60% Baked and Kicking Up A Storm

After 24 weeks...

To think that I thought she was showing in week 19.  We're about six weeks from her being a human Pogo Ball.

The kid is starting to bend it like Beckham in there.  He is banging around constantly.  It's pretty awesome.  He is kicking, punching, elbowing, doing flips, and generally showing the physical strength he will not be showing his first six weeks out of the womb.  Ah, the power of amniotic fluid.

Just as cool as having Matthew punch me in the face is staring at E's stomach and watching it suddenly go all Alien on us.  It's crazy how out of nowhere, her entire belly will ripple or one of various vital organs looks like it is spasming.  It is equally crazy how upsetting such symptoms would be if she weren't pregnant.

And yes, I have laid my face on E's stomach to see what it feels like to get punched in the face by my son.  I consider it preparation for when we are wildly dysfunctional.

That last line was probably going too far.

Week 23 WBU

I received the following comment today: "Yesterday was the first time I thought, 'Holy crap, E's pregnant.'"  Sweet.

Kellogg Graduation

Mike graduated from one of the best business schools in the world last night.

Okay.

"Acid-Washed" Jean Shorts: Rebuttal

Ladies and Gentlemen,

Let me be clear: the outfit turned out to be awful as Mike described in a previous blog post.  However, I think it is imperative that you all not be fooled into oblivion, that the record be cleared, and that I keep what is left of my integrity.  My shorts are NOT acid-washed:

Although I can see why he was confused.  He gets that way when the topic is not baseball.  Or cheese.  Or head lice.

And the top that I was going to pair it with...it had been months since I had worn it since God has decided that winter will proceed right through June.  Here is the top:

In theory, I thought the outfit had a chance.  In reality, it did not.  But at least we are clear on the acidwashedingness of the shorts.

2 1/2 Hours to Walk .75 Mile? Uh Oh.

(Some prior knowledge is necessary to truly understand this post: Mike and I talk/text a lot each day.  And this includes me telling him when I get to the train station (for work) and when I get to my office.  A little bit of a safety thing goin on here.)

So...it seems that my lovely husband has been keeping track of how long it takes me to get from the train station in Milwaukee to my office.  Prior to pregnancy, it took me about 12 minutes.  After a couple of months it was taking me about 15.  Then 17.  Yesterday it took 25.  Pretty sure he asked me yesterday if I should start taking an earlier train as I continue along here to make sure I make it to the office on time.  Right now, my train gets in 1 HOUR before my first appointment.  Dear God, I hope it never takes me 2 1/2 hours to walk that far.

Young Women Pillow Fight. Pregnant Women Hug Each Other.

Apparently, these are the ideas that men have about women.  While taking a lovely walk with Mike on Sunday, we passed a STRANGER who was about 7 months pregnant.  Mike's instinctual and appalling response to seeing this woman was to ask the following: "So do you all want to hug each other?"  OH. MY. GOSH.  Awkward.

I Need To Get My Act Together

We took the Week 22 WBU last Friday.  I am uploading it now.  I'd like to make the excuse that it is because I am busy, but I'm not.  School ended Friday.  I have had nothing to do since then.  I'm just lazy.  Today I have worked out and took batting practice with Schneider.  I'm not even on a softball team right now.  Yet it took me until 4:00 to post the pictures.

At graduation on Friday, I am going to told I am ready to be a leader who makes a global impact.  Good call.

My family members:

I have been told that I am to now only show the stomach in the close-ups, not the other round objects that are rapidly growing:

Kicking and a Little Something Extra

A little update from the kicking front...

While it started in Week 14 as an internal feeling of popcorn popping, I am now feeling the baby kick throughout the day and night, sometimes subtle movements, other times, UFC-type kicks.  The little guy is taking up more room too...sometimes I/you can feel him moving in my lower abdomen and other times on the side and still other times above my belly button.  Oh, and he's letting his Daddy know he's in there too by giving Mommy a swift jab to her intestines while Daddy is touching her stomach.

In other news, Mike and his team lost in their NU flag football tournament on Saturday.  The bright side, he got these killer tan lines and we get to make fun of him:

The truthful and utterly disgusting part...after Mike showered, it was clear that this was NOT a tan line, rather, a massive dirt line.

And on Sunday, we were out running errands and couldn't resist this $4 onesie from Marshall's:

Check out this kid's cleats!

Week 21 Wardrobe and WBU

We have entered the "Nothing fits" stage.  E is now wearing almost nothing but clothes purchased in the last two months.  The sad thing is I wish my jeans also had a wide elastic band to go over my stomach.

That said, she deserves an A for effort, if not a D for execution, for trying her best to make her pre-Matthew wardrobe work.  The other day, she asked me how an outfit looked.  It consisted of a ruffled silk magenta non-maternity blouse and a pair of acid-washed jean materity shorts.  We want to make our blog interactive, so please select how you thought it looked:

A. Awful
B. Awful
C. Awful
D. Awful

Let the record show this is only partially her fault.  It's a beautiful blouse.  One of my favorites, actually.  Pre-pregnancy, she looked fantastic it in.  I will not defend the acid washed jeans.  I don't care how comfortable they are.

Fortunately, she took the criticism quite well.  No throwing of her rings or anything.  She then changed into a tank top and skirt outfit that allowed her to retain the World's Cutest Pregnant Lady title.  Hoozah!

We're over halfway there...

Mr. Povich Will Have To Sort This Out For Us

Matthew loves when E eats fruit.  He goes crazy in there.  Ipso facto, he must not be my kid.

Unless, as opposed to the happy backflips E thinks he is doing, he is actually convulsing angrily over the fact that he has been force-fed a peach as opposed to the fried cheese he requested.  In that case, he is most definitely my kid.