K has called to my attention the fact that, now that I've done the whole "I'm having false labor!" thing that it's a good idea to let y'all know whether or not baby has, in fact, been born.
Nope! Contractions every day, all of the associated crud of being in my final couple of weeks, but no baby. Tomorrow she'll be term. Tonight we have a Christmas party. Tomorrow we have another Christmas party. Today I have an appt, and I must make a dental appt for Tag whose trauma tooth is in fact changing color a few months after its one really rotten week. (anyone remember that? He creamed it twice within just a few days) Man told me to take it easy until baby comes and then I listed off all of the imperatives that absolutely must be accomplished over the next while until I do have the excuse of a newborn to keep me off my feet.
I'm thinking of treating myself to another season of Mythbusters that I can open when I come home from the hospital. Gotta do something with all of that getting-used-to-nursing-again time.
I'm getting into the really grumpy phase of things. I have boundless energy within this extremely tired, weighed-down, pain-ridden body of mine. I want to go crazy nesty all the while shouting "help! I'm bein' repressed!"
hm.... funny phrase to teach kids... sounds like a fun project. ;)
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