I Am Going to Be a Grandma

Does that give you a little shock?

It's not so bad as all that.

While in Boston, Madelyn declared that there is a baby in her belly, and she'll get married when she's "taller, maybe five."

Our second full day in Boston was Tom's brother's wedding.  It was lovely.  Heartfelt.  Full of love and tears and laughter.  I learned that Tom's and Matt's faces show emotions the same way.  Beautiful.

Madelyn danced with her daddy at the wedding.  I didn't see because I was off with Fynnie somewhere.  The dance must have been something.

Later that day, Mana (as Fynnie and I now call her), reported that she had married herself during that magical dance.

Now she has 10 babies in her tummy.  Ask what she's having and she'll tell you, "A boy."

It's the new math.

Last week the girls and I were driving home.  Up, up, up to the top of the Cajon Pass before descending into the Mojave Desert, an SUV was stuck in the number three lane (third lane over, counting from the fast lane).  A very pregnant woman was standing on the shoulder, too close to the truck lane, trying to wave drivers away from her car.

I pulled over about a quarter mile up, picked up the pregnant woman's guy at the call box (a California godsend if you are out of cell range when an emergency happens) and drove in reverse back to his girl.  The plan was that I would get behind his car, let him out and have him steer while I pushed his vehicle off the 70 mile an hour highway.

I asked him to let the woman know I would be squeezing past her, because I didn't want to freak her out, this woman who was 39 weeks pregnant.  I just wanted her off the highway.

Just then a Highway Patrol officer pulled up, took over and sent me on my way.

As we drove away, Mana asked, "You didn't want to freak her out?"

"No!  She's going to have a baby very soon.  You do not freak out the pregnant lady!"

"I'm going to have the baby in my belly soon, too."

Fynnie, "I ha- baby soon, too!"

Mana, "Did you hear Fynnie say she's having a baby, too?!"

"I did."

"Well, she didn't marry herself!"

Is there really ever a wrong place to be a frog?

It's the Same Old New Math

Went to my prenatal appointment yesterday.  I've apparently lost two pounds from the day of the ultrasound last week.  I attribute it a little bit to my cold and a lot to having gone straight to the ultrasound appointment from a fabulous lunch. 


Oh, sure, I realize that one scale isn't exactly the same as the next, but I am choosing to believe I've lost weight.  And without harming the growth of the baby, too.  How can I be so sure?


According to Doc's tape measure, Baby Fynn is not measuring 21 weeks.  Nope.  She measures 29!  He checked twice.


Now Mad typically measured large, too, but never two months larger than one would expect. 


On the other hand, Doc did say, "You're 21 weeks.  Nine to go."


I hope he doesn't have a premonition or otherwise know something I don't know!


Nah, this is the same guy who gave us more than half a dozen due dates for Mad (aside from the ones we got from our initial doctor and the big ultrasound).  Granted, once he made his final decision, he was pretty spot on.  She was about 20 hours early.  So I'll just go back in a month and see what he says then.