(alternate title: Pun in the Oven)
Well, somehow, despite the laws of nature, I still grow. The belly now has its own area code, as it has surpassed the bounds of what is decent, and definitely what I considered possible. It's sitting lowish, but also sort of pointy, and just looks odd. I still don't seem to have put on any extra bulk elsewhere, which is good, but I know that means nothing, once I'm all deflated again and impatiently waiting for everything to snap back into place.* Weight-wise, I'm currently 5 lbs less than I was at this point last time (yet I'm still up 20% of my starting weight!), but have 2 extra inches of girth.
At 5 weeks to go, my sense of humour (along with most of my tops) is getting quite stretched. I'm unwieldy and uncomfortable (and no, still no sign of that winch - maybe I should have registered for one), and am having to pee much more often every day...the peequency (ha!) has increased to (hopefully) its maximum. Not that I've been getting up in the middle of the night to pee, like everyone complains about - nope, I refuse. I often wake up, think about it, and decide that I'd rather lie there and reeeeally have to pee than actually get up to do it. It's all mental fortitude, mind over bladder if you will... until the night that it turns into mind-if-I-turn-over-the-mattress, that is. The plastic cover goes on this weekend.
I'm a single girl right now - my snossage fingers can't squeeze into my rings anymore! Just this week, I noticed some swelling, and yesterday, the Rings of Respectability were relegated to the Chain of Shame around my neck.
I'm also single because Australia's a very long way away, though Chris assured me that 1) it is a very, very important trip that he absolutely needs to go on, and 2) I won't go into labour till he gets back...in two weeks. Phew! At least I have his reassurance! The quickest return flight combo is 26 hours, and since I've informed him (and anyone who will listen) that labour will not last 26 hours -- let alone 32 -- this time, I Plan on just leaving him a note on the counter when I go into the hospital. He is not amused.
Speaking of the Plan, I am a Very Organized Person.
Really, you ask? Does this mean that you have 'Lump v2.0's room all set up, the wee little clothes and diapers all sorted and neatly folded, the curtains made, your hospital bag packed?
No, silly! It means that I have a flow chart that describes whom to call when, when I actually go into labour!
Seriously. I made a flow chart.
Only one option leads to PANIC, which is good. But how many disorganized, panic-stricken people on a deadline do you know that actually take the time to make a flow chart, when there's so much other stuff to do?**
We DO have all the newborn cloth diapers and clothes (in boxes, in orange, yellow and green!), a crib (in a box in the basement; the guest bed is still in the 'Lump's room), and a Plan for decorating (of which I still have to order the decals and buy the material for the curtains, though the room is painted, at least), and another Plan to drive for 7 hours to go to IKEA for a new dresser for V so that the newbie can have the change table (what a great idea, at 38 weeks preggers, and with a small vampire in the back seat!) (kaff). What could possibly go wrong?
Maybe I need another flow chart.
* Ha ha, "snap".
** Exactly. I must be Very Organized.