It's all downhill from here. I am 20 and a half weeks pregnant and guess what?
I just look fat. Isn't that awesome?
I am so jealous of all those cute pregnant ladies who can post darling pictures of their "baby bump." I don't quite have a bump, but I've definitely got some lumps - fat lumps that is. I feel like my hard work should be paying off. Day and night I work constantly and what do I have to show?
36 ding-dongs, several fried chicken legs, and a large pepperoni pizza attached to my gut.
Like I said, I am awesome.
Poor Nick, his wife is going to give birth to a giant assortment of pastries and fried foods instead of a sweet baby girl.
Don't believe me?
That said, feeling our little beignet kicking all day long is totally worth it. When Nick asks what it feels like, I usually resort to quoting one my favorite movies, Baby Mama, "It feels like if you ate a meatball sandwich, and that meatball sandwich is kicking you."
We had our 20 week ultrasound a couple of days ago. The tech said everything looks great - 2 arms, 2 legs, a working bladder, four pumping heart chambers, strong spinal cord, AND some huge fatty thighs. I can already tell I've done my part in transferring at least a small, or I guess a large portion of my DNA to our snickerdoodle. She's definitely part-Smart, with the thighs to prove it.
If you're still reading, here is a picture of my parents over Thanksgiving break. They came to celebrate Grandma Phyl's 80th birthday. The party was super Smarty and just a blasty-blast all-around.
A total Betty and a total Baldwin:
Everyone with Phyl
We also went to Temple Square to see the lights. Darel hadn't seen them since my stretch pants phase and Chelsea's polka dot sweatshirt and side-pony phase. Lets just say, it had been a while since Lil' D had experienced the majesty of Temple Square.
Phyl, the Betty, and the Baldwin
BCF (Best Cousins Forever)
We are also moving to Yakima in TWO WEEKS. By the looks of our house, you would think we planned on staying in Utah forever.
I haven't packed one thing. Seriously, nothing.
I'm hoping Dobby the House Elf will magically show up to not only to clean and pack my house, but to tell me that they lost my Hogwarts acceptance letter 12 years ago and they would like me to resume my witch's training post-holidays.
Not even my wannabe pregnant gut could get me down after news like that.