On Sunday, I had the first of my three baby showers. First of all, I have no idea where I'm going to put all of this stuff. I tried my best to register for space friendly items- things that folded up or could be tucked away easily- because I do NOT want my home over-run by baby things (perhaps that's going to be a bit unavoidable, eh?), but I'm starting to get alarmed. How the heck is all of this going to work? Me being who I am, I decided not to register for a dresser for the baby's room, thinking I didn't need a full sized dresser for tiny sized baby clothes. That was a stupid decision- where the heck was I going to put all of the baby-sized overalls and monkey themed pajamas this kid got? Just leave them crumpled up on the floor? Luckily, Chris' parents came through with buying us a crib AND a matching dresser. Crisis averted- EXCEPT, where the heck is the dresser going to go??

I think Meg (and Dan) came through with the cutest gift of the day- a burger onesie for the little Berger boy! Super adorable- I think that's the outfit that we will take him home in from the hospital. Good job, guys.

I think the shower went okay over all, although my mother, while not in rare form by any means, was definitely in typical form. Pacing neurotically behind me while I opened gifts. Repeatedly asking my friends' their names with an abrupt, "Who are you?" Asking my friend Melissa a question and then walking away before Melissa had a chance to reply. Frequent use of the microphone she brought for the occasion, even though it was a small room with a small audience, and no microphone was needed. Standing guard over the buffet for whatever reason she had- I don't know. Just to make everyone feel uncomfortable, I guess. I don't know, I guess sometimes I forget just how, exactly, mortifying my mother can be until an event like this comes up. Sigh. Super sigh. Oh well.

Anyway, I think all is going okay. I have about seven weeks until my due date at this point, which is completely terrifying. I am definitely feeling more uncomfortable by the day. The kid is squirming all around, hitting all sorts of nerves and whatnot, and everything in my belly just feels- tight. I have a heck of a time standing up from any kind of reclining position. And, overall, I'm just kind of physically miserable. Not to mention, that I'm much crabbier now than I've perhaps ever been. I'm getting a little mouthy, especially at work. I just don't have the tolerance for other people any more. I'm uncomfortable, I'm crabby, I can't sleep, I hate my clothes, and I'm completely consumed by what I've got going on in my uterus. So, everyone else who even mildly irritates me can just go fuck themselves.

I tried to relax a couple weeks ago with a half glass of wine. Actually, two half glasses of wine about four days apart. After the first half glass, I felt GREAT. Wonderful, really. After the second half glass those few days later? FULL ON PANIC MODE. What the heck was I thinking, drinking wine in pregnancy? What do I think I am, European? What if I harmed my baby, killed off a bunch of vital brain cells? Now, a couple weeks later, I've managed to do enough reading about alcohol in pregnancy, specifically the third trimester, to mostly convince myself that I've had essentially harmless amounts in my two small glasses, but, man. Let's just say that's the LAST time in this pregnancy that I try to relax. How dare I. What in the world was I thinking?

Anyway. I'm starving. I think it's time for lunch.