Yesterday I had a doctor’s appointment. Because I have high blood pressure, my weekly appointments include a 20-minute non-stress test to make sure the baby’s activity level is normal. Usually it’s just a quick thing, not a big deal.

Yesterday, I think they were waiting for an exam room to open up, so they left me on the monitor for nearly an hour. Again, not a big deal, except that this baby likes to move away from the sensor so I usually end up holding it to my stomach just so in order to keep the heartbeat audible. After 20 minutes, that gets a little tiring. After more than twice that long, my hands were cramping up.

Also, Brenda and the girls came with me yesterday because I was having an ultrasound, which Bug had never seen before. We’d brought crayons and paper and other stuff to entertain the kids, but after 45 minutes stuck in a small room they were getting mighty squirrelly.

Finally they came and got us. The doctor came in (I love my new doctor, by the way; changing insurance plans and doctors at 34 weeks was so very worth it) and assured me that the baby’s heartbeat had looked great on the NST (at which I wanted to ask, then why did you keep me in there for nearly an hour?) and measured me. She did a quick ultrasound, which Bug found quite interesting and Annalie—who’s been at a half-dozen ultrasounds in the past couple of months—found totally boring. And then we left.

It wasn’t a traumatic experience or anything. Just a little annoying. But I guess the whole thing struck Brenda as a good example of how DONE I am with being pregnant. Or maybe it just struck her as funny. In any case, she illustrated it, as seen above.

And she’s right. I do feel very done with being pregnant. Annalie was born at 36 weeks, so with her I never had the chance to experience that last excruciating month of being pregnant. Not only that, due to a combination of factors, I didn’t find out I was pregnant with her till I was 16 weeks along, so my pregnancy with her was, to me, less than five months long. Compared to that, this pregnancy feels like it’s been going on for years.

Tonight I was supposed to be going to a fancy party with Troy at the National Archives. It was one fancy party I was actually looking forward to, which if you know me is pretty strange. Normally I tolerate things like that, at best. But this time not only was I excited about it, I actually had a dress that I loved months ahead of time, which I bought way back in July on super-clearance, thinking it might come in handy.

As recently as a week ago, I was still looking forward to tonight. Then a few days ago, the baby dropped. That never happened with Annalie, or at least not till I was already in labor, so I had no previous experience with how uncomfortable it can be. Now when the baby moves around I can feel it way down in my pelvis and it’s not fun. Also, if I stand or walk around or forget to drink water for more than 20 minutes, I experience some truly delightful Braxton Hicks contractions, which are (1) painful and (2) frustrating because they’re not real labor.

Last night, I got to thinking about getting dressed up and going out to a party full of people I don’t know at 7 o’clock in the evening, the time when I am normally capable of nothing more taxing than sitting on the couch in my jammies, staring at the TV. The more I thought about it, the less it seemed like a good idea. Last night, after talking to Troy about it, and a hormone- and tiredness-fueled crying jag, I decided I needed to admit that I wasn’t going to be going to the party, I wasn’t going to get to wear my cute maternity dress, and I wasn’t even going to have a brand-new baby to show for it.

That’s another thing that’s getting to me, too. I really, really want to have this baby before Brenda and Bug have to go home. I want them to have the chance to meet her! And of course I’d rather not be pregnant another two and a half weeks or so. Sigh.

I don’t really have much reason to complain. I’ve had such an easy pregnancy compared to others: no morning sickness, no heartburn, no horribly swollen feet, no back pain, etc. I was able to get pregnant without medical intervention, and I’ve never had a miscarriage. I’m healthy and my baby is healthy and I have every reason to expect a complication-free labor and delivery. I have many, many reasons to be thankful, and I am.

But I’m still so very done being pregnant.

Illo by Brenda Ponnay

Halloween seems like it was so long ago. But I feel I should blog about it for the grandmas. So!

On Halloween morning, we made pumpkin-shaped pancakes with chocolate chips for eyes. No actual pumpkin was in the pancakes, though. I should have used this recipe from Zakka Life but I was lazy and just used the store-brand pancake mix and food coloring.

But they were still mighty tasty.

Pumpkin-carving time! Annalie designed her own pumpkin, as she has done every year since she was 3 1/2.

This year, she asked if she could help carve it too. So she did! She carved the eyes and nose, with a little help from Troy, and she did a great job.

Gumball supervised.

Pumpkin braaaaaaaiiiiins!

Um, Troy? Perhaps it’s time for a short break from the pumpkin-carving.

After a refreshing Twizzler and a rest in the sun, we got back to work.

Troy and I worked at carving our pumpkins. I even carved a little one for the baby, at Annalie’s request.

Kristen commented on Flickr that she loved that the baby got a punkin too. I replied that to Annalie, this baby has been a real member of the family, included in all plans and stories and holiday traditions, since way back in May when we told her that she’d be getting a baby brother or sister around Thanksgiving. She’s got big plans for them to have sisters-only secret handshakes, sleepovers, and makeover parties.

Trick-or-treating time! Annalie was a Sock Hop Sweetie this year for Halloween.

She fell in love with this costume the minute she saw it at Target, which kind of surprised me. She oohed and aahed over the various princess ones, and seriously considered a Daphne (from Scooby Doo) costume, but the minute she saw the bobby soxer pictured on the label of this one with her hair in a high ponytail and a scarf tied jauntily around her neck, she forgot them all.

She went with the one high ponytail on Friday, when we went trunk-or-treating, but for some reason on Halloween she decided she wanted two low ponytails instead. After I finished curling her hair, she surveyed herself in the full-length mirror and declared, “I look CUTE!”

I sort of dressed up as Juno for Halloween. I found an orange-and-white striped shirt on clearance a few weeks before Halloween, and I had bought myself a cheap black hoodie jacket at Old Navy, hoping it would get me through whatever cold weather we had before I had the baby so I wouldn’t have to buy an expensive maternity coat, and the costume just sort of fell into place. I really should have been wearing a short skirt over my jeans and carrying around a blue Slushie. But eh. I’m eight months pregnant and I don’t even really like Halloween all that much. Half a costume was enough.

On the way home, we saw that one of our neighbors had set all this stuff out labeled “Purple Heart donations”. I so badly wanted to sneak off with the KitchenAid mixer for a friend who had just been talking about wanting one, but Troy wouldn’t let me, even after I told him I’d make a cash donation to the veterans. He’s an upstanding citizen like that. And honestly, I probably wouldn’t have really done it. I’m an upstanding citizen too, even when people leave expensive kitchen appliances sitting out on the curb. Sigh.

We didn’t really do a whole lot of trick-or-treating. Annalie was done after going up and down two streets, so we headed back home. We lit our jack-o-lanterns and a fire in the fireplace. We ate roasted pumpkin seeds and played a board game. Occasionally some trick-or-treaters would come to the door, and Annalie would hop up to answer it, offering them the bowl with a cheerful, “Take a few, there’s plenty!” Even with her generosity, we still had a ton of candy left over. Oh darn.

From Juno, the Sock Hop Sweetie, and Captain Awesome, a belated Happy Halloween! Hope yours was as good as ours.

I had a long night last night. I was awake for hours, having irregular Braxton Hicks contractions. That is totally normal at this point in a pregnancy; it’s called pre-term labor, and it’s just my body sort of practicing for the upcoming birth. But that doesn’t make it any less annoying to not be able to get to sleep. I did all the stuff you’re supposed to do to get rid of Braxton Hicks: got up and walked around, had a couple of glasses of water, ate something, laid on the couch with my feet up and a warm rice pack on my stomach and watched an episode of Bones. Around 4am the contractions finally stopped and I went back to bed.

Because today is Saturday, I was able to sleep in a bit, but by 9 o’clock I was awake. I needed to get up anyway. We have some cleaning and laundry to do so we’re ready for our long-anticipated guests when they arrive Tuesday.

Annalie and I also needed to do some school, since we didn’t quite finish yesterday, just reading and a spelling test. Unfortunately, even though she’s doing really well at reading, those are probably the two subjects Annalie likes the least right now. It’s funny to me, and hard to comprehend, since reading and spelling were always my two easiest and favorite subjects.

But it didn’t surprise me when I called for Annalie to come to the table, telling her we needed to get reading and spelling done, and she came stomping into the dining room in a snit. I remained calm and asked her to take off her Little Mermaid singing necklace and put down the cell phone that she was carrying, since we don’t allow toys at the table when we’re doing school. She yanked the necklace off her neck and threw it on the floor at the same time that she slammed the cell phone down hard on the counter.

I calmly told her that she needed to go sit on the top step for a time-out, because she knows better than to throw things. And…well, let’s just say the situation deteriorated from there. Over the next hour, there was some crying, some yelling, and some stomping around—and I’m not going to tell you who did what, but I will tell you that I did not remain calm. We managed to get part of the reading done, but then Annalie went to get herself a drink of water from the fridge dispenser and accidentally-on-purpose let the cup fill and overflow, soaking two photographs and a picture one of Annalie’s friends colored for her.

That was when I sort of lost it. I asked Annalie what on earth was wrong with her, and told her to just go, to get out of my sight. She ran out of the kitchen crying, knowing she had done something wrong but also hurt that her normally patient mother had told her to get lost. Frustrated with Annalie and myself, I tossed the ruined pictures, grabbed a bunch of paper towels and started sopping up the water.

Troy came into the kitchen to see what was going on. I explained what had happened and told him that I was not having a good day, that I just needed to go back to bed, that I didn’t think I was in any shape to meet a friend for pottery-painting that afternoon. Troy suggested I email and ask if we could reschedule, so I did. (Thanks again for being so understanding, Shayne!)

Troy went to talk to Annalie in her room while I went to our bedroom and, after putting away the folded laundry all over my side of the bed, curled up with my ridiculously huge pregnancy pillow pulled the covers up over my head, bracing myself for what I knew I needed to do: cry. Even though I know sometimes it’s necessary to make myself feel better, I really hate crying. And I knew I had a cry coming, so I just wanted to get it over with.

A few minutes later, I was wiping my face and debating whether I wanted to roll over and get a tissue or just sniff hard, when Annalie came quietly into the room and climbed up on the bed. She got under the covers and put her head next to mine on the pillow and said, “I’m sorry I spilled water all over the fridge, Mama. And I’m sorry you’re having a rough morning. Daddy explained it to me.”

I put my arm around her, gave her a kiss, and told her I loved her. I apologized for losing my temper; she said she forgave me. We laid there talking idly for a couple of minutes when I had an idea.

“Hey Annalie, can you tell me how to spell egg?”

“Sure! E-g-g.”

“Right. Do you think you could tell me how to spell, oh, the word pets?”

Quietly to herself, Annalie sounded it out, “Puh-eh-tuh-sss…” then spelled it for me. I told her she was right. She was silent for a second, then giggled and asked, “Is this my spelling test?”

My response was to ask her if she knew how to spell less. She giggled again and spelled it perfectly. We went through all the rest of her spelling words that way, and she got every single one right, even the trickiest one, give.

When we were finished, I asked if she would go get her reading book so she could read her story a second time. She groaned a bit, so I sighed theatrically and said, “You know what would really make me feel so much better right now? If only someone could read me a story about ducks and chicks.” Annalie laughed at that. I told her to go tell Daddy she’d gotten 100% on her spelling test, and then come back to me with her reading book.

Laughing, she leapt off the bed and went running down the hall, calling out excitedly, “Daddy, Daddy! I got one hundred percent right on my spelling test! Not on my dry-erase board, but with my mouth! I even got the hardest word right, wanna hear? G-i-v-e! That spells give!”

She came back to the bedroom with her book and read through her story again, this time without me pointing at the words as she read, with good expression, and with almost no faltering or errors. I thanked her and praised her improvement on the second reading. She smiled and batted her lashes in that I-know-I’m-smart-but-you-can-tell-me-again way she has. I told her we were done with school, that she could go play.

She kissed me on the cheek and said, “Thanks, Mom!”

A few minutes later I got up. I got a phone call from another friend and made plans to meet her and her kids later for dinner and frozen custard while Troy watches the Nebraska game in peace. Annalie got dressed all in black and stuck a scarf in the back of her pants and went outside to be a cat while Troy raked up some leaves. I poured myself a cup of coffee and took a deep breath.