My Ribs Are Not An Ottoman

Griffin, Life Lesson #1: Your momma's ribs are not an ottoman and her organs are not a drum set.

While I understand that the men on both sides of the family are inordinately tall, I need your wonderfully-growing big boy legs to leave my ribs alone. Pretty please? No, didn't think so. Ok, take up all of the space you need, I'll just keep tickling your feet that stick out of my side and you'll squirm around in all of your adorable cuteness.

38 weeks it is. So close to the finish line. I feel like I have been pregnant for years and years. And technically, having a miscarriage the first year, then waiting a long time to get pregnant again, and then going through this pregnancy, I suppose I should feel like I have been going through this for years. I can't believe I will meet my little boy soon. And when I do, let the squeezing and smooshing begin!! I can't wait to hold his little hands and wraps my hands around his chubby legs. And kiss his ankles and toes.

The nursery is looking pretty awesome, but I am hesitant to post pictures because it isn't finished. And it won't be for awhile until Caleb and I move out of it. Right now, we are living in the nursery with Griffin while Caleb spends the winter finishing up our bedroom edition over the garage (we initially bought a two-bedroom house with plans to make it three). So I am not hanging art on the wall or painting the murals that I plan to until the furniture goes where it belongs permanently.

Dad, mom, and puppies are doing well and eagerly awaiting Griffin's arrival!