Seriously, I’m so pissed off about this that I’m convinced Alex will be born with horns.

I hate me, I hate Scout, I hate the baby, the cat has been smart enough to stay away from me so she’s safe from the hate, I hate the grandparents (all of them. Both of my parents have had “lovely” conversations with me today. Serves them right for trying to talk to the savage beast.)

I feel like a fucking circus midget (that’s for Carrie) in a cage at the zoo, what with all the grandparents calling all the GD time. Once a day one of them is on the horn or the email “just checking in”. I swear to God, if I ever lose my mind and decide and this is a good idea to get pregnant ever again, I’m not telling the grandparents until the baby decides to show the hell up. It’s like they are all afraid we’ll forget to call and tell them. Hate.

Otherwise, Kristen, I change my prior advice – call all the grandparents right now and tell them the docs set your due date back TWO weeks, not just one. I can not save myself, but you can still save yourself.

I’m also considering changing his name to Braxton Hicks instead of Alexander Jakob since that’s apparently his favorite thing in the universe.

Oh, and never fear, intermingled with all the hate is all the guilt that I’m a horrible fucking mother for feeling this way, causing irrepairable damage to my kid before he’s even born. Never fear.