A lot of the weekly pregnancy websites I've been looking at (to see where the baby is in its development) have been telling me that at week 16 or even 15 they can tell the sex of the baby. I had a doctors appointment yesterday, and Steve and I were very excited about finding out if its Steve Jr or Nicole Jr. I mentioned something like that to the doctor, and she said "you need to wait three more weeks. Otherwise it's not guaranteed." Well, shit. I would have been interested in an unguaranteed analysis. That would have given us a few weeks of entertainment at the least. Instead it's just more waiting. I guess I'm just going to have to get used to that, right? About the only interesting thing we learned at the doctors is that I've lost weight this last month. Again. Nausea will melt the pounds away. Every month I've lost a few more pounds. Not enough to be a concern to anyone. I thought it was really interesting because I feel like I've gained about ten, just because the baby is getting bigger and pushing everything else up and out. Everybody who's seen me recently (mostly coworkers) could tell you I'm getting a belly. But I guess it's all just baby. I think that's actually pretty exciting. I have been feeling quite a bit better lately. I won't say I'm totally out of the morning sickness woods yet, but the sky is getting a little more visible beyond the trees.

At least the afternoon wasn't a total disappointment. Tami and I went to a couple of stores to look at maternity clothes, and found some really really cute ones, and some really really ugly ones. We only bought the cute ones, of course. We're sensible people. I was showing off my new outfits to Steve this morning (three new shirts and two new capris), and he said "this is torture! You put on these cute maternity clothes that show off all your best features and then make me say I will not have sexual relations with this woman. Come on!!! You shouldn't be allowed outside of the house in that." Maternity clothes: better than lingerie. ???? Okaaayyy. I'm just thrilled that I have some clothes that fit comfortably and will continue to do so for quite some time. (And don't be moved by Steve's sob story. He gets plenty of action.)

Ramsey's favorite toy is a tennis ball. I think he likes it because if we don't want to play with him, he can drop it at the top of the stairs and chase it down on his own. His beloved previous tennis ball eventually succumbed to his jaws of death and split in twain. He still played the halves. Just harder to chase that way because they don't roll as far. So when I was in Oceanside yesterday, I stopped at Target on my way home and bought him a new set of tennis balls. When I got home and pulled one out of the can, he went very still, his eyes narrowed, and his body lowered halfway to the ground in anticipation of a really good chase. I just threw it down the stairs. The whole rest of the night, that ball only left his mouth if he was dropping it for me to throw. (Did I mention that he will literally play fetch for hours?) When I took him outside for his before bedtime pee, I had to wrestle the ball away from him, and he started to run away like I was going to throw it. Wouldn't have been so bad if I didn't already have the leash on him and have it attached to my hand. Then I had to shove him out the door to keep him away from trying to retrieve it from the safety of the countertop. And the funny part is, he really had to pee. I guess you just have to have priorities.