1. Wearing pants. They suck. I ordered a pair of jeans from Old Navy today (Baby and maternity sale going on – get free shipping if you use the code BABYMAT) even though there’s practically no point. I’ve got less than 2 months left and no plans to get off my couch.

2. Segments on the Today Show about MAMA-SPANX. Are you kidding me? I need a girdle while I am pregnant? The only thing that’s going to make me look thinner right now is giving birth.

3. Reading/watching/thinking/talking about the octuplet mom. I’m done. Although I certainly feel better about my own baby bump after seeing the picture of hers (TMZ has them if you care). Good God I cannot imagine the pain.

4. The internet. I’m going to try and take the weekend off because I need to interact with real people for a change. It’s easier to be prepared for the assholes I know rather than the surprise assholes online.

5. Valentine’s Day. Don’t think just because I’m married and happy and covered in pregnancy glow I like forced holidays. Plus without wine, fancy dinners are crap.

6. EVERYTHING ELSE. Pet hair. That noise the car is making again. The weather. People who ring my doorbell. My inability to walk up a flight of stairs without getting winded. The book I’m reading. Commercials. Braxton-Hicks contractions. E’s job.

The only thing that still makes me happy is you, dear friends. See you Monday.

Drooling.

I’ve washed my pillow cases more times in the last few months than ever before. Sometimes my hair is sticky in the morning. There may be mold growing in my couch cushions from unplanned 3 pm naps. Maybe the suggestion that pregnant women sleep on their sides is because we’d all drown if we slept on our backs.

I meant to post this yesterday but since being pregnant has decreased the size of my brain 20% (all together now…IT’S SCIENCE!) I forgot.

Happy 29th birthday to my #1 husband and impregnator, E! You’re going to be a great dad. Someday, under your fatherly love and direction, Baby E will vanquish all the internet dragons, finish “Green Grass and High Tides” at expert on Rock Band, and dance his way into the heart of every girl he meets. I love you.

My class tonight was AWESOME. The instructor, Andrea, is the lactation consultant for the hospital and she is neither a crazy hippie or a breastfeeding Nazi. She was funny, relaxed, enthusiastic and, most importantly, knew her shit. She was like “So all that stuff the magazines are trying to sell you – the pumps and the nipple shields and the lotions and the pillows – don’t buy it. Really.” She explained that after you give birth, getting support and encouragement to breastfeed is the most important thing. If you decide later you want to pump, she can hook you up. If your nipples hurt, she has the good kind of lotion. If you have problems or questions, she will come to your house and help you. She will tell your mother/grandmother/sister/whoever it is that says “Well I didn’t breastfeed MY baby and they turned out alright” to shut the hell up and bury them in research studies on why they should get on board.

Despite her obvious enthusiasm for breastfeeding, she emphasized that it is YOUR decision – and I felt like she really meant it. I wish every pregnant woman I know could take this class – I am 100% less scared of my nipples falling off now. Andrea wants you to live you life (eat a cheeseburger! have a beer! watch tv! shop at Target!) while you give your baby the best possible start to life. She said even if you only nurse one time, you’ve done a great job.

I really can’t say enough good things about this class, but I think my favorite part was when she compared the way the baby swallows milk to the way you would take a shot. Anyone who can relate babies to drinking is my friend.

All my dreams last night were about zombies. Zombies trying to eat my brain. It wasn’t scary, more like “Shaun of the Dead” than “28 Days Later” as I was just trying to go about my regular day while avoiding being mauled and eaten. Locked doors, big sticks and running away was enough to keep me alive, but God it was so tiring. Pregnant women are totally doomed in the world of zombies.

What the Expect talks about the meanings of typical pregnancy dreams, but strangely, never mentioned zombies. So far, they have failed to address almost all my weird dreams, so I think I’m going to write my own guide:

You dream of…zombies. You fear…that your baby is actually an alien being trying to eat you from the inside out. He has already eaten at least 20% of your BRAAAAAIIIIIN and he’s not even born yet.

You dream of…arguing with people on the internet. You fear…you may be spending too much time online instead of – hold on, I just have to update my Facebook status.

You dream of…killing your husband for calling you “tubby”, although he claims it was an accident. You fear…nothing. That’s totally normal.

You dream of…giving birth to a kitten/puppy/large sum of money. You fear…you could take much better care of any of those things than an actual baby. Especially the money, since it can never resent you.

You dream of…your mother-in-law. You fear…your mother-in-law.