Feeling like a bit of a slacker in the writing department over here and I am completely blaming pregnancy on it. Pregnancy is a bitch.
This was an extremely planned baby. I had a time frame that I was looking for, conception-wise, in order to maximize my extremely crappy maternity leave and Edward’s summer vacation. Ideally, baby #2 would not enter daycare until they were 6 months old. Good plan, eh?
I factored in roughly how long it took me to get pregnant with Vince and we proceeded accordingly. Now the funny thing about hoping to be pregnant, is that once you are you start to wonder things like ‘Wait. What was I thinking again?’ But that could be the hormones talking…
It’s something you want, want, want, want, want. And then suddenly, when you get it, and you start feeling like total toilet bowl… Well, it’s not that you regret it, more like you think ‘Oh good lord, what did I get myself into!’.
This second pregnancy is a total bitch. One that comes to work with a bad attitude and perfume that gives you a headache.
I’ve had a lot of headaches. And a lot of nausea. A LOT. More than I thought possible. I’ve been popping the (pregnancy sanctioned) pain-pills like they are going out of style. Which they better not be, since I’m getting low and need more soon.
Essentially that is what’s been going on down here in Orlando. Me, wallowing in misery, thinking things like “God, it’s probably a girl. And she’s sucking me dry.”
Oh, and Vince has been playing soccer. The last few practices were disastrous and the first game was AWFUL. Somehow though, things came around this past Saturday. He was bribed within an inch of his life by everyone (Mummy, Daddy, Coach) and it seemed to have no effect.
But something awesome happened out on the field. He got it. He just got it. And suddenly he was running. And kicking. And facing the wrong direction and running. But he wasn’t holding on to his coaches hand, or being carried around the field on someone’s hip. Or crying. Or screaming for me. Or climbing trees to get away from the field. Or many other things like that. That were all awful.
He was playing soccer and man was he having fun! And afterwards, during snacktime, he got a little trophy for being ‘The most improved player’. He was so proud. He kept asking me the rest of the day “Mummy, I kicked the ball. Are you so proud of me?”
Not only that, but he actually asked to go and have his hair cut. How ridiculous is that!
So here we are, post-soccer win and 16 1/2 weeks pregnant. Slightly less headachey, feeling a little round. And apparently today, a little less tolerant of bullshit than I thought. But don’t worry! I won’t tell you! My lack of filter is never a good thing, but even worse when I am pregnant, hormonal and annoyed.
I’ll keep you posted… 😉