Dear Sweet, Wonderful, Miracle child inside of me,

PLEASE REMOVE YOUR FOOT/HAND/BUTT/HEAD FROM MY RIBS!

K, thanks.

Day: 162
Days Left: 118
Feeling: Besides for the body part lodged in my upper ribs, I'm doing okay. I've had really severe back pain the past few weeks, which I am going to talk to my doc about next Tuesday at my 24 week appointment.
Mood: Pretty good. I've been a little emotional at times, but hey, that's pregnancy for you.
Recent Cravings: None really. They finally got Shamrock Shakes at McD's, so that made me a happy camper last week. My husband, however, is craving Caramello's, and orange Fanta.
Just Noticed: I have to be allergic to something in this house. I cannot stop sneezing the past three days (like 27 sneezes in a row), but it only happens when I'm at home.

I finally kicked Will out of the nursery this past weekend. We had to order our dresser, so that gave him a little time, but we were able to pick it up last Saturday. Which meant his "office" was moving down to the basement, whether he was ready or not. Surprisingly, he didn't argue much. Although a little pouting was necessary to get him to move the desk. Anyways, we moved it all downstairs and now we have a nursery! I will try to post pictures later if I remember, but it is far from finished. But it's a start...the furniture is in and arranged, the bookshelf is bought and put together, the shelf is up...

I decided to try my hand at some artwork because I thought the wall art that matched our nursery set was cheap looking and too small for the wall I wanted it on. I decided that I was going to sketch out and color some of the designs from the bedding set. I got one almost done, but I'll have to wait until I get the set to do the second one. I can't tell the colors well enough on the computer screen. So that's one project in the works.

I keep thinking that I'm sick of being PG, but really, I'm not. For the most part, I like it. Sure, it's got pains and aches and I can no longer get out of a chair in a lady-like fashion, but hey, in the end, I get a kid. Sounds like a fair trade. I think more than anything, I am sick (to death) of cold weather. I can't wait for it to get hot outside! I am pretty sure that I suffer from seasonal depression on a normal basis, and I have found that tanning once a week really helps my emotional state. But, I am not going to be one of those pregnant nutters that squashes her giant belly into a tanning bed, so I'm suffering through it without the help of artificial sunlight.

In an attempt to prepare for summer, I bought some CUTE stuff from Old Navy yesterday. Sidebar here. Let's talk about Old Navy for a second, because as much as I love them, they bother me. I don't care what people say, I've had nothing but good stuff from that store. Their clothes do not fall apart on me, and they are great for casual pieces. But, it irritates me that the ON closest to me doesn't have a maternity section. At all. Not even one rack. And the one that's furthest away has the most pitiful maternity section I've ever seen. They have about a nine foot area devoted to pregnant women, and most of those items are plus size garments masquerading as maternity gear. I just find that upsetting. Alright. Step down. Sidebar over. Old Navy.com, however, has some super cute stuff. So I did a naughty thing (I never order clothes online), and bought a few shirts and (double naughty) a pair of shoes yesterday. They are summery and make me happy.

Next week, I have my 24 week appointment on Tuesday. I am preparing my list of questions and concerns tonight. Usually I don't make a list, but this time I'm going to make my doctor work for his money.

23 w 1 d

Just because I am pregnant does not mean my personal space no longer exists...

Or does it?

Just a couple weeks ago, when asked if anyone had touched my stomach yet, I said that "No, I'm pretty sure I give off a 'don't touch me' vibe." Mind you, there had been a little touching. One friend in particular, which honestly didn't bother me because a) she asked first and b) she has always been a touchy-feely person. No biggie.

Last week, however, I got poked. Yes, you read right. POKED. Like make a fist, extend pointed finger, jab into nearest pregnant persons stomach type of poke. And it was by a male customer at work. Mind you that he is a regular and knows my snippy demeanor, so I did not feel the need to regulate my response because I was at work. Here's how it went...

Customer: "Hey Lynette, how's the little guy doing? ::POKE TUMMY::

Me: Gives him very strange look. "Oh, he's fine (BEGIN TO POKE HIM BACK IN SHOULDERS)...and how are you?" ::CONTINUE TO POKE::

Customer: Pulls back and looks at me, confused.

Me: ::STILL POKING:: "What, you don't like to be poked? Neither do we!" ::MAKE DRAMATIC EXIT FROM CONVERSATION::

This week, three people have felt the insatiable need, the magnetism if you will, of THE TUMMY. Three people, at work, all of whom I kind of know. People I wouldn't even classify as acquaintances. UGH...you people drive me to drink. And since that is out of the question... I feel the need to instead, purchase one of these fine items:

UGH!

You drive me crazy...

BAH!

So, for anyone reading who doesn't actually already know this, I do not get along with my parents. We have a very rocky relationship. I don't really have much of a relationship with my dad, and my mom was an unfortunate bystander in that situation. Now that I am PG and she is going to be a grandma (for the first time), she is trying to "be my mom", if you know what I mean.

Well, she's driving me nuts! I am trying to be nice and let her have her grandma fun, but really? Is it necessary to IM my husband and ask him to have me call her (uh...does your phone not dial?), to talk about nothing. Or to discuss the nursery closet and the 4,327 ways that I could organize it. I know you have your ideas, but you also know that I am going to do it how I want, no matter what you say. Please stop calling me to find out when we can go yarn shopping because you want to make the baby a blanket. That's nice of you, but I already told you I want navy with white trim. Navy is not really something that you can get wrong. It's navy.

And is it necessary for you to send me an email EVERY time I update my registry? I feel like I hit the 'save' button and my email is blinking with "Lynette- do you really think you need that? I asked around and so-and-so said they never used it. You won't either. I think you should take it off." or "Why don't you have this on your registry? You need this... add this, but only if you take this off..." Really, lady, it's a registry. It's not the finalized version of everything that my child will ever have.

Ok, here comes the really snotty part. My mom is planning one of my showers, which I think is super generous of her. But, I do have a couple ideas or things that I would really like to avoid, which she is totally blowing off. And she does have some wonderful ideas and things, but I would almost rather not know them all. Keep a few cats in the bag. I feel like this "reconnecting" she's attempting is going to have bad consequences. I feel like I am going to feel smothered again and pull back, which is partly what led to us having a bad relationship to begin with.

I think I need to just take a step back, take a deep breath, and hold my ground. Or go insane.

"You must be angry at the baby whenever it steals your food, huh. Ohh that's mine, not yours. But, you know, because you're family you gotta share."

So, somehow Blogger locked me out of my account for a week or so. Strange. Now it works fine.

I have lots of updating to do, so let's just get right to it!

We had our big ultrasound and...

It's a boy!!!

H and I are both super excited. It feels so much more real now that we know what's in there. The baby is no longer an "it". He is a he.

Before I post anything else, I need to post my pictures. Otherwise, Meghan is going to spontaneously combust.

17 weeks:

18 Weeks:

19 Weeks:

I have not put my 20 or 21 week picture on the computer yet. And now I need food before I update any more!