In the pregnancy process I have come to realize how much of the burden is on the female partner. - Al Roker

Clearly Al Roker is a STUPID big fat annoying man...the ellipseseseseses are back, because I can't be bothered to write a proper entry today...so sorry...um, so, it’s Saturday...here I am at work…had a good, not great, run this morning, which is bound to happen when you haven’t run for a week...the bus took a VERY unexpected detour this morning and I thought I had reality-jumped into the movie “Speed”...I was NOT reassured by the sight of city environmental services trucks in the closed-off side streets….I just found out that there was a 4-alarm fire that closed Fifth Ave...I have upgraded from a grande to a venti latte these days...I have been at work for an hour and haven’t had a question yet...why am I here?...Seg’s at swim lessons even as I type, and I will bet the water is freezing...he has been practicing “airplane arms” lying on the floor or the ground all week long...he’s really freakingly unbearably cute when he does this...there’s a gigantic drill down the street, burrowing into rock for the foundation for the new student union-y building, and I can hear it IN HERE...yes, it’s rhythmic and going to drive me bonkers...I finished Julie & Julia last night, enjoyed it very much...it made me want to cook things...I thought I’d finish reading The Plague but eh...already ditched the Ken Follett “thriller”...no idea what was supposed to be so thrilling, especially since, you know, people in real life have died of Ebola and that’s not thrilling, it’s tragic and messy...so I considered starting Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian because Lazy Cow liked it but instead I thought I’d better finish the book I have on interlibrary loan...have I mentioned before that I can’t read on the bus, it makes me ill...my co-worker and friend L lent me a copy of a magazine that is very much like my much-beloved and sadly now-defunct Book magazine...so my list of to-read books continues to grow exponentially and I am very sad that I am going to die before I get to read everything I want to...took Terzo for his nine-month check-up yesterday; The Baby is gigantic, he weighs 23 pounds, 4 ounces, and is in the 95% for height...I swear to you that he ate two bowls of leek and potato soup for dinner last night...did I tell you about the five pierogies he ate last week one night for dinner?...he’s ahead of the curve on the standing/cruising/walking thing, according to his pediatrician...of course he is, he has two older brothers to keep up with...Seg has asked that I go to the hospital and bring back another brother, called Thomas...Primo requests a girl “from your belly next time” so he can call her Annika, like in Pippi Longstocking...oh, the innocence of youth...H admits that if we could just GET a baby he’d like to have another, it’s the nine months of pregnancy that is holding him up...HE’s telling ME?...OHMYFUCKINGGOD a patron just asked me if I was having a little boy or a little girl...so I start thinking, if I look pregnant, perhaps I should just BE pregnant...No! No no no no no no no. NO. This way madness lies...Gina, slap me!....did I mention I ran THREE MILES this morning? And did thirty sit-ups?...I do thirty sit-ups every day, for all the good they do. My flab resides atop solid muscle...Primo is having his cousins sleep over tonight, he is planning a marathon Monopoly tournament and a viewing of “The Great Muppet Caper”...they are making pizza for dinner, with “boxed” chicken nuggets and red grapes...quite the menu planner, my little Primo...he even used his own cash, from his piggy bank, to buy little prizes for the Monopoly game, is that adorable?...I have to go drown myself now. And anyway, I didn’t find out what I was having any of the times I actually WAS pregnant...And in the immortal words of Dave Barry, “You should never say anything to a woman that even remotely suggests you think she's pregnant unless you can see an actual baby emerging from her at that moment.”