Party! Pizza Party!

Please tell me I'm not the only one who remembers this game from the '80s:

I have had this commercial in my head ever since we decided to have a pizza party for Bean's second birthday. Thank GOODNESS that's over now, and my head can resume repeating its old favorites like "The More You Know" jingle and the Hustle.

On Friday, Bean's actual birthday, DH came home from work early with dinner and gourmet cupcakes. Although Bean's giggles had floated up to me all day, I hadn't really seen the little guy much because my Dad is visiting for a long weekend (no one else exists when "Bumpa" is nearby), so everyone gathered around my bed to eat and open gifts. It was really nice to all be together, and Bean clearly had one of his best days ever.

He politely asked for a fork before diving into his double-chocolate treat.

On Saturday we had a few of Bean's friends over for pizza, cake, and ice cream. I took a chance and asked a mom from MOMS Club who said she used to be a pastry chef to make a train cake for the event. I was expecting a sheet cake with a picture of a train on it, but this was delivered instead:


While my fabulous DH and parents ran around the house all morning preparing for the party, I managed to pull myself into a presentable state over the course of about six hours. The good news is that I made it downstairs and into a chair to greet people when they arrived. The bad news is that my uterus started flipping out and I had to go back upstairs to bed after less than 45 minutes. (more on my uterus below) (try not to skip ahead with anticipation) I was able to hear all the laughing and talking from downstairs and outside as the party spilled into the yard beneath my open window. And likewise, they were able to hear me yelling at the dog (who had been banished to my room) to stop her incessant whining. Eventually the dog was released to hold her own among the onslaught of eager toddlers, and I could relax. I was definitely disappointed not to be able to attend longer, but I was super happy that Bean got to have his birthday party and he obviously had such a great time. We are so lucky to have wonderful friends.

Bean delivers a sly smile while posing with Grandma M. and Grandpa J.

Grandma M. had the great idea to get a bubble machine to welcome our guests, which was moved out back later. The kids loved it.

I just thought this picture was cute -- one of Bean's friend's helping another with her shoe.

Now the pregnancy update. Today is 34 weeks, and as of lunchtime I am STILL PREGNANT! Awwwwww yeah. So that means the final (!!!) milestone ahead is 36 weeks, at which point I will do a little jig and then be released from bedrest and meds. Okay, I guess I'd be released from bedrest first and then dance the jig. But I don't think the technicalities will matter, because the feeling around the house is that I will go this week. My body is beginning to mutiny due to all this hugeness. I present Exhibit A below.

(And no, I did not wear a wife-beater to my son's party. I had a light drapey sweater over this, but for belly assessment purposes I took it off.)

I have discovered that my belly does not like measuring larger than a 40-week singleton pregnancy. As soon as I crossed that threshold, things started to fall apart. The boys seem to have dropped in my pelvis, making me incredibly uncomfortable, even just lounging in my own bed all day. Simply rolling over or getting up to pee requires such extreme effort, labored breathing, and bizarre sound effects that DH is constantly asking, "DO WE NEED TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL?!" I fully realize that being uncomfortable does not mean that delivery is imminent. I did carry Bean to his due date, and it wasn't all ballet and butterflies the whole time. But along with these aches and pains come frequent contractions, such as the parade of ones that caused me to cut short my time at Bean's party. The doc told me to expect this as inevitable when a uterus is as big as mine, but it's disconcerting nevertheless.

My next OB appointment is Monday morning. I am very anxious to see what the doc has to say, I think she'll be checking my cervix for dilation. We won't pull out any Big Guns to stop their arrival, so if this is it... well, then this is it. Welcome to the world, twinklets. According to an informal survey on my twins forum, the average NICU time for preemies at this point is 1-2 weeks. I try not to get my hopes up, because it could also be much longer if there are complications, but we could potentially all be home as a family in not much time at all.

DH is reminding me to look at this week as a win-win situation -- either I stay pregnant and we reach 35 weeks (at which point there becomes a chance we could avoid NICU time entirely) or we get to meet the boys and I am sprung from Bedrest Prison.

But I don't know, guys. I'm neither thrilled about the prospect of the boys coming this early, nor excited to feel like my hips are going to tear off my body.

It's going to be some week, either way.