This post isn't sponsored—as in, I wasn't paid to write it—but I did get sent the two little pieces of baby clothing for free. I liked them, and I liked the company, and so I decided to write about them in case you like them too.
One of the things that's been really interesting to me about pregnancy is how strangers act towards you when you're pregnant. For the most part, they seem to smile at you and ask you how you're feeling a lot more than they do when you're not pregnant, and every once in a while you'll get some kind soul who'll insist you go in front of them in line at the grocery store even when you assure them that you're fine and you don't need to. People, for the most part, seem to like pregnant women, and this is lovely.
Sean and I went down to Palm Springs last weekend for a little last-minute R&R before the baby is scheduled to arrive in six weeks time. We wanted to get away, just the two of us, for a few days of not talking about the nursery or labor breathing or paternity leave, and to just enjoy hanging out with each other as a couple before we begin the rest of our lives together as a family. Yeah, I could call it a "babymoon," I guess, but then how could you ever take me seriously again?
Exciting new things in this picture: Fence, grass seedlings, manicure.
I'm starting to wonder whether I might be a magnet for the supernatural. Boom, show me another blog with a post that starts with that sentence. All the people who've been snoozing their way through the last several months of pregnancy posts just suddenly woke up, like oh really? Is she finally going to write something that doesn't have to do with needing to pee all the time?
This is me standing in front of Hamish's closet, which I cleaned out and organized last weekend. It remains the only thing I have done towards preparing the nursery, unless you count buying a rug for 65% off during a Memorial Day sale. Yeah, you do.
This morning I went to see my doctor for a routine visit, and in the middle of chatting about something or other, she said "well, now that you're 32 weeks pregnant, we can--"
Hey, let's stop talking about babies for a second so I can invite you into my bedroom. You know, in the least creepy possible way. Actually, I don't think there's any way to say "so I can invite you into my bedroom" non-creepily, so maybe we should just back up so I can start over.