Sugar Rush

Song of the Day: Somebody Told Me by The Killers

This morning Fitz and I went to the doctor's office to take my glucola test, a test that will help catch gestational diabetes. I'd been referring to this test as a "glucoma" test for while, I suppose confusing it in my head with "glaucoma." Whoops. The test consists of drinking 8oz. of a sugary sweet concoction, waiting an hour, and then having your blood drawn. I was a little worried about stomaching this juice, but actually it tasted like flat Orange Crush, and really, that's not so bad. It reminded me of something I would usually drink at a picnic or cookout, some kind of sweet Kool-Aid that could have been watered down a tad more but hey, it's free so who cares.

This morning, Fitz made me scrambled eggs for some good protein before my test. Fitz makes awesome scrambled eggs. He always add some milk to the eggs when he whisks them, which makes them fluffy, and then nukes the crap out of them without browning or burning them, low and slow in the pan.

Everyone has their own way of making scrambled eggs. My mom's are like fluffy clouds, and my dad's are a bit browned and usually fried in the leftover bacon or sausage grease. I honestly can't remember the last time I made scrambled eggs because either Fitz, Mom, or Dad is always making scrambled eggs for me. I live a good life.

We discovered this morning at the doctor's that Fitz and I somehow got a little off in keeping track of how far along Baby B is. The due date is still November 10, but on Saturday, I'll officially be entering the third trimester, the home stretch! No wonder in the morning, trying to roll out of bed, I'm starting to feel like this: