Thirty-Five Weeks

We are over. it. yo.

Thirty-five weeks pregnant and I'm done. I mean... I still have eighteen days until my scheduled C-section (September 30th!) but physically I am feeling like the above photo suggests. I've put myself on partial bed-rest aka "home rest", leaving the house only to pick kids up from school and schlep up the block to my favorite sandwich shop. Other than that, I'm keeping it local because this? Is not what the public likes to see waddling down Melrose.

The babies are both six pounds, already, or so I'm told, and even though everyone is convinced I'll go into labor last week, I'm starting to think I'm going to go all the way to the end, here. Which is awesome for the babies, don't get me wrong. I want them to bake as long as possible but also, FUCK ME IN THE UMBILICAL HERNIA, this much baby does not so much feel fabulous on my body. Especially when operating on zero sleep, which, until Friday was the situation around here. Sleeping on my sides with tons of pillows sufficed two weeks ago but not anymore.

Being that my belly is the size of a small country, it's been quite the task trying to come up with comfortable sleeping positions. Belly? Impossible? Back? Too much weight on internal organs such as spleens. Sides? I have a head on each hip and fetal heads do NOT like being pressed into mattresses I now know. And so? I slept against the wall, sitting up for two weeks. Which is not the most comfortable way to get rest, I'll tell you what.

And so? I've spent the better part of the last month sleep-walking through my days.

Finally, after confessing to my mother through tears that I HAVEN'T SLEPT IN DAYS I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE, she picked up the phone and without so much as asking me, rented me an adjustable bed.

At first I thought she was kidding and then Friday morning, two men and a mattress knocked on my door.

"Are you Ms. Woolf?"

"Why yes, Sirs, I am."

"Where should we put this?"

I told then to stick it in the nursery and there it now dwells: ye olde Electropedic adjustable bed complete with remote control so I can fold my body in a million and one ways and then put that shit on vibrate for maximum sexy-time. Thank you, mom.

(vid via, Ashley)

I've been sleeping incredibly well these last few nights and napping daily which I have been unable to do until now, so the bed, I must say, is a huge success. Not to mention.... fun for the whole family! Every morning the kids have woken me up with a "Hey, mom! Do you want me to put your feet up higher? How about we fold you in half like this?" and then I wake up screaming because my knees are against my shoulders and my kids are laughing like "Whua ha ha ha!"

Screw a bounce-house. There is nothing more entertaining to small children than an orthopedic hospital bed. Circle of life, man. Circle of life.

(Thanks again, mom.)

Edema has struck with full force this week. Flip-flop indentations on the feet and the whole nine. I swelled terribly with my last two pregnancies so feel lucky that it's taken until now to get the itchy-mads. I salute you, ye watermelon, for getting me through relatively unscathed. (Watermelon not only cures reflux but helps keep swelling to a minimum... until, you know, it doesn't.)

For those asking about the desperately sought-after diaper bag, here she is. Twas an impulse buy because sometimes one becomes so obsessed with the perfect something, she ends up old and alone, surrounded by a thousand cats. The alternative? Buying a bag... with a thousand cats. on. it:

Marc Jacobs via Nordstrom

Some other exciting things that happened this week: Hal got a new job. Interesting timing that he'll begin four days before I'm scheduled to give birth but nonetheless a huge deal here at Casa de Hospitalbed. Dude's been working makeover shows for the last zillion years and is finally, after paying many dues, moving on... Look for his words coming to a Ryan Seacrest's mouth near you.

And speaking of Hal, I would like to take a moment to thank him for being such an amazing man, father, husband, human these past few weeks. Every Saturday and Sunday since I've had a hard time getting around, Hal has taken the kids out on adventures just the three of them... happily and without me having to so much as lift a finger or fill a water bottle or pack an extra pair of underwear. He even spent his lunch breaks last week picking Archer up from school so I didn't have to do two trips back and forth with both kids. That's a man right there. Team Helmet Lang!

P.S. His giant TV is kind of growing on me. I may have spent last Tuesday night watching The Rachel Zoe project in 3D and it may or may not have been Bu-Nyenahs.

Speaking of 3D, here's a flattering angle:

***

The other day Fable asked me if I needed tummy rubs. "Your tummy looks like it hurts, mama." she said.

"Well? Kind of sort of yes, as a matter of fact."

"Here. Let me help you."

Fable ran to the freezer to collect her stack of princess-themed ice packs and placed them one by one on my belly.

"Better?"

Not really but, "SO MUCH! Thank you, Fable."

I'd say misery loves company, but it's kind of impossible to be miserable with companions like this:

counting down...

***

thirty-four weeks

thirty-three weeks

thirty-two weeks

thirty-one weeks

thirty weeks

twenty-nine weeks

twenty-eight weeks

twenty-seven weeks

twenty-six weeks

twenty-five weeks

twenty-four weeks

twenty-three weeks

twenty-two weeks

twenty-one weeks

twenty weeks

nineteen weeks

eighteen weeks

seventeen weeks

sixteen weeks

fifteen weeks

fourteen weeks

thirteen weeks

twelve weeks

eleven weeks

ten weeks

nine weeks

***

GGC

Thirty-Four Weeks

So, I'm still pregnant. This is something I regularly explain slash text slash say on the phone to various people. As if I wouldn't be texting while tweeting while skywriting my labor news across the Los Angeles skies. FRIENDS. FAMILY. I will notify you with news! I will! You will know me by my trail of information!

In the meantime, this was one of the more eventful weekends. First off, I bought a diaper bag. You think I'm kidding but I'm not. I bought a mother fucking diaper bag. And it's adorable. And I will post about it later, when I can take some really styled-out black and white photos of the bag hanging from a tree covered in lights beside a birdcage filled with bacon. (I hate birdcages, by the way. And I don't eat bacon.)

We also bought a new car. Finally. We have been procrastinating like crazy mofos for months but we are now the proud owners of a Honda Odyssey (sans TVs). And I love it. I love that it's filled with car seats and holds six CDs, one for each family member so we can put that shit on random and mix it up on road trips.

Every time someone asks when I'm due I scream "RIGHT NOW, AHHHH!" and run waddle briskly towards the nearest exit. I am so massively huge that people routinely gasp. This never happened with my other two pregnancies even though I was humongous (I thought) in the end. A dude at the car dealership Saturday went, "OH MY GOD NO," when I walked past him in the hallway. Blogging out loud much?

I was with the car salesmen at the time who immediately got defensive and was like, "who says that, Man?" and then dude in the hallway felt bad and then I felt REALLY uncomfortable and was like, "it's cool! No worries! Let's buy some cars, men! We're all friends here! Three vaginas!"

I mean... how could I blame the guy? I am hilarious looking even to myself! I can only imagine what it looks like to see someone this pregnant chasing around two kids at a car dealership. It's probably scary as fuck! I am the poster child for condom-usage and proper family planning skills!

And it's like that everywhere. At the Farmer's Market yesterday, I got an entire bag of pluots on the house. I mean, do you know how good pluots are right now? The man at the stand said he "hoped I felt better soon and PLEASE TAKE THESE OH GOD!" and then he hid his eyes behind his hands and did a thousand Hail Marys.

"I'm okay, friend! I'm okay!" I insisted but he was already down on his knees praying in Spanish.

Thanks for the pluots?

The other night at the movies, a woman insisted on letting me know that she was a midwife...you know, just in case you go into labor during act two of Our Idiot Brother (fantastic movie, by the way). I did not in fact go into labor. Nor have I this afternoon, which would be appropriate given today's moniker.

Anyway!

While I've been nesting, Hal's been researching television sets. Apparently ours isn't good enough because it's six years old and isn't the size of a California King. Apparently, because we were already spending a zillion dollars this weekend on a car, Hal figured, why not just rock some good-old-fashioned American excess? So after disappearing for four hours to "do some errands" he came home with fourteen boxes of Home Entertainment System including a fifty-five inch television set.

Eighteen hours after we purchased a car.

And a diaper bag. (Let us not forget the diaper bag.)

I mean... what the fuck is up with television sets and dudes? I liked our thirty-two inch TV. It was PLENTY big and it sounded plenty fine. Now? We have a television the size of our entire living room and I'm supposed to wear 3-D glasses while I'm watching it? I don't get it.

But here's the thing: I love Hal. And he's so excited about this idiotic TV so I have to be supportive. I have to say, "Awesome! 3-D glasses to watch Entourage with!" and sound like I mean it when I'm so full of complete and utter shit, you guys. Because the only thing worse than "E" getting out of his Maserati with suicide doors is seeing it in three dimensions.

I'm just going to assume that the man's form of "nesting" is stocking up on the essential items for never-leaving-the-house-again. Otherwise, why would he go out and buy a TV right now? I'm sure someone at Cambridge has done a study on this phenomenon.

Apparently, it is impossible to escape the allure of the television set. One must pick her battles in a marriage, one must. And I'd rather have one massive screen in our living room than a thousand tiny ones in my automobile.

Moving on... and Hal, if you're reading this, I love you. And I'm totally kidding about the TV. I think it's totally the coolest. High five. I love high definition blue ray 3-D 480 horsepower surround sound with dual impact 82PP.

At last week's weigh-in I was a lithe 202 pounds, which means I'm finally slowing down in the weight gain-department. I've gained a total of 64 pounds thus far which I'm pretty sure my body agrees is plenty-ish.

My belly appeared to have dropped last week but it appears to KEEP dropping... as in, "passengers, we are slowly making our descent. Please fasten your umbilical cords and put your placentas in the upright position."

Still, as of Thursday I wasn't dilated, effaced and the babies still had more than enough amniotic fluid to grow on with their badass selves. Apparently I'm better at gestating twins than I am singletons. Something about this being a third pregnancy and my uterus being totally stoked to grow exponentially beyond its former experience. That and the fact that doctors are starting to think my due date might actually be wrong considering their measurements.

Thus and henceforth, I left my doctor's office Thursday with the knowledge that I could go into labor at any time. So? for twenty-four hours I had myself convinced that every kick and cramp and pain was a contraction and oh my god, we don't even have our car yet! The house is a mess! There is a baby sock MIA in the laundry room and I MUST FIND IT OR ELSE I'LL SURELY DIE! (Meanwhile, in Hal's brain: OH MY GOD, I MUST BUY A NEW GINORMOUS TELEVISION SET AND FOUR PAIRS OF 3D GLASSES THAT NO ONE BUT ME WILL WANT TO WEAR!)

To prepare for my impending C-section I have been watching C-section births on youtube like it's my job. Basically, I am training myself to be my own doula. After watching fifty or so C-sections I am now perfectly capable of being involved in my own birth experience even if they hang that giant sheet in front of my face, I'LL KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING SO THERE! I highly recommend you do the same, those of you with breach babies in your last few weeks of pregnancy. At first, you might vomit. But over time, the procedure becomes highly entertaining and almost beautiful. Anyway, thanks to all of you who have written with C-section advice. I have a bag packed full of stool softeners, granny underwear and a giant pillow for the drive home. Who says childbirth isn't sexy?

Let's see, what else. Last week was kind of a bummer because I was on my pregnancy-period. freaking the fuck out over every little thing. Hal was working late nights (allll week) and I was left to fend for myself which (can I bitch for a moment?) is slightly shitty when you're this pregnant. I put the kids down and promptly burst into tears thinking there will be nights when I'll have four kids and be on my own and I don't know how I will possibly survive oh god what have I done with my uterus!

And then, because people are as good as angels, I opened my email to find the following passage from a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke, sent to me by a friend of my brother's named Mary. A woman I don't know personally but wish I did:

Here before you stands a full bowl of roses
which is unforgettable
and brimming

And she's right on, that Mary.

And he's (always) right on, that Rilke.

This bowl of roses is indeed unforgettable. And brimming. And I'm a lucky, lucky lady to experience such a thing...

...even if it feels like tiny thorns are pressing into my sides.

The morning after I read Mary's email, I took this picture of my children. Two of the four. And then I asked Archer if he was ready for the babies to arrive. I told him I was getting nervous and wasn't sure that I was. His response, "Yeah. I'm not ready either but when they're born I will be. That's how these things work, mom."

I'm sure he's right.

***

thirty-three weeks

thirty-two weeks

thirty-one weeks

thirty weeks

twenty-nine weeks

twenty-eight weeks

twenty-seven weeks

twenty-six weeks

twenty-five weeks

twenty-four weeks

twenty-three weeks

twenty-two weeks

twenty-one weeks

twenty weeks

nineteen weeks

eighteen weeks

seventeen weeks

sixteen weeks

fifteen weeks

fourteen weeks

thirteen weeks

twelve weeks

eleven weeks

ten weeks

nine weeks

***

GGC

Thirty-Three Weeks

If you hadn't noticed I am suddenly feeling... DONE. Breathless and claustrophobic as if I'm wearing one of those insane multiples carriers on my inner-uterus-area and I can't. get. it. off. It started at last week's Perintologist appointment when the doctor measured the babies and was like, "You have over ten pounds of fetus in there! Congratulations!" which was awesome and I cheered, "Hooray!" and then promptly felt like I might pass out... because, wait, what?

The babies are A. 5lbs and B. 5lbs 2oz respectively (doc can ballpark weight, give or take 10% by measuring the length of their bones and head circumfrence) which means they are still growing three weeks ahead of schedule. Which means I am thirty-three weeks pregnant with two thirty-six-week-sized womb-mates. The doctors thought they would have slowed down by now but not these chickadees.

These babies seem to think this womb is some kind of Equinox Fitness club. I keep picturing them spotting each other like, "COME ON! TWO MORE BENCH PRESSES!" YOU CAN DO THIS, RUAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!"

I do not birth big babies (Archer and Fable were both seven-pounders full-term) so having jumbo-twins is a complete mystery to the doctors and myself. Especially when twins usually run small for obvious reasons. Ahem, THERE ARE TWO OF THEM IN ONE BODY!

Apparently, these girls are super-pros at finding ways to move around my uterus to best utilize space and even though, in the ultrasound they looked like one giant two-headed mass, I am told there is still plenty of amniotic fluid for them to keep growing as they have been thus far. Hence the excitement/panic... It's overwhelming to think these babies are STILL growing. That I am still growing with them, and that they could come at any time. Now! Or... Now!

I definitely dropped this week but I think it's because there is nowhere else for my abdomen to go but down... it's so heavy with human and such, that it has no choice but to fall between my legs like a swollen appendage.

I'm dropping off my hospital paperwork this week and have my bag packed and ready. Full of newborn clothes and mama clothes, but most of all, neurosis, which take up at least half of my suitcase.

R&B are in Yin Yang formation right now, heads in the middle of my belly, bodies forming an S shape. C-secto is definitely the name of this game with Baby "A" breach and Baby "B" transverse, which was bumming me out at first but now I'm over it. I've already had two vaginal births, might as well give a C-section a try, no? Party on.

The last few weeks of pregnancy are some of the toughest weeks that exist - it's limbo like nothing else and one lives in a state of bipolar... ness. I go back and forth between being excited and terrified. Am I ready? HELL YES! Am I ready? HELL NO! Am I ready? HELL MAYBESO!

More like, hell, I don't know.

We're having a heat-wave which is only adding to my anxiety. I'm having hot flashes several times a day and have to repeatedly change my clothes because I've literally soaked through them. I can't sit in a chair to work anymore because even with legs spread eagle, my belly is rubbing against the chair. And I'm just... ugh, you know? UGH. Sore and bleck and ergh and ugh and huge and heavy and ouch. I actually feel exactly like I look in this photo:

I'm trying to think of something funny to say but I'm too exhausted to feel clever or interesting. I'm grateful I was able to go this many weeks before collapsing in a pile of WompWompWomps, but now I feel as though I'm DEAD MOM WALKING. I'm completely wiped. I slept zero last night thanks to sporadic contractions and electro-nerve-torture of the crotch. My appetite is waning c/o R&B acting as a sort of Belly Band and everything is just feeling increasingly difficult. Like this post for instance. This post feels like I'm typing in slow-motion with my eyes crossed.

The good news? I'm the only one who seems to be suffering. Everyone else is kicking dat ass and that's what's most important right now. Besides, having been through this twice before, I know that once the babies arrive and we're all settled into our new lives, I'll totally miss this. ALL OF THIS. Just like I did after Archer and Fable were born and I was like, "Aw! Pregnancy! I love being pregnant! Pregnancy is the best" I'll forget the reflux and the cramping and the waddling and the fact that I resembled Shrek...

... and I'll cry. Because uncomfortable as I am now, I'll soon miss how it feels to carry life around on my person so nonchalantly. I'll miss the weekly ultrasounds, making friends in the waiting rooms of doctors offices, getting foot rubs while reading September issues on the couch. I'll miss watching the kids watch their sisters move my belly around like it's their bitch. And my belly is INDEED their bitch:

...But most of all, I'll miss the anticipation of knowing that something huge is coming, and in this case, something DOUBLE-huge. Something so huge I still don't quite believe it's ACTUALLY happening.

Minus the discomfort and the hot flashes and the cramps, the last few weeks (days?) of pregnancy are like Christmas Eve on steroids. Except, I'm the one dressed up like Santa Claus.

Ho, ho ho! Merrrry Almostbabymas!

***

thirty-two weeks

thirty-one weeks

thirty weeks

twenty-nine weeks

twenty-eight weeks

twenty-seven weeks

twenty-six weeks

twenty-five weeks

twenty-four weeks

twenty-three weeks

twenty-two weeks

twenty-one weeks

twenty weeks

nineteen weeks

eighteen weeks

seventeen weeks

sixteen weeks

fifteen weeks

fourteen weeks

thirteen weeks

twelve weeks

eleven weeks

ten weeks

nine weeks

***

GGC

Thirty-Two Weeks

Have you ever had a hunch about something? Of course you have! Hooray for hunches! Well, here is mine: September 22nd (one month from today!) = R&B's Record Release Party. And by record release party I mean birth. Day. Maybe it's because Fable was born the 2nd of October or maybe it's the symmetry of 22/11 but I've had this hunch for a while. The babes will be 36+ weeks at that point. Fable was born at 38 weeks. And we're getting down to the wire, here, so I may as well start making guesses.

And yes, Fable rocks two different shoes sometimes. It's her thing. (Hal took Fable to get smoothies after this picture was taken and some lady was like, "Excuse me. Your daughter has two different shoes on." Fable responded by striking her fiercest pose and screaming, "TA-DAAAAAAAAAA!")

This week, I am 200 pounds of pure vagina power. (Yes, I'm still on the three vagina thing - I only have a few more weeks to talk about my three vaginas so you're just going to have to deal.) Babies are now transverse (they seem to be rotating clockwise together) which means little pressure on my nether area. Solid. I seem to be feeling better and better as this pregnancy progresses which is weird.

The other day we got caught in insane bumper-to-bumper Hollywood-during-rush-hour traffic which resulted in tears of the can't-stop-laughing persuasion thanks to (my heroes) several large watermelon. I had purchased them earlier in the day and every time we stopped, then went, a watermelon would lurch forward and slam against the trunk. It could have been the most heinous drive ever. We were all exhausted, frustrated by the traffic, knackered and grumpy after a long day and yet, once again, watermelon SAVED THE DAY!

I spent Saturday in Ojai, grey-haired person capital of the world (seriously. EVERY PERSON we saw had grey hair, even the kids. I told my parents they need to move there STAT. I kept double-taking every time a woman passed - my mom's age with my mom's hair, style, love of canvas health-food-store totes... ) If Ojai was a person it would be Wendy Woolf.

I was there for my friend, Dani's Bachelorette Weekend and nothing says "Bachelorette weekend!" like a giant pregnant lady lying by the pool, or, in my case wading in the pool as various items of floatation surrounded me like I was their mother ship.

So apparently (we learned) there is something called "The Pink Moment" which occurs in, like, three places on earth (Ojai included) and happens ten minutes before the sun sets - cloaking the mountains and the skies with a deep pink. Naturally, we set out to find such a moment via camping out on the side of a road overlooking the mountainous horizon and to our absolute HORROR, found no such thing:

waiting for the "pink moment" on the side of the road

We did, however, see a sunset. And it looked like any other sunset. We decided that Ojai was a genius to re-brand "sunset" with "pink moment" and convince tourists such as us to stand like a bunch of idiots on the side of the road staring off into the distance... waiting. You got us, Ojai! You and your pink moment got us!

Speaking of Pink Moments...

Everywhere I go someone audibly mumbles "did you see that woman? Poor thing looks like she's going to pop" and then I spill my water bottle between my legs and SCREAM! Just kidding. I don't really do that but I should.

I DO pull a flask from my purse every time a stranger asks when I'm due.

"What do you mean, due?" I say, swigging from flask.

(I don't do that either.)

Another funny thing to do when you're extremely pregnant is to buy a pregnancy test. This was not my idea (one of the ladies at Dani's party recommended I do this while buying her cigarettes at the local Ojai drug store) but it's a rather genius one, I think.

"The cigarettes aren't for me. The pregnancy test however..."

sister of the bride, Ojai party house (via skampy)

I was sad to leave Saturday night, bummed I couldn't stay for the long weekend, but not nearly as heartbroken as I'll be next month, missing Dani's wedding (I'll likely be giving birth on or around her wedding day). Dani has been one of my closest friends since we first met in 7th grade and it breaks me that I won't be there to watch her walk down the aisle, to do her makeup as we'd planned, to dance with her and cheer for her and support her and her husband-to-be who is also wonderful and I love him.

But I was able to be there this weekend which was rad. And I got to be with her last month when she bought her wedding dress which was incredibly special (the dress is BEYOND gorgeous - perfect, really. As uniquely special as she) and I get to be here for her always, and there for her in spirit, and she knows that. (I hope she knows that.) I love you, D.

I'm actually really enjoying the end of my pregnancy-- this last month of carrying around a preposterous looking bod, waddling down the street in fucked-up ensembles because nothing fits me anymore. I cherish the moments when the babies move, hiccup, push the right side of my belly up like it's a parachute at a child's music class...

People keep asking if I intend to keep working when the babies arrive. And yes, very much yes. Not working isn't an option with 7871982319 mouths to feed. We are a dual income household and "maternity leave" does not exist when one is self-employed. Thankfully, I'll have my mom here for an entire month postpartum. For the second month, I'll hire our part-time nanny to stay full-time, and come December, I'll just... you know, go from there. I mean, preparation is pretty much futile at this point.

In my experience, the only way to prepare for a major life change is to find new and interesting ways to laugh at yourself. Life is far less overwhelming when you stop taking everything so seriously. "Fuck it!" has become my favorite mantra - especially in times like this. So that's pretty much where I'm focusing most of my attention right now: on fucking it navigating each day as it comes, rush hour and all. Keeping road rage at bay by laughing at watermelons.

***

thirty-one weeks

thirty weeks

twenty-nine weeks

twenty-eight weeks

twenty-seven weeks

twenty-six weeks

twenty-five weeks

twenty-four weeks

twenty-three weeks

twenty-two weeks

twenty-one weeks

twenty weeks

nineteen weeks

eighteen weeks

seventeen weeks

sixteen weeks

fifteen weeks

fourteen weeks

thirteen weeks

twelve weeks

eleven weeks

ten weeks

nine weeks

***

GGC

Thirty-One Weeks

Good Monday to you, friends. Today marks my thirty-first week of pregnancy and I'm feeling a little like I might fall over with every step. How women are built to accommodate this kind of insanity is miraculous. And what about those who carry three, four, five or more around in their bodies? A woman's equilibrium is a genius accessory and every week of growth I am more and more in awe of my ability to stand up, sit down, fight fight fight.

I decided, since it's been five weeks since last rocking a unitard, I'd try the sucker on for size (one more time?) hence the above. And below. And whoa. And yes, I took it off promptly after trying it on because the stretching was such that you could see right through it, which is not my favorite look. And also because the crotch split open. Hello. One of the perks of being this huge is that I don't even have to wear a bra anymore. My uterus has expanded in such a way that it now acts as an underwire bra with built in push-up!

@ seventeen weeks

@ 19 weeks

TODAY! AHHHHH!

Several of you asked in the comments of my last post, what the hell is up with the floors being so clean? and the answer is: I'M PREGNANT! I am the nestiest nester anyway but when I'm weeks away from giving birth? You'll be damn right shit's gonna be in order! Unfortunately I'm unable to bend at the waist so I've literally been scooting around on my ass picking up after everyone. Which is what I spend my evenings doing (while watching Househunters International, obviously).

It feels strange getting to thirty-one weeks, even though statistically, according to everywhere, the average twin birth happens around 37 weeks. Still, when you listen to doctors tell you "our goal is for you to make it to thirty weeks!" and you do it feels... now what-ish... Especially when you've been experiencing a pretty non-eventful pregnancy thus far.

I feel in a way like this is a bonus round when in reality, the majority of women deliver twins pretty close to term. I didn't know this until recently. I almost ASSUMED I'd be on bed rest by now, or worse... That's the thing about the Internet. It tells you everything you don't want to hear.

Babies were almost four pounds (each) last week, and apparently, thanks to an abundance of fluid, there is still plenty of room for them to grow (and even turn). If by thirty-five weeks Baby A is still breach (both babes are still breach) I'll have to schedule a C-section. Regardless, I'll be delivering in the OR because even if I am able to deliver vaginally, I'll still have to be prepped for surgery just in case of fetal emergency with "B" after "A" arrives. I'm also told I'll have a thousand people in the room with me, which is a very new experience. When I I gave birth to Archer, Hal practically delivered him for me because my EX-OB was "busy" doing a scheduled C and the nurses didn't believe me when we said "HE'S COMING OUT NOW!" (I got a new doctor AND a new hospital after that.) Anyway. I'm preparing myself for a very different experience than the one where I labored quietly with Hal as he cracked jokes about needing Veneers. (At the time he was working on a makeover show and watched hours and HOURS and HOURS of footage each week of women getting veneers.) My husband should win an award for worst labor coach of all time but in a weird way, that's kind of why I love him.

Anyway, while I have your attention, here are three more things to bore you with:

1. Fable started going pee on the potty, which means, she is officially rocking the Dora undies and we could not be more proud of her potty-awesomeness.

2. Hal and I went and saw a movie together, (Crazy Stupid Love is crazy awesome and we loved it) something we won't be able to do pretty soon. (Hal actually joined the Producers Guild just for the perk of getting screeners so we could still "go to the movies" in our living room since we'll never be able to afford to hire a babysitter again.)

3. I decided I can't be bothered with cooking so much as an egg and have us living on takeout, which has never happened before (We are not typically takeout people at all because it's a total waste of money) but I have to admit, it's been fun. And while we're on the subject of food, Hal spent $50 on TWO watermelons last week because the ONLY delicious watermelons we can find (right now) are at Whole Paycheck Foods for $1.89 a pound, which adds up quickly when you're buying 18 pound watermelons and going through one every three days. If we had a mortgage, we'd be taking out a second one just to afford all this fucking watermelon I insist on eating in bulk to keep from dying.

you are what you eat?

I did have ONE bad night of reflux-terrible last week which woke me in the wee hours of the night and sent me running toward the kitchen so that I could plant my entire face in a watermelon. An hour later, I was cured.

Archer had his first drum lesson (go Archer!) this week during which Fable asked if she could start taking guitar lessons. (Girl digs her some guitar.)

She's too young, obviously, but Hal and I had to laugh because our joke about having enough kids to start a family garage band might just be the case. It's just a question of what instruments R&B will want to play.

In the meantime, Fable is now the proud owner of BIG GIRL UNDERWEAR, which she has been wearing on her head since Saturday because she claims she is a "poo poo head". (Everyone is a poo-poo head according to Fable.)

Later that afternoon, she came up with one of the more genius explanations of life, death and farts when rushing to the potty to poop only to excrete a false alarm (ed: a fart). She explained to Archer and me that her poop had died. And THAT'S what a fart is: a dead poop.

"Poor poop," she said.

RIP poop.

Where Archer is the philosopher among us, Fable is the comedienne. She's by the far the funniest person I know and she's not even three yet.

Time will tell what the babies will dazzle and delight us with, whether it be poop jokes or poetry, dance moves or Rocket Science, botany or freestyle canoe. Can't wait to meet them and find out.

"I love you baby poo-poo heads!"

***

thirty weeks

twenty-nine weeks

twenty-eight weeks

twenty-seven weeks

twenty-six weeks

twenty-five weeks

twenty-four weeks

twenty-three weeks

twenty-two weeks

twenty-one weeks

twenty weeks

nineteen weeks

eighteen weeks

seventeen weeks

sixteen weeks

fifteen weeks

fourteen weeks

thirteen weeks

twelve weeks

eleven weeks

ten weeks

nine weeks

***

P.S. This. Kills. Me. And this. I mean... seriously? Seriously.

GGC