Yesterday (Saturday) was my due date. 40 weeks. 10 months. And still? No baby. Not a huge shock, since my kids tend to hang out in my womb like loitering teenagers at a mall. All upside-down and squished in there until they are properly motivated (read: with drugs) to come out. But even though I am not surprised I’m still pregnant, well, I don’t have to be all jumping up and down excited about it. (Although I have been jumping up and down trying to get some labor going.)

So yesterday, before going out with my family amongst the shopping public, I donned a t-shirt alerting people as to my state of emotion… lest they be caught off guard at my pissiness.

Then last night, with no baby and all, Zoe and I decided to make sugar cookies. Because what the heck… what else is there to do without a baby? We made festive ones with the holiday cookie cutters I finally bought this year.

(Last year we made ghost sugar cookies that we tried to pass off as angels. They fooled no one.)

And because my belly is still huge because it is STILL filled with baby? Of course it was caught in the line of action:

But the cookies… they turned out nicely. (The secret ingredient: sour cream. And don’t over-bake.) Yum-o.

Zoe did a fabulous job icing them:

But ran into some trouble with one of the gingerbread dudes when his head fell off. Delicious decapitation:

(The girl mugs for the camera way better than her mother.)

So that’s my update.

Yummy cookies: check.
Baby: not check.

If I post something next week that begins “41 weeks”… just shoot me.

Hi this is Zoe.I had a performance on 12,15,08! I sang lots of songs like Rudolf, Two front teeth, and more.It was very fun. But I was sort of embarrassed in my red dress.But it was still fun.Well thats’ all.Bye!

Saturday was my hubby’s office party. It was a black tie affair at the Grand America in Salt Lake. The male employees had their tux rentals covered by the company, while the female employees got $37.50 (amount of a tux rental) toward their formal attire. Which — while being completely equal and therefor technically “fair” — obviously illustrates that the male CEO has never tried to purchase a chick’s prom dress or formal wear. Because $37.50? Buys earrings. At Claire’s. The end.

Spouses of course were just on their own to look all hot and spiffy. I was in a particularly tough spot, because I had to find something maternity that was cute and made me look as decent as possible, but without costing a ton because I will probably never wear it again. I stuck with black, because that’s traditionally thought of to be the most slimming of colors. But let’s be honest: at 39 weeks I could have worn “road construction orange” and it wouldn’t have made that much of a difference.

So Saturday afternoon we got up to Salt Lake and got our room (we decided to stay over and make a little weekend of it). We watched some cable, which was a treat since we shut ours off a couple of months back. 50 channels, and there wasn’t really anything on. We fell asleep. I dreamed about the Ped Egg because that’s the infomercial that was playing when I drifted off. We woke up with just enough time to get ready… and when I say “just enough time”, I’m speaking in man time.   It was just enough time for Jon to get ready. I — being a chick — require much more time to get ready. Plus, I seemed to be having an allergic reaction to something. My eyes were red and puffy. Then my whole face started getting all red and puffy. And Jon was all, “Why is your face all red and puffy?” and I just gave him a look… except that my face was red and puffy, so I don’t know if he even realized I was giving him a specific look. So I had to carefully take off my make-up, put a cold towel over my face for a little bit, and then reapply my make-up. I looked pretty much the same… but I managed to make us late.

We got down to the party in time to get our prom-esque pictures taken. I haven’t seen the photo yet, but I hope it’s kinda cute. We found a table in the ballroom with some coworkers Jon likes, and we chatted. We had a fancy salad made up of various imported weeds, and a tiny poached pear filled with something — it was either cream cheese or that white cream filling they put in Krispy Kremes. I couldn’t tell, but it was yummy.

Then the main course. I had the sea bass.

I asked Jon to take the “covert” pics of my food. But it wasn’t so covert. And everyone looked at him questioningly as the flash kept going off. And he finally just said, “My wife takes pictures of everything she eats before she eats it.” And then they all just kind of turned to look at me. And I said, “No, I blog everything.” But that just made them look at me even more strangely. So yeah, apparently I was the lone blogger at the table.

After dinner, we danced.

And by “danced”, I mean I did the thing where I move back and forth clumsily with my index fingers in the air, while Jon did the “sprinkler” and his trademark move where he reaches behind him and grabs one foot while his other hand is behind his head and he does this “pumping” move. And yeah, he even did it in the “circle”. But I didn’t get a picture of it because Jon had the camera in his pocket while he did the foot/head pump move… and, if you’re smart, you just don’t dare go anywhere near him while he’s doing it. But I totally shook my pregnant booty. And then me and this other cute pregnant chick, Dorothy, got up on a little stage (I dubbed it the “prego stage”) and we danced crazy.

Only she is clearly not as far down the gestational path as I.  And she had real moves that didn’t include index fingers in the air or the occasional “clap” when you don’t know what else to do.

And Jon also snapped this one, which is probably my favorite:

A shot of my pregnant stomach from a cat’s perspective. Frickin. Awesome.

But even after all of this?? No labor. Not even a few lousy contractions. Nada. Maybe the kid is holding out to see if his mama will dance crazy on New Year’s Eve.

Crap.