Today is my birthday. I'm 27.
If you're a long-time reader, you may remember that I should be in Hawaii right now.
I'm definitely not in Hawaii right now, as the temperature on my phone is telling me it's 9* out, with a wind chill of -3*. More importantly, I'm not in Hawaii because I'm 29 weeks pregnant. 29 weeks. Holy balls.
On Friday, I passed my 3-hour glucose test. To celebrate, I spent the weekend eating my weight in birthday cake, Super Bowl snacks, and frozen yogurt. If I wasn't before, I'm surely on my way to diabetes now! Or at least a huge lecture from Dr. G. on my excessive weight gain at my 30-week appointment.
I also handed in my official resignation at work today. My last day is April 3, the end of my 37th week of pregnancy. It feels simultaneously just around the corner and a lifetime away.
This is a short post. I think I have something really long and ranty coming (work related) maybe later this week, but it's my birthday, and I don't want to write about something so stressful today.
I'm having Bobby take me out to a local diner tonight because I have a craving for breakfast food that is absolutely insatiable. I'm hoping to at least put a dent in it tonight.