An Attempt.

I decided that it can’t be fair that I am in the homestretch of this pregnancy and have only mentioned Bean once. So this is me, making an attempt to be much more diligent about the final five-ish weeks (let’s hope she hasn’t inherited my tendency to procrastinate) with the intent of being much more diligent once she has arrived.

We have our thirty-five week ultrasound on Monday to determine her weight, and to make sure she’s chugging along steadily with that June 3rd date in mind. I’m mostly curious about getting a visual on how she’s been positioned lately. I mean, I took anatomy, and the way she moves, I can come up with only a few feasible explanations: she’s going to be the world’s greatest gymnast one day, or has an extra limb, or enjoys water ballet (immensely). Yerp, she’s a mover.

I have been one of the lucky ones with both of my pregnancies so far. With Bug, except for the last months of feeling like a beached whale throughout the end of June and the heat of July, being pregnant was one of the best times of my life. And with Bean, this season has flown by, with life and chores and appointments and various sport practices and keeping up with Bug to keep me occupied. I have only the rarest moments to stop, catch my breath, and realize, hey, she’s on our doorstep.

And now, even as I feel her swimming against my skin demanding my attention, I am trying to force a reasonable amount of yogurt down Bug’s throat (fail), convince him that breakfast is indeed more important than playing with his Star Wars toy, hustle Hubs out of bed (vocally), bargain with the rain gods to hold off until 11am, like weather.com predicted, and get myself to look at least marginally presentable for Bug’s tee ball game scheduled in half an hour. All while blogging.

It’s a crowded, busy, noisy life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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