I now weigh more than I ever have in my life. I beat my Benny belly by a good eight pounds, and I’m still gaining. I am very proud of this accomplishment, by the way. And I have to say, I don’t feel great, because I’m pregnant, so I wish this extra padding wasn’t such a turn-on to my husband. I just want to tell every girl out there obsessed with being super-skinny, Men like a little meat on a woman’s bones. I mean, it’s great to be healthy, of course. You want to be a good weight for your height. But being a waif is overrated.
I didn’t go into labor today. Not for lack of trying. Allison and I took the kids on a long walk, past three other neighborhood playgrounds to a really good one with two playsets, swings, and a large grassy area. Everyone got plumb tuckered out and we had leftovers for dinner.
I thought today might be the day, since I have already had two babies on the 11th. But with less than three hours in the day, I think we are out of luck. I do see my OB tomorrow, though, and if my cervix is dilated past a certain point, maybe I can talk her into inducing me (or at least breaking my water) because of my history of precipitous delivery. We’ll see. I am getting a bit nervous that I’m going to wake up in the middle of the night, crowning.
I also made the mistake of wishing Gavin a happy half birthday today. The phrase, “But I’m the birthday boy, don’t I get what I want today?!” cropped up numerous times. I eventually had to say, “It’s not your actual birthday!” and he eventually shaped up.
ps Megan said today, “I’m an adolescent. A teenager.” Gavin and I disagreed with her. “Well, if you and Dad were divorced, I’d be a teenager.” I asked her how. “Because then every year I would have a birthday party at your house, and a birthday party at Dad’s house. Then I’d be sixteen.”