Are we freaking out yet?

This is where pregnancy gets ugly.

Oh, sure, things weren’t exactly glamorous during those first few months of nausea. And my amazing ability to regain all that weight I lost hasn’t gotten me any new suitors (except that Wendy’s guy, I guess).

But now, now, is when it gets hardcore. Now, we move beyond the “a new day, a new stretch mark” into totally new territory. I look in the mirror and laugh at myself. I’m a caricature! How can I possibly be expected to take myself seriously when I look so comical? My belly is really, really big. I can still peek at the tips of my toes, but let’s just say that I won’t be donning any hiking boots in the near future. I find myself drawn to slip-ons, totally. (The one good thing about being pregnant in the summer?)

Whenever I sit on soft surfaces, like, say, our new couch, for more than an hour, my back is completely broken whenever I must stand up again. And getting down on the floor to retrieve one of the millions of little choo-choos that have ending up under said new couch? That’s truly laughable.

Anyway, there are tons of things to kvetch about, but I will spare you the gory details (my modesty hasn’t completely fled — yet).

Seven more weeks to go.

In other news: The Derby was super-fun. My pregnancy/mothering thing left me unable to leave Tim out until all hours by himself, lest he get behind the wheel after too many drinks, or be hit by someone who had gotten behind the wheel after too many drinks. So this meant that I was out every night until at least 2:30. But we had good times with a good group of people who hopefully did not think that I was a dork who just liked to hang out with drunks.

Coco the Wonder Dog has fallen on hard times once again. We had been having some indoor accident-issues with her recently and I finally put 2 and 2 together that, duh, she had been drinking scads of water, having accidents only a short time after being out and, super-duh, she has gotta be diabetic, right?

Sort of. Turns out, she’s in a “diabetic state” due to advanced Cushing’s disease. This is a whole long story and if you want to hear the complete sad tale, you’ll have to call me. Sum total? Not good for Coco. Especially when she stopped eating for four days. But she’s now on insulin and eating again. We see a specialist on Monday to discuss our options.

Yesterday? I was ready to say goodbye to my Coco. She was that sad and pitiful. Today? All better! I swear that dogs are even more resilient than children.

Speaking of children, Auggie had such a great time at Grandma and Grandpa’s while we were in Kentucky. He even sported a fever, he was having such fun! While he was sick, I think it says a lot about the awesome-ness of my mom and stepdad that he wasn’t a complete basketcase. He played with cousins (actually, children of my cousins, but that’s a kind of cousin, right? I dunno, my head hurts), ate at McDonald’s and pooped in its Playplace, and shook the hand of every well-wisher at my mom’s church. Way to spread those germs, boy! Wait, I was talking about the cold. I’m sure

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that my mother washed his hands at some point before church….

Tim is slowly recovering from his own version of Auggie Cold 2004 and I am thinking positive, healthy thoughts so that I don’t have to deal with that.

To recap: Number of visits to the Waffle House this pregnancy for a ham and cheese omelet: 4

Number of gummi bears consumed: Too many to count

Number of OB visits left (presuming baby arrives on time): 6