No, not that one - although I wouldn't be surprised if I did forget my wedding anniversary one year.  The hubby is much better at remembering those types of dates than I am.  (He always remembers it's our dating anniversary before I do.)

All day yesterday I was thinking, "3/9.  3/9.  Why does that sound so significant?  What's March 9th?"  Finally, around 5pm as I headed into class I remembered - it's my surgiversary.

Surgi-wah?  Surgiversary - the anniversary of my gastric bypass surgery.  Aren't we WLS (weight loss surgery) people funny?  Usually I hate made up/combined words like that (like recessionista or shoppurtunistic) but surgiversary has stuck with me.

I had my gastric bypass on March 9, 2004 - so this year was my 6th anniversary - and I suppose the reason it slipped my mind is that 1 - I am not a post-surgery success so I don't count those milestones anymore and 2 - it's really not the same daily part of my life that it was before.  I can pretty much eat 90% of foods with only minor repercussions for some of them (and I've found that while pregnant, I actually have increased food tolerance - must be some biological directive for that).

Ordinarily, a WLS patient posts something that looks like this: 350/250/150.  350 being their pre-surgery weight, 250 being current, and 150 being goal (those are just made-up numbers, by the way).  I hate discussing weight in terms of numbers, though.  Visual representations always seem to be much better.

This is me, 5 1/2 months pre-surgery:

That's me and my dad at my sister's wedding in September 2003.  I was my sister's maid of honor; her bridesmaids were three of the thinnest girls I've ever known.  (Seriously - they were all a size 2.)  It was a joyous day, but a tough one.  I pretty much felt bad about myself the entire day.

This is me at my thinnest, Fall 2005, post plastic surgery.  I'm posting this picture even though the style of it is controversial:

Even though most of us are used to the "look how big I used to be because my pants were huge!" photos, they're really frowned upon because it's very judgmental of the people who wear that size currently.  For me, though, it really represented what I had lost.  I actually fit in one leg of those shorts.  By the pounds, I wasn't half my size - but by the size on my pants, I was actually less than that.

I still have those shorts.

This is me six months later, attending a friend's wedding (February 2006):

The dress is a size 14 (I think) from White House/Black Market.  Even though I can no longer fit into it, I still have it.  I'm not usually one to save clothing, thinking, "One day..." but that dress is the exception.  At that point I had gained about 10-15 lbs from my lowest weight.  I felt remarkably self-conscious about it, sure everyone would be able to tell I was failing at my weight loss.   Obviously, I looked great and should have felt great.

This is me the following summer (July 2006):

I hated this picture when I first saw it because I looked huge compared to how I had looked just a year prior.  Now?  Now I wish those capris fit.

This is me this past October:

Am I happy with that?  No, clearly not.  In that photo, I am about 60 lbs heavier than I am in the White House/Black Market lace dress photo above.  I'm pregnant in the photo, but only about two months, so I hadn't gained any pregnancy weight yet.

I don't have any really recent photos, including no pregnancy photos, actually.  I thought about doing the weekly photo thing but by the time I thought about it, we had missed so many weeks... and then I was nearly 25 weeks before I could see a difference and 28 weeks before other people could, so I've just been a bit "eh" about the whole idea.

This is actually the first week I feel like I look pregnant - like, if someone were to look at me, they'd think I was pregnant and not just carrying extra weight.  It's an extremely odd (and I have to admit, uncomfortable) feeling; one I haven't quite reconciled with yet.

It's not really a weight loss journey I'm on.  I thought it was, but it's not.  It's a body journey, a self journey - and it's never going to end.  There's this baby and maybe (hopefully?) there'll be another in a few years.  There's pregnancy recovery, aging... all sorts of life factors.  I don't plan on having any further surgical procedures to alter my body, but I guess I can't really know about that now.  If money is no object, perhaps I would have some nipping and tucking done post-kids.  Who knows.

Right now I'm working on owning this journey - and it's not easy.  It's not easy for me to look at these photos, much less post them.  But it's a part of the process.  I can't hide what I've looked like, what I've done and not done - least of all from myself.  I'd like to think I won't ever inhabit either one of the extremes posted in the photos above.  I hope not to ever reach my heaviest weight again, but I'm also fairly certain I won't ever reach my lowest again.  But I'm okay with somewhere in the middle.  If my journey ends up just middle-of-the-road, I'll happily rest there.

(cross-posted to WeAreTheRealDeal)

1. It's been months since I had a nightmare.  (Before I got pregnant, I couldn't even tell you how long it had been - years, probably.)  But last night I dreamt that my parents thought Buster was more than we could handle and so one day, when we asked them to dog-sit him, they decided to drop him off at a local shelter instead.

:(

I woke up really heartbroken at 4am, trying not to cry.  Finally I just let myself cry, figuring that might get it out of my system, and I think it did because I must have dozed off not long after that.

Buster is a handful, for sure.  But he's just a puppy.  He'll get older and better... and he's just so darn cute.  He's not going anywhere.

Sleeping on the ottoman at my parents' house.

2. Tomorrow is 30 weeks.  THIRTY WEEKS.  I feel a bit like I did when I turned 30 - sort of ready for it, sort of ready to be done with the 20s, but also a bit anxious and unsure.

3. Operation Sit and Sip continues today.  I think I've been doing pretty well drinking lots of fluids and trying to stay relaxed.  I haven't over-exerted myself, although I haven't done less than I normally do, either.  I told the hubby that I feel like my belly has grown noticeably in just the past two days.  He pointed out that hydrating might have something to do with that.  Oh yeah, duh.  So maybe it's working.  We'll see tomorrow (sonogram at 7pm tomorrow night).

4. Today at school we get to talk to the author of one of the books we're reading for class.  This means, of course, that we need to have the book finished for today which, of course, I don't.  When do I ever?  But today, really.  You can't go in to class like, "Hi, great book - well, what I read of it." Sigh.  I'm just not a good student this semester - really having a hard time juggling work, the puppy, and all the pregnancy related doctors visits.  I'll have the summer to relax (well, from school anyway) but hopefully I can work out a better schedule for the fall.  I'm thinking I might actually have to "book" schoolwork time - block time off that's just for that.  Give The Force to someone else to watch for a few hours or something.  Of course, I'd be tempted to use that time to do laundry, grocery shop, clean the house, or anything else... but I have to keep up my schoolwork so I need to figure this out.

5. I now own two pairs of maternity pants - one pair of jeans and one pair of black corduroys.  I think I might live in these for the next ten weeks.  They are far more comfortable than I imagined - and they don't look as ridiculous as I expected them to.  Go figure - pregnancy continues to be a surprise.

6. Buster has a play date today!  The hubby's mom is going to watch him today since Tuesday is our mutually longest day.  Buster has free reign of the kitchen when we're not home (there's a baby gate blocking him from the rest of the house) and the kitchen is the biggest room in the house, but it's not enough exercise for him on a daily basis.  So today he's going to the in-law's and gets to run around with their dog, Skylar, a Cairn terrier (Buster is half Cairn).  They have a great time running around and it's really good exercise for Buster.  He's a much happier and better behaved dog when he's exercised so we're trying to figure out ways to make that happen.

7. I think I've entered the phase of pregnancy where everything is a bit less great - a bit less happy glow-y than the second trimester.  Maybe it's just the worry about the low amniotic fluid from Saturday, but I just worry because now if something happens, we get a preemie.  He'll live and chances are he'll thrive, but it won't be easy and there'll always be a lot of concerns.  Plus my belly is getting bigger and every now and then I don't breathe as easily as I was.  My left outer thigh goes numb sometimes.  One of my arms always falls asleep overnight.  These concerns are minimal, but they indicate to me that they're just going to keep popping up.  My back hasn't ached for no reason for a long time, but I'm sure that'll come back.

In the end, all I really care about is that The Force is okay.  As long as he's healthy, I really don't want to complain all too much about what I have to endure to get to the end of this pregnancy.  And I know I've been lucky.  I keep getting emails about how to deal with the heartburn and hemorrhoids - but I don't have any of that.  Didn't have morning sickness, don't have people grabbing my belly or making comments all the time.  All in all, it's been pretty easy.  So if my left leg decides it wants to fall asleep once in a while, so be it.  Maybe it's just bored.

The streak had to end sometime, I suppose - and that was this Saturday.

The hubby and I went in for my monthly sonogram (monthly because of all the aforementioned concerns).  Of course, this one time, we're late AND the check-in desk has a back-up, so when we get to maternal medicine they're rushing us in and out because they're technically closed.

But then the tech pauses.  "Have you been leaking fluid?"  "No."  "Have you be extra busy this week?  Extra active?"  "Uh, no, not really - I mean, it's been a stressful week..."

"I'm asking because your fluid is... well... it's not optimal.  It's not where it should be."

This is the first piece of bad news in this entire pregnancy and of course it comes when I've been fighting a headache all morning and am assuming this sonogram will be our usual routine, in and out so we can go grab lunch and run errands.  This first piece of bad news comes when I'm less ready for it than I ordinarily would be.

They have to turn their computers back on to squeeze me in for an appointment with the high-risk specialist on Wednesday (I've seen him before) so they can do another sonogram and he can look at both.  Until then I'm supposed to relax and drink a lot of fluids.

Admittedly - last week was a tough week.  I'm pretty sure I was partly dehydrated Saturday morning (leading to the headache) and I definitely was not drinking enough water last week.  I also wasn't sleeping enough and I was getting spurts of anxiousness throughout the week.

So, really, I'm actually hoping this was my fault, even though it makes me feel like I'm already a bad mom - because the alternatives are worse.  I made the mistake of Googling "low amniotic fluid pregnancy" during a spare moment Saturday afternoon.  Okay, so it wasn't really a mistake; I have to be informed... but there's a lot of worrisome possibilities, things I really don't want to consider.  For now I'm just hoping this was a fluke - a bad day at the end of a bad week.  I've been sipping fluids continuously, not doing too much around the house, slept in on Sunday (10:30!), made an easy dinner*, and even went for a pedicure.

The hard part comes this week as I have to keep this up while going to work, going to school (I have FOUR written assignments due Tuesday night), and simply managing daily life.  I already had to back out of a fairly significant workshop I was going to lead Wednesday night because I have to go to the sonogram instead.

But The Force is a priority.  So I shall continue to sip and sit.  ("Sip and Sit" sounds like a good name for a fast food place, right?)  Hopefully, by Wednesday, everything is back to normal and it really was all just a bad week.

*For a dose of comfort food, I made Delightfully Sweet's Slow Cooker Lasagna for dinner (I used ground chicken instead of beef and skipped the cherry tomatoes). It was super, super delicious with a side of garlic roasted asparagus.  Excellent Oscar watching comfort food.  I'm looking forward to the leftovers for lunch!  I highly recommend this lasagna.  It really did make me feel relaxed and happy. :)

And then Thursday happened.  But let's back up to Wednesday.

Wednesday I get a picture message from the hubby: Buster has puked up something bright lime green.  Neither of us can figure out what he ingested that is causing him to puke up this color, but he seems fine - his normal happy, puppy self, so we weren't not too worried.  (We finally figure out it was the stuffing from one of his dog beds.  Mmm, yummy.)

But then he puked more.  And again.  And just tiny bit more Thursday morning.  Great.  So lots of cleaning up there.

Work on Thursday was annoying as well, but in ways that aren't worth going into because they're only annoying to me.  In addition, I tried to get new remote entry key fobs for my car because mine wasn't working and the hubby misplaced his... yeah, but I couldn't because the transponder seems to be broken.  So tack that on to the necessary repairs for my car.  We're going to end up paying half of what a semester at Columbia costs.

So after work I head home, ready to quick change and grab Buster and head over to puppy class (agenda: leash walking!).  Instead, I come home to a hallway full of diarrhea.  (Sorry, but there's just no good way to lead into that.)  Now it was Oreo's turn to be sick.  So the hubby and I scramble to clean up and get to puppy class (only five minutes late).  Buster does a wonderful job of appearing only semi-incorrigible and we head home... to face more diarrhea.  We clean up, go out to dinner, make a quick trip to Target, and come home... to puke.  Now Oreo is puking.  Repeatedly.  And continues to gag and dry-heave and spit up white foam until around 11pm.  Every time the hubby cleaned up, she would puke somewhere else.

I Googled the hell out of "dog diarrhea puking white foam" and called the vet's emergency number.  They said it sounded like she got into something she shouldn't have and that we could bring her in if we wanted to.  We opted not to, so instead I sat and just watched her to make sure she was breathing and not seizing.

Eventually we went to bed but after an hour, Oreo woke us up to go out - so the hubby took her out.  After that, she seemed fine but we were beyond beat.

This morning both Oreo and Buster were happy, cheery, tail wagging, treat-eating puppers.  Buster was scampering around the kitchen with a rawhide and toy in his mouth (at once) while he also batted around a tennis ball.  (What can I say, he's a multi-tasking genius pupper.)  Oreo went out, had her morning treat, and happily retreated for her first nap of the morning.

It was like someone said, "Oh, are you worried about managing a baby?  Here, let's give you a little test run so you can see how you make it through."  Yeah, thanks, you can take your test run and shove it.

And Friday?  Well, Friday was going to be better, right?  And I suppose it was since I haven't cleaned up puke or diarrhea.  It's a pretty low bar for what makes a good day, but I guess it's something.  I suppose I'd rather deal with students asking inane questions and a chair that makes my ass go numb than clean up puke.

And if you want a bit more of what annoyed me this week, check out my latest at WeAreTheRealDeal: I'm Pregnant, I'm Fat - and I'm Okay. 

For now, I'm looking forward to Saturday.  It's sonogram time, time to pick up the framed pictures from our wedding, and time to get some work done around the apartment (baby prep!) - all very good things, all happy-making things.  So let's hang on to that.  And the Oscars are on Sunday; can't wait to see what everyone is wearing.  (It's honestly what I care about most about the awards these days since the awards themselves are mostly meaningless.)

So baby stuff, more baby stuff, and fashion stuff.  That will make for two good days as Thursday and Friday fade away...

I was going to write about that . . . and then, for the first time in nearly my entire pregnancy so far (29 weeks now), my mood tanked.  TANKED.

I've been amazed thus far by how happy I've been throughout the pregnancy.  It's been like that whole "pregnancy glow" thing isn't a joke.  At times, it's been like I could feel it emanating from me.  I've even found myself being remarkably more patient with usually frustrating students.

But Tuesday, that all hit a wall.  Not so big as to say it hit a brick wall, maybe just enough to say it hit a padded wall... but there's been a change.

I felt anxious on and off throughout Tuesday, like I was nervous and couldn't catch my breath at times.  Then in class, as the professor was just beginning to start class, I was skimming my email and Twitter on my netbook.  A classmate - a woman in her 50s, if I had to guess - said, "Could you please shut down your email?"  I was so aggravated by this that I couldn't even focus on the class discussion for the next twenty minutes.  Who was she to tell me to shut down my email?  We're in damn grad school and if I want to skim Twitter before I start taking notes, I am damn well free to do so.

I sat there, plotting out just how rude I planned to be to her when we had to do our small group discussions - but of course, I wasn't rude to her at all.  I regret not saying something, though - not asking if it was distracting her or something, just to see if that was the case or if she was just feeling condescending and judging me for not being 100% into the opening discussion.

In short, I spent way too much time being upset about her request (even if I still think it was condescending and rude).  I couldn't shake it when I went home, either.  It was like something was teetering all day and that just pushed it off the edge.  And I hadn't gotten much sleep Monday night (five hours) so I figured that was contributing.

But then yesterday wasn't much better.  I felt the same sadness and general funk.  I moped my way to the lab to get blood drawn before work and then, as I was leaving, a woman stopped to ask me directions to a particular street.  I pointed the way and she then asked specifically if a certain pharmacy was there - the pharmacy that my grandparents used to go to when they lived in the nursing home on the same block.  For some reason, having her ask that and then thinking about them made me burst into tears when I got in my car.  I wasn't particularly close to my grandparents (they didn't speak any English, so that makes it hard to build a relationship) but I loved them and do miss them sometimes.  However, I don't think that's what this was about.

What it is about, though, I'm still not sure.  I was fine throughout most of the day.  Not necessarily perky, but occasionally cheery and functional overall.  But after work, I felt sad again - and I do this morning, again.  It seems to be a morning/night thing.

If I had to guess, I'd vote hormones and nerves.  I'm starting to get nervous about actually having a baby.  Not the birth itself, but the actual responsibility... the LIFE-LONG RESPONSIBILITY THAT OMG NEVER ENDS that comes with having a baby.  I keep worrying about how we have nothing set up for The Force, even though he's due in 11 weeks - and, you know, babies can come early and OMG WHAT IF HE'S BORN AND HE HAS NO WHERE TO SLEEP.  Those are the thoughts racing through my head.

These are the times I'm a bit jealous of the hubby for actually being the man and not having to carry around The Force all day.  He has the option to actually forget about all of that now and again.  I can't because either I'm getting kicked or having to adjust my clothing at all points of the day.  I don't get to stop thinking about what we're entering into and I think I'm starting to feel overwhelmed.

I'm really not sure how to calm down, either.  I don't have much available quiet time, especially with Buster around, and I can't cozy up to a glass of wine.  I'm not sure what else there is.

I still feel the general good mood, though.  It's there; it pops up when I smile at an extremely annoying student - and actually mean the smile.  It's there when I look at our baby registry and can't wait to have our little boy use all those things.  So I think there's still plenty of up mood to come.  I don't want The Force to feel this sadness - I feel like that will contribute negative things to how he's forming right now.  He deserves to feel happiness and excitement and joy.  So, for one of the few times in my life, I'm actually working at being cheery.  At focusing on the positive.  At NOT wallowing in a sour mood, but instead working to kick it to the curb.

*Note: these items do not indicate any generalizations I have made about men.  These are the hubby's generalizations and he thinks that since he's a man, it's okay ... so that's that.  Just having a laugh poking some fun at gender stereotypes.

1. Farting - Let me just get this one over with.  Until I was pregnant, I almost never farted in front of my husband unless it was a total accident, completely taking me by surprise, or I was asleep.  Now?  Now I have no choice.  If I had to excuse myself to another room every time this would happen, I wouldn't ever see the hubby because I'd be in a separate room every hour.

For you Sex and the City fans, remember the episode where Miranda and Carrie are shoe shopping and Miranda's rings get stuck and she tries to pull them off, pulling her finger and then farting in the process?  Hilarious then.  Less so now.

2. Burping - Goes along with farting, right?  Same air, just the other direction.  I have never been able to burp on command, and still can't, but what I can do is just burp when I have to because it's impossible to keep them quiet sometimes now.

3. Sleeping - This weekend I slept until 10am both days, after getting up earlier to let the dogs out.  Normally, I'm up after I let the dogs out, even if it's 7:30am on a weekend.  I'll lay on the sofa and watch TV/snooze/be unproductive, but I'll never actually go back to sleep... in bed... for HOURS.  But now?  I sleep like a champ.  I think my body is going, "Oh god, oh no, it's going to be years before we'll get sleep like this again - stock up! Stock up!!!"

4. Tacos - I cannot get enough of Chipotle's soft tacos with steak.  Pre-pregnancy, I could take or leave Chipotle.  The hubby, however, practically lives there.  He doesn't even need to give his order when he goes; they see him and know what he wants.  During the 1st trimester, the smell of Chipotle totally made me nauseous and either he or I had to go into another room when he brought Chipotle home.  But now?  I'm eating it once or twice a week myself - and there probably isn't a day or two that goes by that I don't think about it.  Mmm... Chipotle steak tacos... mmm.

5. Forgetfulness - What was I going to say about this?  Oh yeah, I forget things now.  The hubby will say, "Can you take this to the other room?" And I'll get up and walk to the other room... without ever taking that thing with me, even though he just asked TWO SECONDS AGO.  It's incredibly frustrating.

6. Sweating - Since my weight loss (and even after the weight gain that followed), I have been the one in any given room who's cold.  Everyone else will be in a t-shirt, but I'll have on a sweater and a scarf and my fingernails will still be turning blue... except now, the tables have turned.  My classmates or coworkers will have on sweaters and I'll have a t-shirt and be complaining about how damned hot it is all the time.  Apparently your base body temperature can go up a full degree when you're pregnant.  Since mine was already low due to my hypothyroid, I'm going to guess I've gone up more than a degree due to the thyroid meds and the pregnancy.  I need to remember this when I get dressed for work in the morning because it's getting hard to concentrate when I'm hot all the time.

7. Sex Drive - This doesn't come as a surprise to anyone who's been pregnant or read about pregnancy, but crazy things happen to your sex drive, especially after the first trimester.  Seriously.  I don't think I quite want to go into this one fully right now, but let's just say I enjoy the hubby's company.  A lot.  Every day feels like how the first month of dating the hubby felt. I wish we had time to go away on a lengthy vacation so I could enjoy his company even more with no distractions or other obligations.

Someplace like this would be preferable:

This is where I wanted to go for our honeymoon had money been no object.
Alas, money was most certainly an object.
(Not that we didn't have a perfectly lovely and fun honeymoon anyway.)

But I still daydream about this outdoor shower.  One day... some day.

I really could write a lot more about #7, but I'll have to work up the nerve/decide if I really want to.

And, as an addendum since I'm actually not a man, but still a woman - here's a link to my latest post at WeAreTheRealDeal where I talk about Victoria's Secret and bra shopping.

Because what's more womanly than talking about breasts? Oh wait, men do that all the time, too.  Damn.

When you're worried that someone is trying too hard to be upbeat and brave...

When it feels like there are some things in life you will never be ready for...

When you're tired of hearing "lie-berry" for library and "stay-puh-luh" for stapler...

When you listen to a student talk about visiting her boyfriend in prison, and her and her friend's tone indicates that there isn't anything strange about this to them; it's just how life is...

When it seems like spring will never come...

When your face is tired and feels like you've been crying for days, maybe because you have cried, at least a little, every day for two weeks...

When it feels like you simply can't go on because you just can't do all of this, you're only one person...

When all this happens...

You pull up to an intersection in Harlem, in the midst of a light hail storm, just as the light is turning from green to yellow and a middle-aged man loses control of his wheelchair on the small balls of ice landing everywhere on the sidewalk and street.  He and his chair tip over in the middle of the intersection, as the light turns red.  Just as you are putting your car in park, about to get out and help him, two men from opposite sides of the street, strangers to each other, come running, upright the wheelchair, and together they lift the man back into it and make sure he gets back onto the sidewalk safely.  As the ice continues to fall and the traffic light turns green, no cars at the intersection move.  Instead they all wait to be sure the man is safely back on the sidewalk, and then they drive on.

Just when you want to give up, the kindness of strangers can really provide a moment of renewal.

That person's insurance company has decided they only need out-patient treatment and have effectively ended their in-patient treatment program, sending them home yesterday after a whopping 7 days of a 28 day program completed.

I am so angry about this that I could explode.  Having spent nearly 10 years working in the benefits area of Human Resources, I have spent a lot of time arguing with talking to insurance companies, a lot of time seeing how their methodologies work behind the scenes, how their profit-driven business model makes decisions.

And, frankly, it disgusts me most of the time.  A drug and alcohol counselor confirmed for me that what usually happens is the insurance company waits for the person to relapse and will then cover in-patient treatment for a longer period of time.

In the meantime, however, there is no regard for the friends and family who are being torn apart by what's going on, by the worry that their loved one isn't ready to be home yet, and that a relapse is possible, or maybe even inevitable, nevermind the threat the addict poses to him or herself and their community should a relapse occur.  The policy is so irresponsible and selfish that it is literally making me sick to my stomach as I type this.

Why is it even feasible to start someone on a month-long program, with all the steps and stages built into that idea, and then remove them from it at day seven?  It's like handing someone a bowl of raw eggs and saying, "Here, I made you a cake."  Except raw eggs are only a component of a cake and when eaten on their own, dangerous.

None of us fully know where this person's head is at, which is the most frustrating and worrisome part.  They aren't happy to be home, which is a sign unto itself.  They wanted to complete treatment and their family was looking forward to being a part of the process.

But now, they all have to face this before they're ready.  They thought they had weeks to work through more of the ideas and issues.  Yes, there will be out-patient treatment, but it won't be the same.

I'm glad the person did at least get those seven days of treatment, though.  A medically supervised detox was possible and the groundwork was laid for truly successful treatment and rehabilitation.  Let's just hope that groundwork is enough to sustain the work ahead.

1. Tomorrow I will be 28 weeks pregnant and officially enter the third trimester.  Holy crap.  Third trimester, as in there are no more trimesters.  In two weeks, I'll be 30 weeks... which is the last group of 10 weeks.  The tens, twenties, thirties... and the big 40.  Absolutely crazy to think about.

2. The Force kicks on a daily basis now.  I haven't yet figured out exactly when he kicks, but I've noticed he kicks if I'm really hungry and he also tends to kick a bit after I eat, and then he chills, like he's in a food coma.  He also tends to kick when I lie down in bed for the night.  The other night I had my netbook resting on my belly and he kicked and moved it!

3. We still keep Buster in the kitchen when we're not home or if we need to get something done - like put something together or eat something in front of the TV in the living room.  Well, the other day I was carrying a plate and a drink while trying to get over the baby gate in the kitchen doorway... and I tripped.  Thankfully, I just mainly fell on my right knee and secondarily on my left.  My stomach never touched the floor (AND I saved most of my drink, but not the food).  But the next day, I felt like The Force wasn't kicking as much and I worried all day - but that was the Saturday I had to work and then we spent hours at IKEA so he doesn't usually kick as much when I'm up and about.  That night he started kicking more and the next day kicked his normal amount... but it was worrisome for a while.  I'll be glad when I can go back to knocking my own body around without having to worry about the fact that I'm protecting someone else.

4. Buster is getting better, little by little.  It's kind of like two steps forward and one step back.  The hubby says there's "Base Buster" - the basic dog Buster is when he's not in full on, crazy puppy mode.  This is the Buster we'll eventually see all the time if we stick with the training and have a bit of luck.  When he's in Base Buster mode, he's awesome... when he's Crackhead Buster, though, he makes me want to curl up under a cover and wait for him to grow up.

5. We've reached the point in February where I'm tired of winter.  I really love winter, but at this point (late February), I'm always ready for spring to head on in.  Sunday morning, as I lay in bed and peered through the blinds to see the snow still sitting on the ground, I had such a strong urge to pull the covers over my head and wait for someone to tell me flowers were blooming.

6. Tomorrow the hubby and I are finally registering for the baby shower.  My sister is coming with us since she's giving us so much stuff, we want to make sure we don't register for duplicates and that what we do register for matches/fits some of the stuff we're getting.  Having been to dozens of baby showers by now, I'm a pro at Babies R Us and can't wait to go through with the zapper!  It'll be the last time I register for anything, though - *sniffle*.  There was the bridal shower and then this... and then that's it.  Kind of bittersweet.

7. I am still behind on my reading for school... and last night one of my professors sent an email reminding us that in order to have a good class discussion, we must be up to speed with the readings.  It's like she could see me feverishly trying to finish them.  As a teacher, though, I will tell you that they know when you haven't read.  They might humor you and pretend they don't notice, but they know.  And I tend to talk a lot in class (shocker, I know) so when I haven't read and keep quiet, they absolutely tend to notice (and ask what's going on).  Hopefully there's little traffic today and I can get to school early enough to do a bit more reading.

For now I'll continue working on keeping my eyes open and remaining upright.