I got the "Relax" lecture again yesterday at the doctor when my initial blood pressure measured in at 178/92. Do over! Several minutes of laying perfectly still on one side later and it dropped to a slightly less alarming level. So I got the lecture about how I need to relax, and not carry Toddlers up several flights of stairs (that's what set off the mini-contractions the other week). This combined with that same Toddler trying to singlehandedly demolish the entire ultrasound room paled in comparison with the sight of my unborn child mooning the camera.

This sort of thing leads me to wonder if, in five years, my children will both have taken fully after their parents and become the world's biggest smartasses. With a side helping of cute stubbornness. Last night I was tired, completely wiped out after toddler wrangling through the OB's office, even though my mom had the majority of that chore. When the bedtime insulin was administered I stuck myself in a spot that bled profusely. While holding a tissue to my leg to get the bleeding stopped, I lost whatever coordination I still possessed, and instead of running the needle shield back on the pointy end correctly I jammed it through the side of the shield and into my thumb. Good thing that they're sterile, one-use items, no? I'm feeling much more coordinated now. I guess there is definitely some sort of relationship between those two instances.

Still tired. Still exhausted. There is still one browning banana in the fridge. The Toddler continues her nap strike.