Showers, Doctors, a Rabbit and a Padded Room

So apparently my BFFs decided to throw me a surprise baby shower last weekend. Totally worked because I had no idea. Justin was in on it, so was Morgan and pretty much everyone I know, thanks to Kasey and Amber's tenacity. I'm just sorry more people couldn't make it from out of town - I miss you guys! I can't even begin to give thanks and shout-outs to everyone for their sweet gifts and awesome contributions on this blog because I know I'll leave someone out - but needless to say, the "Galla-girls" (How cute is that?! It was on the invitations!) are hooked up to the max for just about everything. I even have a bunch of amazing guy friends from college who got together on the high-chair we've been wanting forever! But aside from all the cute pink goodies, it was really REALLY awesome to connect with the wives on our boat that I haven't met or haven't seen in forever, and to hang out with other lady friends from around the area WITHOUT a kid to worry about and just gab. Well, gab and eat. It was an awesome surprise and I feel so SO fortunate to have the incredible friends I do. I'm done or I'm going to get sappy. But it rocked.

And it's a good think it happened when it did. I'm 33 weeks, and had a doctor's appointment yesterday, kicking off the super-duper fun span of once-a-week appointments from here on out. There are times when I feel like I HAVE to be close and other times when I'm positive they're going to have to schedule an induction for 38 weeks. Thus far I'm fine - mild contractions occasionally, puffy legs and ankles, ONE solitary stretch mark (damnit) on my hip, a wonky bikini line, and an outty belly button... the chunksters are still head-down and growing well. One more week and I'll have avoided bed rest ENTIRELY! Woot! After 34 weeks they don't try to stop labor if the girls want out.

Luckily I finished the chair. Just need to quickly get the ottoman done, get the shelves and curtains put up, and we're in business. Pictures of nursery to follow in the next week or so.

And finally, Enzo seems to be doing really well. I weaned his dumb ass off of his pain meds when I realized he was jumping up on top of the cardboard box I had put in his cage. Not only that, but he was digging at the top of the box and chewing chunks of cardboard off it. Come on, dude couldn't have been in THAT much pain. Besides, he was getting slightly addicted to the meds (to the point where he'd rip the syringe out of my hand when I put it near his mouth, hop away with it and fiendishly chew/lick/suck on it.) He seems to be eating just fine and has pretty good spirits. I'm going to let him run around on the 3rd floor this evening for awhile and see how he does and if it hurts, he might get another (small!) dose of his meds. The elbow feels like a giant lump and he holds his arm across his chest like a... well... you can picture it. It's funny. I make a "duuuuuuurrrrr" noise at him whenever I see him because, well, it seems appropriate.

Once his stupid self is fixed enough to rejoin the family downstairs (AFTER the girls get here) he'll be happy to note that I've replaced the coffee table of death with a cheapie ottoman-style mini coffee table from Bed Bath and Beyond. It looks a little goofy because it's about a third the size of the wrought-iron/slate one that claimed his elbow, but it's entirely safe for toddlers and rabbits alike and therefore has my anxiety level WAY down. Jack has taken up dancing as one of his favorite activities - and his brand of dancing includes lots of spinning, jumping and head-banging. I can't even describe how many times he has nearly taken a header into the table and I have a small heart attack every time it happens, so I finally put my foot down, made Justin hide our beautiful table in our bedroom, and splurged on the ottoman. People, we are a few VERY SMALL steps away from having a padded room. Keep that in mind. That's where I'm at with my life right now. Padded rooms.

Anyway, off to go start my day and enjoy "Melissa Time" before the tot gets up!

The Attack of the Giant Blob

Pretending I like this situation. (Kidding - I'm really excited!)

Additionally horrifying about this picture (as if the gigantic belly isn't enough) is how sickly I look. Somehow I'm battling the worst allergies of my life, laryngitis, an infected wisdom tooth and 44 pounds of extra weight between my shirt and jeans and inside my arms.

If. I. Hear. One. More. Person. Tell. Me. I. Am. Skinny. I. Will. Sit. On. Them.

I recognize I'm not grotesquely obese. HOWEVER comma I really do not think "skinny" is a fair term to use to someone who cannot see anything from about elbow-height down. And skinny people do not have obscene amounts of pain in their lower body caused by the copious amount of weight in the upper body.

Also, don't tell me about how this has flown by. It has not. At all. I have been pregnant for 90% of my life right now and if you try to tell me otherwise, I will sit on you AND suffocate you under the wonder that is The Belly.

(If you want details and specific medical stuff on babies, check out the baby page - link on the right!)

Update

So it's looking like the best course of action for the apparently shattered and most-assuredly-least-lucky-ever rabbit foot is amputation.

Depending on cost, of course.

I wonder if they'll let me keep the severed foot. And those furry keychains will FOREVER haunt me after this ordeal.

There Are No Words...

...to describe the incalculable depths of my fury and frustration. I am not a huge fan of venting on my blog because you don't want to read about my crappy life, but tough. Today, I want your day to be as crappy as mine. Today is one of those days where I see happy, smiley people and I want them to stub a toe or start their period in white jeans or discover 4 flat tires on their car.

My stupid, worthless ass of a rabbit launched himself off of the couch yesterday after a random spaz attack and skidded on the wood floor into the wrought-iron coffee table leg. Hard. And broke his paw/leg/arm thing. Or so I thought. But I couldn't feel a fracture and neither could the vet. So they're thinking nerve damage? What?

But we won't know anything for sure until after $360 worth of diagnostics. By that I mean $65.00 for the exotic pet vet visit; $5.00 for biohazard waste removal(?); $118 for sedation during the xrays; $140 for the xray itself and some $30 for pain killers.

AND WE HAVEN'T EVEN GOTTEN TO *TREATMENT* YET.

Here's the thing. Esmeralda, the girl bun we had a few years ago as Enzo's mate, cost us $780 in vet bills when she passed away. She had a condition from birth, we took her in, it was apparently a lost cause (did they tell us this? no.) but they continued to drag it out over 5 days by telling us she had a 50/50 chance (just to rack up the bill) and she died anyway. So my thinking is this: if this ordeal gets to the $780 mark, I'm going to tell them thanks, but just go ahead and kill the bastard.

He weighs 4lbs 4oz. You cannot TELL me that a ball of fur that weighs that little and doesn't respond to his name is worth anywhere NEAR that much money.

Seriously. I am irate and want to eat the head off of every "cute" little chocolate Easter bunny I see. Out of spite and overwhelming need for chocolate in copious quantities.

Let me not even get into the temper tantrum that Jack threw as we left the vet's office when he realized we were abandoning Enzo there...

And then you see how happy Jack is to snuggle with Enzo (this was taken about 30 minutes before the "incident") and you realize that I'm just stuck with this whole crappy situation. Argh.