Nope. Still pregnant.

I swear to Christ that Little E is taking her sweet ass time making her grand debut. I mean, I understand that it's nice and warm in there, and it's like, three degrees out here right now. But in all seriousness, it's not funny anymore. She's found the sciatic nerve and has been having a hell of a time with that. I would gladly trade it for the heartburn and rib kicks back before she started descending.

It's all fun and games til none of your clothes fit anymore and you can't get off the toilet without grabbing for support.

So here are a few of the tactics A and I have resorted to in our attempt to lure Little E out:

-- Promises of candy.

-- Calmly telling her about the beautiful world waiting for her and all the people that love her. (Some weird hippie web site told me to do that, and I have a feeling she realized it was all a bunch of hooey. She was unimpressed.)

-- Yelling at her to "GO TO THE LIGHT!!!"

-- Reverse psychology: "FINE! DON'T come out! We aren't ready for you anyway, so you just go ahead and take another nine months for all I care!!"

-- Offering to pay her a dollar. (Hey, when you're a fetus, one George Washington's a lot of green.)

And so the great prego standoff continues. I'm going to go insane very soon here.