32 weeks

Mitch insisted that Baby Buster make a cameo.

I had not, before today, parked in an "expectant mother" spot. After this apparent lapse in judgment, I realized why I will never indulge in the "expectant mother" spot again. Why? BECAUSE NO ONE CAN SEE YOU'RE PREGNANT WHEN YOU'RE SITTING IN YOUR CAR. Apparently, this means that everyone walking within 20 feet of your car is entitled to yell snarky comments and give you nasty looks. A-holes.

Buster has slipped into a deep depression. His doggy senses must be telling him that a crying, energy-sucking demon baby will soon replace him on the hierarchy. He pretty much sulks around the house, voluntarily sequestering himself in his kennel. We often find him sitting in the dark in the corner behind the rocking chair in the nursery. Just sitting there. Staring into the darkness. Just so you can get the full effect of a depressed Buster, here are some pictures of sad corgis. 

Oh geez.

My life is terrible.

Just leave me be.

We were so good together.

SO SAD. We figure he'll look like this until Meatball starts eating solid foods and tossing her leftovers on the floor. Then he'll be happy again.