Friday: Fantastic shower. Much more tequila than your average shower, much less cheesy shenanigans. Lots of presents (!) most of which we had picked out ourselves. Lots of of money from other coworkers to use to buy more of our pre-selected items at our convenience. Sweet.
Saturday: Drove to College Station. Long car rides are not my friend. Figured out very early on that we had forgotten the third party in this pregnancy–my full body pillow, Sugar. Don’t ask me why that’s the name, it just is. Spent the next 2.5 hours mourning the absence of the pillow/sleeping/snorting myself awake.
Attended the BIL’s wedding shower. Managed not to throat punch future-SIL’s stepmom when she totally felt me up in her attempt to discern Lenny’s sex. Also managed not to throat punch the old guy who asked if it was twins. Rewarded my restraint with a second (or fifth) trip to the food table.
Had dinner at Olive Garden. Traded our night of ‘romance’ at a B&B with no technology with the inlaws, who had reserved a normal hotel room with modern conveniences. Decided watching the Tech/OU game would be much better than playing cards all night. Fell asleep by 8:30.
Woke up several times due to pee breaks and horrific dreams. I don’t know why I can’t have vivid halluciniations about puppies and rainbows. No, my dreams involve 1) me, dying a slow, and painful death while my family looks on 2) me, fighting/chasing/running from a demented scientist while I’m a doctor on House (and thus am surrounded by Foreman, Wilson, etc). At one point I manage to trap the guy in a tank of water under a large piece of glass. He disappears (!) then reappears after I step off the glass. He was hiding in the drain, of course. Why didn’t I think of that?! I chop of his fingers. It gets more demented, so I’ll stop there.
Sunday: We drive back (repeat the sleeping/snoring), relax, get groceries, and now we’re both spending quality time with our laptops. Mr. Aggie is doing schoolwork, I am trying to figure out just how many times I can remind him that I don’t have to work tomorrow and he does without him getting completely annoyed.
Watched a video on a blog that involved a happy baby with a rattle. Lenny freaked out. I think the kid likes rattles. One thing he doesn’t like is being poked. Mr. Aggie prodded whatever body part was sticking out by my belly button, and he was swiftly kicked/punched twice. “No sir!” says Lenny.