Bumpdate: Week 32 (The Ohmigosh-This-Is-Going-Way-Too-Fast-Edition)

Mere weeks away from a doctor shoving a baby in my arms, with little more instruction than "Congratulations. Try to keep it alive and from growing up to hate you."

I know I've missed a couple of weeks of these bumpdates. But as I cautioned you before, I'm very lazy. And I've been juggling the release of FIFTEEN, which is almost as exciting and terrifying as this pregnancy. (This is also my shameless, pitiful plug for you to add it, rate it, buy it, review it in exchange for my undying gratitude.)

If This Baby Was a Veggie, It Would Be A... Jicama. My God, these baby books are stupid informative.

Weight Gain: Twenty Pounds! Doc called it a "modest" weight gain, because clearly he works on tips.

Cravings: Double Decker Chocolate Cake. Which I made yesterday.

Sleep: I slept through the entire night on Sunday. When I got up, I had to pee like a [there is no ladylike simile applicable here], but it was still pretty cool.

Belly Button: Is technically not out yet, but you sure can see it underneath all of my shirts. And hey, it really does look like a button.

Symptoms: Things are still relatively easy, except I've been getting indigestion from all of my favorite foods and the occasional crippling leg cramp. Both of which my doc told me Tums will help - weird, huh?

Best Moment This Week: My husband referring to Group B as "Strep butt."

Looking Forward To: The Super Bowl! For the food, of course.

Does it get any easier?

As I sit here anticipating FIFTEEN's release, which is now... um... one hour, thirty-three minutes and four seconds away, I remember a friend asking me, "Does it get any easier?"

"Does what get any easier? Removing stickers from wood? Downward-facing dog pose? Watching the Red Wedding?" I inquired.

"Book Release Day," she replied.

Ah. That. I immediately told her that no, it does not. That I'm still a nervous, fingernail-biting, room-pacing wreck, fearing an onslaught of bad reviews or worse, complete silence.

But that's not true. I mean, I'm still a mess - but I think my fingernails aren't quite the bloody stumps they were four years ago. I've come to realize that unless you're Stevie King or Queen J.K., release day isn't nearly as important as release month. Or even release year. Don't get me wrong, it's fun to have a "big day" to party with everyone, but the majority of sales and hype don't automatically pour in when the clock strikes midnight.

In other words: it's a marathon, not a sprint. (Yup, I just used a track analogy on you. Hey, it's the only sport for uncoordinated loners, and it provided a lot of downtime for reading.)

Note the scrunchi, bad perm and steely look of determination.

To Each Their Own Reviews: Fifteen by Jen Estes

To Each Their Own Reviews: Blog Tour: Fifteen by Jen Estes: It's been ages since I've hosted a YA book tour - so let's change that today! I'm happy to be hosting a stop on Jen Estes&#3...