Toilet paper. My advice to pregnant women everywhere ... blow the budget when it comes to purchasing toilet paper. In light of how frequently one with child visits the loo, the cheap stuff is not a good thing. Trust me.

Stats. Had another appointment today. Heart rate was 128 -- down from the 141 at the last appointment. The baby is now supposed to weigh about three pounds and be approximately 16 inches long.

I swear. This kid has decided it's done taking a ride with me, and it's going to beat its way out of my belly.

Old man butt. While I am in love with the stretchy waistband of maternity jeans, I am not in love with how they fit my derriere. Within minutes of sliding my very disproportionate body into the things, I can feel the material begin to sag. Sure enough, a check in the mirror always reveals a butt that looks like that of an old man (droopy, no shape, pancake'ish). They make those fake bellies that you find in the changing rooms of maternity stores ... maybe I can find a fake fanny to assist me with this issue for the next 10 weeks.

I miss my brain. I found myself squirting Windex on an upholstered chair this morning. I thought it was Febreze.

My perfume ... coffee ... new tires on Matt's car ... peanut butter ... cigarette smoke ... randomness barfed up by Archie ... laundry detergent ... I read something today that the baby's sense of smell has developed, with him or her now having the ability to smell what I smell. Couldn't help but wonder throughout my day what the baby was thinking of the smells I had the fortune (or misfortune) of encountering.

How lovely. Sneezed tonight, and got more than I expected. You are correct ... my bladder was not able to stand up to the force of the ahh choo. And I repeat ... how lovely.

Pinot Noir. Oh how I miss you on a day like today.

First baby shower today. A fun day with lots of thoughtful gifts.

Massage. I have a gift certificate for a massage, and offered as a service at the spa is a maternity massage. Yet, I can't bring myself to schedule the appointment. Who the hell is interested in rubbing down some prego woman's body? And I just Googled prenatal massage tables ... there is a hole in the middle of the table. Necessary, I know. However, I view that hole as a public toilet ... and I don't think my baby would appreciate being dropped down into such a thing for 90 minutes ... even if there is music and incense. The gift certificate doesn't expire for another year. I think I'll treat myself to a postnatal massage.

Halloween. I may not have dressed this kid up and trotted around the neighborhood, but I did my duty in introducing candy. Snickers, 3 Musketeers, Twizzlers, Smarties, Dubble Bubble Bubble Gum, Tootsie Rolls ... got kicked when chowing on the Tootsie Roll, so maybe that was the fav'.