Eleven days until the first ultrasound. That seems like forever, but I do have a trick for making the time go by more quickly: houseguests.
My dad and ... his wife? My stepmother? Mrs. W? I never really know what to call her. I usually just use her first name, but when referring to her I get flummoxed. They got married after I was out of college, so she never had much of a mother role in my life. But I really, really like her, so it isn't that I don't want to use any variation of the "mother" word to describe her. In fact, I have a much better relationship with her than I do with my real mother. Anyway, they are coming for the long weekend.
We are not groovy enough to abandon all tradition and just make a great dinner. We'll be having turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, brussels sprouts, some kind of potatoes, some kind of other vegetable, and some kind of pie. My husband will smoke the turkey all day, after it has soaked overnight in a cider and spice brine. I'll probably make a few different kinds of potatoes in the next week to test possible options (which is silly, since we will inevitably go back to the mashed potatoes anyway). Plus, I'll have to try out something that will result in gravy since the smoking method doesn't make pan drippings. And there's always the sweet potato conundrum - if you already have potatoes, are they really necessary?
So, I can keep busy for the next eleven days. I have to finish a project at work which involves a mini-waterpark as part of an over-the-top backyard pool renovation. The research alone should occupy me for at least a few days, and the drawings will probably take forever, so it's possible that the 26th will just creep up on me and I won't notice the time going by at all. Right?