Joaquin Fetus: I’m still here

Hey…Soooo…I’m still pregnant. I’m actually in my third trimester now which – HOLY SHEEP SHIT – took me by surprise. A couple weeks ago, I went on a walk where I said to myself (out-loud, because I talk to myself), “Oh, I have a couple more weeks until I’m in my third trimester!” and then I came home and read of those Your Baby Is The Size Of A Winter Squash things online that said I was in my third trimester. And I was like, “HOLY SHEEP SHIT, I’M IN MY THIRD TRIMESTER,” and Chris was like, “Yeah, and you have been for like a week.” So, at least someone’s been reading about this pregnancy because it, uhh, it hasn’t been me.

We haven’t done much in the way of preparing for this kid. Well, I haven’t done much. Chris put together the crib while I was at a ladies’ brunch a couple weekends ago and now he’s started re-finishing his changing table/dresser from when he was a little mini Chris. I’ve been helping out by critiquing colors of stain and using my trigger finger to buy a bunch of crap from Amazon.

I finally figured out my tactic for decorating the kid’s room the nice place for me to hang out. If you recall, there was much aggravation a couple months ago about all the pink-and-that’s-it for baby girl room decor, so rather than fight it, I’ve just decided to buy everything as plain as possible and then add nice, non-baby touches. So, she’s been outfitted with plain white sheets and I’m trying to register for items as plain as I can find them. If I could buy one of everything in black (black stroller, black pack and play, black…whatever else babies need) I would, but it seems they don’t make baby things in plain black, either and OMG I’m stopping now before I get myself all worked up again.

Enough about all that boring baby crap – let’s talk about ME! I’ve been feeling pretty good, other than the usual pregnancy-related crap, like the fact that my middle section (think in between my stomach and my crotchal region, as Ron Burgundy would say) hurts like HELL pretty much all the time, but especially when rolling over at night. It’s to the point where I don’t want to roll over because it hurts so badly. If Chris is awake, he’ll “heave a hoe” and push my sorry ass out of bed, which is about as luxurious as it sounds (actually it really is quite nice.)

A couple weekends ago, we went to Mendocino FOR MY BIRTHDAY (not for a babymoon, as some people tried to imply. Seriously, you’re all fired for using the term babymoon) and it was quite lovely. Mendocino is a quiet little town – a little TOO quiet for my liking, generally, but since I am pregnant and binge drinking is discouraged, it was actually the perfect place to spend a couple of days. Sleep, eat, look at the ocean, and repeat. Here’s a trifecta of self portraits for your viewing pleasure:

Self portrait 1

At Glass Beach in Ft. Bragg which was NOT everything it was cracked up to be.

Self portrait 2

At the beach right outside our hotel room.

Self portrait 3

At the Pt. Cabrillo Light House. It was only a mile walk to and from the light house but I, due to a flare-up from the aforementioned between-stomach-and-crotchal-region pain, barely made it. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Well, Internet, I think that’s it! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have seven boxes of Girl Scout cookies to eat and less than 10 weeks in which to eat them. I need to get on that.