Six Months Already, and More on Week 24.

Today I am six months pregnant. To me, that sounds very pregnant. Every week before this, mind you, I was as pregnant as I am now. But there's something about saying, "Oh, me? Six months. Yeah. Oh and, yes, this is my natural hair color."  (Kidding)

Here are some things that have changed this week, thanks to my super-pregnant status:
~I now park in the "Mommy-to-be/New Mommy" spot at church. Today was my first Sunday of doing such. There are about six or eight of these spots, and they are the absolute prime real estate of the parking lot. In fact, they're not even in the lot. They're at the curb! It's glorious* 
~I upped my workouts to four times a week. This is actually due to my recent doctor's appointment where I had my glucose test. I told my doctor that I was upset about my weight increase in the last month, but he said, "Well, it's nothing to be upset about. It's about time you had a growth spurt. Haven't you noticed some growth?" YES! In fact, I told you, dear readers, last time that I couldn't believe how my belly had grown. And I'm always marveling at how much higher (and somehow, lower) I am feeling SJ's kicks. That means she's growing too. So I will dry my eyes about the *ahem.cough.plem.* pounds and power on. But I will also add another day of cardio just to ease my brain.
~Another development is my radiating desire, yearning--nay--BURNING for cocoa pebbles. In the past couple weeks I have dreamt about them on at least two separate occasions. But I abstained from purchasing them. In one dream, I was calculating a plot as to how I could get them into the house without Texan knowing. That way I wouldn't have to share or explain why the Multi-Grain Cheerios weren't tickling my fancy enough. In the dream, I searched the shelves for that multi-pack of mini boxes of cereal but could not find one that included a mini-box of the pebs. In another dream I was...well, eating them. I don't know. But it was a great dream. So, on Saturday, after a very satisfying workout at the park with a fellow pregger, I ventured to Walmart, the land of suffering, to purchase fixings for strawberry shortcake to be served at my friend's birthday party that evening. In the milk section as I searched for whipped cream, I saw them. Three bins marked with signs that read, "$1 THEY'RE WORTH A TRY! $1" And in the first bin, lo and behold, cocoa pebbles (dyno rocks, or whatever the Malto Meal equivalent is) in a bag that probably contained about 10-15 servings. Not many, but certainly worth a try as the sign suggested. Needless to say I had chocolate gravel for breakfast, lunch, midnight snack and lunch again the next day.
~Here's something to boggle your minds. This week I wrote to our nursery director at church to let her know that September is the last month that Texan and I will be volunteering two weeks out of the month for nursery. We are dropping down to one because we feel like missing two services is quite a lot each month. As I was typing up the email I realized that I needed to let her know something else. October and November will be our last months doing nursery for a while because since our designated week is the fourth Sunday, there is a huge possibility that SJ will be in our arms by the last Sunday in December. (And if not, be serious. I will be in no position to sit on the floor and play with 8 one-year-olds.) Basically I simply can't believe that we only have three more nursery duties before the baby arrives. Mind. Boggled. \
Have You Noticed that if someone slaps "Baby" or "Infant" onto a product, it's suddenly $39.99. Me too. Like an ugly utility tote is on display at Babies R Us and it's called an Infant Sachel or something fruity, and we're like, "OoOOOOOoooOoo! So fancy!" Not. We're not like that. Not us, readers.

Here's my photo. In the interest of posting on-time, I decided to have my photo taken in my lounging outfit and fresh out of shower. I should've taken it last night when I looked all snazzy for the hibachi dinner and birthday party. But, alas, I spent all day in bed after being up all night with sick doggies. But this is good. It's like seeing the Begal Tiger in her natural habitat. No frills or fake trees. Just the tiger. (I'm the tiger in this scenario, and I'm pregnant, so be nice.)

*Don't ask me why I never parked in the special spot before. Ok, ask. Because Texan said I didn't look pregnant enough. And who am I to argue? (The pregnant lady, that's who.) But, honestly, pregnancy is not a disease! (There's a direct quote from my OB. He doesn't like for women to treat themselves like patients in a nursing home just because they're pregnant.) I probably exercise more than a lot of these non-preggers, so maybe I could give up the spot to an old lady one day, or a diabetic with sore feet. Maybe I'll use this new-found power (parking spot) to touch people with my feelings! Or maybe I'll just park in it for the next 6-9 months and enjoy it quietly and remain dignified.