10 more days to vacate the uterus

OK, so we made it to October! What does that mean? It is time for Mr. Tanner to make his appearance. Anytime, any day now would be great. No worries that he hasn't cooked long enough. No worries about not planning on him in September. Nope. Come on out and get ready for some Buckeye football this weekend, kid. Or next weekend. You will not be permitted to miss the following weekend game.
Mommy's pelvis is screaming. It hurts to walk because it feels like I am going to crack right down the middle. He was moving around a lot in there yesterday morning and gave me the feeling that he might be trying to nudge his way down into "the stance". I believe they call it "engaging" but it wouldn't be right if I used an official medical term. Either way, there was more moving around down there than I have felt in awhile. This little guy is getting bigger with every bite of food that I ingest, and he's fighting for space.
Mr. W came with me to the store last night because, inconveniently, Mr. Tanner has waited around long enough for the frost to pop out here in Ohio and his mommy can no longer venture out in public with shorts and capris. I had to suck it up and get some jeans, along with some other things we needed around the house. TP, fabric softener, bags of Halloween Snickers, candy corn flavored gumdrops, all the essentials. I should be set to hibernate until labor but I have pants in case I need to leave the house.
At 9 months pregnant and beyond, a girl just doesn't look right in anything she puts on. I stood and pondered the options last night until Mr. W nearly went into a tailspin. I finally picked out a pair of jeans based on deduction and when we got home, I went to try them out. Mr. W had a laughing fit and I wanted to cry. I should probably explain that the options, of course, are limited. There were 2 kinds of jeans with a full panel available. At this point, I need that panel in case my shirt decides it needs to ride up my giant whale belly. Easy choice, right? Not really. There were a pair that looked absolutely GIGANTIC. Huge, belled out wide legs were not exactly what I had in mind being as frumpy as I am feeling, currently. The other option was skinny jeans. That is an oxymoron for a pregnant woman, but I felt that they would be better suited than the circus tent option so I decided on those. I looked like an egg balanced on two toothpicks. The legs were tight and really fitted to the point where they may as well have been denim leggings. I realize that this is the "in style" to some extent, but whatever happened to classic straight leg jeans? I have to think that the most flattering thing for a super pregnant woman to wear would be something proportioned to fit her in a classic way. I am not "trendy 19 year old new mommy". I am also not ready for "mom jeans". Where does one go to find a conservative pair of jeans when they are ready to explode? The answer is not Target. The sad truth is, I spent about 60% more on that pair than the two pairs I just exchanged them for at JcPenney. Again, I ended up with boot cut and skinny jeans, but at least they are not to the extreme that the highly praised Liz Lange has released for her high end discount store line. I tried them on. They both fit, and much better than the ones from last night. Although I am not looking forward to spending much time in them, I am, at the least, relieved that I have pants to wear out of the house. I will be leaving the tags on one in the hopes that little guy comes out quick and I have an option to return a pair, but if he waits it out until Thanksgiving, Mommy has pants.
In other news, tonight is the night that Mr. W and I head in to the hospital for the "tour". I guess they just show you where everything is, where to go, special facilities for those jacuzzi birth weirdos, and all that jazz. Let me clarify that there is nothing wrong with wanting a natural birth and a jacuzzi birth sounds pretty wonderful in theory. What I can't get past is the idea of crawling into one of those things knowing what has happened in there! EWWWWW. I do not care how much sanitizer is used, how much Lysol and bleach you scrub with or how many toxic chemicals you add, that is naaaaasty. Nope, unless they use a fresh tub for each and every customer, count me out. Hell, I would rather eat a bowl of soup from the litter box than get in someone else's "placenta tub".