Or, as Christina calls it, 40 weeks and 8 days. No baby yet. Lots of phone calls, though, asking if there's a baby yet. There's not.
Tomorrow we go in for ultrasound, to make sure that everything continues to function as it should. Brian and I are upping the ante as far as doing things to bring the baby about (or aboot, for my Canadian friends :). In the meanwhile, the cats are sticking to me like furry Velcro ™. I'm wondering if they know something I don't.
Noah got nothin' on me. I have a six-day-old child in my womb. Today we all go in for a “non-stress test,” which involves external fetal monitors to make sure that baby is still groovin'. My mom has been doing a wonderful job of keeping me amused, as have the cats. If you want to be amused, get a cat that fetches paper balls. HOURS of enjoyment. 🙂
I have a two-day-old child in my womb right now. His Nana arrived on Saturday, and his daddy made the five-hour round-trip drive to Logan Airport without smoking a cigarette.
This is pretty much everything that's going on in our world.
Why am I just NOW reading about this? Why was this not in every newspaper in the country? Even if you are not a Salon subscriber, you can read the article by choosing to view a quick ad. It is worth your time. Oh, and Bill Frist is now in the running for Most Evil Republican.
Based upon this newfound knowledge, you can bet that I will be double-checking with baby's pediatrician to ensure that Thimerosal is not being used in any more Hepatitis B / Haemophilus Influenzae B / Diptheria-Tetanus-Pertussis vaccinations.
Oh, and while we're on the subject of “vaccines,” you do know that Donald Rumsfeld holds a stake in Gilead, the company that devloped Tamiflu, that is valued at between $5 million and $25 million, don't you? And that the fears of a pandemic of avian flu has caused Gilead's stock to rise nearly 33%, making Rumsfeld another million dollars richer. And that Tamiflu is what Bush is saying we're going to spend billions of dollars on, even though it does not actually vaccinate people against contracting avian flu, right? And of course, it's old news to you that way back in APRIL, Bush signed an executive order “authorizing the government to impose a quarantine to deal with any outbreak of a particularly lethal variation of influenza now found in Southeast Asia,” even though a flu expert at Atlanta's CDC said in 2003 that “traditional efforts like quarantine would not work to control bird flu.”
(above source article published by Associated Press on April 1, 2005, begins:
And you can buy it yourself by searching for April 1, 2005 and “bird flu executive order” here.)
This is why I am so unhappy with my previously much-beloved Republican party — they're all so maliciously insane that when I root to the bottom of their fetidness, their “putrescence” (thanks, honey, it is a word, and now I owe you a blow job), they make me look like I'M the crazy one.
And of course, that's how they mean it to go. The evil fucks.
My due date is tomorrow. You should've seen my lawyer's eyes widen as I told him that during our 1:00 meeting today. Tomorrow is November 5th. Guy Fawkes Day. It would be very cool for my son to arrive tomorrow, as “Guy” was my grandpa's name, and the name I'd be known by, had I been born a boy. Of course, had I been born a boy, my father's first words to my infant self would not have been “where's the penis?” So I'd be missing out on that little bit of family history.
Actually, it seems that very few children are actually due on one's due date, which is OK, too, because My Favorite Mother ™ is arriving tomorrow evening. I've been let off the hook from picking her up — four hours in the car is just a little more than I can physically handle right now — so it'll be Brian traveling solo to Logan Airport, unless I actually *do* go into labor, in which case my friend Emily will make the trip.
I think we're all set for a houseguest, and all set for a baby (the most permanent of houseguests 🙂 — the only thing I still need to buy are some drinking straws, as apparently it is nigh impossible to drink from a cup while nursing a baby.
While shopping for last-minute houseguest items (foam egg-crate thing to render the futon more comfortable, as well as an extra pillow) this afternoon, I totally bumped my backside into a nice old man at Target's book aisle today. I apologized for my girth, which he admired, saying “Looking for a novel to help you forget your troubles?” I smiled at him and said I wasn't sure whether my troubles were just ending, or just beginning.
Guess we'll see…
Not to toot my own horn, but yours truly has been deeply honored to be named “Miss Thing of the Month.”
I love you all!
Katie: Lynn, you should really be wearing a maternity shirt.
Lynn: Katie, this IS a maternity shirt
Me: This baby is never coming out.
Monstro: He's probably waiting until I get published.
The Sox won the World Series! The Sox won the World Series!
What's that?
The WHITE Sox?
Oh.
Nevermind…
I was originally going to call this “Dumbass of the Year,” but there's someone else who fits that description, so instead I'm amending it to Famous Dumbass of the Year.
And the winner is: DMX, the hardcore rapper who can't catch a clue!
The list of nominees was long and distinguished, and the committee had a challenging time deciding upon whom to confer this award. Here are the reasons why DMX came up on top:
Back in 2004, DMX “plowed his SUV through a security gate at JFK Airport while high on Valium and then claimed to be an undercover federal agent.”
So, OK, that could happen to anyone. And the judge was down with him, so when DMX pled guilty, the judge gave him a conditional sentence, telling him to keep his nose clean and, oh yeah, turn in his JFK-security-ramming Ford Expedition.
Two weeks later, DMX was cited for driving 104 mph in a 65 mph zone.
And then, in April of this year, DMX rammed his Dodge Magnum into a ladies “stationary car,” causing a chain reaction that, oops, also involved an unmarked police vehicle.
And then! Oh yeah! He missed a court date last month. Must've gotten it confused with the MTV Music Video Awards.
So hey, hey, he's going to jail, having just pled guilty to two counts of driving with a suspended sentence, punishible by two months in jail, perhaps on the lovely Riker's Island.
Sentencing will occur on Nov. 17.
Full story appears here.