I keep trying to write a quick post today and it keeps coming out dull as dishwater, so here are some pictures instead. With any luck, I will convince Sugar to scan the latest Bean ones and write you a better post soon. (Bean is fine, by the way. 47th percentile for weight, head down, heart still beating nicely. I, meanwhile, have gained exactly 0 pounds since my last appointment. Believe me, there has been some reorganization. Other than the kind of petty complaints that go without saying at this stage in the game — acid reflux, some back pain — everything is fine. BP remains low, and Sweet Sonographer checked my cervix for me even though she wasn’t supposed to because all the stabbing down there in the last couple of weeks was making me nervous.)
(On the subject of health — and this is one of those things that really deserves its own post or at least a place in a better-written one — please stop by my pregnancy buddy tbean’s place and remind her what an amazing job she’s doing for the little turtles, because it’s getting really hard.)
First, the quilt, which I peeled the cats off of for these pictures. We made this to save Sugar from gouging her eyes out, which is roughly what she threatens to do every time she sees the ones available at regular stores. Not to say that I like the teal/fuchsia/screaming lime combinations so much myself, but they seem to cause her extreme pain. This quilt isn’t as fancy as the one we made last year, but it is meant to be tough enough to survive an onslaught of bodily fluids and regular batterings in the washing machine. Since I utterly failed in my plan to make the top at home and mail it to my parents’ house (My mother has a nice sewing machine with a quilting foot), it ended up incorporating fabric from our house (mostly bits from other projects — I like quilts that remind you of other garments, etc.) and also from both of our mothers’ stashes.
Side B, which was tons less work and, following the rule of these things, we naturally like better:
I made Sugar take a break from the IKEA festival (crib: done! ginormous wardrobes: done! thanks to the help and electric screwdriver of a certain uffish friend of ours who really should start blogging again. Read this one and see if you don’t agree (NSFW) ) and take a picture of me in the fabulously 70s dress my mother wore most days of my childhood. I used to think it was ridiculous, but holy moly is that thing comfortable. The fact that she has lent it to me indicates a high level of excitement re: Operation Grandbaby, I tell you what.
Related: should I worry that my belly is glowing?