Wellington Watch, 30 weeks

30wks (7.5 months)

Weight gain so far: 23lbs

Extra cool (and ODD) milestone this week:

As of this week, my weight has officially reached what it was before I started Weight Watchers 3 years ago. As odd as it is to see that number on the scale again, I have to admit that I'm proud that it took me becoming seven and a half months pregnant to gain all the weight back. (For the record, I had gained some back before getting pregnant...but that's not the point people!).

Doctor Appointment:

Not much to report here. Wellington's head is still down, wedged between my pelvic bones. He's kicking up a storm, which I love. Doctor isn't concerned about the 'iron' thing, so no more blood tests. She also pointed out that I'm almost at the 'single digit weeks left' mark. The male resident that was with her asked me if I've felt any contractions yet. Excuse me, Sir, but I think it's far too early to be asking me that question. Now, do not mention that word in front of me again, until Wellington is at least 37 weeks along. Thanks.

Symptoms/Feelings/Etc:

1) My eyesight has gone to hell. Some days I wonder if I should even be allowed to drive.

2) I've now entered the waddling stage of pregnancy.

3) I have definitely noticed the decrease in lung capacity. It is embarrassing how quickly I can become breathless, doing almost nothing.

4) The belching. Oh, the belching. Sorry Warren.

Warren story:

I'm not sure if this is truly baby related, but I think it speaks to Warren's nurturing side (or CRAZY side?).

I came home from work yesterday, and as I was walking up the front steps, I glanced down at the corner of the door - something drew my eye there.

Warren: Don't look!

Which of course made me look. Clinging to the corner of the exterior wall, down by the ground by the door, was a little, black, furry mammal of some sort. On the ground just beneath it was a little blue tupperware lid with something on it.

Amanda: What. Is. THAT?

Warren: Ummm...I don't know, but I think it's a bat.

Amanda: A WHAT?!

Warren: I think it's sick, so I'm nursing it back to health.

Amanda: Nursing it back to HEALTH?!

Warren: Ya. I've left it some crumbled up dog food.

Amanda: DOG FOOD?!

This new guest of ours has been named Bruce (aka Bruce Wayne, aka The Batman). We're still not sure what Bruce IS exactly, or what's wrong with him, or what he likes to eat.

Yet more evidence that my husband is truly RIDICULOUS. If Warren comes home to find Bruce dead, laying on his back with his stiff little paws/hands/legs/claws/wings up in the air, I'm pretty sure we'll be having a funeral for him. And in case you're wondering, the answer is yes. Yes, you will all be expected to attend.

(Editor's note: happy to report that since this was written, Bruce has disappeared, or 'flown away' as Warren likes to believe).