It has been ridiculously cold in Connecticut for almost a week. Long underwear cold. Ski mask cold. My brand new winter coat is totally ineffective cold. If you have any of that global warming lying around, could you send it this way? As my friend Sarrible said, Connecticut is the state where Al Gore dares not tread.

Since it was only in the 20’s outside, I caved in and raised the temperature on the thermostat from the oil-and-cost-saving 60 degrees to the slightly-more-expensive-but-less-likely-to-cause-frostbite 65. There was absolutely no noticeable difference on the first floor. My second floor appears to have moved to the surface of the sun, although I don’t remember walking up any extra stairs. We have to keep the bedroom doors closed (due to my little cat’s absolute burning hatred of E and her desire to urinate on anything he touches) so the heat that should be traveling into the hallway and empty nursery gets trapped in just two rooms. Our new furnace thinks this is hilarious, and continues to pump out heat like it’s life depends on it.

On Saturday night I woke up at 4 am because I thought I was dying. Literally, dying. I once had a fever of 104 that landed me in the emergency room. That felt like a cool fall breeze compared to Saturday night. I lay on the floor of the bathroom for a while as the baby rejected the cookies I had eaten before bed and kicked me over and over in the diaphragm to protest the uncomfortable temperature. Eventually I cooled down enough that the room stopped spinning and I made it downstairs to sleep on the couch. I’ve used the phrase “bun in the oven” for being pregnant but this is the first time I actually thought I might cook my baby. Pregnancy makes you kind of warm anyways, but baby-warmth combined with a suddenly incredibly efficient furnace and five degrees on the thermostat was like the ultimate trifecta of hot.

Just in case you were worried I might actually have damaged my baby, when I took my temperature while lying on the floor panting, it read a slightly low but normal for me 97.2.

My friend Lalaland wrote about Popeye’s Chicken on her blog today. It was like waving a red cape in front of a bull. I want some delicious fast food chicken SO MUCH right now I am willing to make a very generous offer. My first born child. All you have to do is open a Chick-fil-A franchise within 20 minutes of my house. The closest one right now is in Paramus. NEW JERSEY. 82.9 miles. Starting one in scenic Eastern Connecticut would be a guaranteed success, plus now you get the added bonus of one baby boy, guaranteed to have all his fingers, toes and limbs. No promises regarding his intelligence, good looks or future addiction to World of Warcraft. Deal’s only for the next hour, because by then I will have put on pants and made it to KFC, even if it’s a poor, poor substitute for the real thing.

Wow, finally something you ARE allowed to eat during pregnancy. My doctor says she knows of no reason or study that would indicate pregnant women should avoid soy. I mentioned the hormone thing that my lovely and intelligent commenters brought up and she said my pregnant hormones are so much stronger than normal it would take a huge amount of anything to mess with them.

I also do not have skin cancer, high blood pressure or any signs of preeclampsia. I am officially fat, and got a little talking to about holiday overeating. She said it’s not a big deal now – I’m not harming the baby – but it’s going to be much harder to lose 50 pounds than 20. But I’m not going to worry about that yet, I don’t mind being fat if I have a baby to distract people.

My next appointment is December 18th. This year is ending much too quickly. Once it’s 2009 I don’t get to think my baby comes “next year” anymore. The nurse also reminded me I need to sign up for a child birthing class soon and get my tour of the fancy birthing center. You also get to see the nursery – which means actual teeny tiny just born babies – and that idea makes my hormones go all wacky with joy and fear. I am hoping a weekend of bread and cheese with the gorgeous Sarrible will take my mind off things.

I’ve always had the homemaking gene but now that the realization that a baby is coming to live in my house FOR REALS is starting to sink in, I’m going a little crazy. Today I made bread from scratch, baked and frosted three dozen cookies, went grocery shopping, planned our Thanksgiving dinner and narrowed down the nursery paint color options from 30 to 10. I also put a second coat on the trim to the right of the stairs and a final coat on the trim to the left, plus started the trim in the guest room and touched up the baby’s room. I don’t want any “pregnant women shouldn’t be painting” advice either – I’d love to use that excuse to make E do it but my doctor said as long as I’m not using anything lead based or putting paint on my toast, I’ll be ok. I spent at least eight hours on my feet and OH MY GOD do they hurt. I wore comfortable shoes with nice arch support and padded inserts all day, but right now I couldn’t walk across the room if my life depended on it. I have my feet up on a pillow, my milk and (freshly baked) cookies, Top Chef and the dog to keep me company, and I may end up sleeping on the couch if my arches don’t stop weeping in agony sometime soon. Tomorrow is the appointment where I ask the doctor eight zillion questions. I’ve convinced myself I have preeclampsia and now I can add “swelling of the feet” to my list of reasons why. Of course when my blood pressure reads at a totally normal level I’ll just have to accept that getting fat, retaining water and ligament pains are all just symptoms of pregnancy, not problems. Update for everyone on the soy issue after 2:00 pm tomorrow.

E is officially on shift work, which means he’s only home about 12 hours a day, and only conscious for 2 of those. I’m too lazy to cook for just me so tonight I found a crumpled up old Chinese food menu and ordered delivery. I really love delivery and would someday like to live in a place where I have more options than pizza and rice. I ordered more food than I needed (obviously, it’s Chinese food) and was so excited when it came I tipped the guy twice the normal amount. Here is where I become Crazy Hormonal Woman.

All I ordered was eggs rolls, fried rice and garlic chicken. Of course they send white rice too. And chopsticks. I also got soy sauce, hot mustard, and sweet & sour sauce in little containers instead of packets, which for some reason delighted me. I also got wanton crackers and fortune cookies. And then in the bottom, I found two little packets of tea that say “Enjoy” on them. I got all teary eyed about it – the nice people at the Chinese restaurant must really really want me to enjoy my meal, they thought of everything I could possibly want! Including beverages! It was like a little delivery angel had been sent from heaven bearing gifts meant just for this hungry, grumpy pregnant woman. Sitting on my couch with all this food spread out on my coffee table I cried just a little bit. Over soy sauce and tea.

Just do I don’t sound completely crazy, I’ve been freaking out a little today because the baby wasn’t moving around and I was afraid something was wrong. Right before dinner, I chugged a Mountain Dew (caffeine AND sugar!) and he started flopping around like a fish. I was so relieved I think NOT getting chopsticks and fortune cookies would have made me cry even more.