My head hurts like a beast from hell & it’s making me nauseated. I’m going to get a Coke from the vending machine. Caffiene be damned, it is needed.

I realized that my belly picture makes me look like I have a FUPA. I promise, I don’t. I have many friends who will attest that I was thin & swan-like prior to Harpie. If not, I will simply cut them & find new friends.

…last night & Harpie was female. Wearing the purple outfit that hangs in Baby Crack.

Yes. I have a gender-oriented piece of clothing. While I normally detest the color purple, this thing is so presh — a purle polka-dot onesie with ruffles on the bum. I snagged it for $3.00 at TJMaxx, figuring that if Harpie has a penis, a lovely friend will get the outfit (Laura, you are the chosen one should Harpie be male).

So if you take stock in Momma dreaming what the baby’s sex is correctly, Harpie should give us a money shot of a vagina in 8 weeks or so.

Speaking of which, Nate & I are considering going to a private u/s company to find out the gender the week of Christmas. I’ll be 16 weeks the week of Christmas, and I can’t think of any sweeter Christmas present then having them write down the sex on a card & us opening it together Christmas morning. And then giving our family a little dress or a little pair of overalls. It’s $100 for 10 minutes, $120 for 15 minutes. Obviously, they cannot garuantee that Harpie will show the goods. Otherwise, we simply wait until January for our “big u/s.” Poll to the left on what we should do.

I find this hat to be uber-apropro. Nate thinks it’s for Kansas, but he clearly knows nothing.

That being said, I have the sweetest husband ever, who leaned over & kissed my bloat tonight, saying “Hey, Harpie!” I don’t have the heart to tell him the sweet “bump” is truly gas & poop, so I just let him think it’s baby. Because I’m a good wife.