Quite the Conundrum

Let's talk about a little hypothetical situation, shall we?

Let's say you were doing research and you really, really, REALLY wanted a certain statistical test to come back with a certain answer. Now, let's say that the test gave you the answer you wanted IF you used one approach, but it gave you the opposite answer if you used a second, equally valid approach. And let's say you only *have* to report one of the tests. How ethical would it be to just report the one that came out with the correct answer?

You'd think that after 2.5 years as a graduate student and THREE research ethics courses, I'd be able to come up with a clear cut answer to this problem. *Sigh*

Mirrors, Mustaches, and Mischief

Thank goodness it's Thursday, because I am sorely in need of a bullet post.

• I know it's bad luck if you break a mirror, but what if you just happen to be in the same room as a mirror that breaks? Is that still bad luck? Because the mirror in the bathroom of the restaurant where we ate lunch just randomly cracked while I was washing my hands, but I didn't do it! I swear! So do I get a pass on this one?
• I talked to a person in the hallway for 5 minutes before realizing that this person was someone with whom I've had at least 5 classes over the past three years. And I didn't even recognize him! And all because he went and grew a mustache.
• For the past several months, my bathroom rug keeps getting tossed around in the middle of the night and I've been blaming Black Cat for this because she's usually the one who does crazy things like that. As it turns out, Yellow Cat also has some deeply buried craziness issues, because at about 3 a.m. last night, I kicked him off the bed, then watched him go and take his anger out on the rug. Yellow Cat's status as my favorite pet is quickly dropping.

Another Manic...Wednesday

There was a moving truck blocking my way this morning as I was trying to leave for work, so I had to re-park my car and go find the movers so I could ask them to kindly move their truck. This is the kind of conversation that I like to avoid because of course, it went something like this:

Me: Hey, could you move your truck a little? It's blocking me in.
Mover: Uh...well...I can't.
Me: Okay. Huh. But I really need to get out.
Mover: Yeah, I understand, but...I can't drive the truck.
Me: Oh! Are you not the mover?
Mover: No, I am, I just can't drive the truck.
Me: It IS your truck, right?
Mover: Yeah.
Me: But you can't drive it.
Mover: Yeah.

And at that moment, I decided it would be much more productive to just drive over the curb and risk scratching up my car, instead of continuing that particular line of conversation any further.

25 Weeks

At the beginning of this pregnancy, I had planned to post a picture of myself once a month or so, to track the growth of the belly. Obviously, that plan never really panned out. So then, I thought that maybe I'd post one at the end of each trimester, but again--didn't work out. So THEN, I thought maybe I'd at least post one at the halfway point. Now that I'm 5 weeks past the halfway point, I finally got my procrastinating self together for long enough to (a) take a picture, (b) transfer the picture from the camera to my computer, and (c) remember that I have a picture to post in a timely fashion. So here I am...

McMoose, my colleagues, and strangers in parking lots, grocery stores, and elevators all seem to think that I look pregnant. I still think I look like I have a very large beer belly.

Breaking Out the Champagne...Er...Sparkling Cider

For the past five weeks, January 26th has been a huge, looming obstacle that I've been dreading. And I'm a planner, so at any given time, I have a list of at least 5 things that I'm looking forward to in the coming weeks, but ever since December 17th, the farthest I've been able to plan was January 26th. Because this morning, I had my thesis proposal presentation, which was a huge, looming thing on the horizon of my day planner and even though I had things written down for the rest of this week and the rest of this month, I couldn't actually picture any of those things happening because I just couldn't see past the enormity of today. And so, for the past week, I've been completely convinced that the world would end at 10 a.m. today.

It isn't so much that I was worried about the public speaking or the possibility of failure, because if I had been worried about those things, I could have read more books and been more prepared and just generally done things to make myself feel better. Instead, I was worried that my shoes would be mismatched, or that the projector would stop working halfway through, or that zombies might try to take over the world just as I was getting to my hypotheses. And since they don't routinely stock zombie repellent at Kroger, there wasn't really anything I could do to be better prepared for that particular situation.

As it turned out, the zombies stayed put and the world kept going and I spent two hours standing in front of three faculty members and telling them why my master's research was worth doing. Considering the fact that I'm not fully convinced that it IS worth doing, it was quite the feat. The faculty members, for their part, listened and paid attention and asked interesting questions, to which I then made up random answers. But they nodded and smiled and my advisor later told me that all my answers made sense (Really?! Even the one where I made up a name for a statistical test? Hmm...)

So now, I'm going to go back to my planner and look at all those things that I wrote down, but didn't really believe would happen, and I'm going to revel in the fact that Yes! I have plans again!

The Unicycling Fool

I understand that the first couple of years at college--and for some people, the first decade at college--is not a period that is filled with common sense. I understand this because the first couple of years that I spent at college were the least common-sensical two years of my life. In fact, I still don't understand what possessed me to spend a night in the middle of January sitting on a fire escape or why I thought it would be a good idea to routinely skip my biology class in favor of "interviewing" people at the campus coffee house for a psychology experiment that was completely made up.

But even in the midst of all that stupidity, not one, single, solitary time did I EVER decide it would be smart to participate in a unicycle race in a busy parking lot. Not ONE TIME did I ever think it might be even remotely safe to go careening down the ramps as cars came careening UP the ramps, without so much as a helmet on. So I guess in that sense, even on my dumbest day, I must've been a genius compared to the dumbass that ran into my car this morning.

Before today, I would've thought that unicycling was a lost art and that outside the circus, you probably couldn't even find enough people who knew how to ride a unicycle to put together a decent race. I would've thought that even if you did find those people and you did put together that race, most of those people would have been intelligent enough to NOT ride through the busiest commuter parking lot on a weekday morning. I would've thought that even if those people were not intelligent enough to reach the conclusion that it might not be a great idea to taunt death, that they would AT LEAST be skilled enough on their ridiculous little unicycles to not come crashing into parked cars. And I would've been wrong on all those counts.

Because as I was getting out of my car this morning, I was interrupted by a crash, which turned out to be the aforementioned fool on a unicycle running into my back bumper. Presumably, he slipped on the patch of ice that was directly behind my car. Luckily, there was no damage to my car, other than two scratches that wiped off without much fuss. The fool, on the other hand, might have to get himself a new unicycle because his wheel was slightly bent and the metal parts were all scratched up. Muaaahahahaha.

Looking For Daffodils

I've very much enjoyed the last two days of cold and snow and ice. That being said, I'm ready for spring now. McMoose has been warning me for the past two days to watch out for all that "black ice" out there--and of course, I've made fun of him for it because seriously, black ice? In 40 degree weather? It sounds ridiculous. Or so I thought until I found myself lying on the ground in the parking lot this morning, brought down by the nefarious black ice. Luckily, I fell on my back and not my belly, so I'm not worried about The Bug, but still--I'm 20 pounds heavier than I was the last time I fell on ice and this HURTS!

So on my drive to work, I was extra careful to avoid any questionable patches on the road and I made it here without incident. Once I got here, however, I realized that (a) EVERY SINGLE STUDENT at this university decided to come to class today, presumably because of the 4-5 day weekend they've all just enjoyed and (b) they took all my parking spots. And even though the university felt it was necessary to salt and sand the sidewalks to within an inch of their lives, they did NOT feel that it was all that important to salt the parking lot. Which means that all those people who decided to come to class today? Yeah, they're all parked in random places, taking up multiple spaces, blocking entrances and exits, and just generally causing havoc. So I got to park in the middle of a mound of snow at the far end of the parking deck. I'm hoping it warms up by the time I have to leave, because otherwise, I'm going to have to shovel my car out.

And to add insult to injury--actually, I guess it added a second injury--as I was about to walk into my building, a very large icicle fell on my shoulder. Like I said, I am READY for spring.

Redefining Productivity

After consulting with my co-workers, all of whom informed me that they would be staying away from campus today, I decided to make it a "work from home" kind of day. Which is great because it allows me to stay in my warm cocoon for another day, but all the things I had planned to do at work today? Yeah, I already did them all. In fact, I did them in the first 25 minutes of my "workday." So. Now what?

I could...
-Wash and fold laundry.
-Clean the purple stains on my bathroom counter. What in the world stains a counter PURPLE?!
-Dust the living room furniture.
-Unpack the suitcases that are still left over from the holidays.
-Take down the Christmas lights from the balcony.

Instead, I'm going to bake brownies. That counts as being productive, right? (And maybe I'll clean those purple stains because they are freaking. me. out.)

Snow Day!!!!

It's snowing here today, which is beyond exciting for me because snow! Here! In Raleigh! For the first time all winter!

There's a little calm voice in the back of my head telling me that "Hey! You spent seven years living in a place where they counted the accumulation of snow in feet, not inches. You have no business getting this excited about two little inches of snow." But the rationality presented by that voice is lost on the overwhelming majority of my brain, which is chanting "SNOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!! SNOOOOOWWWWWW!!!! SNOOOOOOWWWWWW!!!!"

The little calm voice also told me that I should go to work today, a piece of advice which I confidently ignored because the last time I drove in Raleigh in snow, there was less than half an inch on the ground and still, I was nearly run off the road three different times by lunatics who apparently thought the world was ending. Plus, the university closed down and I didn't feel like walking up those 7 flights of stairs again, so I get to sit on my couch, sip on my hot chocolate, and enjoy my bona fide snow day.

This, That, Etc.

• It's MLK day. Which means that campus is like a ghost town. Which in turn means that I got a really great parking spot, but had to walk up seven flights of stairs because they shut the elevators off to conserve power. Meanwhile, they've turned on EVERY SINGLE LIGHT in every hallway of the building, AND they've turned the heat up to approximately 120 degrees. Good plan.
• I went to Arby's for lunch, where I actually had to go into the building (Imagine that!) because when I tried to order at the drive thru, the response I got from the speaker went something like this: "*Static* blarg goopidy goo *static* beep beep beep beep beep beep." So I went in, ordered my food, and then stood back and watched as one of the workers mopped the kitchen area and about 15 seconds later, another worker walked through the freshly mopped floor carrying a giant vat of ketchup, slipped, fell, and spilled ketchup EVERYWHERE. At which point, the ketchup covered guy on the floor jumped back up, turned to the first worker and said, "Hey, go get a camera, let's do that again!" And this is why going into the restaurant is ALWAYS better than using the drive-thru.
• I was woken up this morning by the very pervasive smell of cherry chap-stick, so I opened my eyes to see The Dog standing on the bed, looking expectantly at me. Since The Dog's breath usually smells more like garbage and less like fruit flavored lip balm, I was understandably suspicious about the new development. As it turns out, The Dog managed to get into the bathroom trash, take out the tube of chap-stick that I threw out yesterday, and eat the remainder. Oh, and last night? He drank baby oil. I'm not liking this phase. AT ALL.

Accumulating More Furniture

I got a phone call at 7:49 this morning from the futon delivery guy, saying that he was on his way. 7:49. That's a whole 11 minutes EARLIER than I wake up on mornings when I have to go to work. And also? It was a whole hour and 11 minutes earlier than the time that I was told to expect the futon to be delivered. I think that's the first time that I've ever had furniture delivered earlier than expected. It was a novel change. Although the next time I order furniture from this store? I'm going to ask for it to be delivered IN THE AFTERNOON.

This was also the first time that there was just one delivery guy. Usually there are two or three or twenty and they grumble about having to carry things up the two flights of stairs to our apartment. This guy? Carried up the entire futon by himself WITH NO COMPLAINT. Nothing. Not one single word about how cold it was (below freezing) or how heavy the box was (pretty heavy, according to McMoose, who pushed it into the hallway to lower the chance of the cats knocking it down and squishing themselves) or how many stairs he had to climb (34. I counted yesterday).

I'm really hoping this guy only had a few things to deliver today and then, he gets paid to spend the rest of the day drinking hot chocolate and playing video games because dude, he totally deserves it.

Hello, Couch. Good-bye, Bed.

Lately, my ability to roll over while asleep has suffered, so now I find myself fully waking up, getting out of bed, and then finding a new position. Which takes a lot of effort and also gives Yellow Cat the precious few seconds that he needs to poach all my space. And once he's in my space, I feel bad telling him to leave, so I end up putting myself into smaller spaces throughout the night, and the smaller the space I wake up in, the grouchier I am for the rest of the day. So last night, I decided that I would let the darn cat have my ENTIRE side of the bed and that I would go sleep on the couch. Of course, Yellow Cat followed me.

The benefit of sleeping on the couch, as it turns out, is that thanks to all the cushions, I can roll over again. Without! Getting! Up! Which meant that even though Yellow Cat spent the majority of the night being noisy and trying to claw up the seat of the couch, I STILL got more sleep than I normally do in bed. My back doesn't hurt, my head doesn't feel fuzzy, and I can do things that involve the use of more than three brain cells.

So. I hereby declare today to be the Best. Day. Ever.

And I also declare my couch to be my New. Best. Friend. And I'm very sorry about the mean things I've said about it in the past.

Beware: This Is A Very Long Post

Generally speaking, I am a person who avoids doctors for as long as humanly possible. During my 21 months of constant illness (a.k.a.: The time I worked at the daycare), I went to the doctor once. Because I had a fever of 103.5 degrees and I started sleepwalking and I woke up to find myself sitting on my balcony at 3 a.m. in a pile of snow. There are certain problems that I know will not resolve themselves without medical treatment. Cancer. The plague. Urinary tract infections. That kind of thing. But for most other illnesses, my strategy tends to be "Wait and see if it goes away."

Of course, that strategy has been blown all to hell right now because my paranoia about The Bug takes precedence over my very intense desire to avoid anyone with the letters "M.D." behind their names. Plus, McMoose has become overprotective about the WEIRDEST THINGS, so while he's completely unconcerned about things like contractions and cramps, he's wildly concerned about things like a sore throat or a runny nose. So to put both our minds at rest, when I woke up with a sore throat for the second morning in a row, I decided it would be a good idea to make a quick visit to the student health center.

And that right there? That's where this whole day started unraveling. Because the student health center has made it abundantly clear that they DO NOT do pregnancy care. But since this was a sore THROAT and not, say, a sore uterus, I figured it would be okay to go to them. So after sitting in the waiting room for 30 minutes, a nurse called me back, looked me up and down, and then this conversation happened:

Nurse: Oh. You're pregnant.
Me: Yeah.
Nurse: You should see an OB. We don't do pregnancy care.
Me: I know. This isn't--
Nurse: The women's clinic can refer you to an OB, but you should already have been seeing one.
Me: No, I know--
Nurse: You should be taking vitamins and stuff too.
Me: I KNOW! And I AM. I'm not here about the pregnancy. I'm here for a sore throat.
Nurse: Ohhhh. Okay. Well, let's go through the intake questionnaire then. Are you on any birth control right now?

And after about 5 more minutes of equally ridiculous questions, she informed me that the doctor would come see me in "a couple of minutes." 35 minutes later, someone in a white coat came in. For simplicity sake and because her name tag said "Dr. Keith," we'll refer to her as a doctor, although I do have my doubts. Can you guess what her first observation was?

Dr: You're pregnant.
Me: Yes.
Dr: We don't really do pregnancy care.
Me: I know. I'm not here about pregnancy care. I'm here about a sore throat.
Dr: Oh, good. Are you married?
Me: Umm....yes...
Dr: Are you an undergrad or a grad student?
Me: Grad...
Dr: Oh, so you're not as young as you look. Thank goodness.
Me: Uh...
Dr: Because usually, we offer pregnancy counseling, but you're really too far along for a termination, so...
Me: No! I don't need a...termination...I have a SORE THROAT. I want a STREP TEST.
Dr: Ok. Well, we'll do two swabs. The first one will test for Strep A.
Me: And the second?
Dr: Oh, it tests for...the other strep.
Me: The "other strep." Ok...and if one of them comes back positive, what would the treatment be?
Dr: I don't really know. We'd have to call your OB for a consult.
Me: You'd have to consult with my OB about my sore throat?
Dr: Yes, because I don't really know what's safe to prescribe during pregnancy.
Me: I...see...
Dr: Oh, and before you go to the lab, let's try to listen to the baby's heartbeat. That's always fun to hear.
Me: Okay! You have a Doppler monitor?
Dr: Oh no, just with the stethoscope. *Spends five minutes listening intently to various spots on my belly, during which time The Bug kicked non-stop.* Hm...I can't hear it. Maybe you should see your OB, just to make sure he's still alive.
Me: Uh...he's kicking. Right now.
Dr: Oh, wow! I was wondering what that was. I've never been pregnant, so I've never felt it, and we don't really get many pregnant women in here because you know...
Me: Yeah. You don't do pregnancy care. I know.

By this time, all I really wanted was to leave because WHO in their right mind suggests to a pregnant woman that maybe her baby is dead? While the child is clearly alive AND awake? And also, what kind of doctor doesn't recognize what a kicking baby feels like? Did the woman NOT do a residency, ever?! But instead of leaving, I got to wait another 40 MINUTES for the results of my RAPID SWAB test, before having this final conversation, once again with the so-called "doctor."

Dr: Looks like the rapid swab came back negative. So we'll call you in a couple of days if the other test comes back positive.
Me: Okay, and until then...?
Dr: Well, usually, we'd tell you to take a cough syrup or suck on some lozenges, but I don't really know what's in them. I'd give you vitamin C pills, but I don't know what's in those either.
Me: Don't vitamin C pills usually just have...vitamin C?
Dr: Probably, but you should call your OB to check. And in the meantime, drink lots of water.

So I spent 2 hours at the health center this morning, only to be told to drink more water for my non-strep A related sore throat. Next time, I think I'll go straight to the OB office, because even though "Drink more water" seems to be their mantra too, at least they TRY to follow it up with a useful suggestion.

A Mini-Celebration

I just turned in my thesis proposal, which has been my obsession, my baby, and the source of at least 70% of my stress for the past 10 months. This is a very exciting, albeit terror-inducing, moment. On the one hand, I have the knowledge that I'm done with the written part (!), but on the other hand are the dreaded facts that (a) I can't make any more changes, so if I misspelled "psychology," or "stereotype," or "the," there's nothing I can do about it and (b) in 13 days, I have to stand up in front of three (3!) tenured faculty members and explain to them why this is a worthy project. Gah!

My printer, for its part, did an admirable job of printing out the 70-page document twice (I apologize to all the trees that made the ultimate sacrifice so that I could be one step closer to having the initials "M.S." behind my name). Now that it has completed that task, however, it has decided that it no longer wishes to be associated with academia and has handed in its resignation so that it can go join a commune in Sri Lanka.

4 Months To Go!

I put on a pair of shoes this morning that I haven't worn in a while and I've spent the past five hours coming to terms with the fact that my feet are growing. As a result of which, my shoes are now sitting under my desk and my feet are wandering around the office with no footwear whatsoever. I'm hoping there aren't any gross fungi in the carpet, but if the alternative is to squish my feet back into those ridiculously tiny shoes? I'll just pick up some anti-fungal cream on my way home.

And another thing. I have stretch marks on my knees. MY KNEES, for crying out loud. I just want to take this opportunity to point out the fact that my knees? THEY AREN'T STRETCHING. There is no baby growing there. So what's with the marks?

I'm assuming that The Bug is in some way responsible for both the clown feet and the oddly placed stretch marks, as well as the fact that my belly button has migrated to the outside of my body. Mostly, I'm okay with all of this, but this kid had better be really, really cute to compensate for all the not-so-cute things he's doing to me.

On the plus side, there are few greater motivators to getting your thesis done than the knowledge that in exactly 4 months, you will be responsible for an actual, human person who will wake you up at all hours of day and night and who will probably not let you write a coherent sentence, let alone a well-analyzed thesis.

Mr. Mailman, Bring Me A Box

McMoose gets lots of packages, mostly because he orders random things online--cards for his favorite game, books, gemstones, etc. And he's ridiculously, annoyingly patient, which means that he has no problem waiting for these things to get here in the mail. I, on the other hand, am very into instant gratification and if I decide to buy something, I like to have it in my possession NOW. So whenever possible, I shop at actual, physical stores. Except that it isn't always possible and then I have to order something online and then? I spend the next 5-7 days thinking "Is it here yet? I wonder when it'll get here. Maybe it's here now. Ooh, was that the mail truck? I'd better go check."

I ordered contacts online last weekend because I've been slowly running out since November and I think that after a month of use, my last set of two-week contacts is finally at the end of its rope. And since then, I've checked the website no fewer than four times a day to see the status. Now mind you, they didn't provide a tracking number or anything, so the status always reads "Shipped." That's it. No further details. And yet, I still check. FOUR TIMES A DAY.

And so far today, I've checked the mailbox three times under the guise of taking The Dog for a walk. The Dog, by the way, is now hiding under the bed because he's worried that if he shows his face, he might have to go on another walk. I don't know how McMoose does this, because waiting for things to come in the mail is EXHAUSTING.

A Mish-Mash of A Post

• My car insurance bill this month had a very strongly worded statement about how, if I can't manage to pay my monthly bills on time, the privilege of being able to pay each month instead of every six months would be taken away. And? The statement was even IN BOLD. With RED LETTERING. It was all very official and I imagine this is what it feels like to be called to the Principal's office.
• I had a meeting with my advisor this morning. I promised her it would take no more than 20 minutes. In reality, it took nearly 50. But it was quite possibly the most helpful 50 minutes I've had since beginning my graduate program 2-and-a-half years ago, thanks in part to the statement made by my advisor that she will do physical harm to anyone who asks foolish questions about my research. Now that that's taken care of, all I have to worry about is the 20,000 possible NON foolish questions I might have to answer.
• Before I left the house this morning, I put one sock on my foot and the other sock in my purse. I'm still completely confused about this because WHAT in the world would possess a person to do that? I mean, it's not like putting on two socks is a complicated or novel process. It's something I do EVERY SINGLE DAY. There should be no room for error at this point.

My Triumph

If I were a comic book character, my arch-nemesis would be the newspaper salesman who sits outside my building for the three days at the start of every semester and tries to lure me into buying newspapers for three months. Last semester, I fell for it and from September through December, we got a newspaper delivered at an ungodly hour every morning and all these newspapers sat in a pile in our dining room because even though the IDEA of reading a newspaper every day is very appealing, the reality is that I'm not a newspaper-reading type of person. I'm more of a read-the-news-online-at-random-intervals type of person. So finally, before we left town for the holidays, we took three months worth of papers to the recycling facility and I promised McMoose that I would never fall for the evil newspaper salesman's pitch again.

And that promise might be the most difficult one I've ever had to keep. Because the newspaper salesman? He is the devil incarnate. He sees into my soul and he knows exactly what pitch to use and before I know it, I find myself standing there thinking how nice it would be to read the newspaper every day. So when I passed him on Monday morning, I kept my head turned resolutely forward and didn't even pause on my way into the building. And when I passed him on Monday afternoon, I paused for a quick minute when he revealed to me that I could subscribe to just the Sunday paper for the low, low price of $6 per month. But I marshaled all my willpower and kept on walking. And I avoided campus yesterday, partly because I didn't want to deal with the likes of him.

And then came today. I forgot he'd be there, so I was completely unprepared when he greeted me with, "Did you know you could get the paper delivered every other day for just $45 for three months? AND you'd get a free hat with out logo on it!" And I thought wow! A free hat! And a newspaper every other day! For just $45! How cool! And just as I was about to go fill out the subscription form, it occurred to me that last semester, when I got the newspaper EVERY SINGLE DAY, I paid just $30 for three months. So I'd be paying an extra $15 AND only be getting half the number of papers. Which means, basically, that I'd be paying $30 for a hat which I'd never wear. It was much easier to walk away today.

The Most Ridiculous Advice Ever

At the start of this pregnancy, I was super excited about each one of my doctor's appointments because they were so exciting. Plus, until I started showing, the 35 minutes per month that I spent in the obstetric waiting room was the only time when I felt like a Pregnant Person as opposed to, say, a Person With Food Poisoning. Now that I look like I've swallowed a (very large) bowling ball and The Bug spends all his waking moments testing out his leg muscles, "feeling pregnant" is no longer a problem for me, so the doctor's appointments are significantly less exciting.

Of course, this drop in the excitement levels probably also have a lot to do with the fact that at each of my last four appointments, I've been told to drink more water. It was sensible advice the first time I received it because I was legitimately dehydrated. But at this point, I'm already drinking 100-120 oz of water a day, so to tell me to drink more water? Not really helpful. Furthermore, when you spend half your day drinking water, you tend to spend the other half of your day running to the bathroom.

As it turns out, when you reveal to the Doctor that you spend half your day running to the bathroom, it causes her to get a very concerned look on her face and then order Tests X, Y, and Z. Which in turn caused my anxiety levels to go THROUGH THE ROOF. And 20 minutes later, at the end of what turned out to be an unexpectedly painful and complicated visit, she said, "Oh, everything looks fine, but make sure you DRINK MORE WATER."

And then, my water-logged head exploded in frustration.

Back In The Saddle Again

First, Happy 2009!

Second, the past two weeks have been the fastest two weeks of my life. Here's a (very) abbreviated summary:
-Drove to Mississippi. Had lots of contractions, and therefore, lots of related panic. But 800 ounces of water later, all was well.
-Nephew had a first birthday party, where he looked warily at the people, but enjoyed his toys.
-We had a not-so-much surprise baby shower, where we looked warily at the people who participated in the Sniff The Diaper game, but enjoyed the toys. And the food.
-McMoose got to feel The Bug kick for the first time, which means that I no longer have to wonder if I'm just hallucinating the movements.
-The poor, sad Matrix now has TWO cracks on the windshield instead of one. On the plus side, this will probably encourage me to (finally) take it in to be fixed. And on the plus-er side, at least this happened BEFORE I got the first crack fixed.
-The Dog has spent the past two weeks having his nose and eyes poked, his tail pulled, and his feet stepped on by our one-year-old nephew. And at some point, the kid found out that if he whapped The Dog's head with hard toys, it makes a funny hollow sound. It was also at this point that The Dog began sighing dramatically every time the kid entered the room. However, any time the kid fell and hurt himself, The Dog was the first responder on the scene, so I'm hoping that once The Bug gets here, his protective instincts will win out over his eat-the-annoying-small-person instincts.
-The cats are alive and well and very curious about the hand-me-down baby things we brought back with us. I'm still trying to convince McMoose it would be fun to see if Yellow Cat will fit into a newborn outfit, but so far, no luck. Yellow Cat probably appreciates McMoose's stance on this issue.