get out. get out. get out.

Our tiny bean has grown. If she doesn't stop soon, there will be no where left for her to live but in my head and arms and legs. I went to my monthly weigh in (I mean, midwife appointment) and was assured that her growth is normal, but I'm beginning to have my doubts. I feel like I ate a whole Thanksgiving by myself. 8 weeks, and I'm giving her an eviction notice. But for now baby, stay in. Stay in. Stay in.

an apology to the unborn

If you come out orange it is entirely my fault.
Mine and those jerks at Kraft with the delicious macaroni.
9 weeks to go!
I love you,
Mama

california girls

Baby girl and I got to take a little impromptu trip to Temecula this weekend to visit Grandma and Grandbob. We had the best time. Highlights were- pedicures, of course, watching mom try to walk in Bob's flip flops, playing Rummikub with the family ("next") and visiting my Grandma's sister- Aunt Judy in San Diego.