There are roughly 473 things I should be doing right now. Instead, I am blogging. Before that, I was playing around with a new blog header for some friends (incidentally, the same friends who married us on the beach a few weeks ago).
I SHOULD be painting, cleaning, working on paperwork for the Foundation... All sorts of things. I just can't get motivated today. Blah.
Monkey had his 3 year well-child visit today. He's really not well at all, as he has a killer rash on his bottom, but it was time for the yearly stuff. He is 75% for weight and 85% for height. We grow 'em big, I suppose. He is also way ahead of the curve on just about everything, potty training aside. The kid has ZERO interest. If the kid isn't interested, you might as well be trying to convince my doberman that peeing in the potty is a good idea. Results will be the same.
We had his party this weekend. Monkey, not the doberman. Dobermans don't have parties. We rented party space and there was cake and pizza and helium balloons and dinosaurs everywhere. He was thrilled. It was really a fantastic day, but it wore Mama out. Pregnant Manda still has trouble remembering to SIT DOWN sometimes. Party was Saturday (I didn't sit down even once), then we went to my mom's on Sunday and it was about 85 degrees. My ankles disappeared again. Yesterday was just as bad. I remembered to sit, but the swelling remained. After our wedding week (including a trip to Florida), my OB banned me from long car rides and any and all flying. Apparently, I'm too old for all this. Well, maybe it's a combination of old, fat, and summer pregnancy.
I have another ultrasound scheduled for tomorrow. I haven't said anything publicly about it. I think the reason is mainly that if I TALK about it, it becomes a real worry, and I would like to avoid that. Anyway, they think the wee fetus may have a cleft lip. Some of the ultrasound images from the scan on March 29 indicated something funky in the mouth area. It may have just been the angle, or it may just be that she has big lips like me. Either way, tomorrow we're going to have another Level 2 ultrasound and hopefully she'll cooperate enough that we can get a good 4D image and know for sure. Honestly, I'm pretty Zen about it. If she has a cleft lip, we will simply have to find her an excellent plastic surgeon and her Aunt J will take her to Sephora and teach her wicked cool make up tricks to cover her scar. After everything I've seen, both through the disabled community and the infertility community, this is small potatoes. My daughter will be perfect and amazing no matter what.
Ok. The killer heartburn from outer space is back and I need to go eat a peanut butter sandwich or something. Poor J is downstairs slaving away on house projects while I blog and eat. Maybe I should go help eventually...