After 24 weeks of the gestational experience, you get pretty used to 2 things: thinking about the fact that dogs only gestate for 6 weeks, and feeling a squid-like creature violate you in various charming ways from the inside out. I can't begin to explain how mixed my feelings are about this experience. Every instinct tells me it's the creepiest damn thing that's ever happened to me, and yet, I'm completely obsessed with the next time I'll feel my prodigy knocking out a bedroom wall in there to make room for a crafting space. (She's going to DIE when she finds out about Pinterest). So this morning when I was getting ready, driving to work, and enjoying my morning tea at my desk and I realized in a panic that "renovations" were awfully quiet this morning, I started to needlessly panic like any good first time gestator. Fortunately, I have learned from friends and internets that drinking ice cold water and laying on your back can kick construction back...