that Tater will just fall from the sky. It took him a day to work up the courage to look at my stomach, and I think it happened by accident in the end. In all fairness, my stomach is a little freaky. Pregnant ladies develop a line running down their stomachs, the linea nigra, and mine is super dark.

Thanksgiving was fabulous. The family left on Saturday and we went to Liz and Alap's beautiful wedding that night. On Sunday we registered. Oy. Was that an overwhelming experience. It was nothing like registering for a wedding. When I registered for the wedding, nothing seemed essential. There is no such thing as a serving spoon emergency. But when we registered for Tater, it felt like we were wading into unknown territory all the while trying to make sure we didn't forget to scan the one item that would be essential to keeping Tater alive and breathing. I think I stared at the breast pump section for 30 minutes, subtly shaking my head in confusion and wonderment. We spent three hours in Buy Buy Baby. It was exhausting. When we finished, they gave us a gift bag that was filled with free samples that are actually useful. No prunes. And a free issue of Fit Pregnancy. You would have thought I won the lottery I was so excited to pull that out. Good times.

Back to work on Monday. We have awesome office clerks at work. They visit four times a day. On one of his visits on Monday, office clerk O lingered after dropping off my mail. He pointed to my stomach and said, "I noticed you're pregnant, how did that happen?" Certainly that cannot be what he meant to say, but he made no effort to revise his question, so I just said that it was Brad's fault. Awkward.

Tuesday the temperature dropped. It's officially winter in Chicago. After work I went to REI to buy Brad a new pair of 180s. He lost his over the weekend. Though he assured me that he would get around to replacing them, I had a feeling this plan would result in perpetual frozen ears. So off to REI. I also wanted to buy a set of spikes to wear on my shoes to avoid slipping on the ice this winter. I asked a friendly REI employee where I might find said spikes, and he pointed me to the second floor. Then he asked, "how serious are you about not falling?" I told him that I am going to be eight months pregnant in February and live on a street where the residents have inconsistent shoveling skills. So, pretty serious. Apparently REI sells two types of spikes, one of which is for people who aren't all that serious about staying on their feet. People who only like to slip every once in a while. I sprang for the upgrade.

Today was our 24-week appointment. We've hit the mark when we are meeting the other doctors in the practice group, and today was Doc F's turn. He measured my belly, which was a first. Always thought they would measure circumference. Nope. Pelvic bone to uterus top. It was 26 inches, which he said is normal. And we heard the heartbeat (smile). Tater's heartrate is between 135 and 145. Also normal. Doc F seems fully competent, though unwilling to laugh at any of the great jokes Brad and I make during our check-ups. I can't remember them now, but they were funny. We missed Doc G. He plays along. But we'll see him again in three weeks for the gross-drink diabetes test. That will be a nice reunion.

And tonight I got to see my old friends Amy and Charlie, who are in town for a conference. It was wonderful. Amy was one of my very first friends in Roanoke; we met the summer before the 8th grade. Tonight the four of us grabbed dinner at Quartino's, which was delicious. Towards the end of the meal, however, a woman at a nearby table launched her napkin into the air. I'd like to think that she was shooting for the man sitting across from her, but she had very bad aim. Otherwise, she had excellent aim, and was shooting for my large glass of OJ. It made a tremendous mess, drenching the table and my lap. I sprang up and started mopping myself. Turns out a soaked pregnant lady standing up in the middle of a crowded restaurant is a sympathetic sight. Though the offending patron didn't apologize or offer assistance (I think she was mortified and just wanted to make herself as small as possible), the manager rushed over and comped our meal. Another pregnancy bonus!

So that's the skinny on the last week. I'm feeling pretty good these days. Though I am still insanely light-headed and short of breath when I exert myself. Doc F says this is normal for some women and that I should stay within my limits. Will do. Oh, and I have to pee all the time. Seriously. I pee 25 times a day. Sometimes I can't go ten minutes between trips to the bathroom. The other night, I reached my limit. I had to pee, but I refused to get off the couch. I have to draw the line somewhere.

Speaking of the bathroom and large glasses of OJ . . .