Approximately 9,000 of my dearest friends are pregnant, like no exaggeration here. Okayyy, slight exaggeration (I really only have 8,000 close friends). And I keep having these dreams where I didn’t know I was pregnant and I just thought it was gas and then I pull a newborn out of my shirt and it has a full head of styled hair and a 30 year old man’s face. Lots of totally normal dreams like that.
Sometimes I try to rock Jack to sleep and he gets all cuddly with me and tells me he loves me in his cute, half-English/half-caveman language and it’s awesome. Then I see the situation for what it really is and realize it looks like I am singing The Itsy Bitsy Spider to Tyrion Lannister while he sits on my lap and it’s just weirds me out a little that I’m pretending he’s still a tiny baby.
Not that rocking a two year old to sleep is all that weird and I knowww, two is NOT old, but he’s gargantuan and can talk and everything now and I just catch myself thinking he’s still really young. Sometimes he’ll even go a few days without taking his poop out of his diaper and trying to hand it to me. He’s just growing up so fast, you guys!
(I wish that was a joke. Justin’s mom said when he was Jack’s age, he walked up to her, said, “here, Mom” and handed her a big giant turd and she totally wasn’t expecting it and she screamed. I thought that story was absolutely hilarious until Jack started pulling that crap on me — sorry, pun was necessary — and now I just want to cry/barf/send him to the zoo to live with the chimps.)
Wow, so I was totally leading up to saying how badly I have baby fever and that Justin and I are in the discussion phase of having another baby, but that last thing I wrote? I’M CURED! It’s a miracle!
I’ll host a drawing for anyone who can name the three pop culture references in this post. One is totes obvs. The winner can babysit Jack. Hope you have hand sanitizer!