Am I supposed to cry?

We bought our "family vehicle" yesterday. It was all very exciting, stressful, and overwhelming at the same time. Several times while sitting in the dealership I thought to myself, "If you cry now, they'll never take you seriously, and you'll end up paying sticker price... just wait it out, and cry later." So I did. And we managed a great deal on the car (a Kia Rondo, named after my beloved husband), we got in, drove off the lot, and I burst into tears. Maybe it was saying goodbye to and betraying my trusty Mazda Protege, or the fact that they weren't going to allow me to transfer my vanity plates, or just the whole freakin ordeal, but I called my sister and balled my eyes out. Ron just sat there, looking supportive and concerned until it was over and his wife returned. (he's gotten pretty used to the unexplainable crying thing) I'm very happy with our new car though. It's a total mommy mobile. I'll post a picture as soon as I figure out how. Next stop: Soccer mom in a minivan.

Oh yea, and my ankles look like small tree stumps with blocks attached to them. Actually, they remind me of Princess Fiona's ankles and feet in Shrek. (minus the green) You know, stumpy, oddly mis-shaped, but still manage to pull off femininity with shiny red toenails from my last pedicure. I wouldn't be surprised if I wake up tomorrow and my ankles have the same circumference as my thighs. They just keep getting bigger and bigger. What a jerk I am. I managed to get to 31 weeks and be totally unswollen... then I got sunburned and it was like I injected 347 gallons of fluid to the last 6 inches of my legs.

Goal for the weekend: elevate and ice my feet in hopes that I can walk again on Monday. That's reasonable, right?