Lucidia Lohman

30 is a BIG number

Apparently, being almost 30 weeks’ gestated is a “big deal” in my household. I’m not sure why.

First, Mom is starting to get restless. She pees all the time. I don’t know why, but she keeps blaming me. Then she keeps taking me in to see “the nursery.” Lady, I can’t see anything. I have no idea why you insist on telling me you’re lifting a shirt off of your belly so I can “see” something. I can’t see anything. Yes, while it’s true I can open and close my eyes, the best I can see is really dim red light, sort of like if you stare at the sun with your eyes closed. Get the point? I can’t see anything. All this talk of froggies and duckies… I get it. They’re super cute, just like me, but I can’t see them yet.

Second, we’re getting lots of packages. I can’t believe how much stuff I’m getting, and I’m not even born yet! Mom said she got free diapers. She said she took pictures. I’m sure she’ll post them soon. Something like six months of free diapers. I have no idea. Must be a conspiracy thing.

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Rogue Bean Hides From Ultrasound Technician

Why is it that these “parents” people insist on monitoring me every few weeks? I have been gestating (officially) now for 26 weeks and 1 day and, to celebrate, my parents took me back to that hospital for more picture-taking. I would have been much happier cuddling up to a baby movie with some nice warm nom noms, but Mom and Dad insisted that they need to make sure that I don’t have cysters in my brain. I think that’s what she called them anyway. At least this time Dad didn’t bring the video camera. Silly Dad… he still hasn’t shown you all my first video, and it’s a shame, because I was really moving the first time around. This time I just mooned my parents. That was funny!

At the doctor’s office, they made us wait in the very loud waiting room for an hour and a half. I think Mom was about ready to pull her hair out, and Dad kept saying in a real loud voice “I wish people would learn how to schedule things responsibly.” (Judge Judy was on, though, so that quieted Mom down. Mom really likes her and said she should be the next president or something.) Before we could go into the ultrasound room to get the picture-taking over with, I had to sit through an episode of some soapy opera and Judge Judy. These shows are so silly.

Happily I can report there are no cysters in my brain or my heart, and the doctor thought so much of my performance during the picture-taking that he didn’t even think it necessary to talk to Mom and Dad afterward. So, yeah, I’m super healthy. I’m two pounds, one ounce. I need to watch my figure, but I love me a good Whopper. Oh, and I ultimately had the last laugh today, refusing to flip over or move into a position conducive to getting a photo of my face. Here’s my foot (ready to kick the ultrasound tech if she calls me a “bad girl” one more time): (more…)

Almost 26 Weeks! Wow!

It’s really dark in here, so I can’t see well enough to type that great. I’ll give you an update anyway.

This week I just learned I have the ability to do three things: (1) open and close my eyes, (2) kick Mom until she pees herself, and (3) convince Dad through kicking Mom that it’s a good idea to give me Whoppers when I request one. In other words, don’t make your kid wait for French fries and cheeseburgers. Especially burgers with mayo. Mmmmmm.

I’m onto something new this week. I love sugar. I mean I can’t get enough of it. I love bouncing off The Uterine Walls of Glory after a good dose of sugar. I do somersaults and dance a lot when I get that sweet stuff. I know Mom was giving that to me when I was really young—like 4 weeks’ gestated or something—but she didn’t realize it. Since she found out about me, she’s really lowered her sugar intake, so any sugar I get is a real cool treat. And now I realized I can make her crave it. A few days ago I convinced her to give me Airheads. These are cool. My favorite flavor is red. (more…)