23 weeks.

Time keeps flying by.  Seriously.  Less than 4 months until this little man or lady's scheduled eviction (unless he/she decides to come sooner) and I'm sure these next few months will go just as fast as the last ones have.

Big revelation this week (not really, but thought I'd share with the blogosphere): I think this babe is a girl.  I may have always thought this actually...but now, at 23 weeks, I'm admitting it to myself that (at this point) I think we're having a girl.  Despite everything being 100% different than Patrick's pregnancy was, I just have a hunch that this babe might in fact actually be a little lady (and, shoot, this is just my 23 week prediction.  Chances are I'll teeter back and forth between boy and girl again a'many times before this kid's debut--which is one of the things I love about not finding out--the suspense and speculation games!).  Either way, boy or girl, I will be so excited and happy.  I think I have been "thinking" (or wanting!) a boy because that's what I have everything for, and that would honestly be easier because we've done "the boy" stuff before, we have the boy stuff, and then we'd have 2 boys to share the same boy items!  But a girl would be fun too...gahhh!  Either way, I'll be so happy and excited when he/she gets here in April.  But for now, my guess is a girl :)

I will note that this kid MOVES UP A STORM.  All day, all night, all the time.  Way more than I remember Patrick moving at 23 weeks (or heck, moving at all!).  Don't get me wrong--I am in no ways complaining: I love this feeling and love the kicks and punches!  I just am making note that this kid is a mover already!

I had my first belly casualty this past week: at lunch I managed to somehow get hot wing sauce all over THE ONLY white maternity shirt I own!  AHHHHHH!  The horror!  And, of course, it happened at 11am (and I hadn't even taught yet), so I had to go through the rest of the day with a big orange glob of buffalo sauce on my shirt.  Luckily Mike worked his stain fighting magic and it successfully came out in the wash last night.  Phew.  Otherwise I'd have been on my merry way to Tarjay to buy another one.

Yesterday another doosey-of-a-comment (or shoot, COMMENTS) happened when I hit up the grocery store after work.  The late 50s grocery checker lady thought it was okay to not only comment on my "big" belly size, but then point out how far away my April due date is AND how big I am for not being close to delivery...then proceeded to wink at the high school age boy behind me.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!!  WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?!!  Seriously.  Of course, I just stood wide-eyed looking at her, really at a loss for words, grabbed my receipt, and walked out the door.  It never fails: in the heat of the moment, I can never muster up a good comeback or something to bark back at these type of comments.  I really don't get what it is about pregnancy that gives off this aura that it's okay to say and comment on anything (mostly rude) in that regard.  Pshhhht.  It's just ridiculous.  And, guess what, it does hurt my feelings, no matter how thick of skin I think I have.  I cheered myself up and ordered these swaddles I've had my eyes on for #2, so that made me feel a wittle bit better.

Other than that, that's about all that's a'happening at week 23.  I have another OB appointment on Monday, so curious to see how fast this little guy or gal's heartbeat is thumpin' (it was 167 at my last appointment).  And I'm sure I'll get to schedule my glucose test for my next appointment as well--which, I quite enjoy drinking that stuff.  It's like super sweet gatorade (sorry for misleading you Tiff...but I do enjoy it!!).  As long as it doesn't return a gestational diabetes result (ahhh! the horror that would cause!!!), I'm good with it.  Till week 24, adios!

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