Cooking along... another appointment

I ended up having to move my 24 week doctor appointment from last week to Monday, because my "very important" law firm client decided to reschedule our design meeting for the 100th time to conflict with my doctor appointment. I'm telling you attorneys are the only ones who's schedules matter....Well and I suppose doctors...
Since I ended up having to just go to the nurse practitioner instead for this appointment because my doc wasn't available at the new time. Thankfully this was a pretty uneventful appointment. She checked my blood pressure, measured my uterus, listened to the baby's heart and I was on my way. Everything looked good and progressing as it should be. The next appointment is a dreaded by a lot of people, but I heard it's not that terrible from my friends. It's the glucose test appointment, and they already gave me my bottle of sugar punch which is chilling in the frig until the end of the month hopefully John won't accidentally mistake it for Gatorade and drink it.

For those wondering, we are still no closer on a name for the little guy. Everyone just keeps calling him Wendall as a joke... and this will likely be what we call him until his arrival when he gets his REAL name. I am feeling "Mr. Wendall" move and kick around quite a bit. John's timing is always off and he hasn't been able to feel him yet. So of course he tells me that I am hogging the baby. Personally I just think the baby is terrified of him, since he insists on getting his face up against my stomach and yelling "Wendall!! Wendall!! Can you hear me?"
This past weekend I cleaned out the closet, and I now have about 6 articles of clothing left that "fit." It's depressing, but I refuse to spend a lot of clothes I'll wear for like 3 months. So get used to seeing me sporting the same thing a lot. John got a good laugh at the maternity jeans when I pulled them on last week. I mean, they are pretty hysterical... no buttons... just a bunch of spandex-like fabric at the top. Bit of a change from squeezing into designer jeans.

Being that I would love to live my life in a robe if it was socially acceptable, I thought I'd really enjoy these maternity pants, but I have to admit, they suck at staying up. All day I'm pulling my pants up like a girl with a strapless dress at a wedding, and we all know there is nothing more annoying. I haven't figured out why a draw string isn't part of the equation. So I've now resorted to running in the door from work and putting on some sort of over-sized shirt, or my robe.... Don't judge, This. Is. Attractive. Lies. Yep, I am starting to get antsy and I still have 3 months left... this could get bad.