Home stretch.

That's right.  I am 6 weeks away from meeting this little squish.  She is getting evicted.  I had my doctors appointment this morning.  I wore these Joe's cigarette jeans (maternity obvi) that require a cuff at the bottom.  I, of course, can no longer reach my feet conveniently so Jon had to be of service.  Yes, Platt tight rolled my jeans.  I had to tell him "do it like Zach Morris" and boy did he deliver a perfectly tight rolled cuff.  Very impressed.  Anyway, the appt went well.  I will be officially done with progesterone shots and bed rest the Wednesday before Thanksgiving....in 13 days.  Suh-weet.  All other activities can resume as well.  I will leave those to your imagination.  She even said I could participate in black friday.  (Not that I normally do...but it is fun to know that I could if I wanted to).

Lately, I have been in serious cleaning mode.  I want every drawer, every closet, every cabinet cleaned out and organized.  Poor Jon's list is getting longer.  Good news is that I am almost done Christmas shopping and Sloane's room is pretty much done (I know, I know, you want pictures....as soon as Aunt Boozle is done with the little art pieces, I will post some).  My hospital bag is in the process of being packed.  I have been googling lists and lists of things to bring.  Some of my favorite items include:

• Swimsuit for you and husband (this is in case you want to labor in the tub and want your husband in there to comfort you)
• Um, not happening.  Period.
• Board Game
• Seriously, if I have time to play the game of LIFE in the freaking hospital, we have other problems.
• Massage Oil
• Jon and I aren't the type to massage each other.  With oil especially.  Mainly because Jon is too ticklish and he isn't so great at it.  Not to mention, I am already resembling a pale pink barn animal (oink oink), why should I slather up with oil and look like I am about to be roasted?
• Ipod & speakers
• I like the idea of this, I am just not sure people will want to hear my music.  I work out (ok, when I used to work out) to Britney and Kanye.  When I am dying and need an extra push, I listen to gross, hard core, rap (thank you Berkner high school).  Jon would be SO embarrassed if I pushed Sloane out to Lucci and Pookie "Crook for Life" or "Mr. Diabolical".  Specifically the line that says....you asked me why I killed that bitch, my pit bull needed some f**king meat. 

We haven't really discussed our birth plan, but this is also something we are supposed to "bring" to the hospital.  I really am not sure how to do this.  Jon and I are kind of weirded out about it honestly.  The only things I have asked Jon to for sure is:

• Slap me if I start moaning/squealing/grunting (I am not going down like that).
• Be supportive, but don't you dare tell me I look good...I don't like liars.
• Don't judge me until we leave.  My diet does not start until we leave the hospital.  I am unsure of what my post labor meal request will be, but it won't be pretty.
• Don't let anyone touch me. 
• I want to be in a Suite...we haven't discussed this entirely.  I think Jon is worried I will make him move the furniture around to my liking and that, frankly, is too much work.  (Every summer when we go to the beach, I like to rearrange furniture and accessories to make it look better during our stay...I am a designer, I can't stand poorly laid out spaces).

All in all we are in good shape (except for me, physically).  My requests aren't too outlandish and we are both getting excited.  My other shower is this weekend...can't wait to fill up Sloane's room even more!!!

PS.  I would like to make an extra special birthday shout out to a one Michael Kelly.  Although we have never met, he is a devout preparing for sloane follower...and, any friend of Emily Faye's is a friend of mine.  Michael, happy birthday and thank you for your loyalty. 
xo
SLP