Spent all weekend cleaning, eating chocolate, going to reeeeeally long and yet strangely peaceful liturgies and wondering why I’m still with child.
Also, eating my feelings.
Proof in the pudding:
Hence my utter unsurprise and oddly placid reaction to the Target checker who, in under 30 seconds, managed to tell me I looked like I was about to pop, wondered if I were going to have the baby at the store, inquired after baby’s gender and, upon learning the hidden nature of said info, sagely informed me that it was ‘definitely a boy, cause that would be one HUGE girl. Dang.’