And all the children are...average.

Just got back from an ultrasound / OB appointment, and am happy to report that both twins are still firmly head down (waaay down) and growing nicely. In the race to stretch their mother's uterus as much as fetally possible, Twin A, aka "The Bladder Banger" is in the lead, weighing in at approximately four and a half pounds, putting her squarely in the 50th percentile (for singletons!). But Twin B, aka "Kicky the Abdomenizer" is no slouch either, weighing in at approximately four pounds, landing her respectably in the 30th percentile. I like to think she's purposely refraining from outpacing her sister because she knows her mama wants a vaginal birth, and this is generally easier when the presenting (first) twin is bigger. So thanks, Kicky. Now could you please remove your feet from the top right portion of my abdomen where they seem to be lodged, causing me intense, constant discomfort?

Everything else is good. I didn't even get faint during the ultrasound, thanks to an innovative propped-on-my-elbows pose I decided to assume. And the fact that now they're skipping the tech and going straight to the doc, so I don't have to suffer through two whole twin-length ultrasound exams.

My OB confirmed that the menstrual-ish cramps I've been starting to have periodically in the evenings are, indeed, practice contractions, and will continue and probably increase in frequency, but as long as they're not coming hard and fast and more than four times an hour, all is well. At this point, actually, they probably wouldn't try to stop labor if it happened. But hopefully the monkeys will hang in for another three or four weeks. (And hopefully not much longer!!)

Only one grouchy complaint about today's visit -- in addition to the fact that they were running an HOUR behind (they're usually right on schedule, so it wasn't too aggravating just this once). A. and I always joke about how when the nurses come out and call people in, they garble the pronunciations or speak very very softly, and we have no idea how anyone knows they're being called. "Sqwggtttppbb?" they'll mumble, and someone will rise confidently to their feet and go in. Huh?

Well, usually "Jane" comes across pretty loud and clear. But today, a nurse came out twice looking for a "Yah-nay." If I hadn't been aware that this is the phonetic pronunciation of my name in Spanish, I would have sat there forever. But the second time, I thought I'd better check and see if it was me she was looking for, since there were no other takers. Now, I'm not one of these "learn English, dammit!" people by any means. But honestly, if part of your job is coming out into a waiting room and calling people's names, at the very least you should be aware of basic English pronunciation. Grumble grumble.

Oh yeah, and speaking of linguistic grouchiness, this morning I actually broke down and sent that email out at work about "flush out" vs. "flesh out." I did my best to make it funny, and it seemed to go over well. A few people actually thanked me, and told me it had been driving them nuts, too.

And then I felt a little guilty later because in the afternoon they had a little suprise baby gifts-n-cake thing for me. It was very nice, if a little awkward. Whenever we have these office celebration breaks -- usually for people leaving -- everyone just sort of stands around, smiles, then eats some cake. It seems like there should be a speech or something. But no one really takes charge.

One thing I'll say, though: when you're an advertising creative (yes, that's what we copywriters and art directors call ourselves: creative as noun. Obnoxious but true), and your work friends are creatives, you get good custom-made cards. This one featured a silly, hammy photo of me making a faux-vampy face at the camera (I was goofing around when we got our photos taken for the company web site), printed twice, with the line "Look out world" on the front, and inside "There's going to be two more of them." (I benevolently forgave the improper use of "there's" because it really does flow better than "there are.")

What was even better, though, was the rejected version, judged too racy to be presented in front of the whole company, but which my art director buddy showed me: the same silly mock-sexy photo of me with the headline (in recognizable type): Got MILF?

Don't know what MILF means? I didn't either until a few months ago. Look it up.

I know I said I was going to write about our fab post-partum doula, and I shall, I shall, but I can't stay sitting down any longer. Next post....