So Big! II

No less than three people in the past week have remarked on exactly how big I am. Isn't there some kind of rule about this? Ah, the Internet never fails to instruct. Etiquette issues aside, I don't feel big AT ALL. The baby is only 1.5 pounds, I haven't gained too much weight, and, most importantly, I can still lie on my back without having my lungs crushed and my circulation halted. Unlike, for example, during my failed dentist appointment at 8 months with Dylan, where I flopped around on the chair gasping and was eventually ushered out the door without having received an dental services. Plus, there is nowhere to go from here but bigger (see: 16+ more weeks of gestating). And likely straight out the front at an unnatural angle, which is what happened last time and is probably why people think I look funny now.

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Dylan came home today and told me they had washed her hair at daycare. She did not like the soap in her eyes. Had they washed anyone else's hair? No. Was it after water play? No. Did she get something in it? No. It was just dirty.

Is that weird? She's pretty reliable when she volunteers stories from her day. I wonder if she'll come home with new clothes and extra food one day. I just don't brush her hair because it's like mine and doesn't look quite right all brushed out, not that it looks particularly...kempt is the word, right? Okay, not a word, but you know what I mean. See also: choosing my battles.

Ack, I have to go, Aaron's lecturing Snuffy about his decisions again. "You're not a bad dog...you're just making bad choices right now." (=barking)