stretch marks

with 5 hypothetical days left??? are you kidding me. pregnancy, you continue to be so uncute.

38.935785 weeks

The latest on the home front. According to the random lady at the thrift store, I'm hiding a basketball under there. Thanks lady, and stop poking it. It kinda freaks me out every time I see it in a mirror. As of last Thursday I'm not dilated at all. I'm not counting on the 31st, but time will tell. I try to mentally prepare by inserting a infant into every action I do, and it just doesn't hit. And apparently it won't...until it's too late. Till then I try to savor my sleep.

An erie calm before the storm has hit. Life has gone pretty haywire these last few weeks, and throwing a pending labor and child into the mix has made it not so stress-free. This last week I've been without a car, which is frustrating because of a pending to-do list, but has also forced me to relax and watch too much TV, too. In the end I'm trusting God's got it all in control, and that my stress does little.

The baby's room is pretty set...

I love the crib! Mom and Dad Mackey totally blessed us with it. Matt thinks it's depressing, and I say who cares...I'll console our blind infant out of his depression.

One of my favorite things is this blue frog. Thomas, (aka Thomas the Toilet) one of my kindergartners in Korea, colored it. All the rest of the class had green frogs, he was intent on his blue...if you get my drift. (I actually stole it from him, but that's another lesson) I intend on making it some poignant metaphor for my kid someday, but chances are he won't care.


And last is the return of the tiger. This ginormous stuffed animal comes with a story: When I first met Matt apparently he could never remember my name. He'd always call me Tiger, which I thought was just an affectionate nickname. In reality, he could never remember my name. True love. Flash forward a year when we had started dating and I receive this huge Valentine's package. Lo and behold, our striped friend was stuffed inside. My tiny dorm room had to house this giant for a long year. It later ended up a conversation piece in our house on Rivermont...the type of conversation depended on whether Matt and I were speaking. Eventually we moved out, I left the country, and assumed my Tiger went to dumpster heaven. Yet another suspiciously huge package came my way this spring, from my sweet friend Erin Bell...and hence, the Tiger returned. And now our child will love it. Such a strange and beautiful world we live in.

36 weeks

some not-so-glamorous sunday afternoon shots...
it just keeps growing and growing.


the front shot is less impressive. (this was my football stance...i could give a mean tackle with this lump)


and the parents-to-be. we laugh. i cry. it's love. he makes my life incredible. i can't begin to tell you the amount of excitement about the thought of going through life with matt brings. i get selfish about our time together right now, knowing the inexplicable amount of change a child is going to bring. but in the end, it's us doing life together, the thing we've always wanted.

holy cannoli.

As of August 1st, I have 30 days left. Sweet Jesus. I've stopped counting in weeks, because the number is too few. Last Thursday marked the end of school. My official trophy for getting a Master's is riding on the front of me. 20 pounds as of last visit; pregnancy is truly the end of vanity. Pictures tomorrow.

my humps.

Carrie asked for a belly update. I need to do it when I'm feeling fresh...no sense in documenting horror. The most recent on my camera from end of June...so probably 30 weeks...I'll get ya some recent ones stat.



Carrie asked for a belly update. I need to do it when I'm feeling fresh...no sense in documenting horror. The most recent on my camera from end of June...so probably 30 weeks...

sweet child o' mine

Last week my girlfriends, Dana and Rachel, were sweet enough to throw me a shower. Obviously looking at the parents, we know this child is not coming out normal, per say. And by looking at the father, there may be a hint of diva in this sweet child. Needless to say, it was a rockstar themed baby shower. Love it. I don't do the themed characters cheese well. All the girls in my program came out and it was a good time. All the snacks a preggo could dream of...7 layer dip, Zaxby's chicken finger, and oh the fruit salad. I don't know if I'm craving fruit all the time, or just giving into my natural desire. But grow it on a tree, vine, or the ground, and I'm sure to eat it. I got sparkling grape juice while jealously watching the rest of the crowd sip champagne. The rockstar cupcakes came complete with blue booties.
We're not much of a game crowd, but Dana and Rach hit the spot with the onesie contest. Each girl got a onesie and some markers and created their own, to be judged by me for the win. Loved it. Fun favors for me at 2am in a few months, and a sweet reminder of people I love. Check out the wares. Awkward Em won with "A little mess...I pooped." The Beatles, mowhawks, and a smiley face on crack were also involved. Thank you girls. I'm not good with the cheesiness of life, but I truly appreciated all the love and laughs. It was a last hurrah of sorts before the majority of them enter life in the workplace and as I enter life on other terms.
Em, the winner:

Cassie's instistence on 2nd place in the middle:
A replica of Matt's "New Hampshire for Damnsure" on the left, and the Beatles on the right:

Rachel encouraging him already, and Shannon with our Crimson Tide:

Bessie's mowhawk love, Meredith's crack smiley, and Bree's rendition of the Man:
And the group.

baby blue upchuck.

I am unfit. I had a dream last night I had a baby the size of my palm. He got smothered by his blanket and stopped breathing. He started turning black like frostbite, and I couldn't recussitate him. Welcome to my dreams. Pleasant, right?

Anyways, at my marketing internship I further found out I was unfit. I learned last week that you actually have to bring baby clothes to the hospital. Poor kid would have been streaking without a cause. I'm sure Matt and his scissors would have created something Tarzan-ish from betsheets. Anyways, this week I learn you have to have a door sign at the hospital. Well, okay not HAVE, but apparently it's what the cool babies get. My co-worker had our designer make this rockin poster-sized shabby-chic thing of cuteness. I look online to see what it's all about, and I find this...and this...

If not having these makes me an unfit parent, then handcuff me. I'd urge anyone to send sushi, cocktails, or a live-in nanny in lieu of these vomitus creations.