Thanks for all the comments on the pee-pee teepee. It seems that most of you agree that it might come in handy. All of you agree that it probably wasn’t the best birthday gift for The King. It’s okay. He’s totally over it.

I think I’ll leave them out while my Mom is here. And then regift them. How awesome is it to regift something used like that? So awesome.

Yesterday morning I woke up with my hands hurting. It felt like I had slept with them in a tight fist all night. I couldn’t lift my water bottle, and blow drying my hair was a task. I also wasn’t able to fit my wedding ring over my swollen knuckles. This was a first.

When I got into my office, I called my doctor’s office, hoping they would say, “oh, that’s totally normal. No big deal!”. But instead they said, “how fast can you get here?” I was a little scared, called The King, hoped on a bus, and was in their office in about 20 minutes. That’s some sort of record.

After a few tests (all requiring I keep my clothes on), they decided that all is well. I’m just retaining a lot of water. Which didn’t surprise me, that was obvious. I was just surprised that it all happened so fast. The doctor recommended that I don’t type. And that I keep my feet elevated above my heart. Both of which really don’t work into my lifestyle. You know, my lifestyle of working for a living. Go figure.

I’m still at work. My fingers still hurt. And my feet are overflowing over my pretty work heels. And I still have about three more weeks until my due date. I imagine this will get better. Even if it doesn’t get better until after the baby comes. I can handle that. I think.

When I got home from work last night I went immediately to the couch and laid down. With my feet above my heart and my arms raised above my head. The King came over and said, “I have something to tell you that might make you mad!”. My first thought (I hate to admit) was, “he’s going to tell me he met someone else and is leaving me and the boy!”. (This has been a fear since finding out I’m pregnant. I read that it’s normal. But it seems weird to worry about.)

Of course it wasn’t something like that at all.

The King had decided he wanted to surprise me with a real nursery and not just a little corner in the apartment. To make this happen he and his Mom had ordered a real live crib for our little guy. The King was going to set it up in our bedroom and just surprise me one day.

Then he started to think about it and worried that I might want to help him pick out the bedding (we had looked at this crib before, so he knew I would be happy with it). Plus he knew he would need my help in deciding where to put the crib in our bedroom.

So look everyone, I may have a little nursery after all. I feel like a real girl.

The crib should be here in the next few weeks. And if the baby comes first (here’s hoping), we can just borrow the little crib The King’s Mom has at her house.

I can’t wait.

It was The King’s 34th birthday on Sunday (Happy Birthday, baby!). I’ve personally found that as I get older my own birthday sucks more and more. Well, maybe “sucks” is a strong word. What I mean is my 30th birthday wasn’t as magical as my 8th birthday. That being said, I’m pretty sure The King’s birthday sucked. Not only was it on a Sunday (always fun to spend your birthday at Church, blah!) but add in the fact that everything I do revolves around being super huge and about to push a baby out of my teeny tiny girl parts. So I wasn’t really into his birthday this year.

I know, I’m shallow and self-centered. You don’t need to tell me, because I feel it. I know that’s how I am. I realized at about noon on Sunday that I hadn’t really planned anything for The King’s birthday. I did buy him a gift (no card though) and had given it to him (he swears he likes it). But there was no cake planned, no special breakfast in bed. In fact, I didn’t even go to Church with him. Nope, I sent him alone.

(As I type this I feel even more guilty about the horrible wife that I am. I promise I love my husband and I try to be a good wife to him. But it’s hard to make him breakfast in bed when I can’t even tie my own shoes. Cut me some slack.)

My parents sent The King a package for his birthday. My Mom had e-mailed me earlier in the week to tell me to be looking for it. She said she hoped he would “get a kick” out of the gift. I didn’t like the sound of that. Nope, didn’t like it at all. I gave The King a head’s up that his gift might not be what he was hoping for (you know, iPod speakers for his office).

We were not prepared for what was in the package.

Do you see this? Do you know what it is? It’s the Pee-pee Teepee, people. And it’s not a very good birthday present. Especially not for a 34 year old male who’s very cool and not so much into “joke” gifts.

The most horrible part is that my Mom didn’t just go online and buy these. She made them, from scratch. Meaning she got out her old sewing machine (it must be noted that she never sews) and sewed them on a day off from work. With fabric she bought at the fabric store. (I wonder where she got the pattern?)

Oh, Lordy.

When The King opened it and figured out what it was (yes, there as a cute little poem to explain it all) he said, “so do you wash them, or throw them away after each use? Because I’m pretty sure I don’t want this in our wash!”

The King, being a much better person than I am, was good enough to send my Mom a lovely e-mail yesterday thanking her for the gift. He also begged me to not say anything mean to her about it.

So when she comes out when the baby is born, do we have to actually use them? Or can we tuck them away on some shelf and re gift them at next year’s White Elephant Christmas party? What would Emily Post say?

My best friend May bought her 18 month old daughter a Backstreet Boys book at the dollar store. You know, sort of as a joke. May has never been into the Backstreet Boys. She wouldn’t be able to tell A.J. over Justin Timberlake (those are real names, right?).

This particular book is so awesome. Mostly because it’s really outdated. It is also very descriptive on what things “the boys” like. You know, they like ice cream and girls who make them laugh. Um…right. It says nothing about their penchant for pot and strippers.

Unfortunately for May, her daughter lurves this book. She wants to read it over any other books she has. And this book isn’t very small. It’s “large print”. Which means May can’t really hide it at the bottom of the diaper bag when they go out. Nope, it sits on top for the entire world to see.

This isn’t even the worst of it. There is a picture in the book of a Backstreet Boy (who can be sure which one it is) eating an ice cream cone. This is the picture that May’s daughter likes the most. And how does she show it? By licking the page. Yes, she licks it. I think this is a precursor for making out with her pillow and pretending it’s Nick (he’s one of them, right?). She also likes another picture in the book. But instead of licking that picture, she just points to it and says, “Daddy?!”

I don’t think it gets any better than that. Do you?

The latest e-mail from The King sort of freaked me out. It’s the first of it’s kind. But I’m sure not the last.

The King: I gotta go back in the back of the office and work, so you can’t get a hold of me on my desk phone. I’ll have my cell phone on in case the baby comes. I’ll call you later when you are at home and tell you what time I’ll be home.

I think we’re both getting a little nervous about being apart from each other. Even if just for a few hours.

Like I’ve told you before, I get lots of little e-mails all day from The King.

Here’s one from this morning:

The King: They asked everyone to put their t-shirt size on a list here at work. Out of the whole company, only one other guy besides me said they are a “medium”. Is it not manly to admit that you aren’t a “large”? Lots of these guys are far smaller than I am. Don’t you want something that fits? I should put “XS” and get a really, really tight one and then wear it to work.

Isabel: They just don’t know that girls like guys who are skinny and wear tight shirts!

(Am I the only girl that likes a guy in a fitted shirt? I know I’m not alone on this one!)

I decided to go baby clothes shopping on my lunch break. I had heard about a sale that I just needed to check out.

I (semi) scored and got a little sleeper for $4.00. I was feeling pretty good about my purchase. I mean, you can’t go wrong with that. (Thinking about it now, I should have bought the whole store up and had a stash for future baby shower gifts.)

On my way back to work Washington Mutual Bank was on the street handing out free money. You heard me right, free money.

I took some. Of course.

When I got back into the office and looked to see how much they gave me, I found a crisp $2.00 bill looking back at me.

So pretty much that $4.00 sleeper was only $2.00.

That rules.