What a special trip to hell, huh?

I like having my parents visit because I know them and feel comfortable with their foibles. I hate having Mike's family visit because while I'm familiar with their foibles, I don't have enough guts to tell them to fuck off when I should. I take a lot of shit sometimes, as a result. And while having the first grandchild makes for some good behavior modification, I'm not keen on having that many people in my house because with my mom and dad, I feel like I can clean things. With Mike's mom and brother, I feel like I have to entertain.

I don't want to entertain. I want to organize and nest. It also means that I'm going to spend the entire week previous to their arrivals doing all of the cleaning I was hoping to do when my folks took Russell out of the house for me, which means when they all arrive I'm going to be burnt to ash. The good news is that the apartment complex will pay to do the carpets, so I'll at least have that in order before anyone comes.

Overall, it's not going to be pretty. Mike will be working full-time, thus leaving me full-time with Russell and family to entertain. *pitiful whine*

Too bad we can't do something like eloping in order to give birth. I just want my private little birthing cave with Mike and afterwards, just Bear.

I know that's selfish and far from reasonable, but it's what I want. It's along the lines of I want a million dollars, which does not mean I'll get it. But, oh, to dream!

I'm still working on cleaning and organizing the baby's room. I finally figured out last night that we can stick the old crib under our bed. The reason for keeping it at all is that it turns into a toddler bed, so would be good for later. It needs to be repaired, but it's a minor thing. We just didn't want to turn down the crib that Mike's mom offered because we wanted her to feel like she was doing something special for her grandchild. And it *is* a gorgeous crib, and much better quality than mine is and hers isn't broken at all, which is a good thing.

At the doctor's appointment today, I met the doctor I am not fond of because he's kind of lackadaisical in response to sugar changes, and I really wanted to not like him, but he was really nice, so I gave it up. He sized up the baby and pushed on my pubic bone until I squeaked to get a good sense of her size and said that I was working on a medium-sized baby. I was overjoyed! I am worried about having the 10lb monster baby and this sounds good so far.

I also start the stress tests next week, which actually will be good. I said I wanted them to humor my own psychosis. The doctor laughed and agreed, so wahoo!