Stick a fork in me

I've been trying to write a recap post of the past month and a half, but things like lack of time and motivation keep getting in the way. So instead, here's a little story and a picture.

My sister and I both have very fine, naturally curly hair, which, in our youth, lead to knots and tangles that far surpassed those of the average kid. My mom likes to tell this story about how when she tried to comb my sister's hair — which, as you might imagine, was an involved process — after a few minutes my sister would run away, comb still stuck in her hair, repeating, "I'm done, Mom. I'm done, Mom. I'm done, Mom."

That mantra has been repeating in my head for about the past week. I'm due in three weeks, and I'm so, so done. Everything is starting to hurt, I can't get comfortable, I have to get up to pee at least four times a night, and I have cankles.

Typically, complaining is my pet peeve — especially when the act of doing so has no effect on the situation. But right now, I want to complain incessantly even though there's nothing I can do except wait. (Well, I suppose I could demand to be induced early, but that's definitely not happening.) So, I'm just going to keep waiting it out. And complaining. Sorry.

In the meantime, here's a pic of my very pregnant self and the hubby from this weekend. We celebrated our third wedding anniversary at Wildfire, which is where we had our rehearsal dinner. It's a steak and seafood place, so for someone who's supposed to curb carbs and pack on the protein, it was pretty much heaven.


I promise to post more soon detailing things what I've been up to for the past 6 weeks, which doesn't include anything too exciting, actually. Well, maybe there were a few exciting moments. But for the most part? Blah.