So a few weeks ago, the cashier at Target asked – well, I *thought* he asked – how many weeks I was. He actually said “months,” but I have been in the habit of thinking in weeks, not months, for the duration of the pregnancy, so I responded with my week count – 35. The look on his face was priceless! K quickly corrected for me and said “she means weeks” – thanks, boo! Yessir, my gestation is even longer than that of the elephant, the mammal with the longest gestational period!

Anyhow. That’s my goofy story.

But now I’m 37 weeks, and I gotta be honest – I don’t feel it. I don’t feel like I am 3 weeks away from my due date, and that theoretically, Little Miss could come any time now. I just don’t. She moves around like gangbusters in there; even though there’s not much room left for her to maneuver, she still manages to find a way to encroach on the territory of all my pre-existing and more permanent organs. I like that about her. Shows her gumption.

I waddle, slightly. I waddled more in the late 20weeks/early 30weeks stage, when my belly was really starting to burgeon and my body didn’t know how to act its fool self anymore. I’ve always walked pretty quickly, and still find myself lapping and overtaking people in the grocery store aisles. I do trip over my own two (fat, swollen, sausage) feet more frequently.

Other than the gestational diabetes, I’ve had few complications. Took a tumble at work the other day, landing on my hands and knees, and was sent to L&D for monitoring, but all was well. Some RLP on the cusp of my 20th week that also sent me to L&D, but again, nothing serious, just some dehydration and a sensation I hadn’t experienced before. No Braxton Hicks, no contractions that I’ve felt. Just some fat feet, a controlled diet, and apparently, a kickboxing little gymnast temporarily living inside me.

I wear an apron at work, and lately people have started asking me when the baby is due. I am STILL a bit taken aback, having received a few queries like this PRE-pregnancy as I am a fluffy girl, and sputter and stutter. “How DARE you, I think; I’m not… preg… wait,” I think, in the pregnant pause (see what I did there?) that follows their question. And then, once I’ve reminded myself that I am in fact Having A Baby, it still takes me a moment to come up with the correct date, mentally doing the math, mentally ticking off the days, mentally thinking “is it really that close?”

And it is. It really is that close. A mere three weeks till due date (which means* a mere three weeks and five days until The Day Oh, Rebecca Made Her Glorious Entrance Onto This Here Earth Thirty-One Years Ago, aka my birthday, aka Best Day Ever), but she is now considered full-term, so she could come any day she pleases – though I think she’s having a bit too much fun punching and kicking in there to make an appearance just yet.

So. Any day now, I guess. Any day. Anyone want to make any guesses as to date and weight? If I could think of a prize off the top of my head for it, I’d offer it, but I’m kind of blank in the brain today. How about a cute little doodley drawing of whatever you want? I dunno. Let’s try it. Comment with your best guess for date/weight (EDD is 9/21, current weight estimate via ultrasound is 5lbs 15oz, but ultrasound estimates can vary within a pound or so!), and tell me what you’d like a doodley drawing of! The closest date and the closest weight will win doodles from me! And who knows, someday I could be famous and they could be worth something, but in the meantime they’ll probably just make you smile. Contest (?) ends, uhm, I dunno. Let’s say it ends Labor Day (September 3, 2012), at midnight. Get it? GET IT?????? HAHAHAHAHAHA. LABOR. HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA.

God, I’m lame. Shut it.

*it also means a mere three weeks and two days until K’s bday, but that’s for HIM to exalt about!