WTF?

Chumby and I went to see my dad the other day. My stepmom is out of town, so I thought I'd check in and see how he is doing. He's doing really well. His cancer isn't in remission, but the doctors believe the tumor is dead. So, now he's living with cancer and has to get periodic maintenance chemo. He looks pretty good though and he's walking without a cane. Which is kind of amazing and surprising, since a year ago we were all (doctors included) pretty sure he was going to die.

The problem with my dad feeling better? He's back to his weirdly awkward, zero boundaries self. Every time I see him, he asks me some weirdly inappropriate or awkward question. He had asked previously if he could be in the delivery room when Chumbercules was born. (No). He asked if Chumby could have his last name. (No). He asked if Sean Connery/Brown Sugar/Cthulhu could have his first, middle AND last name. (No). I have two brothers. My dad already got to name his kids. And we aren't and never have been close, so I don't really get it. But the best? The best was the other day.

He asked me if I'm planning on getting my tubes tied. Let me say that again. He asked me if I'm planning on getting my tubes tied. Like, he opened his mouth and asked that question, thinking it was a completely appropriate and not weird question to ask someone. I was a bit taken aback and said, "What?! No!" And he said, "I've heard it doesn't hurt." Which lead me to ask if all his experience having a uterus taught him that. Then he asked if Mr. Adventure was going to get snipped. I told him I'm not interested in having an in-depth conversation about my contraceptive choices with him. If he brings it up again, I'm just going to tell him that my future plans solely involve using abortion as a contraceptive afterthought.

Seriously? WTF? I think that was on Tuesday or Wednesday. I'm still traumatized. I wish I had a therapist, just so I could talk about this. Mr. Adventure called me after work to see how my visit went (and to find out what weird fucked up thing my dad asked me/said to me. Because it's enough of a regular occurrence that it has become A Thing). Even he was surprised. I can't remember, though, if he was always like this or maybe it's the brain tumor? I don't know. I think our next visit will be after my stepmom gets back. She tends to let him know when he's being inappropriate and just fucking weird.

At 36 weeks pregnant, Sean Connery is the size of a honey dew melon or a breadbox. So, buy yourself a breadbox and shove a honey dew inside it, forget that it is there, then in a few months, wonder what the smell is in your kitchen! Or you can buy a honey dew, cut it up, bring it to a barbecue where no one will eat any of it, then leave it for the host to deal with. They also make excellent house warming gifts.

The same as last time, I can't sleep anymore because I'm peeing every ten minutes, then can't get back to sleep afterward. I saw the midwife yesterday to do my Group B strep test. I'll get the results next week.

According to my favorite pregnancy website, the baby is getting cuter. And I have been relieved of the ability to breathe. I mostly just announce that there is baby in my lungs and people look at me weird. But they do that anyway. All the time. Because I'm related to my dad. Probably.

We saw the Book of Mormon musical the other weekend. It was even more hilarious than I thought it would be. I wish I had lots of money, because I would have seen it three more times at least.

And I have heart burn.

Chumby is doing well in day care. The Little Miss is getting ready to start second grade. And she's super excited to have another little brother.

And I still have heart burn.

I feel like I'm running out of time. It was brought to my attention recently that I could have a baby as early as next week. So I should probably get a car seat or something, right?

And that's about it. Happy weekending!

Hawaii, honeydew and honey... DO

I received a phone call on Saturday from by best friend from college.  She was calling to make sure I got everything I needed from my shower and to make sure I had a good time and all that other nice stuff, to which I responded, "Are you drunk?"  She was working on it.  And she's hilarious when drinking.  Mr. Adventure and I were driving around downtown, looking for a parking spot when she called.  From what I gather, she was calling partially because she missed me (I miss you, too!) and she sounded like she felt guilty for scheduling a trip that extends on either side of my due date.  It was very sweet.  Her birthday is in September and she and her husband are going to Hawaii for two weeks.  I told her not to worry about it and let her know that, if I could, I would go to Hawaii and let her stay here and have the baby for me.  Hell, if they'll let me fly, I will go to Hawaii and have the baby there.

My friends are truly the best, funniest and most delightful people in the world.

Also, I am turning a billion seconds old at the end of October, so this means she will come out for the party, right?

Now that I am 36 weeks pregnant, I am sleeping less.  Not out of a lack of desire to be well-rested, mind you, but more because I wake up approximately 3000 times per night to pee, then I can't get back to sleep.  Then Mr. Adventure puts the dogs in their room for the night because he worries that they are bugging me, but they are my back-up alarm clocks so, if they are in their room, that means they are not in my room to wake me up which means that, on days like today, when I plan on being at work by 6:15a, I don't get in until 7a, but I have to leave early for an appointment with my midwife, which means I am starting my week with a deficit on hours that I will have to make up before the week is out.  Le sigh.

Staying at work these days is hard.  Because I'm tired.  And there's nowhere good to nap.  And my work load is so light now that everyone else is getting trained on how to do it.  I'm hoping McCloud will come soon just so I don't have to go to work for a while.  Is that terrible?

The baby is the size of a honeydew this week.  It is hot.  You should put your honeydew in the refrigerator so it gets nice and cold, then cut it up and eat it. 

My body temperature has been perfect until about a week ago.  Now, all I do is sweat and I keep hoping someone will come and steal my kidney, just so they will pack me in a bathtub full of ice.  Because that sounds nice.  But I don't have a bathtub.

I have my group b strep test this afternoon.  The midwife told me to study hard and make sure I fail.  I guess about 30% of women have it and it means you have to be given antibiotics throughout labor to make sure your wee little babe doesn't get it or something.  And I guess group B strep is like the karma chameleon (it comes and goes) which is why they test for it towards the end of pregnancy rather than at the beginning.  Group B strep is okay for adults, but in newborns, it can cause sepsis or pneumonia or, in some cases, meningitis.  And that would be a terrible way to start life.  Untreated, the chance of a woman with group b  strep to pass the disease on to her baby is 1 in 200.  With the use of antibiotics during labor, the odds decrease to 1 in 4000.  And, according to the CDC, the antibiotics have to be taken during, not before, labor because the colonies grow back so quickly.  So, there you go.  Your internet lesson for the day.

Mr. Adventure still has not done anything with the floors in the baby room yet.  I would like to assemble his crib and maybe move his dresser in from the garage...  The stupid thing is I shouldn't just go and do it myself because we are to the chemical application stage and all the various cans of pretreatments and strippers and stains say that pregnant ladies should avoid inhaling them.  Which means that is will be even worse for a baby.  Which means the floors should have been done four fucking months ago.  Or even a week ago.  I don't care when.  They need to be done.  He is being furloughed at work, which means he has time.  I'll give it a week.  If the floors aren't done by then, I will just burn the house down and find a new place that has a room with floors that are okay to put furniture on.  Problem solved.

Also, I keep forgetting everything.  Like today.  I forgot to put on deodorant.  And it is hot.  And I stink.  At least I spend most of the day working alone.

Fruit, floors and jello shots!

For anyone that was betting against Mr. Adventure finishing the floor while I was out of town... you win.  He didn't like working with the stain or something.  I don't know.  Do we need to stain the floor?  Can we just put a clear coat over it?  At least now I know that when I want the rest of the floors in the house restored, I should just pay someone to do it.  Because then it won't take 3 years or however long it's been.  He didn't even hang the curtains back up.  He ate burgers and played video games all weekend.  I probably would have done the same thing if I were him, but still. 

At 35 weeks pregnant, the baby is either the size of a coconut or a honeydew.  It depends on who you ask.  If you are not pregnant, I recommend dumping some rum in your coconut and drinking it.  It will be delicious.  If you want to go the honeydew route, it's summer.  Cut that shit up and eat it.  You can even make a super awesome fruit salad.  You could make the Ultimate Pregnancy Fruit Salad, which would be a mixture of all the fruits the Internet has compared the size of the baby to throughout pregnancy.  But I don't feel like looking up what that is right now.  I will do it later.  After I take a nap...

Speaking of fruit...
I saw a thing in the HuffPo about durian wine.  As soon as it is available in my 'hood, I am totally buying the shit out of it.  Or at least one bottle of it.  If it is disgusting, I will just start giving it as a gift to friends.  You have been warned!

Speaking of friends...

Mine are disgusting.  And hilarious.  They made me a cake for my shower which was the most horrifying thing I have ever seen in my life.

At least I know they ran the baby head through the dishwasher first.  But nobody ate the cake because the friend who made it declared it inedible due to burnt-ness.

On the funnier side, they also made jello shots with babies in them.

Probably the best thing overheard at the shower was the 8 year old who, shortly after being shooed away from the jello shot table, said to another little girl, "Jello that isn't for kids?  What's the point in that?"  Oh, 8-year-old... you will find out in college.

That Olympia crowd knows how to throw a baby shower.

I learned that one of my Seattle friends who is a nurse spent her first year and a half working in Labor and Delivery before she became an OR nurse.  I asked her for hot tips to increase the smoothitude of labor and she said to walk as much as humanly possible during the first stage of labor.  And that it is better to have a birth idea rather than a birth plan and to stay open minded.  So, basically the same stuff I've heard and read, but reiterated by a professional!  It was nice to hear her tell me about her experience working, especially after having tea with friends who told me their birth story.  It freaked me out.  I've been trying to mentally block it since I heard it.  I've never regretted asking a question before.  But now I have.

The internet says my uterus is under my rib cage.  That's weird.  I'm pretty sure that's not where it goes, but whatever.  I also read that over the course of the next week, the baby will push my heart up and to the left a little more.  Freaky.  Stop playing tetris with my internal organs, baby!  They fit fine before.  Will they go back to where they were before?

According to my new favorite weird week-by-week pregnancy blog thing that I discovered last week, I should, "To feel better about the arrival of baby, ask your partner to kiss your bump and give a rub in the morning. This will make you feel that the baby is already a part of the family. Don’t get out of the bed upright. Roll onto your side first and then push yourself gently up into a sitting position."

First of all, when I get out of bed, I am lucky I don't face plant on the floor.  There is normally at least one dog right next to my side of the bed and it is hard not to step on him.  Or kick him in the head.  Because he likes to lift his head right when I am swinging my legs out.  Also, I get up at 4:45 in the morning.  I think Mr. Adventure would be upset if I shoved my giant belly in his face and demanded he kiss it before I go to work.  I would probably have my own mental health evaluated if I started doing that.

Also, heartburn.  And every time I think about my heartburn, I hear Bette Davis's voice from the film All About Eve saying, "Everybody has a heart... except for some people."

That is all.