Please come visit me here!

Calla and I did a pretty good job of documenting my pregnancy, but I was bad about posting the photos right after Peanut was born. However, since I was pregnant for most of 2009, I can now post them under the guise of a year-in-review post, and still make it look like I’m on top of things.

In the beginning, we took photos every week, but got a bit lazy somewhere in the middle. Still, it gives a good overview of how I went from TinyPants to Mama the Hutt in just 40 weeks.

I gained a total of 30 pounds, lost 20 after the delivery, and am now heavier than I was when I was running, but lighter than I was before I was running. I’m not too concerned because all my pre-pregnancy pants (the ones I had to buy after I started running because everything was suddenly too big) fit (albeit they’re more snug than before), so I can at least be stylish again, and whatever extra I’m carrying will be taken care of when I return to my beloved sport. I can only attribute my weight loss to breastfeeding and daily walks, because I’ve definitely not altered my intake of food.

Looking at these pictures makes me realize why women miss being pregnant. Sadly, I can remember what it feels like to have doctors rooting around inside you during a c-section, but I’ve forgotten the feeling of Peanut inside me. Oh well, he’s more fun on the outside anyway.

Did you know?! Sour cream....

...contains milk products.

SERIOUSLY?! Okay, you know what? I'm going to go out on a limb here and say the world started going to sh*t when people stopped taking responsibility for their own actions, which was around the same time you could sue for anything, which was promptly followed by stupid labels like this one.

If you buy sour cream and eat it even though you're allergic to milk, you deserve whatever reaction is coming to you.

And I can say this without malice because I have a deathly allergy to nuts.

Sure, we had hopes of him becoming a doctor or a world famous inventor or even a super famous soccer player, but when Mysterio lays down a prediction, you can't really argue.

(Thanks, Uncle Nishitoba.)

2 shots left. Then that's it 'till 2010.

Samson's almost 6 weeks old, and because of a combination of reflux/colic, me not paying enough attention to what I've been eating, a growth spurt, and just plain learning what he likes and wanting only that, we've been hearing quite a bit of the fussiness/crankiness/BLOODCURDLING SCREAMS this past week. Samson doesn't immediately *look* like our offspring, but we've found something we have in common. He enjoys channeling David Brent as much as we do. Though even in that, we can't seem to agree on which part of the episode to draw from.

We're all: Some complaints will be false.

Him: I think you'll care when I tell you what the complaint is......

Us: There is no room 362, Samson.

Him: I THINK THERE'S BEEN A RAPE UP THERE!