Doctor Boy

Yesterday as I left for work, Calder asked me to stay and cuddle like normal but I told him I really needed to go right then because I had a doctor's appointment that day. Of course as soon as Calder heard the D word, he wanted to go to. Why the hell not? It's still a pants-on visit and it's not like he and Bruce and anything planned for the day so I gave Bruce the appointment info and went to work. Anyone who's been paying attention around here knows that Calder loves going to the doctor and talking about body parts. I thought this would be awesome for him but for some reason, as soon as the doctor came in the room he completely clammed up and clung to Bruce. Perhaps he was scared because it was me on the table and not him. 

The doctor was amazing with Calder. After she gave me and Bruce the regular spiel about pee tests and weight and everything being normal and right on track she asked us if we had any questions. After we said no, she addressed Calder directly and asked him if HE had any questions. He was still being weirdly shy so he managed to not say "I want to see the baby now, take it out!" and "What IS the baby standing on?", which are his usual queries. The doctor then invited Calder over to the table to not only hear her take the baby's heartbeat, but to actually help her! That got him going. Calder at first thought he was going to get to play with a real stethoscope and when he got handed the fetal heartbeat thinger he went bug eyed. I think he was a little disappointed that he didn't get to smear my stomach with the jelly like the doctor did though. After the doctor helped him find the right spot, Calder stood on a stool at the end of the exam table, pressed his head to my leg and just quietly listened to his little sister's heartbeat. My word, it was adorable. Bruce even looked a little misty but that could also be the fact that it was also his first time hearing his second child's heart.

Bruce and Calder then spent a fun day bopping around the Mag Mile while I went back to work. When I got home I asked Calder if he had a good time and what his favorite things about the day were. Number one was of course the robot he got at the Lego store for being a good boy at the doctor's office. I mean, he did only try to open the biological hazardous materials bin just the once. Second was the heart beat thing. Or maybe it was getting popcorn. I choose to believe it was the heartbeat one. Since I am trying to prep Calder for my inevitable hospital stay, I warned him that I would be going to the doctor a lot more often now and he wouldn't always be able to go with me. Then I told him that when the baby was ready to be born I would have to go to the hospital for a few days without him but he'd still be able to visit after while. When he asked if he could come with me the whole time, I said it might be gross and scary. Calder said, "That's ok, I hold your hand so you not scared anymore." I mean, just, wow, goodness, kid. It's dusty in here. I'll admit I have my concerns but I think Calder just may end up being a fantastic big brother.

Namery pt. Deux

Seeing as how I publicly mocked Bruce's name suggestions on here, I suppose it's only fair that I open my own choices up to the same abuse. I mean we all had bad name taste at some point. There was a fairly long period of time in my life where I was convinced I would name any girl children Mackenzie, Carlisle and Emerson.

First, names I love but can't use

Madeline: Madeline Kahn has been one of my favoritest actresses since I first saw Clue and then was further reinforced (not that much) later in life by Blazing Saddles (My dad was strange with what he considered inappropriate TV for kids. You Can't Do That On Television=BAD, Mel Brooks movies=GOOD). Why can't I use it? Just check a kindergarten roll for the last 10 years.

Caroline: Loooove. Too bad both my sister and an internet friend have had Carolines in the past two years. Granted, I have no need to prove allegiance to a person that lives over 600 miles away that I have never met in meat life but but still, there's my beotch of a sister. She also took my favorite middle name, Elaine (our grandmother).

Julia: Julia Child has been an obsession of mine since I was about two. She came on after Sesame Street. I even got to meet her once when she unexpectedly sat in on one of my college classes. Julia, however, breaks my no top 100 names rule. I am very picky.

Lucy and Mina (Or Lucinda and Wilhelmina and other variations thereof): My BFF has claimed both of these. Sure she's not pregnant with twin girls or anything right now. Or with any babies at all but one of us teaches college level courses about vampires and one of us doesn't.

Names I like but on which Bruce has put the kibosh

Alice, Ruth, Constance, Eleanor, Cecilia/Cecily - too old

Elsa, Rowena, Imogen, Dagmar, Liesl, Greta, Branwen - too German

Zora, Zillah, Pepin, Hadley, Norris, Sailor, Wallis, Lulah, Niobe - just no

Names I like to which Bruce has so far NOT objected

Simone/Simca: Julia's main co-author and BFF until later on in life. They had some sort of falling out so maybe bad juju.

Solange: Also a Knowles

Evangeline: One of my main favs. I fear that it is headed into Madeline territory though, especially since Eva/Eve is so popular these days.

Emmeline: See Evangeline

Moira: Not sure I am Irish enough to actually pull this one off. Maybe if we hit the recessive gene lottery and end up with a redhead. Doubtful.

Astrid: As Calder says, "That's a viking." And yes, totally stolen from How to Train Your Dragon.

Renatta and Colette: See above except substitute Ratatouille.

Wren: My leading choice at the moment. It's odd. It's a real word. It's easy to say. I already have one child with a middle name that I cannot pronounce correctly. BUT. It's odd. And short. And a noun.

Other names that I like for no particular reason but mostly just consider inoffensive

Elise, Maeve, Matilda, Elodie, Cora, Lena, Iris, Cordelia, Letitia, Eulalie

As you can see, too many choices equals not enough decisions. I did settle on a middle name that would fit in most cases. I think it will be Louise. That was my grandmother's twin which would be a nice complement to her cousin's name.

Hoc-key?

Last Saturday, after we spent the morning looking at possible rental houses, Bruce had to go do his hockey thing. The fake-ice facility where he does individual lessons and stuff wasn't that far away from where we were looking and he was only working for four hours so it made sense for me and Calder to hang there while he worked. They have a nice big lobby with comfy couches, a large TV and a ton of toys so I knew Calder would be able to hang and it was a great excuse to not have to drive back and forth to the city in the pouring rain. Plus, when Bruce's first person didn't show up, it gave Calder the opportunity to have his first real hockey lesson.
 

Lord, does he look special.

This technically wasn't Calder's first time on skates, he had a go with them earlier in the winter when we went to a big dinner with some of the other Puckmaster's coaches at the facility. But that was pretty much limited to Calder scooting around on his butt and trying to ride in the chair he was supposed to be pushing in front of him for support. 


Note: He is NOT in goal. Huzzah!

Of course Calder wasn't completely cooperative and still wanted to ride around in the chair a bit but he did attempt to shuffle around by himself and shoot some pucks.

March, march, march 

The helmet was too big so he eventually lost it. And his sweatshirt. It's not like the surface is cold or anything. It's not ice but some weird Teflon-y substance that is skatable but significantly less slippery. It is, however, 100% more requiring of a once over with a shop vac after use. The people, I mean, not the surface. I think being vacuumed was actually Calder's favorite part of the entire lesson.

House Hunters

With Rusty's birth becoming imminent, we have kicked our move/not move dithering into high gear. We have gone so far as to actually hook up with an awesome realtor and go take a look at about a dozen or so places. And by places I mean real single family houses with yards and driveways and stuff, mostly located in the suburbs.

I, of course, am agitating for near 'burbs rather than far and Bruce seems inclined to go with more house farther out rather than small city-adjacent house. Of course he's not the one that has to worry about getting his butt into the Loop everyday. I fear I will have to resign myself to a middle-distance compromise and learn to love the Metra. Of course, in my dream world I could get my downtown parking space back from work and drive every day but I know from experience that leaving Bruce alone all day, everyday with Calder and no car is tantamount to cruel and unusual punishment. Especially if this new suburban location is not rife with entertainment and public transit options like the city. It looks like my dream world would also involve a second car.

On our two main outings to view houses, it has been like every episode of House Hunters ever. Minus the insufferable people, of course. Either we love the place and can't afford it, the price is right but there is something lacking that we pretty much require (third bedroom, fenced yard, room for toys, a kitchen that will fit more than two people and two pans), or it has everything that we need and the price is good but the location honks. Like, honks honks. Can you say random residential strip in the middle of a commercially-zoned area near O'Hare? Currently, the O'Hare adjacent one is running in first place namely due to the fact that it is the cheapest and has a swing set. Oh yeah, Calder gets asked for his opinion too. At first he was gunning for the house we viewed that was still occupied at the time and had two little boys living there but when we explained that the kids didn't come with the house he changed his mind to the one with the swings and the sweet basement. At least we all agree on the basement.

Ready, Aim, Fire!

Can somebody please tell me how to teach a boy to pee in the toilet, rather than just in the general direction of said toilet? (Every female everywhere who has ever lived with a guy, "Yes, please do.") Lately, when not doing number two, Calder has insisted on using the big toilet rather than his potty. When I asked him why, I got an exasperated expression and a "Boys stand, Mom." This would be fine except for the fact that Bruce doesn't ever put up the toilet seat so Calder doesn't do it either. It's nice because the chances of me falling into the toilet water at 3 a.m. are greatly reduced but the probability of there being pee on the seat is significantly higher. It's like I live in the worst women's bathroom ever.

This morning, Calder woke up around 5:30 because as he said, "My arms are hurting! Neeeeeedles!!!!!" Kid's gotta learn how not to sleep on his arms apparently. For the record, explaining the concept of pins and needles to a three year old before six a.m is nigh on impossible. Even if it's a three year old that has a basic understanding of what nerve endings are. Since he was pretty worked up about his arms, Bruce and said he could come into bed with us. He was sobbing too much to put himself back to bed and I had to get up soon anyway. As usual, we requested that before Calder got into our bed, he go relieve himself since we are both totally over the being urinated on in our sleep. Also, we can't afford a new mattress. Laying there, both of us physically cringed as we heard a good five seconds of splattering before there came the tinkling sound of liquid hitting liquid. Bruce called out to him to at least try and hit the toilet and I said, "What do you expect? He can't feel his arms." At least he managed to hit the waste basket?

It's not we haven't tried to get Calder to improve his aim. Bruce has shown him how to put the seat up and told Calder to use his step stool to better his chances of hitting the water rather than the wall but the boy only remembers to do these things about a third of the time. I tried leaving a stash of Cheerios in the bathroom and instructed Calder to throw them in the toilet and practice "shooting at them." He loved it. Once. And then he ate the rest of the bag on his next, er, extended trip to the bathroom. I should really try that again with paper targets or something even less edible than that. Calder's real issue is his lack of focus. He's fine as long as he's looking at what he's doing but as soon as he gets distracted by the dog walking by or the sound of Bruce trying to sneak a piece of candy... it's all over. Literally. It's like, once the head turns, so goes the torso and once the torso turns, the hips (and stream) follow. So... advice? Or am I just going to have to resort to covering the entire bathroom wall and floor with plastic sheeting until, uh, forever?

#3a

Flowers are for grils, Mom.

I made a hat! I made the most difficult hat of the eight from which I could have chosen. I think if I get around to #3b, I am going to adjust course, buy some additional notions and choose another pattern since the second hat is pretty much a variation on this one.

Single Digits

I am, according to BabyCenter, 32 weeks along. That means the number of weeks left can be counted on TWO HANDS. Or even two eensy weensy cat feets. I am so friggin' excited. Starting with this last doctor visit, I am now on an every two week schedule until my first pants-off appointment at 36 weeks. It's a good thing that my doctor's office is so ruthlessly efficient (length of last trip, 1:15, including travel there and back) because it is taking me ever longer to get there what with the waddling and the bus only going part of the way. I could have probably done it in under an hour had I not needed a blood draw for the fourth (fifth?) consecutive visit. I am getting to have a perma-bruise in the crook of my elbow thanks to Stabby McGee, the phlebotomist. 

First it was a regular draw, then one for my Parvo fears, then the retest for Parvo and the glucose draw. That last test showed that while I did not have Parvo or gestational diabetes (got to drink fruit punch glucose this time), it came back saying that I had an elevated white blood cell count. What that means, as Calder could tell you, is that  my blood is making white blood cells to come and eat the green germs. What that means, as the physician's assistant told me, is that I have an elevated level of a specific kind of white cell that fights infections. I forgot what it was called though as this was discovered two appointments ago. It's unusual for my count to be like this, apparently, because I haven't been sick at all. Calder was fighting his awful cold at this time but it never came around to me. So on Tuesday, I had ANOTHER blood draw and my white cell count was STILL high. This prompted a next day phone call from my actual doctor (Love this office, never going back to the other one. Sorry, famous ladyparts doctor!) to tell me that they have no idea what's causing it other than it just may be another one of those side effects of pregnancy. Hormones, they're a helluva drug. Going forward, they are going to test me again at 36 weeks, and then if the count is still not down, sometime after Rusty is born. 

Wow, that was a lot more complaining than I had originally anticipated. the point of this post was supposed to be all the thing I have/have not done yet in preparation for Rusty now that we are in the final countdown. Mostly this is a list of have not's.

I have not done yet:

• Assembled the crib/nursery. Hell, I don't even know which room/house/city the child will call her first home yet.
• Pre-registered for the hospital. I filled out the online portion but the stuff I have to sign requires witnesses and unfortunately, Calder's signature doesn't count. I need to be around grown-ups more often.
• Finished making any of the stuff I said I'd make. I did manage to assemble one-third of one baby hat the other night but the leaning over the sewing machine made my heartburn awful. To the point that I horked up acid into my mouth. Yick.
• Sorted and washed old baby clothes, bottles and gear. I am loathe to do any of this until I know exactly what our moving plans are going to be. I don't want to have to haul all that shit out of the basement, wash it and organize it just to have to pack it all up again to move. 
• Picked out a name. More on that later. 
• Bought any of the new items we might need like a double stroller or more storage. Finding a dresser in an alley doesn't count.
• Figured out what exactly my company's maternity leave policy is. It has changed since I had Calder, for the better even, so I have no idea how long I can not be at work and still get paid. This makes planning hard.

Things I have done:

• Uhhhhh, conceived and carried a child to 32 weeks gestation?

Mr. Mom

After one week of Bruce stay-at-home-dadding, I'd like to say that I think this is going to work out. Calder is still alive and of a known location, no one is screaming when I get home from work and Bruce even managed to teach Calder that coins each have different names/values and are not all just called "monies". There's usually books everywhere when I walk in the door. They go on walks with the dog. They've been to the library and the zoo. Taken trips to the thrift store and the post office. And even once to the International Museum of Surgical Science for which I am TOTALLY jealous.

That's not to say there isn't somewhat of a learning curve for Bruce. I'd say he's got three areas needing improvement before I am ready to say, "let's make this a forever job." One would be the matter of regular nap times. The first day they stayed home together I got back from work after five to find both of them sleeping on the couch. Fine, whatever. Except Bruce then told me that Calder had only been asleep for about 20 minutes and then immediately turned the under-slept and over-cranky child over to me while he took off for hockey for the rest of the night. This is not the first time he's done this either. Bruce has sort of a history of leaving Calder in my care, over tired and hopped up on sugar. I must have expressed my concerns on this matter very effectively because this is the conversation I had with Calder earlier tonight.

Me: Did you have a good day with Daddy?

Calder: I got a bag of stuff! (hand-me-downs from our neighbor)

Me: That's really nice! Did you have a good nap?

Calder: Yeah. I stayed in my bed so you wouldn't be mean at Daddy.

Me: Daddy said I would be mad at him if you didn't nap?

Calder: Um, yeaaaaaah.

The second area needing improvement would be the housekeeping. I honestly don't expect Bruce to start doing any more housework than he had been sans Calder and I can live with never having to do my own laundry in exchange for being the mop and dust ninja but the toys... Good goddamn, all.. the.. toys. It's like they trash one section of the apartment, condemn that area as being unusable and move on to the next. Like, "Hmmmm, this section of the living room floor is covered entirely in Hot Wheels and Little People parts. I suppose we should head off to the dining room and get out the Play-Do." I WAS pleasantly surprised to come home and find stuff picked up today. That must be because I did some massively P.A. purposeful neglecting of the destroyed places while doing my weekend cleaning duties. Or, you know, asked nicely to not come home to a shithole. 

Lastly is the food issue. No one expects preschoolers to make good food choices. Left to their own devices, they'd inevitably end up eating nothing but chicken nuggets and chocolate milk. The thing is, so would Bruce. Without my interference the two of them would likely develop scurvy in a matter of weeks. Last week I asked Bruce if Calder had eaten any plant matter at all that day. The answer was yes... until I told him jelly didn't count. Bruce does know how to cook and even enjoys certain vegetables, sometimes even without a covering of cheese but he's just not interested in fighting food battles with Calder on his own and I certainly don't blame him. To help out, I went grocery shopping this weekend and loaded up on all sorts of the fruits and vegetables that we KNOW Calder will eat. As a back-up plan, I also bought every convenience lunch product that promised "Two (HIDDEN) servings of vegetables!" If Bruce can't be bothered to slice up a few apples by the end of the week, I will schedule a more direct intervention. Something along the lines of leaving out the Sneaky Chef cookbook with a big note on it that says "FEED HIM PLANTS!"

Magic Eye Picture

That's not a schooner, it's a sailboat!

Can you find the boy in the picture? That's, like, one third of his whole bed. It looks like a Chuck-E-Cheese barfed all over the place up there. Seems to be working though. We haven't had a bedtime fight in ages.

Dog Games

Calder is currently trying to get Chief to emulate the super smart Border Collie we saw a while back on TV. He is lining up Chief's toys and commanding the dog to fetch them by name.

The reason it's not working is twofold:

A. Calder is pretty much making up the names as he goes along.

B. Chief is not a super smart Border Collie. Chief is dumb.

Yay, science!

Namery

Just so you know, we have not picked out a name and I am just holding out on telling you all. Swearsies. It seems as though Bruce and I are just crap at this whole naming children in a timely manner thing. You'd think we do better this time seeing as how we have had the baby name book for the whole pregnancy but I think we set the standard too high with Calder. Because, really, that is a SUPER name. How can we possibly live up to our own awesomeness?

For the record, my claims to being awesome are almost entirely in jest. I named a kid after a trophy. I am no better than any of the moms on the baby name boards.

That being said, once again, we I want to come up with something somewhat original, nowhere near the top 50 and possessing some kind of meaning for us. Bruce is basically no help at all. When I ask for his thoughts on the matter he mostly just starts naming the objects he is looking at or reading book titles or listing TV characters. And when I suggest names to him they are mostly dismissed as being "too old", "too German" or "too obscure secondary cookbook author-y". Mostly I just ignore him and add them to the notes section in the back of the name book. Not to say Bruce hasn't entered his own (real) suggestions there either. It's just that his ideas... how do I put this nicely... are seriously dumb. No, like really, painfully dumb. If you don't believe me here is a small sampling and I apologize if I manage to offend anyone who has/knows children by these names. I will space them out in order to give you the appropriate amount of time to laugh.

Ondrya

...

Karsyn

...

Braelyn

...

Cayden (are you sensing a pattern?)

... 

and last but certainly the least

SLAYNE.

I'll wait for you to finish and catch your breath.

I had no idea my husband was a secret 80's movie heroine festishest because OH MY HOLY GOD those are all awful. Last weekend we had some friends over and we got into this whole discussion. It may have been the beer everyone but me was drinking but we had a great deal of fun ragging on Bruce about these. Of course, things then took a turn for the worse and the group turned against me and collectively decided that my child should be named Tesla. Like the scientist. Or his coil. Or the band, whichever your point of reference is.

I guess it doesn't really matter in the end what other people think Rusty's true name should be. Not even Bruce. If this goes anything like last time, I'll be alone in the room with the baby and the birth certificate form, free to name the kid whatever the hell I want to. Welcome to the world, little Fenway Pedroia Turpin. Muwahahahahahahahaha!

30 Weeks

Rusty is three-quarters baked, huzzah! And I am feeling every bit of it. Every day the seven tenths of a mile to the L stop feels that much longer, probably because my first trimester tiredness had returned with a fierceness. At least the snow is gone for the season... right? 

My ankles and hands have become all swelly such that socks and my rings are considered optional attire. Real pants also fall into this category but only when I am at home. For a while I thought I had lost my wedding rings having left them on the kitchen counter after my last attempt to wear them out. For some reason I feel the need to prove to strangers that I am not some sort of brazen hussy. Bruce not wearing a wedding band doesn't really help in this matter. Luckily for me, Calder kindly decided to reveal where he had squirreled them away today. I was heartened to see that my jewelry has the same value to Calder as a plastic Santa pin, about two dollars in change, a Bakugan and one sort of smooshed Ho-Ho. 

While he shows no real affection towards my stomach, Calder certainly enjoys zerberting the hell out of it.

Oh, I also feel very, very fat. I am not sure where I am at weight-wise but I think I am probably right on track with last time. I think? My next appointment is next week so I will know for sure but I think it would be really awesome if I managed not to break the 200 plane this time around. The embiggening has unfortunately reduced my wardrobe to a handful of items that I like, a few more that I don't hate and then another dozen or so things that I only wear when I could not give one good goddamn what I look like. Or the laundry hasn't been done in a while. Like today, along with the flam-starter pants, I wore a cat-barf brown cardigan that I should not have even purchased in the first place due to it making me look like I am in training to be a Jedi. Cary correctly pointed this fact out to me three years ago but I would not be dissuaded. I think the ill-advised corduroys came in the same shopping spree. Can someone tell me why I bought so many hideous maternity clothes last time I was pregnant? Thankfully, those fly-away cardigans became very popular during my non-pregnant state so I have amassed a small collection of those, allowing me to get away with regular people shirts that I really have no business wearing any more. I did also pick up two new pairs of maternity jeans (my only new purchases this time around) so hopefully I can make it through. On the bright side, my puffy winter coat has lasted this long and my lighter weight wool coat still has ample room, as well as snaps, to get me through the rest of this winter.

Let's pretend like you can't see how dirty my bathroom mirror is.

One big difference this time around is that I have received considerably less unsolicited pregnancy/baby advice from people. No one has questioned my consuming regular caffeinated coffee. Or told me that I shouldn't be carrying something heavy-ish. Or wondered if I wasn't maybe carrying twins. Of course, my commute changed last spring so I am no longer the sole companion of overly chatty CTA bus drivers for up to 15 minutes at a time anymore but still, they were only about 60% of my previous experiences. Perhaps when they see me with Calder or when I say, "I have a three-year-old already", the random grocery store ladies realize I am not going to be entertaining their whacked out theories about eating only orange foods and wrapping the infant in cardboard and towels to make it walk earlier. Clearly I have had time to come up with child-rearing nonsense of my own.

Who Knew?

Turns out, even three years after purchasing, maternity corduroys are STILL a bad idea.

ziiip! ziiip! ziiiip!

I would not be surprised if I were to be asked to leave work today for the sole reason of being a fire-starting hazard.

#4

I made a pillow. I made a pillow. I made a pillow hey, hey, hey, hey!

I mean, it's not rocket science.

  

But that doesn't mean that someone isn't totally impressed.

One down, four to go! Of course, this was the absolute easiest thing to make. All I had to do was to sew was four straight lines and swear at my sewing machine a half a dozen times. I think I do need a bit of practice before I attempt the blankies. I don't want poor Rusty to have to carry some raggedy-ass lovey around because mom was too cheap to buy a real one.

Day Dreamer

Last night Calder had a bad dream. Based on him screaming, "I want my book baaaaaaaaaaaaack" in my face, I am guessing it has to do with someone taking a book away from him. This morning Calder is still disgruntled. I am pretty certain he thinks the dream was real and the Bruce and I are hiding some super secret awesome book from him. So far we have read four books in search of THE book. Three of which came before he even ate breakfast. It looks like we are going to have to go through every book on his shelf (that would take a long damn time) in order to convince him that Bruce and I aren't harboring this mystery book.

Last Day

Today is Calder's final day at school. For now anyways. I think they may even be having a small farewell party for him in his class this afternoon to which I say, "Daaaaaaw." That is just so nice. This is why I hate pulling him out so much because the center staff really seem to care about him. I am almost tempted to ditch work early and have Bruce come get me before he picks Calder up so I  get to say goodbye too but that would be a waste of gas. And tears. There would certainly be tears. Mine, duh.

You Might Be Wicked Pregnant If...

• Thirty percent of your day is spent on the way to, from or in the bathroom.
• Even though the temperature is till routinely below freezing, you consider wearing flip flops outdoors.
• Water gives you heartburn.
• Only getting up once to pee is considered a successful night's sleep.
• Your current child asks for ice cream and 9:30 am and you give the thought serious consideration.
• Standing is just the worst.
• You can't even finish a whole sandwich before having to go pee again.
• While on the way to a social function where food will be provided, you pause to wonder if stopping by the crepes place will make you an acceptable amount of late or just really late.
• Sitting is just the worst.
• Getting dressed is less a function of "what looks good?" and more a function of "what still fits?
• Sitting on the couch eating mini eclairs with ice cream and watching the Oscars is a perfectly reasonable alternative to taking those free ninth row concert tickets.
• Random people look at you and go, "It's gotta be soon, right?"
• You think Doctor Braxton Hicks is an a-hole.
• Laying down is just the worst.
• Before leaving the house both you and the three-year-old get asked if you have used the potty recently. 
• Ice cream, cookies and Chinese food also give you heartburn but that doesn't stop you from eating them in excess.
• You finally put on your big girl panties and get over your fear of being lost forever inside of the Merchandise Mart and explore your mechanical people lifting options in order to avoid having to walk up three flights of stairs to the train platform every day after work.*
• Alright, standing, sitting and laying down all suck. There is just no physical position left in which it is possible to be comfortable.
• Chicken nuggets with cream cheese and sweet chili sauce, wrapped in a tortilla, is a perfectly reasonable dinner alternative.
• Your stomach could be a stunt double from Aliens.
• You have gestated a fetus inside you uterus for 28 weeks or more. OK, that's maybe not funny but it's true.

*Alright, perhaps that one is just me. To be fair, the Merchandise Mart is really big. I mean, it's a building with its own public transit stop inside the food court.