According to my doctor, I am doing very well. My uterus is the right size, my weight is appropriate, I have a very active baby with good heart tones (150 bpm), and my blood pressure has remained relatively constant throughout this whole thing. Also, having reached 37 weeks, he has few worries about Peanut being born any time now.
Woot, I say, woot!
According to my greyhound, I am either the best doggy mommy or the worst in the history of the entire world. She was not given any of my Taco Bell last night nor was she given any of the cheese or garlic from the lasagna that we prepped for the freezer tonight. Woe is her. On the other hand, she has a yard that she will sprint across, roll in the grass, and play! And she gets tons of other treats and people food. She had a minor freakout on Sunday when Downwood was vacuuming her lawn (mowing it), but was ecstatic when I let her out so she could roll around and verify that the grass was still there. Silly dog.
According to my freezer, I am ready for an extended blizzard. There's fruit and veggies, BBQ pork, lasagna, meats, bread, cookie dough, and some other things that I can't remember right now. We also bought a whole bunch of pantry staples (canned tomatoes, beans, flour, sugar, pasta, etc) to restock all the things that I made a point of using up before the move. Aside from things like milk, eggs, and bananas, I think we're set for a while.
According to my team lead, I am doing a very good job at work. He's talked to my customers and heard all the good things they have to say about me. He also got involved with an escalation over the last few days and has been helpful in balancing my work load.
According to my dance teacher, I am going to have few problems pushing Peanut out. Hooray for core muscle strength! Also, I am very brave for doing a full-day dance workshop on Saturday. It was an amazing time and I learned a whole lot! I was sad that I hadn't signed up for the Sunday workshop as well, but realized that my body probably wouldn't have stood for it.
According to our former neighbor, some of the random kids were running in and out of our rental place over the weekend. He saw it, shooed them out, collected the few valuables (ie, the liquor cabinet) that were left in the place (the bottle of Templeton Rye being among them), and called the landlord to let them know what was going on. The landlords, being complete idiots, didn't tell this to Downwood when he called them to report a break-in. Luckily, the neighbor showed up before the police did and could give them his statement. The whiskey has been rescued and brought to its new home.
According to my psychiatrist, one of the reasons that I've been barely maintaining my grip on reality is because my blood level of one of my meds was just a hair above the minimum level required for functionality. There's something about having an extra liter of blood that dilutes blood levels of drugs. Dosage has been changed and we are continuing to monitor mood and thought patterns. Still not in a good place, but still able to keep moving.
According to my back and to Peanut, I need to not be sitting in front of my computer any longer. In fact, either chilling in the ultra-comfy rocking chair or just getting a little extra sleep are both sounding like excellent ideas.