Today's hospital stress test was fine. The baby's doing well and they decided not to induce yet. I'm impatient, but I was glad to hear that the baby is fine. I'm tired of being pregnant--my skin itches worse than I ever imagined and I'm down to one pair of pants that fits and no shirts that are that great. I'm big enough now that turning over has gone from tough to a serious example of "be careful of momentum." Once I get past that 90 degree point, my body moves of its own will.
The irony that my child is late (even though I do know that babies aren't really late until 42 weeks....) is not lost on me. I'm seriously strict about tardies at school and here I am with a tardy child already.
I'm also realizing that cooking is my only hobby. It's a good hobby--I love to read recipes, go to the grocery store, figure out how to make foods go together and use up everything we buy--but right now it seems pretty lame to call an every day necessity a "hobby." But all the same, I've been on a cooking frenzy this week. (It's not nesting--it's to save myself from TV.) Since I went on maternity leave I've made a dozen hamburgers (with onion soup, frozen for later on the grill), spaghetti with meat sauce (easy), cheddar potato bread, green bean/pepper/feta salad, chocolate cake, corn bread, a baked chicken, taco salad (OK, that was just putting ingredients together), chicken enchiladas and I'm getting ready to make some homemade frosting for graham crackers. If my muscles weren't tired from carrying around what I now swear is a 20 pound baby, I'd probably spend all day in there, fiddling and fixing.
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