twotothree

Three times now I’ve tried to write something super witty about why I haven’t been blogging lately.  There are very few witty ways to describe vomiting like the girl from The Exorcist.

Why have I been puking like a bile-filled sprinkler system?  Well, my first baby is old enough that she’d rather run around than cuddle with me anymore.  This makes me sad, so I built a new one.  Due in August.

The plan has always been two kids.  Mike wanted them close in age.  I wanted to get the pregnancy phase of my life over.  So, win-win.  I am not one of those rainbows-and-unicorns-pregnancy-is-a-miracle-glowing pregnant women.  I get Hyperemesis Gravidarum in the first trimester (luckily, as some women with HG have it their entire forty weeks).  It’s like having the stomach flu for three months. 

I have no excuse for my miserable attitude for the remaining six months.  I just do not enjoy the exhausting, waddling feeling of having my body commandeered by a tiny demanding human.  The outcome is worth it, but I find the building process to be unpleasant.

After going through it while simultaneously chasing a toddler?  Two kids is the MAX.  EVER.

Yeah, yeah, shut it, whiny pregnant lady.  What’s Gloria been up to?

She’s been going about her little toddler life without any idea that anything is going to change.  We’ve been playing with homemade playdough, meeting the Gingerbread Man, making Valentines for her grandparents, and watching our new pets, the Guppies.  Mike and I used to take our tax return and do something fun.  Go out for a nice steak dinner, buy some expensive scotch, backpack around Scotland.  This year we bought Gloria a fish tank since she loves the salt water tank at Strong Museum so much.  The rest is being socked away for our down payment on our new house next year.  Being a responsible adult occasionally leaves something to be desired.

The other day I was trying to tell Gloria that there was a baby in my stomach.  What can I say, I know the cognitive level just isn’t there, but she won’t stop pulling up my shirt and saying, “belly!!!” and my self-image is vulnerable these days. 

“Gloria, look, BA-BY,” I said, pointing to my stomach.  She looked at my face, brows furrowed.  Then looked down at my stomach.  Slowly reaching over, she pinched a single, small black hair near my belly button (thanks, hormones).  “Yuck!!” she said, tugging on it.

Oh well.  I guess she’ll figure it out in another 25 weeks.  Hopefully my dignity will hold up that long.

Clearly my artistic talents do not lie in sculpting.  But once Gloria saw my attempt at a duck, she insisted that I make them for the next half hour.

Sad about the duck stuck on her finger.

Gloria was terrified of the Gingerbread Man.  She would scream whenever he came near her.  We had to have him sidle up behind her and Mike in order to get this photo.  

Making Valentines.  Mostly on my leg.