Period.

So, for the most part, the stupid questions at work are at an all time low. I think it's because I operate under the radar. I do my thang and no one gets hurt. Or something like that. Honestly, now that our group has moved upstairs I don't see many people. It's pretty disappointing. Where I sat before I could see people come in in the mornings and go to lunch and leave etc. I had prime view of the kitchen, which really, is where all of the action happens.

Well, most days. Somedays people feel it's appropriate to chat it up in the bathroom. Like, they see you coming (don't turn around!) and stop at the door and wait... then you both go into stalls and they keep talking. Then you come out and wash your hands and they keep talking. This is where it happened this week. The bathroom.

60+ year old woman--"So have you really enjoyed not having your period?"
Me--"Yes"....

Now, don't get me wrong. I have enjoyed this aspect of pregnancy. I also don't mind if a friend of mine were to ask this, or you know, someone I am close to. But a random person I work with in the bathroom? Kinda odd.

The next day as we are walking down the stairs she asks me if I have to look to my sides when I'm walking because I've gotten so big.

No. I just kept on walking. Who says these things? At what point is this appropriate? Have I gotten bigger? Well, hells yes--I'm 9+months pregnant and have an affinity for sweets and carbs. Do you comment? No.

My moomsy has also decided that I'm miserable. I get unprovoked comments like, "I'm sorry you are miserable." The thing is, I keep attempting to reassure her, I'm not. My hands are swollen and feet started on Monday. I don't really have trouble getting around. I'm not at the "get this kid outta me" stage. So, I'm pretty content.

The inlaws come this weekend. Our LAST weekend visitors before Black Baby makes his arrival. To say I'm thrilled would not quite do justice. No more making sure the house is clean and sheets are changed upstairs. No more making sure that there isn't change sitting on our coffee table (pet peeve), or worrying about that dog hair that is over in the corner.

I kid. I always worry about that. I effing hate dog hair.

So, I'm telling Griffin now--DO NOT come this weekend. Mommy has plans and needs some time off before you show up. Also, I need to get my hairs highlighted on Sunday (made the switch on my appointments.)