I'm officially in the third trimester!

84 days left until I'll (hopefully) have my baby here with me; that fact is both amazing and terrifying. I can't believe I'm going to be trusted with a little life...I really hope I do this right. I hope that I don't eff him up.

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via Laura on Pinterest

I mean, of course not. I'm confident. (Pffft.)

I'm not even going to lie, I kind of really love being pregnant. I hated it at first, of course, because I hated being sick all the time. But now I know that I would absolutely do it all over again. I'd do it even if I was told that it was going to be absolutely the same sickness-wise (although I do hope that it won't).

I will say, though, that some days I feel so absolutely cute, and others I feel terribly disgusting. And sometimes I'll cycle through both (maybe back and forth repeatedly) within the same day, but whatever.

In the end, I really do love it all. And I'm going to love actually holding my baby and getting to feel his gorgeous skin a million times more than just being able to feel him kick through my own. Even though that already feels like the most magical thing in the world. Imagine that - a feeling that will outdo the best feeling I've ever known. Incredible.

I love you, Mark, and I love your daddy, so much that I could never properly explain it.



PS: Had to do my glucose test today. The drink didn't taste as awful as I expected it to, but it gave me a headache. And now I'm ridiculously tired. This might be written pretty horribly because I'm so out of it. I also totally fucked up while driving and almost got us side-swiped because my brain is just done for the day.

Also, Daniel got his permit yesterday. He'd been putting it off because he didn't feel like he was going to pass and he seems to just give up under pressure, but he did so damn well. I'm proud of him. And I took him driving today and he did very well with that, too. Except I was nervous and I think I made him nervous and he might have gotten irritated with me for it. I feel really bad.

Lastly, I've gained 11 pounds. I feel like an elephant, but the doctor kept repeating how good that was. He even turned to Daniel to tell him a few times. It felt a little strange, how hard he was trying to convince us of that.

Yesterday I woke up (if you can call it that) after a total of 30 minutes of sleep to take Boyfriend on a wild goose chase around town.

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via Mimi on Pinterest

Maybe some back story: about a week or two ago, his wallet was stolen from his best friend's window. I'm not even kidding - someone came by the house while they were sleeping, stuck their hand in the window, and stole everything sitting there. I mean, it's easy, but who would think of it? Maybe a lot of people.

Anyway, the day started with us hunting down a photocopy of his ID, which we needed to get a replacement copy of his social security card. We went to a county office, waited in the line which was (thankfully) shorter than usual, still got called up to the window three times before actually being helped, and then finally got a copy printed. And it was horrible. You couldn't even see his face. I was pretty sure it wasn't going to fly, but we headed over to SS because we really needed to give it a shot.

And after going to all of that trouble, the SS office wouldn't accept copies - which, realistically, I expected.  But logically, they gave us a temporary card (which was basically a printout with one of their workers' signatures) to take to the DMV to get a new ID (which they wouldn't give him with his social security card), and he then has to bring his ID back to the social security office to get a replacement SS card.

I think I'm getting a headache.

We finished at the SS office, went to Walmart (which is next door) to pick up some food to cook ourselves for lunch, and went back to the apartment. My head got closer and closer to the table as I waited for the pizza to cook. I barely finished a slice before I went to the room and passed out - remember that I had 30 minutes of sleep? I was dying.

It felt something like this.
Source: deshow.net via Huong on Pinterest

Also, I don't know how you act when you're sleep deprived, but I'm pretty ridiculous. I was laughing hysterically at things that only deserved a chuckle...if that. Like telling Boyfriend that I hadn't slept and was probably going to crash the car? Yeah, like that. I laughed and laughed. He laughed at me, but not at the situation. He asked me to please not crash.

I thought that was funny, too.

Anyway, we went through yesterday morning's big ol' mess because he had an interview at 2 yesterday afternoon; I only got in maybe another 1 1/2 to 2 hours of sleep, but at least it was something. And then I drove him to Tulare for the interview. Which the manager, "Shawn", set up himself, mind you. But when the girl behind the counter called and asked dear Shawn when he would be back from lunch, he said he was leaving for the day.

How very professional.

And what a waste of sleep deprivation. Like I don't have months of this to look forward to? I hate you, Shawn.