Christmas with the Entwistles was a fantastic affair this past weekend. Without going into extreme detail, Ben and I were blessed with some really good family time, too much good food (including PIE -- yummy), an exciting pregnancy announcement by my cousin and more gifts than we really deserve. In fact, as a joint Ben/Liz Christmas, anniversary and probably birthday gift, we received a Nikon D60 camera, something we've been saving and searching for this past few months. I was overwhelmed by the gift, but extremely excited to start using it.
At first I was a little scared to even touch the thing (for fear my clumsy self would drop it on the floor), but after awhile I got over my fears and we spent Sunday after the family left testing and playing with its many features. And, of course taking photos of the best subjects we currently have (the pups). The camera came with not ONE but TWO instructional DVDs, which I plan to watch on our drive down to Houston on Wednesday for Christmas with the Edelbrocks.
I'm hoping to actually sign up for photography classes at one of the local schools here, as I've always had an interest in and passion for photography. And with Baby E on the way, I assume I'll have lots of fantastic moments to capture through the lens. And, maybe I'll suck at it, but I promise you that you will be forced to look at nearly every damn picture I take.
The one drawback to this rose filled weekend I've just described was the part where I'm almost sure I gained at least 4 pounds in three days. At least. And I'm supposed to only gain that much in FOUR WEEKS. My doctor is going to be SO FREAKING PISSED. I don't know what happened. I don't feel like I ate much more than anyone else, but I can literally feel my stomach expanding, and where last week when I posted photos I was like "Oh, look, my belly is kinda cute" I looked at myself in the mirror last night (sans clothes, an absolute NO NO when packing on pounds. I nearly had a stroke) and was literally SHOCKED by the growth over less than one week. I mean, sure, the baby is like 15 inches long, but she is only about two pounds or so, which means the rest of it is ALL ME BABY.
And to make matters worse, people don't seem impressed when I say I'm 27 weeks along. I had a client tell me "Oh, so you have a long way to go" last week. I nearly jumped through the phone receiver to strangle her. A long way to go? I'm entering my third trimester missy... DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH I'VE GONE THROUGH TO GET HERE? My hair hasn't been highlighted in over six months, my skin is pasty and mottled looking, I have acne, heart burn, and some new cellulite that just appeared to taunt me, my wedding ring is tight enough to make my finger look like a sausage, I'm retaining water, have a craving for PIE and can't stop farting in bed, something that is surely scarring my husband for life. For what I've seen my body go through, I think 27 weeks is PRETTY DAMN IMPRESSIVE.
Hold on, that rant caused me to run out of breath -- I get winded easily now. Think I might go have some pie.