Sunday afternoon, after the wedding party, the phone rings. It’s work.
Urgent issues needing to get done, so I stay up and work on it until 2am or so. Wake up call at 8 or something from work on Monday morning.
Repeat x 4.
Every. Day. This. Week. Last night, I got to bed at 10pm and I was physically and mentally exhausted from it all. Turned on my iPod, listened to some classical music and read for a couple of hours just to calm down and enjoy not working.
The one good (awesome? amazing?) thing that happened this week was going to an ultrasound with C and seeing baby Elvis. He/she was quite stubborn (gee, wonder where he gets *that* from?), and did not want his/her picture taken to get measured.
I’m gonna call Elvis “he” until we know. Writing he/she, seems silly. Unless I start using Priscilla. That might work.
Elvis/Priscilla (sigh…I’ll probably go back to he/she) was jumping around in there like he was having hickups, you could see little arms, little legs, and a face. Truly amazing. (Astonishing? Fantastic?)
We’re in week 12 now, so it should be safe to tell everyone. C’s dr said she needed to gain more weight, so in order to comply with doctor orders, I took C to Fuddruckers for dinner one night. (Thankyou, doctor, I’m liking this plan).