Let’s put that at the top of the list of stuff NOT to say to a pregnant woman.
A couple of days may not be much to you, Miss Thang in your trim cut top and super tall sandal wedges and you Mr. I-haven’t-been-carrying-another-human-for-over-nine-months.

“Let’s give it a week and then we can begin to investigate our options.”

Really, “give it a week,” and “our options?”

Umm, yeah, don’t meant to sound sour, but I am approaching the point of eyeing the Dyson and thinking, “Just how well does that puppy really suck?”

So, the update for those of you dear souls checking in on the ETA for lil “f,” is that I am ready as far as measurements etc go, but have not “spontaneously gone into labor” and had that “labor achieve the delivery of a baby.”

Ahem, my regular doctor was out sick and, no, I was not overly impressed or even remotely charmed by Mr. Let’s-take-a-wait-and-see-approach.

So here I sit, feeling a little like I am perched atop a sharp flagpole with a litter of kittens jacked up on amphetamines swirling around in my belly. Betcha wish you were here.