40 weeks and 4 days...

We-ell, my apologies to those of you to whom I promised a baby this weekend. Looks like I haven't progressed far enough for them to induce me on Saturday. Sooo, if I don't pop on my own this weekend, I'm going in Monday for an ultrasound and non-stress test to find out if she's comfortable in there. At that point we'll talk again about inducing.

I'm slightly relieved, because this gives me more time to go into labor on my own. And more time for that energetic cleaning/nesting instinct to kick in. I did have an urge to swiffer my walls the other day, but then I took a nap instead. I hope that wasn't IT.

Still Pregnant.

40 weeks and 2 days. Still pregnant. Getting a little grouchy about it.

Let's do this thing.

It was nice of the baby not to show up on our 4th wedding anniversary, because I really didn't want to have to celebrate her birthday and our anniversary on the same day ("Happy birthday, Sweetie; the babysitter will cut you some birthday cake after you eat your peas. Mommy and Daddy won't be home until late. Ciao.") But now I'm ready to get this party started. My due date is tomorrow, but nothing's changed "down there" since last week, so my doctor started talking about induction. If she doesn't come out on her own, they'll induce me Saturday, November 1.

This baby is carrying on a proud tradition of Cannon women who really enjoy lounging. If we're comfortable, we're in no hurry to get up and out of the house. In this case the house is my uterus, and apparently it's well stocked with the fetal versions of satellite tv, microwave popcorn and Diet Coke.

As eager as I am to meet Yookie Nagoochie in person (without a layer of belly between us), at least I know that some time in the next 8 days, she'll be with us. But I will be slightly put out if she waits until November 1 to make an appearance; I've got so many ideas about Halloween-themed birthday parties, not to mention a couple of very sweet little Halloween outfits for her. What kind of decorations do you get for an All Saints' Day-themed kid's birthday party? What kinds of games do you play? (Dress as Your Favorite Virgin Martyr? Three-Legged Rosary Races?)

Strange Things are Afoot at the Circle-K.

10 days until my due date, which means I could theoretically blow at any moment. I know first babies are often late, but I'm starting to get the feeling things might get moving sooner. I was up until 1:30 last night geeking out over the whole thing. Nothing like sleep deprivation to make you remember obscure lines from 1980s movies.

I have a doctor's appointment tomorrow morning; we'll see what she's got to say about this business.

Quick Observation

Does anyone else secretly think babies smell like instant mashed potatoes?

Baby Dream

I dreamed I was allowed to see my baby before she was born. I got to hold her in my lap, and of course I thought she was beautiful, with chubby arms and legs, dark eyes, and a rather dusky complexion that one might not expect coming from a couple with Irish/German heritage.

Anyhoo... I had the chance to say something to my beautiful new baby before she entered the world. What pearl of wisdom would I whisper in her ear to guide her through life? How would I set the stage for a loving mother-daughter relationship?

"Hi, baby," I said. "Soon, you will be covered in goo."

Shaggy Dog Story

So, Rich and I spent all day yesterday shopping for a rug for the nursery. We drove all the way out to IKEA, where we didn't see anything we liked and the intentionally labyrinthine layout of the store made me extremely grouchy (next time we go there, I'm making Rich push me on a gurney). Then we ran some other errands, which involved a detour to Cincinnati Mills and an admittedly pleasant interlude at The Rootbeer Stand in Sharonville.

By the time the sun went down, we had a cute little rug for the baby to mush her teeny toes into-- a shaggy, cream-colored rug that will look very cool with the hipster lime, chocolate & orange styling of the nursery. I spent a long time sitting on the rug, looking at how nicely the room is coming together, fantasizing about the day Rich will allow me to place books on the freshly painted bookcase (apparently he used the kind of paint that takes 14 months to dry).

Some might question why Rich and I continue to purchase cream-colored rugs while we share a house with two digestively challenged dogs. All I can blame is the audacity of hope.

By the time we woke up this morning, one of the dogs had vomited on the new shag rug. In approximately seven hours of unsupervised downtime, interrupted at regular intervals by bathroom breaks (mine) during which they must have feigned sleep, either Lucy or Baxter snuck out of our bedroom and pronounced judgment on our decorating skills.

At least that room now matches the rest of the house. It was beautiful while it lasted.