Of course today of all days, little prince crawls in bed with us this morning and its like an electric blanket has just been cranked up.  Immediately I knew he had a fever, the only question was how high?  Took one look at him, listless eye, bright cheeks, yep he's got an ear infection and maybe strep. 

 

Now on most days my kids love a free stay at home day, they get to lay around, watch all the TV they want and even the little nusance of not being able to play with friends makes up for any real heartache.  But today, today is Hallow-fucking-ween.  The mother of all holidays.  We spent yesterday decorating the outside of the house to make it spooky.  We've got bones in the yard, we've got pumpkins carved, we even got the halloween outfits all setout and ready to go. 

 

So when I told little Prince that he wouldn't be able to go to school, he was smart enough to think it through to the end (not like his father I might add) and realized, uh oh, my chances of gonig out and scoring a lot of candy are really slim.  Immediately burst into tears and wailed.  What about tonight? I HAVE TO GO OUT MOM, I JUST HAVE TOO.  Now growing up, and being the daughter of a school teacher, if you missed school, you missed everything for the day.  There was no, maybe do something later, it was a sentence to stay locked in the house all day.  I know if I called my Mom and said he missed school, the next comment out of her mouth would have been, he must be sad he can't go out tonight. 

 

I, on the otherhand, with all my working mom guilt can not bear to ruin halloween for this kid.  Yes, one of the kindergarten teachers at his school lives directly behind us, but we just won't got to her street!  I told my son this morning, he needed to take it easy all day long, eat some soup, take some medicine, and then we would see how he feels.  Being a great negotiator, he immediately went to - if I do that, how many houses can I go to?  I'm sorry, I have to reward brilliance like that - to get down to the specifics of a number right out of the gate- hello!  Thankfully, he is too young to quickly multiply so I said 10.  Ten seems like a lot, and he didnt' do the 2 peices of candy per house x10 = 20 stinking pieces.  My guess is that once he hits the street he'll quickly figure it out and try to sucker us in for more. 

 

And, why today? We had all weekend where he could have been sick and lying around, but no, had to come on halloween and Monday! Hubby and I spent a good 15 minutes fighting over who should stay home, or possibly doing half days, and negotiating all the way out to Wednesday just in case he doesn't recover sooner.  I of course welcome anytime off because it means another opportunity for a nap, but this is a really busy week at work and missing any time is not good - as in I better be at deaths door or get my ass to work not good. 

 

I was really looking to the joy of halloween, instead I see the week streching out in front of me like a mountain that I've got to trudge up and the best I can do is one step at a time while watching out for rockslides along the way.  The only consoliation is that I plan to hand out all the shit candy like flavored tootsie rools (gak) and keep the peanut butter cups and Kitkats all for my pretty little self.

Ok not really shit, but there is always something on my shirt. Or my pants.  Or my jacket.  I thought that by the time my kids got older I would finally be able to get dressed in the morning and have myself put together nicely so that when I actually showed up to work I would look somewhat presentable.  But no, that still is not the case.  As a new Mom you kind of understand it - you give the baby a kiss goodbye before you head out the door and they verp on you and you have to make the quick decision - do I wipe it off and smell like sour milk all day or do I go back upstairs and start all over.  Fuck it, I smell like milk!  Then, as they get a little older its the dirty hands, or runny nose swipe over your back shoulder.  On more than one occasion I've gotten home, taken off my very cool blazer only to realize there was a snot smear across my back shoulder that EVERYONE saw but me.

 

Here I am with a six and three year old and I still am not able to get it together.  In some ways I guess I don't care since I'm about ready to head back into babyland.  But really, I thought I'd have a few months of peace where I could look cute, wear the freshly dry cleaned clothes for more than one day before sending them back, and actually show the people at work that I do know how to wear clean clothes.  Nope.  This morning I get to work, look down and there is this green streak across my lovely tan jacket - chest level.  What the fuck is that?  First I think, oh man the kids were coloring in my closet, there is going to be an asskicking when I get home tonight.  Then I sniff it - Oh yeah definately the green clover from my daughters lucky charms this morning.  When she hugged me she must have had it stuck to her hands and it smeared across my front.  Nice.

 

What's worse is all of us working Moms suffer from this. I have a girl friend who actually tries to wear business suits that involve nylons.  HA!  She can't make it out the door without a snag a run or some kid pulling on them and tearing a hole.  Of course the worse offender off any nice clothes you may own or the thousand pair of nylons you have to buy are the velcro shoes.  Those things are great for getting kids out the door in hurry, but that velcro is fucking magnetic to nice apparrel.  Pretty sweater - snag.  And nylons, fugettaboutit.  You so much as hold the shoes near a nice set of nylons and you're screwed.  But what do you say to your kid - DON'T TOUCH ME YOUR GOING TO RUIN MY OUTFIT.  That feels like one step away from a wire hanger speach ya know?  Or maybe we should institute a get dressed at work policy.  That would be great.  Get up, do hair and make up and then pull on the sweats, or if you want to be cute, the nice velour workout suit.  Head into the office, and get dressed there.  You will always look nice, you'll be comfy while in traffic, and you can always change before you head home so the clothes keep.  I see guys coming in to the office in gym clothes all sweaty and gross, what if I came in an a housecoat curlers in my hair, and my bag of clothes over my shoulder? 

 

Can you imagine HR - umm we not only need a breast feeding area, we need a changing room.  You can't bring you kids to work.  Oh no, it's not for my kids, it's for me.  You see I know VP Bob is not taking me seriously because he keeps staring at this streak of green clover on my chest which I got when I hugged my daughters this morning.  To make me a better employee and allow myself the chance to advance, I really need a place where I can get dressed in my very nice, somewhat expensive suit and not have to worry about one of my kids spilling shit all over it before I even walk out the door.  When i'm queen of a company I am totally insituting this policy!

 

 

I have a request for all of you that stop by from time to time.  Buffalo Girl, my bestest friend in the whole wide world, is about ready to take the plunge into international adoption.  I will spare you the details of her road to motherhood but let me just say, as I have said, so many times before, who knew getting knocked up was so fucking hard?  She has just made the decision to start down this path so information, recommendations, references - I'm talking anything here people - would really be great! I know many of you stop by and never leave a comment, if you don't want your self blasted all over the blog, you can also email me at amysworking.at.gmail.com  Simply, if you've done it, or you know someone who has, leave a comment, drop me a line and get us pointed in the right direction. If you chose to say anything that is less than helpful, I will find you and beat you - this is a supportive thing ok! 

 

That's it for today folks, we need some help and I'm reaching out wherever I can to get it.  That's what bestest friends do, and I know she'd do the same for me.  Hang in there Buffalo Girl, we're about ready to start on a wild adventure - ok, not exactly the same as when were were 18 driving down country roads in your old lumnia with the wind whipping our hair, GNR blasting on the radio and us flush with the promise of some cute boys kissing us late that evening - but an adventure none the less.  Just remember to keep you hands and arms above your head at all times and enjoy the ride!

 

I'm counting on you Internet, I see my site-stats, you better come through for me or else.  Don't make me get all melancholy and run out of funny.  I'm warning you people!

 

 

 

So poor hubby is wandering around the house like a lost hurt puppy because his poor little winkie has not seen any action in weeks.  I don't say hello in passing, I don't offer to shake hands, I don't even proffer a kiss.  He's a desperate man and frankly, a little dangerous.  Last night I'm bent over the dishwasher pulling up silverware and the next think you know I'm almost knocked into the lower tray with him pressing up against me.  Geez, just a glimpse of my large ass and he goes berserk.

 

I do feel sorry for him, he's a man with needs, never has a moment where he's not in the mood and he know I would very likely barf on him if we did more than just a peck on the lips.  First, I am so not in the mood, i mean beyond not in the mood, it doesn't' even enter my mind.  Yeah, I had one good sex dream but that was it, and by the time anything could have happened, I so didn't care anymore.  I am too inwardly focused.  I think about my boobs filling with milk not as objects of affection.  I feel my uterus stretching and growing and don't, for a hot second, think about the big O.  He fundamentally can't understand this, and when I say, I just don't care it's like kicking a dog. Add to that my constant nausea and the idea of rocking back and forth makes me gag and I get distracted because I'm too busy suppressing my urge to barf to think oh yeah baby, do me like that.

 

Poor hubby, I do feel sorry for him, if he wouldn't get mortally offended, I'd offer to get him a hooker or at least watch a porn with him, but I think he'd just be pissed that I'm opting out of the fun.  I know on one hand he understands and realizes this has nothing to do with him - I reminded him of the twelve week draught he's experienced with the last two kids, but it didn't really help him feel all that much better.  I figure at least I'm open with him about it, it's not like it's some big mystery, I say, straight up - honey, I  know you're desperate to get laid, but its just not going to happen with me.  If you want to go upstairs for a while, i'll keep an eye on the kids and you can get some 'release' to your frustrations.  Of course I can't get to the end without laughing but it is meant in all sincerity.  I even said - use you're left hand, he'll think it's a stranger.  yeah, that didn't go over so well.  Thankfully he's got enough sense not to give me the you owe me speech - during my first pregnancy he tried that and it took a week for his balls to drop back down because my reaction was, well, impressive.

 

As we got into bed last night, I hugged him and snuggled for a while, told him how much I loved him and to hang in there it would only be a few more weeks and I'd be back on my game.  He laughed and said, ok, I understand.  I just want you to know that it's a little fucked up that my son is getting more action than me these. days. Sad but true.

I am currently working a project that requires me to sit a war room.  If you've never done this before, imagine a conference room with white boards, shit tapped to the walls, workstations setup at intervals and people continually coming in and out of your space while you're trying to think and write.  It's distracting, sucks all the energy out of you by the end of the day, and requires a huge filter on my big fat mouth so phrases like shut the fuck up dumb ass don't come flying out.  For the most part the team is good and we're making progress with the work, but it's intense and requires lots of focus.

 

Yesterday, towards the end of the day, one of the guys on the team who doesn't sit in the room with me, but who we need to work with comes in and almost immediately I'm like, oh shit he smells.  Because of allergies and sinus stuff, my nose is normally dead to most smells, and short of my husband farting ON me, i can work through almost any odor and not be all that phased by it.  But when I'm pregnant I'm like a good damn blood hound dog.  I can smell a burger king a mile down the street, I have to stay away from the fridge because it stinks and have, on more than one occasion, thrown out perfectly good food because I could smell it.  I often think there has got to be a way to capitalize on a women's sense of smell when we're pregnant - there's got to be some business that needs this skill, and i would make a killing at it, but I digress.

 

Ok so this guy comes and whew it's BO to the max, I'm looking at him to see if he's run, or at least as the tell tale signs of a sweaty pit, but there's nothing.  I do my best not to scrunch up my nose, or worse gag and then turn back to the computer and just ignore him.  After he leaves, smell goes away and all is fine.  Until I go to leave.  I get up and put on my jacket and there it is again, a strong wiff of BO.   I freeze, look around the room mortified and disgusted.  Oh my god it's me.  I quickly do a fast replay of the morning routine, shower, bra, underwear, find daughter some socks out of the pile of clean laundry, brush teeth, dry hair, run down and pack sons lunch, run back up and get dressed. shit. shit. shit.  I forgot deodorant.  The routine is always brush teeth, deodorant, dry hair, dress but the socks got me out of wack and my chance to recover was totally messed up with the almost forgotten lunch.

 

I was red with shame, could they smell me?  Maybe I could smell me but they couldn't.  How come it smelled when that guy came in?  Oh, i'd taken off my jacket at that time.  Oh my god I'm disgusting.  I can't stand myself.  how could I have missed this earlier.  I sat next to my boss shoulder to shoulder for an hour, I wonder if she smelled me?  That can't be possible since I didn't smell me right?  I just felt like I was standing there, ready to leave, and everyone was looking at me thinking, damn she stinks while we did the have a good night routine.

 

I thought back to the British boss I had one time who smelled so bad when he leaned back in his chair and put his arms behind his head we would all cringe.  I thought about the person who left deodorant in his chair.  Oh I cried i laughed so hard when that happened, but now, what if someone leaves it on my seat??????

 

I had to sit in traffic for the next hour and smell myself.  I was obsessed and grossed out all at the same time.  I don't think anyone at the office noticed, but I also am not close enough with anyone to ask - um excuse me, did you notice me stinking up the joint yesterday?  Today when i came in, no one had moved away from me, I didn't find a speedstick on my chair, and people seemed friendly enough so I'm hoping the odor didn't really escape unless my arms were up in the air.  oh god I pray that's the case because let me tell you something, I fucking stunk!

 

 

My son had a sleep over on Friday night with one of his best buddies.  I love when this kid comes over because he gives up all the secrets in the neighborhood, we'll came him the Rat.  My son, not unlike his mother, likes a healthy amount of privacy and already has things he'd rather stay between him and the boys in the hood.  But the Rat, oh he gives up the goods every time.  I don't even have to pry, he just shares and shares and shares.  This is particularly funny because the whole time the Rat is talking, my son is cringing or trying to interupt. Now, they are six, so really the Rat is not telling me anything big, it's more along the lines of 'yesterday when we were in garage playing, we used a real hammer and hit a nail in the wood'.  Oh, no, not a real hammer!!!!  I get all animated to add to the dramatic effect and the conversation usually ends in giggles for everyone.

 

This Friday, the Rat stayed over and as they were getting their snack, he announces I kissed Dominique today and so did your kid!  Ok now at this moment I look over and my little prince is crimson red so I know this stories got legs, but I've got to play it cool, even the Rat can sense panic and would back off if I push too hard.  So I casually said, yeah right, you guys don't kiss girls, girls or gross.  The Rat, too young to understand a sophisticated bait, says "oh no, we really did, we spun the bottle and then she had to kiss who it pointed at".

 

WHAT THE FUCK!

 

I do the quick glance over to hubby who is trying not to look to proud of his playa lova son and decide I need to push a little further. Where did this happen.  Downstairs.  look to hubby, yep three of them were downstairs earlier.  Whose idea was it.  Uhhhh.  Damn, the Rat's gotten wind that this was a bad thing to share.  My little prince - I don't know.  The Rat - we think we learned it on TV.  Oh yeah, I missed that episode where Sponge Bob and Patrick play spin the bottle with Sandy.  I just keep looking back and forth between them, not saying a word, then I grin and say.  Did you have fun kissing her?  Giggles.  We had to wipe our mouths, she said that was the rule.  Oh she did, did she?  Look over at hubby who is now buried behind the paper, shoulders shaking, and I can't tell if he's laughing at me because he knows what I'm thinking or at the kids.

 

So what to do, it's innocent, they'r only 6, but hello, it's my basement and I didn't plan on having to worry about macking until at least 9!  I kept trying to think of what to say, how to put in boundaries, I think it really was innocent and the 'danger' of it was part of the fun.  I was stuck, so finally I just laughed and said, you guys are so silly, don't you know that rule says you can't play that game until you're 10?  They laughed, I laughed and I congratuled myself because what I wanted to say was.  Dominique is NEVER ALLOWED IN THIS HOUSE AGAIN.  SHE IS A DIRTY LITTLE WHORE.  STAY AWAY FROM HER BOYS!  I mean really, it's not like her name was Amy, it's Domin-fucking-nique!

 

 

One of the by products of this pregnancy is that at time my mind just goes blank, I mean there's nothing there, as in nothing.  It's turned me into that person who when you talk wants to look at you and say - Huh?  or Ummmm? or Hum?  I try to think, I know the peices and parts I'm supposed to be thinking about, but I can't make sense of them.  For all of my life I've been able to store large amounts of data in brain, organize it, shift it, use it to plan my lists and schedules.  As I got older, I had to rely on lists and write more down what with sleep deprivation from the young kids and all, but still i could rattle off facts and figures in a meeting that would amaze people.

 

This week I've sat in some meetings and I can tell they're waiting for me to find the thread, aggregate the information and have some stunning insight, only when I try, I get nothing.  I am a visual thinker and can close my eyes and see information, flow charts, processes draw out on my internal white board - usually because I can hear it and then see what is happening and what's supposed to happen I can be a few steps in front of other people in the room and lead them to where I want to go.  Not this week.  I look at that internal board and see gray fuzz.  I squint and try to focus, I say think Amy, think.  My muscle memory tells me I know how to do this and should be able to figure it out, but instead, I get nothing.  I sit quietly and hope the aha moment will come and pray I can make up for lost ground elsewhere.

 

And so it dawned on me, this is what it feels like when you're stupid.  You know, those people in meetings, or the grocery store, or on the phone with you who just don't get it.  You explain it 3 different ways, you talk slow, you walk them from point A to Z and even when they're nodding you know they really don't understand what the fuck you're talking about.  That's me, I'm that girl! Dumb.As.A.Rock.

 

I was in such a panic over this earlier in the day that I took my first pregnancy mulligan - 3 hits off a can of diet coke - caffinated!!! I know, I know, send the police, but man I was out of gas, a good nights sleep hadn't helped, and to be fair, I had gotten the ok from the doc for a little caffiene here and there.  And yes, nutrasweet will deform me and the child I'm carrying in some way or another, but we're fucked up anyway, and 3 swigs does not a future felon make.

 

And pay off? Oh you should have seen me this afternoon, I was on a roll.  I actually made sense in a meeting, I sent hubby a list of tasks and the order they needed to be done in, I paid some bills, I did REAL work, those few sips even made the neasua go away so I could eat a meal with meat and fruit and vegitables. And best of all, I could think, I could string coherent thoughts together and make conclusions, I had lost dumb Amy for a brief afernoon.  Sadly the effects are wearing off and I have not finished my day.  I will be tempted to cheat again tomorrow, but have decided to keep a can in a glass case with the sign "in case of really stupid - break".

 

 

The only church I saw this weekend was the church of the holy toilet as I spent a good part of my time waiting for it to actually come up.  It never did, but I got the rolling stomach, cold sweats, oh god here it comes feeling at least twenty times.  I figured, I didn't want to say hi to all my new church friends by throwing up in the pew, so instead I just laid around a lot.   No I mean A LOT.  Of course the usual to do list that I have every weekend was totally ignored, and while hubby did his best to try and get some of it done, I'm now very much behind in laundry, grocery shopping, and other sundry things that just keep the household running. 

 

I can't say I feel much better today, but at least 2 days of rest has given me a fighting chance to make it through a day at the office.  Unfortunately they need me here with my A game, and at some points in the day I'm thinking - listen, my goal for the day is not your ten page report, but rather resiting the urge to crawl under this desk and take a nap.  I'm hoping that I can pace myself and actually take some of the work home so that by tomorrow I've finished whats needed.

 

I also have my last resort of taking some baby-safe anti-nausea medicine.  I usually only take it when the vomiting is so bad that I am in danger of being hospitalized, but this is the first pregnancy that feels like I could hurl at any second but actually don't.  Close enough right?  Oh, and don't send me any advice on this crap, when I tell you I've tried it all, I truly have. I can't even eat saltines anymore because my first pregnancy consisted of a saltines diet for 3 months - just looking at the box pisses me off.  Oh, and the eat in bed before you get up - well that's good if it just lasts through the morning.  I however feel like I could hurl all fucking day long - so am I supposed to lay on my desk?  Or my favorite, eat light meals throughout the day, yeah well unless I have a constant stream of food going into my mouth, there is a point where I actually stop chewing and then I'm back to hurl city I go.  So really, unless you have something that your great grandmother told you about and isn't on the web or in any other pregnancy book, I've tried it.

 

yes, i'm a little grouchy today, do you think my coworkers would still love me if I asked them to meet me in the bathroom, rub my back and hold my hair while I pray in front of my porcelain god?  And yes I am a little panicked about the work I'm expected to do and my ability to do it.  I don't let my coworkers down - EVER, but right now the road from here to the finish line looks mighty fucking long.

I was raised to go to church every Sunday from the time I was 11 until 20 when I finally moved out.  When I go home, we still go to church every Sunday, and the kids are expected to come as well.  My parents are not part of what I call the "God Squad"  rather they are more old school midwest - you do go to church every week, you pray, you give back to your community, the bible is a metaphor from which you draw analogies about today and your life.

 

I rely heavily on my faith and foundation it was built upon for many things in my life.  I understand death and dying and am not afraid of it.  I believe that there is a plan and that things happen for a reason.  I also think that the values taught in the types of church my family brought me up in :tolerance, compassion, hope are important ones for me and my family.

 

But church is something I haven't sought out since moving out of my folks place.  I'd go whenever we were home, feel very comfortable in that church, but haven't wanted to look for a new one.  Plus, I live in a red state where churches are a little different, there is less about inclusion and more about everyone else who is wrong.  Plus, truth be told, Sunday is my day of rest, and the idea of getting everyone out the door to pray, well, I can pray for more sleep and that would do me just as much good.  

 

But this Sunday I am goin to church.  I figure so much shit has happened this past year that I better get in there soon before I get smited.  I got a new house, I got a job, I am pregnant, I mean the blessings are fucking running out and over my cup.  If I don't get in there soon, the big man is going to teach me a lesson.  I told hubby my plan to start finding a church in our area and he seems on board.  We're both in agreement that it's something we want our kids invovled in, but given some of the god squaders around us I don't want to find my kid telling me that his friend Mohammed is going to hell because he's not a christian (and yes a little boy on my street did tell me that about his friend). 

 

So I'm going to start looking, and hopefully will find a place that lets our family be us - casually committed. If I have truly landed myself in an area that doesn't have a church for me, then I guess I'll declare us heathens and home church them.  It's tempting. Watching the lady's reaction down the street if I told her that our church was in our home and I was home churching because we believe that everyone's relgion is ok in god's eyes -  that would be fucking priceless. 

Oh I had forgotten just how bad pregnancy hormones were for sex dreams.  I woke up this morning feeling like I'd been ravished and man what a dream.  Of course I did nothing with hubby on it, we had to get ready for work and get the kids of to school, but I tell you what, another one of those dreams on the weekend, and it will be just like when we first dated - HOT!

 

I remembered having vivid dreams when I was carrying the last 2 times but usually it was about something like hubby fucking up and me waking up really really mad at him.  Or, something sad happening like a family member dying and he would wake me up because I was sobbing.  But this, I'll take these dreams any day of the week, I also think I have a future in porn for women because that shit was good.  Lots of men dressed up like lords and dangerous lisason-y type costumes but lots of fucking and wickedness and damn, it is so much better to wake up feeling like you've been f*d and good rather than pissed at an imaginary event.

 

Hats off to you Mrs Horny Pregnant Dreams, you may just make hubby the happiest man alive if the theme of this pregnany is lets get it on. Really makes up for the kid being named Mercy huh?

 

 

Great news, I have a new job with the same company.  Same type of roll, same type of work, but actually more in directly in my field and for a woman who I think is going to be someone I truly enjoy working with.  We had a great conversation about driving business forward and sometimes getting in trouble because the passion to do the right thing and make a difference can get in the way of politics and individual agendas.  It is WAY to soon to tell, but is it possible that all of this craziness of the past week actually puts me in a better place?  I know for a fact I would not have sought out this opportunity because I felt obligated to work in that position for 2 years, I still had a year left before I made any type of move.  In a word, I feel lucky.

 

In the last organization I worked for, i was always very careful of good stuff because it was almost always too good to be true.  Like one of Pavlov's dogs, I have a conditioned response to be very guarded and wary of any change that excites me from the start - the fall down when it turns out to be a ruse has been way to damaging in the past.  But still, I'm an optimist, I believe in this VP and think she's made of good stuff.  I think part of it is also I underestimate myself and at times don't have enough confidence in my own skills and abilities - hard to believe with this ego huh?

 

I have a friend, we'll call Rico the Cuban, who really undersells himself - I mean Rico is amazing as a manager and totally doesn't get just how good he is at his job; meanwhile he staff would walk to the ends of the earth for him, and his work is excellent.  Sometimes Rico gets taken advantage of by our former employer and the people who work there who will climb on your back to advance their own self at your expense. I am not as bad as Rico, but only in that I hide all the self doubt behind my brash fuck you bravado.  I sat talking to this VP today thinking - how do you know this about me, we've talked twice but you're already assessing my strenghths and know that I can help you?  Why do you seem to beleive in me?  Now this is funny because when i interview people I can tell in 10 minutes flat whether or not I want them working for me, but I'm not such a good read on myself. I wonder if this is because of the damage wrought at the last company, or if I just have some fundamental issues that have formed through the course of my life that make me worry with self doubt and hunger for success?  Or is part of this because right now I want to cry with relief that I have a job and joy that I'm pregnant. Yes the prego hormones have already started to kick in, I cried watching the Amazing Race last night - why? Beats Me!

 

You must be sick of all of my drama by now - tomorrow I promise to share about the wedding i went to this weekend and all of it's tacky glory - yes the DJ did a Michael Jackson impersonation - even sober, i swear, this story will make you laugh so hard you may just pee your pants.  Oh, and by the way, did you see stayfree totally has come out with the women's whoopsees.  Being pregnant, this is a must have!  But, I swear they got this idea from me!

 

 

I can tell I am getting a grip on this situation because yesterday I saw a women carrying an infant car seat, and as I peaked inside, I was filled with joy.  I almost squealed - ohhh, I'm getting one of those soon.  I love babies, I love them tiny, and their fingers and their adorable smell.  I love when the scrunch their face up, and when they look at you with huge eyes and you just have to imagine what they're thinking.  I am so glad number three decided to come.

 

And yes, my body totally remembers being pregnant because I swear I can feel my uterus growing - it does this little ping thing and then whamo another part of me starts to pop out.  I'm only 7 weeks along, but I really think I'll be busting out the maternity clothes in about 2 more weeks because my body is totally geared up for this.  And my boobs, well lets not even talk about those - the titty fairy has already come to pay a visit - they are so perfectly full and upright and look like they are fake they're so glorious.  Hubby is dying to play, but they hurt too much to do more than look and cup. 

 

Yes, I'm definately on the road to recovery, have new plans in place, new lists to make, and before too long, new diapers to change.