Baby #2 – Ten Weeks

Okay, I’ll be 11 weeks tomorrow, but I have been majorly slacking off with my posts (and life in general) these past few weeks. I am SO looking forward to feeling better soon, not puking at the sight of meats and cheeses.

So is everyone still okay with me posting my blurry, ghetto, bathroom belly shots? Because I DO own an actual camera and am happy to pose awkwardly in front of my apartment for all my neighbors to watch and ridicule. But it’s whatever the people want!

Anyway. The baby, as my friend Kristy so eloquently worded it, is a life-sucking leach. BUT! It’s a life-sucking leach without a tail and with actual, non-webbed fingers now! AWWW.

Also, I watched The Business of Being born last week during a slow time at work. It was really interesting, but may I please advise that you DON’T DO THIS AT WORK. I never expected to see that many dark brown Milkdud nipples that early in the morning and I’m not sure I’ve fully recovered.

Baby gender anxieties. Also, why I’m scared of boys.

I’m going to be frank with you right now… little boys make me nervous. It must be something to do with the whole ‘fearing the unknown’ thing because I have very little experience in caring for baby boys and I honestly have no idea what it’s all about.

I always dressed up and played house and painted my nails and baked cookies and was generally silly and dramatic. I am a girlie girl, and so is Maddie. That’s all I know. If you asked me what little boys do for fun, all I could really give you for an answer is… eat dirt?

this gives me heart palpitations. GIVE THIS CHILD SOME SOAP!

Also, I don’t have a ton of experience with changing little boy’s diapers, but let me just say that the few times I’ve been present for the blessed event, there has always been some sort of a pee malfunction. ALWAYS. I don’t handle streaming pee in my face with calmness and grace, I’ll just say that right now.

On the other hand, I’ve held baby boys and they are the most cuddly, squishy little things. They are so, so sweet and man, do they LOVE their mamas. That’s definitely something I envy. Madeline loves me, sure… but she’s a Daddy’s girl all the way.

Five of my friends are currently pregnant with boys. FIVE. It’s an epidemic… and with another ultrasound right around the corner, it’s possible I could find out early like my friends did. I am getting sort of anxious to know whether or not I’m going to be a part of the bugs-mud-pee-stream-in-face club or remain in the pink-dramatic-sparkly-fit-throwing club.

Either way, I’ll be thrilled. But if it’s a boy, I’m going to need some major help.

How to Get Killed by a Pregnant Lady

HEY! Read this first.

Now that I am pregnant again, I feel free to say that expectant mothers are some of the most difficult people on the planet. I was the first time around and I am starting to see the signs again. There are a few happy-sparkle-rainbow moms that don’t fit into this category (though, I’ve only met one or two), but usually we are pretty hard to please. It’s not ALL our fault though!

Let me explain…

You’ve heard over and over how you are NEVER, under any circumstances, supposed to comment on a pregnant woman’s size/weight/shape. Even though the commenter may be well-meaning, pregnant ladies are hardly ever okay with what is said.

Example 1:

Well-meaning person: Wow, you’re really showing!

Pregnant lady: Bitch just called me fat.

(Pregnant women think in cuss words, whether they say it or not. Didn’t you know? We’re pretty hostile.)

Example 2:

Well-meaning person: You’re carrying reaaaally wide! Must be a girl!

Pregnant lady: And you must be carrying three.

(Way harsh, Tai.)

Example 3:

Well-meaning person: You’re glowing!

Pregnant lady: RUDE! She just pointed out how sweaty I am!

Example 4:

Well-meaning person: YOU’RE DRINKING COFFEE/HAVING A HOME BIRTH/EATING SUGAR/WEARING HIGH HEELS!? DON’T YOU KNOW YOU’RE KILLING YOUR BABY!?! LET ME PUSH ALL MY BELIEFS ON YOU EVEN THOUGH I’VE NEVER HAD A KID OF MY OWN & SCARE THE CRAP OUT OF YOU IN THE PROCESS!

Pregnant lady: (We usually just cry at this point.)

My point is, we’re really touchy. To the people who mean no harm and are only trying to say how cute we look, I’m really sorry. These hormonies make us sort of out of control, but we really can’t help it.

To be safe, you can always just tell us we look pretty. Ladies always want to look pretty, whether we have a bowling ball belly or not. If you stray from my advice, I am not responsible for what happens to you at the hand of that pregnant person.

You’re in that girl’s territory now.

Baby #2 – Nine Weeks

Well, hello Mrs. Muffin Top.

How are those size 6 skinny jeans finding you today? Not so well, you say? Cutting off the circulation from your ever-expanding balloon body, you say? THEY ARE WAY TOO SMALL & IT’S TIME TO LET GO OF THEM ALREADY, you say?

Well then.

If you look closely, you may be able to see that my jeans are unbuttoned. I would like to say it was because it simply slipped my mind, but that would be a lie straight from the flaming pits of hell. I am actually unable to button them safely and without causing myself physical harm and discomfort.

Sooooo…

MATERNITY PANTS TIME.

Baby #2 – Eight Weeks

Umm. If I seem slightly confused in this photo, it’s because I am.  I remember feeling this way around this point in my last pregnancy because my belly and chest will majorly vary in size from one week to the next. I know, it’s all camera angles and clothing choices and what I had to eat/gas, etc., but come on body! LOOK PREGNANT ALREADY!

New this week:

  • Pants are getting tighter. YESSSS… An excuse to go shopping and get some ridiculous pregnant lady pull-ups again! I know this sounds crazy, but I can’t even explain the relief and comfort you feel when you slip on a pair of maternity pants. It’s like buttah.
  • NAUSEOUS, LIKE WHOA. I’m not even kidding, I made eye contact with some cilantro and it made me ralph.
  • Am happy and smiley right this second. Was bitter and growly an hour ago. Am confusing and frightening to bystanders. Am beast.

Oh yeah, and this happened:

That tiiiiny little thing is the person responsible for all these crazies I’m experiencing. How freaking weird and amazing is that?? I LOVE YOU, BABEH!