I’m full of random thoughts at the best of times. I’m pretty sure my poor hubby rolls his eyes in disbelief on a near-daily basis at some of the randomness I share with him. You’d think after all these years, I’d learn to exercise my filter to keep from embarrassing myself as often as I do. So far…hasn’t happened *hangs head in shame*
Pregnancy has not dulled that…skill. I’m pretty sure it’s only serving to make it worse. Good thing I can have a good chuckle at my own expense because my pregnancy thoughts are no less random. Or strange. Let the eye rolling commence as we take a peek inside my brain. Don’t get lost in there.
Week 4 (ish): Why do I feel like I’m swimming in pudding? And why do I now want to eat a pool full of pudding?
Why am I getting emotional because I want to buy the test that says “pregnant” and it’s too expensive. Clearly, I don’t need the test. My hormones are doing the test for me. Is it wrong to want the word instead of a stupid plus sign? Well…is it Safeway shelf?!
How the heck am I going to tell hubby we got preggo. I must consult Pinterest. Romance will lessen the surprise (clearly). Result: there was no pin about sitting on the couch sobbing telling hubby we need a bigger car. #fail.
Week 6: I’m going to bed at
9:30, 9:00, 8:45, 8:30 like it’s my job.
The thought of hummus makes me want to vomit. Too bad I realized this after I made a month’s supply of it.
Green pimento olives? Don’t mind if I do!
Tomatoes are my worst enemy.
Tomatoes are my best friend. I must eat them all.
Week 7: If I can make it from bed to work without vomiting, I’ll consider this day a success and go back home to bed.
Anyone who says they love being pregnant needs to be punched in the face. By me.
Is there medal for going 30 minutes without vomiting or peeing?
Is it too early to start nesting? And by nesting, I mean napping.
Baby is the size of a lentil. I’m eating lentils for lunch. I don’t feel right about this. Maybe this is why baby makes me feel so yucky.
Week 8: Baby wants pizza. Baby needs pizza. Baby will have pizza.
If baby is only the size of a blueberry, why do I feel the need to waddle when I walk?
I’m going to bed at
8:30, 8:00, 7:30 7:00 like it’s my job
Week 9: God bless this baby for not giving me an aversion to coffee.
Mashed potato powder: Best. Thing. Ever.
The only coffee Baby can tolerate is Tim Horton’s. Can’t argue with good taste.
If baby is the size of a kidney bean, and if I haven’t gained any weight, then why the eff are my clothes so tight and uncomfortable?!
Hubby: “Maybe it’s twins” Me:< skin-melting evil death stare >.
Week 10: Baby. Is. Hangry.
At some point, I will probably have to tell my parents that I’m pregnant. Maybe they read my blog and can find out that way. Not so much? Can I just send an email?
I wonder what it feels like to not want to vomit with each breath of wakefulness.
Week 11: I ate a veggie. A whole veggie. There is hope.
Week 12: I need roasted red pepper soup. Now. In large quantities. I also need a belly band…stat.
Prophetic baby dream count: Girl: 1, Boy: 2, Twins: 1
Dreams where I have to pee really bad and can’t find an empty/private/clean bathroom: too many to count
Week 13: Officially measuring 4 weeks ahead of my dates. When your doctor says “whoa, you’re popping”, you must be big. It’s going to be a long pregnancy.
Baby to me: “Feed me, feed me, feed me, feed me, feed me.”
Belly button to me: “Whhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy????” Sorry belly button.